The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

The award our man is holding up? It only just recognizes the little fact that he is the #1 ticket sales guy in the whole of the WNBA. The lady on the left is his boss I think, but the CEO doesn’t really know who she is. The lady on the right? She sounds nice. And is a little bit more famous than the other one, if you follow this sort of thing. . .

The Chief Educator and I once lived in the nicest neighborhood you could imagine. It was lovely beyond description. Nice people, too. Good folk. Alas, we had to screw the whole thing up by moving to Portland. Live and learn, I guess.

The CEO has no idea what to get anyone for Christmas, or even what I might want. Luckily for me, handy articles like this one seem to come out every year, listing the sort of games I might like.

I am hoping for 24 hour coverage from the local stations:

PORTLAND, Ore. - An early winter blast of light snow moved into the Northwest Monday as temperatures dropped and higher elevations saw light accumulations of snow. Snow fell at lower elevations but was not sticking to well-traveled roadways Monday morning. ODOT cameras showed snow falling at many busy intersections and highways, but it was not sticking to most roads. In outlying areas where the snow was heavier and temperatures colder, schools closed or were delayed, and police were kept busy with traffic problems and stranded motorists. The snow level is expected to remain low through the day on Monday in the Portland area with temperatures remaining in the 30s or low 40s most places, including the coast.

Winter blast? No snow actually stuck on the ground. What will the news call it if we actually get 6 inches of snow? Winter Holocaust 2006? Ice Armageddon ‘07? I hope it does snow a bit this year: the boy would play in the white stuff until his hands and feet have frostbite, and even then probably won’t want to stop.

Below is the winner of the current official Kjel.org hat, sleeping off a turkey bender.

As * [a special lady] was able to divine from certain words prominent in recent Kjel.org posts, (ie pregnant, birth, born, c-section, and the like) and then allude to in comment #4 of this post, a new member of Kjel.org is on the way. He or she (or, as far as we know at this point, maybe multiple he and/or she’s. Kjel.org quints, perhaps?) was recruited the old fashioned way:

Whoo-hoo!

Kjel.org’s new addition should arrive post-Summerfest 2007, but not by much. It’ll be touch and go whether the CEO makes it to the Chief Educator’s party, but the early smart money is on yes.

Bonus coverage:

Homer: Ah, another perfect day in my perfect life with my perfect job.
Wiggum: [driving by] Hey, just heard the news over the squawk box.
That’s nice work, Homer.
Homer: Thank you, thank you very much. It is nice work.
Apu: Oh, Mr. Simpson, I have just heard about the little bundle of
joy. Congratulations, sir!
Homer: It’s true, the bundle is little, but I’m not in it for the
money.
Moe: [sly] Hey, Homer! Way to get Marge pregnant. [laughs]
Homer: This is getting very abstract, but thank you: I _do_ enjoy
working at the bowling alley.

Marge enters the front door of her house.

Everyone: Surprise! Baby shower.
Marge: Baby shower? You _know_ I haven’t told Homer yet, and
he’ll be home any minute.
Patty+Selma: [mocking] Oh _really_?
[the door opens]
Marge: [gasps, sees no one there] Phew! [starts to close the
door]
Homer: [barging in] Hey, it’s me. It’s hell out there!
[notices everyone standing around]
Hey, wait a minute. What are all these presents? It looks
like you’re…_showering_ Marge with gifts. Hmm…with
little, tiny baby-sized gifts. Well, I’ll be in the tub.
[walks up stairs]
Maude: By the way, congratulations on your new job, Homer.
Homer: New job? …Marge is pregnant?! [pulls hair out] Noooooo!
[runs up stairs screaming, slams bedroom door]

* Official Kjel.org title redacted for reasons of national security

Well, now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, it’s just about time to bring out the Christmas music.

A perceptive reader of Kjel.org may have noticed something on this web site over the last week or two, a certain je ne sais quoi, a certain preference for a way of phrasing things on my part, of perhaps seeking to put a suggestion of an idea into certain posts, and then encouraging said idea to flow subliminally (and later, liminally. Then superliminally. That will be exciting) into your brain. An official Kjel.org hat (pictured below) to the first person who can decipher whatever the hell it is I am talking about here.

The CFO’s whole family arrives in town today for Thanksgiving. The Jr. VP has no idea what is about to hit him: he is going to have so much fun playing with Grandma, Grampa and Uncle that his head well might explode. Possibly in a manner similar to that pictured below:

Then, come the weekend, it is back to just boring old Daddy. Poor Jr.

Oh, once they are gone we’ll go back to our usual weekend routine I guess, which really isn’t that bad but doesn’t compare to having out of town guests. Lately that routine has been something like this: I chase him around the house for a bit, then he tries to stand in the exact same spot where I am standing, then maybe we chase each other around the couch for a while. We’ll go outside and play for awhile, until I tick him off by doing something like not letting him push his trike down the driveway and into the street, or taking away the pruning sheers after he trys to give me a c-section, or preventing him from climbing under the hood of a running Subaru. Something mean like that. He’ll cry and go inside and have a little tantrum, we’ll fight, we’ll reconcile, and then maybe we’ll listen to some music or perhaps watch a little TV. (I mean a small amount of TV. We’ll actually watch it on a fairly good-sized television.) We’ll eat and/or drink, as appropriate to our station. Then we’ll repeat the whole process until one of us falls asleep.

All this is void if Mommy is home: the CEO will for the most part be ignored if that is the case. And rightfully so.

Guess what is thawing at the HQ right now? Gonna throw that meaty bun in the oven come Thursday, and a few hours later something magical will be born.

Kitt Peak National Observatory in Arizona.

Long, interesting as-all-get-out (if the survival of the human race interests you, I guess) article about a potentially very, very bad day for us Earth-dwellers in 2029 or 2036:

Friday the 13th of April 2029 could be a very unlucky day for planet Earth. At 4:36 am Greenwich Mean Time, a 25-million-ton, 820-ft.-wide asteroid called 99942 Apophis will slice across the orbit of the moon and barrel toward Earth at more than 28,000 mph. The huge pockmarked rock, two-thirds the size of Devils Tower in Wyoming, will pack the energy of 65,000 Hiroshima bombs—enough to wipe out a small country or kick up an 800-ft. tsunami.

On this day, however, Apophis is not expected to live up to its namesake, the ancient Egyptian god of darkness and destruction. Scientists are 99.7 percent certain it will pass at a distance of 18,800 to 20,800 miles. In astronomical terms, 20,000 miles is a mere stone’s throw, shorter than a round-trip flight from New York to Melbourne, Australia, and well inside the orbits of Earth’s many geosynchronous communications satellites. For a couple of hours after dusk, people in Europe, Africa and western Asia will see what looks like a medium-bright star creeping westward through the constellation of Cancer, making Apophis the first asteroid in human history to be clearly visible to the naked eye. And then it will be gone, having vanished into the dark vastness of space. We will have dodged a cosmic bullet.

Maybe. Scientists calculate that if Apophis passes at a distance of exactly 18,893 miles, it will go through a “gravitational keyhole.” This small region in space—only about a half mile wide, or twice the diameter of the asteroid itself—is where Earth’s gravity would perturb Apophis in just the wrong way, causing it to enter an orbit seven-sixths as long as Earth’s. In other words, the planet will be squarely in the crosshairs for a potentially catastrophic asteroid impact precisely seven years later, on April 13, 2036.

There’s much more — read the whole thing. I just hope that when the the hour’s approaching and I need their best, Bruce Willis and/or Ben Affleck will still be around to save us. And I also plan to build a nice little shelterini in which to weather the Armageddon, and then emerge like a newborn to make my way on the blasted alkaline flats of what used to be planet Earth. Either way, Kjel.org will be fine.

I said it last year and I’ll say it again: I hate the term “Black Friday.” Stop saying it, all of you. The Friday after Thanksgiving is a glorious day; I am going to start refering to it as Happy Friday, or perhaps Beer Pong Friday.

Siddhartha Gautama was obviously on to something, and I think that I too may now also be a Buddha. I already have the belly for it, pre-installed. My awakening:

After Saturday’s Apple Cup debacle I fell into a deep funk, and ended up meditating for a while on the nature of WSU fandom. The gallon of beer and two pints of wine (thanks for the lovely evening Coos and Coos’s date; sorry about my mood. And for being the fat guy in shorts, tennis shoes and a WSU golf shirt among all your other cool hipster friends) consumed throughout the day may have given me an assist; my meditations eventually brought forth unto me the Four Noble Truths of WSU fandom. Similar but not identical to Sid’s original Four Noble Truths, and no less compelling:

The Four Noble Truths of WSU fandom:

1. Rooting for the Cougs means suffering.

2. The origin of suffering is the UW.

3. The cessation of suffering is unobtainable. Legally, anyway.

4. The path to the cessation of suffering involves fire-bombing the UW, and might be seen by some as overkill, even now.

It is a good thing too that I now have my own revelations, because there is just no way I can do anything with the great Buddha’s original list, especially #2: The origin of suffering is attachment. Well, no shit, Sid. And I’m supposed to do what with that? You expect the CEO to not root for the Cougs, and not care who wins the Apple Cup? Unlikely, Tubby. I mean, Great Awakened One. Very unlikely.

No Nirvana for the CEO I guess. This time around anyway.

Every day when I wake up I thank my lucky stars that it is 2006. God how I love the internet. Thank you Al Gore. And Tom Tuttle.

Go Cougs! And remember, Ted Bundy was a Husky.

Rest in peace, Mr. Candy

Despite my earlier complaints about WSU football games not being on TV, listening to them on the radio is a damn good time. Despite his pro-Fuskie leanings, Art Thiel in today’s PI nails the joy that is listening to Walden and “Bob Rob” call a game:

At risk of being burned at the antenna, the suggestion here for a lift is to tune in Saturday to the Washington State radio broadcast featuring play-by-play man Bob Robertson and analyst Jim Walden, the former Cougars coach. It might be the most unintentionally funny sports broadcast in America. . . . To fully enjoy the experience (in Seattle on KPTK-AM/1090), one must suspend allegiance to the Huskies, as well as any desire for broadcast objectivity or rationality. Then buckle up. In a recent game, Robertson was describing a Cougars offensive play:

Robertson: “Brink drops back five steps, looking, looking … ”
Walden (abruptly, loudly): “Run, Alex! Run!”

Last weekend from Tempe, Ariz., Robertson started to describe an Arizona State pass play:

Robertson: “Carpenter drops back … ”
Walden (loudly interrupting, directed at the ASU offensive line): “Quit holding! Jeez!”
Robertson: ” … and the pass falls incomplete.”
Walden: “Bob, if (official’s name) is not calling that, we’re in big trouble tonight! He was held two plays in a row! That’s unbelievable.”

Against Arizona, a replay review overturned a Brink scramble that was originally called a first down, prompting Robertson to declare the reversal “the worst call in the history of college football … you can take this whole seven-man crew and toss them in the Palouse River.”
Walden: “Don’t forget these two in the booth.” . . .

Throw in farm animal health ads and some shots at the opposing coach — “(ASU coach) Dirk Koetter is not the most congenial guy I know,” Walden said late in the 47-14 whipping — and the Cougars broadcast is often more entertaining than the game.

Still, I’ll be happy to watch the Apple Cup on TV. I’ve listened to plenty of games on the radio this year already. . .

The Jr. VP invented a game last night: I follow Daddy around with a stool, and try to stand exactly where Daddy is standing and do whatever it is that Daddy is doing. Push Daddy out of the way if necessary. Bonus points if I can break or steal whatever Daddy is doing at the time. Double bonus if it is also dangerous to one or both of us.

The game was okay when I was standing in the kitchen, looking at my computer. The boy is not yet able to type, after all. It got a little worse when I was standing over the sink chopping vegetables; a certain boy doesn’t really understand which end is the business end of a chef’s knife, and will grab for any part he can get. Standing over the stove cooking dinner? Trouble. And let’s just say it is very fortunate our bathroom door has a lock on it.

I had my mom on the phone at one point last night while the lad was playing his newly born game. She heard me say something to the lad that she initially seriously misinterpreted: Quit throwing your stool! After a pregnant moment of silence from the other side of the conversation, I had a rare moment of insight. Your step-stool! Mom was relieved; I made cheap jokes to Stinkboy for the rest of the evening about the quality, location, the ability to stand on, the need to use two hands to carry, and many many more characteristics about his trusty “stool”. I’m not sure he got all of them. At this rate the boy’s and my mental age should coincide in roughly 48 to 52 months.

Only 1%? Bah. It is my solemn promise to you, Kjel.org reader, that the CEO will do everything in his power to increase this number as much as I can by this time next year.

The CFO is bowling this evening. For work, unfortunately, and not as part of a social outing. It would be much funnier if she was there for League Night with her friends, all with matching shirts or bags or warm up suits. Anyway, for some reason she wants to wait until she gets home to eat dinner tonight. Huh? Pass up a meal at a bowling alley? Are you insane, woman? It’s times like this that I realize she and I are very different people.

Schadenfreude (German for “shameful joy” ) is not the most admirable of qualities in a gentleman. Luckily, “gentleman” is one name that I am rarely called, so I think I will go ahead and enjoy this to the fullest possible extent. Sorry Fuskies. Expect more of the same in the upcoming years, as Coach Ty can’t be helping your recruiting with this sort of move:

Monday I went to the set of “CSI: Montlake” to witness the autopsy. The coroner listed all of the usual signs of a football team’s death, most notably a lack of talent. But the autopsy revealed something else, a contributing factor to be sure — coach Tyrone Willingham’s announcement last week that some redshirt juniors would not be invited back for their senior seasons. . . . Kicker Michael Braunstein is one of the players who probably will not return, and he’s not at all happy about that. “We’re labeled as bad apples, and he’s trying to get us out,” Braunstein said, referring to himself and safety Chris Hemphill. “If I was a (good) soldier, I wouldn’t be in this situation.” Asked how he planned to approach the Apple Cup, which figures to be his last game as a Husky, Braunstein said: “If the game’s on the line, do I make a field goal to make him (Willingham) look good? No, I’m doing it for my teammates and my (future).” Not for Willingham? “Not right now,” he said. “It’s hard for me to go out and play for him.”

Classy move, Ty.

Below is a picture (stolen from Cougfan.com) of Husky Stadium after last year’s Apple Cup. For some reason it reminds of the post-game quote from WSU coach Bill Doba.

How Bill could conceive that anyone in that picture had been drinking is just beyond me. Such a fertile imagination. It is by these sorts of comments that stereotypes about WSU fans are born. Now who’s up for some tailgaiting Saturday?

P.S. I am convinced that 99% of the people you’ll ever meet (including the CEO) who use the word Schadenfreude learned it from Lisa on the Simpsons, when she chided her dad for being happy that stupid Flanders’s Leftorium was failing:

Lisa: Dad, do you know what Schadenfreude is?
Homer: No, I do not know what shaden-frawde is.
[sarcasm] Please tell me, because I’m dying to know.
Lisa: It’s a German term for `shameful joy’, taking pleasure in the suffering
of others.
Homer: Oh, come on Lisa. I’m just glad to see him fall flat on his butt!
[getting mad]
He’s usually all happy and comfortable, and surrounded by loved ones,
and it makes me feel… What’s the opposite of that shameful joy
thing of yours?
Lisa: [nastily] Sour grapes.
Homer: Boy, those Germans have a word for everything!

I’ve never eaten horse before (as far as I know — I have eaten at some sketchy restaurants in Eastern Europe. And in London. And Salem), but I might start, primarily as a way to protest silly laws that should never have been born.

I imagine the meat itself is a bit stringy, like a (beef) pot roast. I’ll slow cook it it with some root vegetables perhaps, or maybe in some bbq sauce. Anyone know where I can get horse meat around here?

Dawn broke early over the HQ; Jr. and therefore Daddy rose early. We watched ESPN while we waited on the couch for Mommy to wake up; eventually we ventured back into the bedroom to “help” her get up. Helping someone wake up is one of Jr’s many, many talents. It worked. Once the three of us were up, dressed, fed, and freshly diapered (just one of us on that last point. OK, maybe two), Kjel.org then had a confab to figure out what we should do today. Nobody really had any plans, the weather was nice: the day was pregnant with possibility. Stinkboy lobbied hard for the park; Daddy wanted some shopping time at Costco. Turns out we got both; no pictures at Costco though. Below are Mommy and Monkey-boy climbing a slide. The boy doesn’t need any help to climb that ladder, but Mommy was worried because it was a bit slippery. Daddy knew that the lad would be fine.

The lad is now so big that he isn’t content just to swing on the swings himself, oh no. Here he is pushing Mommy on a swing. Jr. has learned the hard way some valuable lessons about practical physics by pushing the CFO on swings. For example, he now knows that if he remembers to get the heck out of the way when the swing starts moving back toward him, pushing Mommy (or anyone, really) is that much more fun.

Today was a little less fun. The lad and Daddy were up early again, but now it was cold and cloudy. We went outside and raked leaves and cleaned gutters, my way of battening down the hatches at the HQ in preparation of the inbound hurricane. A certain boy got absolutely filthy outside but balked at coming inside for a bath; eventually, he relented and got cleaned up. Stinkboy got pretty dirty too.

After our outdoor work was done the CEO decided he wanted a McRib, so an errand at the hardware store was invented. (”I’m going to get some more, uh, leaf bags, yeah, we definitely need more leaf bags. I’ll be back soon . . .”) I went to the store, and on my way home tried to stop for my McRib. I got my sandwich, but with no help from the local cops: an hour or two earlier they had shot some guy at the hotel next door to McD’s, and had the entire McD parking lot blocked off with yellow tape. Luckily, there was a friendly McD employee out in the street directing folks on how to get through the drive through: turns out the cops had left a path open for cars, but it was not at all apparent if you weren’t told about it. First you kill some guy under weird circumstances, then you compound the situation by attempting to deny the CEO his constitutionally protected right to freely associate with a McRib. Banner day for the local police. I want both of these injustices fully investigated.

Lunch though was tasty after all that . . .

Kjel.org would like to take this opportunity to salute all members of the U.S. armed forces, past and present. A particular shout-out, as the kids say (or said, like 15 years ago) goes to a certain supply officer in the U.S. Navy’s undersea warfare community. Keep those supplies coming, Lt. Dan!

One way to estimate how much the CEO will like any particular meal or dish is to count up the number of different animals that contributed to the meal. 3 or more almost always guarantees a winner. That is one of the reasons I am so excited for Thanksgiving this year. Santa is coming early for the CEO I think: we’re cooking a Turducken for the feast. Any time you can eat four meats in one bite you know it is a special occasion. I hope this gives birth to a new Kjel.org tradition: Turduckens for any (and all) holidays. A Columbus Day Turducken next year would be mighty fine indeed.

Do you people realize that today is exactly two weeks from Thanksgiving? Wasn’t it summer just a week or two ago? And then Christmas comes practically four days after Thanksgiving? And then a certain boy turns TWO? Holy crap but time does fly. This is all just one more thing I think I am going to block out for a while.

I feel a bit like Homer. The good one, not that stupid blind Greek guy. Now I am off to find some cookies.

Marge: Homey, I —
Homer: Can’t talk, praying. Dear Lord, the gods have been good to me
and I am thankful. For the first time in my life, everything is
absolutely perfect just the way it is.
Marge: Mmm.
Homer: So here’s the deal: you freeze everything as it is, and I won’t
ask for anything more. If that is OK, please give me absolutely
no sign. [brief pause] OK, deal.
In gratitude, I present you this offering of cookies and milk.
If you want me to eat them for you, please give me no sign.
[brief pause] Thy will be done!

Jr. lately has become quite adamant in his entertainment tastes. Specifically, he demands that one song on one particular CD be played over and over and over again. It is not a bad song (or a bad CD, really), but I now hear the song playing in my head 24 hours a day. The lyrics make no sense; they are basically dadaist poetry. They consist of the words “violin”, “hippo” (which Stinkboy sings as elbow and then points to his elbow), “speck of dust”, and something about fractions of “George Washington’s head.”

It could be worse: at least the lad does not seem interested in the Wiggles, or Barney, or any of that sort of syruppy crap. I hope that holds. If it does, I think a lot of the credit probably goes to the steady diet of punk and heavy metal I fed him as an infant. Perhaps the CEO should write a book on how to raise a well adjusted toddler . . .

Kudos to KPDX channel 13 in Portland for showing “Much Apu about Nothing” last night, the Simpsons episode where, in response to the constant bear attacks in Springfield, Mayor Quimby proposes and the voters pass a piece of immigration reform: Proposition 24. An excellent choice for the election night, and one of the funnier Simpsons episodes made; well done KPDX.

As for the election itself? I find myself agreeing this morning with Homer’s sentiments from last night: When are people going to learn? Democracy doesn’t work!

The red Suby’s battery picked yesterday evening to call it a career. I got a jump in the parking lot last night and it started no problem, but then the drive home? Done without defrosters, turn signals, wipers, and, quite often, headlights. Adventurous, to say the least.

I was able to compression-start it out of my driveway (who says automatics are better than sticks?) and drive it over to the mechanic this morning, but then got to walk back home. And a lovely morning for a walk through Portland it was:

Torrential rains torment NW Oregon
A warm-weather storm continued to pound Oregon on Tuesday, swelling rivers, closing roads and driving some people from their homes. The Pineapple Express was expected to dump an additional three to nine inches of rain through Wednesday, after having left more than two inches in Portland in a 24-hour period and three inches in Astoria.

Thankfully, I was wearing this awesome raincoat that I have on loan (more or less) from the Chief Photographer. Chief, I totally understand if you want that coat back. It is a great coat. Bet you could have used it today.

Look, I dislike Jerramy Stevens of the Seahawks as much as anybody, for any number of reasons, but still, to paraphrase Austin Powers, I don’t care if he is a bastard. You don’t knee a man in the pills. It’s just not cricket.

9:30 on Sunday night at the HQ: What the hell was that? Not quite time to panic yet, but I may keep a hard-hat and flashlight handy when I go to bed tonight.

Earlier this morning I caught Jr. “checking his investments” at ESPN.com. No, no Stinkboy; gambling is for Daddies, not boys. You didn’t happen to see a Clemson-Maryland score while you were on there, did you?

I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that the biggest complaint I have right now is the one I am about to share, but dammit, it’s a big deal to me: why the hell are so many WSU football games not on TV this year? Last year when they were terrible every game was on; now that the Cougs are good they do not seem to appear much. It’s not often that TV fails me, but this time, TV has failed. I may make a scene at the Fox Sports NW office (it’s in Bellevue) next time I’m up there.

A certain Educator will receive some number of write-in votes for Director, East Multnomah Soil and Water Conservation District (zone 2).

I believe I will stay in Portland, thank you very much.

It’s taken more time than the specs initally called for, but (with the exception of a couple of additional fenceboards that the “professionals” I employed tried to get out of supplying) the Great Wall of Kjel.org has finally been completed. As far as I can tell the HQ’s defenses are now unbreachable. As a second bonus, I now don’t have to watch our hick neighbors and their Clackamamas go in and out of that house all day everyday. Did I mention that one of the dudes living there is friends with the Chief Academic’s brother from way back in the Dallas days? I threw that in just to give you a sense of who I am dealing with. Things are serious at the HQ. As serious as they ever are, anyway.

We went to the zoo this last weekend. It was Howl-oween, and all the kids (and quite a few parents) had costumes on. Everyone except Kjel.org that is. We had no idea there were Halloween festivites at the zoo; we just thought it was a nice day to go, as Jr. does enjoy himself running around and seeing some animals. Here he is going nose to belly with a sea lion.

Stinkboy does have a pretty nice costume this year, he just forgot to bring it to the zoo: he is a Dalmation, or a puppy as he now calls most furry animals. The costume incudes a hat with floppy puppy ears, but the lad is not a fan of hats. He loved the paws though.

The Jr. VP is still a little bit young to go trick-or-treating. He did though try to steal other kids candy when they showed up at our door, so he’s on the right track I think. Next year he’ll be smashing jack-o-lanterns and pushing nerds into the sticker bushes like a big boy. Someday, son. There will likely be tears in Daddy’s eyes when you hassle your first nerd. Ah, Stinkboy . . . you complete me. You’re my special boy.