The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Headed north tonight to see the family and take in one last 2006 M’s game with the CFO tomorrow. I actually broke down and bought us the good tickets for this game; no throwing ice from the outfield for us this time around.

Below is the view from the top of Section 126 at Safeco; our seats are in there somewhere.

Defending human rights in Norway:

Urination will go to committee
A local decision that schoolboys must sit on toilet seats when urinating has provoked political debate. The head of The Democrats Party, a splinter group of former Progress Party hardliners, Vidar Kleppe, is outraged that boys at Dvergsnes School in Kristiansand have to sit and pee. . . . “When boys are not allowed to pee in the natural way, the way boys have done for generations, it is meddling with God’s work,” Kleppe told the newspaper. “It is a human right not to have to sit down like a girl,” Kleppe said. Principal Anne Lise Gjul at Dvergsnes School would not comment on Kleppe’s plans to make political waves and regretted if anyone was offended by the ban on standing and passing water. Gjul told NRK (Norwegian Broadcasting) that the young boys are simply not good enough at aiming, and the point was to have a pleasant toilet that could be used by both boys and girls.

Me and the CFO were having this same argument a few weeks ago. I don’t think she could understand the CEO’s reflexive horror when she proposed that Jr. should sit down on the potty chair for both numbers two and one. I’m still not sure she realizes that that could only bring bad, very bad things. In fact, I have no doubt that requiring the boy to sit instead of standing as God intended is the first step on a path that ends with Stinkboy as a cross-dressing serial killer with a puppy and a well in his basement, mumbling about lotion. The lad will have enough problems over his lifetime dealing with the horrible genetic defects* he’s saddled with; he really doesn’t need this too.

*The defect is that the lad shares 50% of his genes with the CEO.

Me, the CTO and Mr. D went to an undisclosed location this Saturday and fired off a bunch of guns trained for the zombie apocalypse that is sure to befall us any time now.

First, we set up the targets. It turns out that the common potato has the same consistency as zombie brain. Who knew? Zombie brains and potatoes both explode nicely when the hollowpoints arrive.

A particularly nasty member of the zombie horde, with possibly a little bit of vampire in him too.

As I recall that evil spud ended up taking one right between the eyes, courtesy of the CTO.

Mr. D earned his official Kjel.org title on Saturday: Chief Sniper. Yes, that is a branch dangling out of his cap. Such fieldcraft: he was almost invisible at that point; I was lucky to get the pictures I did. Apparently the Chief Sniper didn’t want the zombies to see him and know that they were being stalked by a ruthless zombie exterminator.

We brought out the heavy weaponry and moved in to finish off any brain-munching survivors. Here is the CTO about to send an especially malevolent squash to zombie-heaven.

We’d finally waded through all the zombie minions, only to find the Big Boss waiting for us. Osama Bin Melon sat there with his zombie smirk, thinking he owned the place. Not for long.

The Chief Sniper dispatched Bin Melon with a 12 gauge slug to the cranium. Bin Melon exploded as if someone had stuck a stick of dynamite in him (which is something we might try next time; I mean really, why not?) and his guts flew for yards in all directions. Some of Bin Melon’s guts can be seen on the Chief’s shirt I do believe.

A good day was had by all, even if the Chief Sniper wimpered like a little girl the first time he tried the shotgun. This video will give you a sense of the Chief’s reaction when he first pulled the trigger. He did rally and eventually took out Bin Melon, so I guess I can’t make too much fun of him. . .

What am I saying? Of course I can. And will. Welcome to the Organization, Chief Sniper.

Regular readers will know that the CEO loves South Park, and the guys who make it. If you have 15 minutes to kill here is a great interview with Stone and Parker. An excerpt:

“Part of living in the world today is you’re going to have to be offended,” Stone says. “The right to be offended and the right to offend is why we have a First Amendment. If no speech was offensive to anybody, then you wouldn’t need to guarantee it.”

Hopefully there was some chlorine in this one:

IAEA commissioner falls into water tank at Czech nuclear plant
Jihlava, South Moravia, Sept 23 (CTK) - A US commissioner from the Vienna-based International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) emerged unharmed after falling into a water tank at the Dukovany nuclear power plant on Friday. The daily Mlada fronta Dnes reported Friday that commissioners training at the facility were moving around the plant in a group. One of them, however, left the group and fell into the tank. . . . Although the water was not in contact with any nuclear fuel during the training, the commissioner was examined to make sure he was not contaminated with radioactivity.

Turns out that the hosers are are also gigantic wusses:

Long lines at Canadian border after guards leave
Motorists heading to Canada from Western Washington waited three hours or more to cross the border Sunday night after unarmed Canadian border guards walked off the job earlier in the day in response to a report that a murder suspect was heading their way. Canadian border-patrol officers do not carry firearms and are allowed to walk off the job if work conditions become too dangerous. Canadian Border Service Agency spokeswoman Faith St. John said problems started just after 2 p.m. when guards at the Huntingdon crossing, across the border from Sumas, Whatcom County, left their posts after hearing that an armed and dangerous murder suspect might try to enter Canada from the United States. The move shut down that border crossing for a short time, she said. That prompted border guards at three other crossings — Aldergrove, B.C., Douglas (Peace Arch), B.C., and Pacific Highway (Surrey, B.C.) — to walk off the job as well, St. John said . . . As of early evening, there were no reports that the suspect in question, who reportedly was wanted in California, had attempted to cross the border at any of the affected entry points.

If I was Canadian I’ll feel pretty good knowing that my borders were so well protected. In my spare time this Fall I think I will conquer Canada. I’m busy this weekend, but maybe the next . . .

The CEO, Chief Educator, and CTO will be at a certain classy establishment tonight drinking beer and playing video trivia. Anyone who wants to join us should give me a call at the HQ this evening.

The CEO’s niece and nephew. The happy girl is just barely learning to walk, but Chuckles, the boy, is more coordinated today than the CEO ever was. I saw these kids and their dear mum just last weekend.

Chuckles and I have a few games we usually play when we see each other. One is just called football and consists of the CEO holding a football and Chuckles trying to tackle me. When he’s lucky I just give him a juke or whip out my wicked spin move; when he’s less lucky I go with the stiff arm or a lowered shoulder. This game often ends badly for the young man. Someday I am going to pay for this, when I show up in Bellevue and all of a sudden Chuckles is 6′2″ and 220 pounds, but not anytime soon. The other game he and I play is called statue football. In this game, one person stands as still as possible (the statue), while the other throws a football at them. The goal is for the statue not to move, even if the ball is coming right at their head. Or belly. Or crotch. I must say, this game is a lot less fun for the CEO now that Chuckles has developed a throwing arm. . .

The CEO and CTO are going up to the woods to shoot guns on Saturday. Pretty much everyone is invited, and anyone who wants to come should give me a call; we can always scare up another rifle for you if you want to join us.

However, there is a certain someone who wants to come with us who may be just a little bit too fired up to get his hands on a loaded firearm. Someone who says they may show up in “camo and face paint”. Someone who claims to be the reincarnation of Vasily Zaitsev, a heroic sniper for Mother Russia during the Great Patriotic War. Someone who against all comers will defend Hostess apple pies, baseball, the Internet, Tivo, Rock ‘n Roll, dollar-value-menus, Milky Ways, beer gardens, Taco Bell, six bladed razors, and everything else that makes this country great, with no thoughts for himself. In other words, someone who is one hell of a man:

You want a piece of Team Lothey? Bring it!!!

*A hearty thanks to the Chief Photographer.

Sounds like a pretty typical Kjel.org beach trip:

CANNON BEACH, Ore. - A U.S. Coast Guard swimmer helped pluck a naked, hypothermic man off the rocks south of Cannon Beach Tuesday night. It appears the man had been swimming, got caught in the tide and then had to climb out onto the rocks. Somehow, he ended up losing his clothes in the process. . . He was then taken to the hospital.

It can be incredibly tough to be charitable. Ms. Vaca, however, seems to have tapped into a font of inner strength: she appears chock full of charity, litres of it even. An inspiration for us all; well done Ms. Vaca!

Avast ye scurvy dogs!! ‘Tis “Talk like a pirate day” day today, so get ye pirate talking, says I!

The CEO and several auxiliaries traveled to Seattle this last weekend to watch the Washington State Cougars take on the Baylor Bears. Our seats were not bad at all: front row of the 300 level, toward the center of the field.

The Chief Photographer, Kjel.org’s Microsoft liaison, and the CTO (at least the CTO’s shoulder) enjoying the game.

After first struggling to get his fires lit, and then enjoying several tasty beverages, it takes a special sort of man to tackle a huge bread bowl full of chowder. The Chief Photographer was just such a man, even though he didn’t know it at the time. The Microsoft liaison wisely anticipated his brother’s need for chowder, and made sure it was procured for him. One huge bread bowl later (with a cheeseburger back) and the Chief Photographer was good to go. Notice the chowder on his face that he is saving for later. So gooood!!

I recently made fun of Jr’s artistic talent, or lack thereof. Stinky finally heard about it and vowed to prove me a liar. His response today when I caught him practicing his drawing:

The first real rain in a very long time fell in Old Town today. You would think that this would have some type of cleaning effect, but just the opposite is true: Old Town, at least the small parts of it I’ve walked around in today, smells like a sewer. The water seemed to release certain smells that were much better left unreleased. And when the CEO is complaining about a bad smell, you know it’s gotta be bad.

Yesterday Jr. did his first art project with the big kids at his preschool. Even taking into account the fact that his chosen medium was fingerpaint, the work looked pretty slapdash to me; I have no idea what he was trying to portray. At first I thought it might be a landscape, possibly the campsite we were at last summer. I squinted a little and thought that it was perhaps a portrait of the Chief Educator mowing his lawn. Then it occurred to me that maybe the lad was working in an impressionist style, and his piece should be enjoyed with that in mind. Tried it. Nope. The picture is just bad, no way around it. Even so . . .

Did I mention the remodeling being done at his preschool? It kicks up lots of dust: the CFO obviously got some in her eyes when she picked up Stinkboy and heard all about his very first project with the big kids. What’s odd is that she tracked some of the dust back to the HQ and somehow got a bit of it in my eyes as she was telling me about it. It’s the only way I can think of to explain our watery eyes — it’s way too early for allergy season.

Kjel.org personnel update:

The CTO arrives from Ohio tomorrow for an extended Oregon visit. I suspect that not this weekend (he and I will be in Seattle watching WSU pummel Baylor at Qwest Field), but perhaps the next there may be some late season beerpong played at the Chief Educator’s house. Chief Educator, hopefully you and several other people will be able to join us.

Back to the sort of news the CEO can deal with.

Police chief quits over nude photos wife put on Web
SNYDER, Okla. — The police chief, the mayor and a councilman in Snyder resigned Friday amid an uproar over nude photos of the chief’s 300-pound, tattooed wife that she posted on an adult Web site. Dozens of residents of the town of 1,500 in southwestern Oklahoma had demanded Police Chief Tod Ozmun resign, and the district attorney recommended an obscenity investigation, but the City Council decided last week that the pictures were protected by the First Amendment . . . The police chief said he has had long discussions with his wife about the photos but does not tell her what to do. “My wife is 6-foot-3 and weighs 300 pounds,” said Ozmun, who became chief in January 2005. “If there is somebody that thinks they can control her, have at it. I have tried for 11 years and haven’t been able to.”

All week I’ve been meaning to post something about 9-11 and the last five years, but I finally decided against it. This particular website is meant to entertain those associated with or known to Kjel.org, it’s auxiliaries and/or hangers-on, or certain folk unfortunate enough to find the site via search engine. This is not a place at which I ever want to spew real darkness, and I can’t talk about that day and the world we now live in without doing so. So on that note, screw the real world. I’m staying in Kjel.org. Regular programming hopefully resumes tomorrow.

Still: below is some verse that I remember reading 5 years ago tonight, while trying to put things back together. For better or worse it still resonates with me, and that in and of itself might give you some idea as to why I don’t feel like saying more:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Sorry for the poetry. Next year I’ll put up a picture of the collage I’ve made, or maybe a video of my WTC interpretive dance. . .

Labor Day morning, sitting around the HQ, Kjel.org had no real plans. I mention that maybe we might want to head over to Town Center Park in Wilsonville, since Jr. seems to enjoy the fountain there quite a bit. Stinky, that sound good to you? The boy’s inner monologue at that point:

What the hell kind of silly question is that, Daddy? Of course I want to go to the Wilsonville park with the fun water feature! What possibly could have made you think I might not want to go? Did you eat paint chips when you were my age? You’re hopeless, Daddy. Hopeless. Now start up the Suby, get me out of these flerkin pajamas, and lets ride. And tell Mommy that I call shotgun.

What he said aloud? Aqua. More. Yayyy!! Aqua!! He can get quite a bit across using very few words.

We headed down to the park; much to his disgust Jr. did not get to ride shotgun. Stinky had to change and get lotioned up in public and did not like it one bit: that is not how he likes to roll. Dammit Mommy, for the last time, quit lotioning me and let me in the water!

Despite his expression he actually is having a lot of fun. The water runs for a long way, and there are all kinds of waterfalls and sluices and such for the boy to play in. He still has a bad habit of launching himself off of high walls without considering the consequences; this makes things slightly nervewracking when he is walking on the big cement blocks. Still though, a good time was had by all. Until his tantrum a little bit later, but I’ll spare you the pictures from that. Daddy, why do you think I am not smiling? Huh? Could it possibly be because you are making me look directly into the sun? Maybe? You ever think about that, smart guy?

Why the hell am I just now hearing about this? Was it reported when it happened? Was I out of town, or super busy, or perhaps on a several day bender during that particular news cycle? It seems like this would have been a big deal.

Arson investigators are asking the public to review a surveillance video taken on a TriMet bus last November to see if anyone recognizes a man shown planting a pipe bomb and getting off the bus. The man, with straight dark hair and a mustache, was wearing a hooded gray zip-up jacket, bluejeans and white gym shoes. He was carrying a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He boarded an eastbound bus at 11:16 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 27 on West Burnside Street at Southwest Ninth Avenue. The video shows him reaching into his gym bag and taking out a cylinder, which was later identified as a pipe bomb. The man planted the bomb and left the bus. The bomb was discovered several hours later during a routine sweep of the bus. It did not explode.

The guy in the video doesn’t really look like anyone known to the CEO, which is nice I suppose. Any of you recognize him?

Holy Crap! If you put the phrase Huck the Fuskies (no quotes, just the words) into Google, Kjel.org comes up sixth, right after the Sporting News! I have no idea how or why, aside from one post where I used that term to make fun of the UW. No matter — however it came about, I’m sure my dad would be proud. I’m certainly pretty pleased.

Today the good people at Costco saw fit to mail me a complementary Gillette Fusion. Whoa. The thing looks and feels like it has come back to me from the not-too-distant future. Pretty cool. But the best part? Six blades. Mutha-fricken six blades. To think that tomorrow morning there will be chumps out there shaving with a less than six bladed razor just makes the CEO laugh and laugh and laugh. God I love this country.

It wasn’t so long ago that four bladed razors were looked upon as objects of satire (best Onion piece ever, by the way). Not anymore, baby. This blade count arms-race can only continue, and I am glad for it: when Jr. starts shaving (age 11 is my guess) I fully expect him to be using a razor with at least fourteen blades. Or perhaps the robot and/or cyborg actually doing the shaving for the lad will use such a razor; who knows what wonders the future holds?

I’ll report tomorrow on the quality of the Fusion delivered shave, and as to whether or not I’ve been suckered into buying replacement blades for the six headed beast.

As part of the new school year, Stinkboy’s daycare (he would prefer that I call it pre-school, but we all know the truth) has provided a list of things we should send along as part of his school supplies; included in the list is a subsection for an unspecified “Non-Medical Emergency”. That portion of the list has stuff like juice boxes, granola bars, non-perishable snacks, a poncho, flashlight, etc. It is nowhere near comprehensive enough. If the long predicted 9.0 temblor hits anywhere close, or an A-bomb goes off at the Port, or if the dead rise up again and start walking the land and Jr. has to fight his way back to the HQ through a swarm of brain munching zombies (Hey, don’t be naive and think that Oh no, it can’t happen here!), he is gonna need a hell of a lot more than a poncho and a few granola bars to get himself through the emergency and back to me and the CFO. Especially since I imagine that in any of the aforementioned scenarios the rest of Kjel.org will have problems of their own: Stinky should probably plan on being self-reliant for a least an hour or three.

I am going to seal his kit up tight with all kinds of “only to be opened by the Jr. VP in the event of catastrophe and/or Rapture” warnings on it. I might even put a combination lock on it, only after having Jr. memorize the combo, of course. The school staff might wonder why his pack is so much heavier than the other kids’: a toddler sized Haz-Mat suit is surprisingly heavy. The GPS unit and the P-32 (aka A Boy’s First Semi-Automatic Pistol. Side note: a pistol is not ideal for zombie defense, but there is just no conceivable way the CEO can fit in one of these, a primo zombie whacker) and a few extra mags won’t add that much weight, but the hand-crank powered CB for calling Daddy will add a pound or two. And once the CEO is on the scene everything will be fine. Let’s just say my kit is somewhat more, er, comprehensive, than Jr’s . . .

On a vaguely related note, I have this book pre-ordered at Amazon right now. I’m hoping to pick up a useful tidbit or two for the coming troubles.