The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

We live in a glorious age. In years past only those people there at the time could have enjoyed this prank. Now, with satellites and the internet, it’s hanging out there for all to see. Tonight before dinner the Jr VP and I will raise a toast: To Science!

Language note: the Jr. VP recently started calling me cholo*. I am amused as hell; the CFO is absolutely mortified. I swear to God it wasn’t me that started it. The next time you see the lad make sure you call him ese or vato. The CFO absolutely loves that.

* At least that it what it sounds like he is saying. I hear “make your move, cholo” but he might actually be asking for me to “make some more jello.” It’s hard to tell.

My employer is moving to a new office on the other side of downtown next week, but I am going to miss the old spot. If you recognize the buildings in Old Town, you’ll know this one. My office is located about 9 feet above the turntable; my back is to those bricks on the outside wall. The mural faces Davis, and the trees to the left are on 1st. Meth dealers and homeless guy sleeping in dumptser at base of wall not pictured.

We are getting rid of a bunch of old office furniture and other random stuff in preparation for the move. On Saturday morning I brought the Chief Educator in to assess the potential loot. We looked around the whole place, but here he is chillin’ in my office assessing the options. That dart board is not for sale, by the way.

Gonna end up getting him some dividers for his classroom I think, and possibly a new ping-pong table as well. We’ll see: the good stuff is being auctioned among all the employees, and I know those guys — they love their pong as well.

Also, thanks to the Chief Educator and his truck and I finally made the trip out to Home Depot and bought a new ladder. I’ve gambled with my life too many times already getting onto my roof with the old six-footer. The CEO has to win that wager every time; Death only needs to win once. And with the way I would stand on the very top of the ladder and then roll onto my roof as the ladder fell away behind me, I was giving Death some pretty good odds. Not anymore — in your face, Reaper!

Sweet baby Jesus how I love Delivered Dish. And also Pat, down the street a ways at New York New York. Bringing the two together on a lazy Sunday night is truly perfection.

Stupid news from the Oregon Brewers Festival website:

After 19 years of promoting the Oregon Brewers Festival as a community event, we regret that we will not be allowed to have minors under the age of 21 on the festival premises in 2007. The Oregon Liquor Control Commission has stipulated no minors be on-site, citing OLCC Rule 845-006-0340 (7) (a) in which “eating predominates” and the premise must not have a “drinking enviroment”. In order to view this rule, please go to here and click on “Laws and Rules”. Click on OLCC Law Book. This will open up a PDF file for viewing.

The OLCC needs to be overthrown. I believe I know just the men to do it. . . .

I was looking through old pictures on my laptop the other weekend and ran across one I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Taken by the Chief Educator’s date, if I am not mistaken.

The Chief broke my shower door a little earlier in the evening if I recall. Good times.

The CEO admittedly is feeling more anti-authoritarian than usual even right now, so a story about Washington State Patrol speed traps in today’s Seattle Times might be chapping my hide more than it may have on a normal day. Maybe not though; take a look at the picture from the article: the guy wielding the radar gun is a Smokey disguised as a DOT employee.

I hope drivers going past give him an appropriate “salute”.

It turns out the CEO does not like being a neighborhood activist, but if it becomes necessary in order to kill off this stupid Local Improvement District the city and some harpy up my street are trying to force on me and my neighbors, then so be it. CFO, find me another clean shirt! It’s fighting time, bureaucratic style!

A little background: an LID is a process the city has in place whereby neighbors can “band together” to pay for city-sanctioned road improvements. More about it here at a city of Portland website if you are interested. The problem is that “banding together” is pretty loosely defined. Once proposed, the city has a lot of latitude as to whether or not an LID is actually formed. And if an LID is formed, Kjel.org pays, whether it wants to or not. (Thanks, harpy!)

The LID Administrator the city sent out to talk at the meeting last night initially claimed to have no opinion as to whether we should proceed or not, but after listening to him that is clearly bullshit: it’s his job to get these things through after all, as they increase the city’s property tax base at no cost to the city.

So anyway, the CEO is now going to have to waste a bunch of his time trying to make sure that I’m not forced to pay for improvements on a road that doesn’t need it, “fixes” that would actually be detrimental to the neighborhood. The money involved is no small change either: while the PDX guy couldn’t give any solid numbers yet, he said most likely “mid five-figures” for the average property owner. He then tried to sugarcoat it: “it’s not personal debt remember, but is just a lien on the property itself.” Oh, just a lien! I’m terribly sorry, I guess it turns out that this thing would be fucking swell after all! I’ll just shut my mouth and go back to Happy Land, living in my gumdrop house on Lollipop Lane!! If you can’t tell, I was being sarcastic.

Sorry about that. The CEO gets a little fired up thinking about this. There are several other reasons this process pisses me off (i.e. turns out that that chucklehead the city sent last night was the author of a change in the Portland City Code a few years back making it easier for the city to form LID’s without the requisite “yes” votes from affected property owners. Impartial my ass.) but I’ll save those rants for another time. If I have to actually start attending City Hall meetings to keep this damn thing from happening the CEO’s demeanor toward certain neighbors is going to be sour, to say the least. The next block party might be a little icy . . . as if the CEO would ever go to such a thing in the first place.

Some lousy pus-bag in my neighborhood has formally proposed a Local Improvement District (”LID”) to the city of Portland regarding the unpaved street adjacent to the HQ. When I figure out who it was I plan to launch an unceasing campaign of terror against that slimy dirtball, post-haste.

In the meantime, I am headed to a meeting at PCC tonight to learn (the word used in the notice) about the proposal. My real purpose in going is to get my neighbors fired up about fighting this damn thing. I plan the classic pathos-heavy approach, aka the: Won’t somebody please think of the children? strategem. Plus, I think it is a better rallying cry than Won’t somebody please think of the CEO’s finances? even if I don’t really give a rats ass about the children. Other than you, Jr. You’re still my special boy.

I’ve done some research on the LID process and I’m not pleased by what I’ve found;things could easily not go my way here. As Sun Tzu says, appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak. Tonight I’m combing my hair, wearing my best grey suit and my cleanest white dress shirt, a nice silk tie (bought in Paris — it’s where I get all my neckware), freshly shined black wingtips, and carrying my good Coach briecase. I hope to get it across to the guys from the city the CEO is going to be a monumental obstacle to this project (read giant NIMBY a-hole), and also perhaps leave a just a subtle hint of potential lawsuits lingering in the air when I leave. Most importantly, I’ll figure out which house in the neighborhood is going to get a flaming bag of poo left on it’s doorstep every Thursday from now on.

How many times did I do something similar to your mom . . . ah memories. Now rub the top of her head!

Kjel.org was watching a Simpsons DVD on Sunday. Commentary on, of course. We watched Homer’s Enemy, the episode in which Homer meets Frank Grimes (Grimey, to his friends) and they get off on the wrong foot. Great episode. Anyway, during the commentary, one of the creators mentions the URL of a now-famous Simpsons fan site, a site that once upon a time used the .net version of its current domain name. Several years ago the CEO ran across the site and realized that I happened to know the owner of the .com version of the domain name they were using. The owner wasn’t really doing much with it; he was happy to get it to me. I then gave the domain to the guys running that fan site. To hear Matt Groening mention the domain I briefly owned and then gifted to that site mentioned in a Simpsons commentary track was sort of cool. I thought so anyway; the CFO was unimpressed.

I can’t remember a sweeter headline.

The CFO has several social acquaintances who also happen to be gay men; all men with a wife or girlfriend should be so lucky as the CEO. It’s a fabulous arrangement. Case in point: the CFO and one of her male friends are off to see Dream Girls tomorrow afternoon. The CFO was kind enough not to make a liar out of the the CEO by asking me if I “wanted” to go with her. She instead just called up another man she happens to know who (for whatever reason) has been dying to see that film, and off they’ll go. Bullet dodged. Jr. and the CEO will be home watching the NFL playoffs and eating cheese and various pork products.

Stay with me here. If you accept that:

1. the longer one is out on the snowy roads the more danger that person is in, and,

2. the best way to lessen that danger is to decrease the time spent, then,

3. hauling ass and thereby making your actual drive time as short as possible is really the safest way to be, Q.E.D.

you then perhaps understand how I came to be yelling “Why are you trying to kill me and my boy you crazy old biddy?!” as I passed some grandma going 32 mph in a 35 mph zone today. I couldn’t flip her the bird since I needed both hands on the wheel to control the skid I was in, but I managed to give her a good glowering as we slid past. Showed her.

As Jr. and I found out this morning, playing in the slush is no where close to as fun as playing in the snow. We looked at the driveway and the hill and decided to go for it. He was getting a little stir-crazy having to stay home, and the CEO had a mountain (at least a large butte’s worth, anyway) of work piling up. I strapped us both in and away we went. The city had actually got around to sanding the top of our hill, so it really wasn’t too bad. Our best fun was when we arrived at daycare: Jr. especially liked it when I did a Dukes Of Hazzard style powerslide across their parking lot. I’m not sure the moms in the lot liked it as much. I really need to teach him to yell Yeeeehaaa! at times like that, and maybe laugh like Sherrif Roscoe too.

Should you ever visit the HQ and find this hanging in the foyer, it may be time to call someone. Um, CEO? These nice men in the white coats need to talk to you . . .

Dear Tracy,

Thank you for selecting the Marge suit for tonight’s broadcast. The CEO appreciates it.

Also, I’m sorry if the Kjel.org StormTeam coverage has been competing with KGW; please know it’s nothing personal.

Thanks again, and give my best to Zaffino,

The CEO

This just in: the roads are icy. This morning the Kjel.org team witnessed a FedEx truck trying to go up the hill in front of the Storm Team HQ. He couldn’t make it, even with chains. The driver looked to be about 20 years old. He sat there for half an hour until another Fed Ex truck arrived. The new driver, a grizzled veteran, took the wheel but also had no luck. The truck eventually turned around and went back down the hill. Someone in Kjel.org’s neighborhood today may be wishing that they used UPS.

Special advisory from Kjel.org: all non-essential staff members should not, I repeat, should not, report in at the HQ today. Looks like the CEO will be spending the day at the Old Barn.

Cub reporter Stinkboy and his truck are drafted to help clean up the HQ. Sucks to be the new guy.

Jr. cub reporter Stinkboy using an official Kjel.org snow measuring stick to assess the total. Daddy, I’m reporting snowfall in the range of three to four inches here at the HQ. Now I’m going to use this stick to hit your car a few times. Back to you in the Kjel.org Stormteam Command Center, Daddy.

The Kjel.org news crew out in the field. They do the actual reporting; the CEO stays in the studio with his stylist and teleprompter.

Stay classy, Portland.

A viewer reports that teens in the vicinity of SW Miles Court have been seen snowboarding behind a Mitsubishi Montero. Reports that two men in their 30’s, possibly in a 4-Runner and/or a red Subaru were giving them liquor and daring them to go off of a poorly constructed jump one of the men had built could not be verified.

Welcome to 24 hour Kjel.org Storm Team coverage. About conditions at the HQ anyway. Let’s go live to the CFO in front of our house:

The CFO: There’s a fair amount of snow out here CEO, and the road looks treacherous. The snowfall looks to be tapering off, but it is still cold out here. If anyone from Starbucks is watching, I could really go for a vanilla latte right about now.

Jr. cub reporter Stinkboy has this report from the back deck:

Jr: Yay! Cold! Snow! And if anyone from Toys R us is watching, I really wish I had a sled right now.

A certain boy jumped out of bed today, looked out the window, and then began running around in a circle with his hands in the air screaming “Snow day!” “Snow day!” “Snow day!” Unfortunately, my yelling woke up the Jr. VP. He was excited too.

The last few days have been busy. Where to even start? Perhaps a notes format:

1. The CEO likes the cold and a bit of snow, but crikey: it’s pretty damn chilly outside. The snow shown above fell like a week ago, and it’s still around. Not normal. Also, the CEO likes to turn the heat off at the HQ at night. I did it the other night and when we woke up the next morning, it was 51 degrees in our house. The CFO was this close (imagine me doing that thing where I hold my thumb and forefinger a one eighth of a millimeter apart) to filing for divorce that morning. Or stabbing me to death. Or both.

2. The Jr. VP mentioned that one day he wanted to become a superhero, so I’ve let him get an early start on the costume thing. At least that what I tell the CFO. Really I just like to dress him funny (A onesie over his sweats? Hi-larious!) for my own amusement. Of course it irritates the CFO. No divorce on this one though, and only light stabbing, if any.

The almost snow day didn’t help the CEO much, as the Suby got me to work no problem. Just to make the drive in more interesting I didn’t even bother to scrape the windshield first. It worked.

3. The CFO went to the doctor this week with some weird throat problem. The doctor was pretty worthless: Yeah, there’s something there, no I don’t know what it is. He could at least confirm that it wasn’t thrush, which the CFO had convinced herself she had. The doctor prescribed something called “Magic Mouthwash” that the CFO was supposed to gargle with. It sounded to me like maybe the doctor had prescribed a placebo, but whatever: after a day or two of the Magic Mouthwash, the CFO felt better. I later looked it up and it turned out to be a real medication after all. It sounds like there are a few different blends of Magic Mouthwash out there; I might create and start marketing the CEO’s Special Reserve Blend of Magic Mouthwash. The CEO’s version does include a slightly lower dosage of tetracycline, but has a significantly higher content of both gin and peyote.

4. As is our custom most Fridays, the CFO and I ordered dinner from Delivered Dish. The delivery man eventually arrives at our door and Jr. goes running to greet him. (Jr was expecting the Pizza Guy. The Pizza Guy is a god in Jr’s universe, sort of like Gozer in mine. The Chinese food guy still got props from the boy though.) “Hi!” “Hi!” “Hi!”. The Guy gives us our dinner and collects his money. As he is leaving, Jr. yells “Adios! Adios!” and waves. The Guy happened to be Mexican. “Your kid speaks Spanish?” “Uhh, a little” was the best I could do. “Smart kid,” he says while walking away. I hope the guy wasn’t offended by the “adios!” somehow; the CEO is not known for his nuanced understanding of situations like that. Oh well. But the General Tsao’s chicken? Delectable, even if the General himself was a bloodthirsty tyrant.

Saturday afternoon the three of us went to the grocery store. The CFO doesn’t realize that when the boys are at the store, shopping is only a tertiary goal: the primary directive is fun. We mostly have fun by playing with the grocery cart. So many cart games: the slalom, speed trials, fancy freestyle tricks likes popping wheelies and backwards driving, and one favorite that can only be done (done safely, anyway) when the store is relatively empty: the Ghostrider. We had a good time; mommy got her stuff. Everyone was happy. Saturday at the store was a win-win-win for everyone, aside from the elderly woman who inadvertently met the Ghostrider on aisle four. Lucky for her that the local firehouse shops at the same place we do; I’m not sure I could have figured out on my own how those defibrillator paddles worked.

Saturday night the CFO’s brother and date came over and we had tasty Hawaiian food. Again from Delivered Dish. Different delivery guy though, and for that I was thankful. Side note: While pizza is still the king for Stinkboy, Aunty’s Shoyu Chicken is likely the queen.

5. Later Saturday night, I excused myself from the Hawaiian feast and traveled over to the Chief Educator’s pad. [The lady of the house]* very wisely vacated the premises for the evening: the boys were doing some gambling. It was far and away the best gaming we’ve had in a long time, even though I and most of the rest of us got our asses handed to us by one lucky Chief Motherfucker (formerly the Chief Photographer). He had cards (and stories) that night that you wouldn’t believe. I only made it until midnight and then went home to my loving and faithful wife.

6. Sunday morning was spent again at the Chief Educator’s pad, watching the Seahawks lose to the stupid Chicago Bears. Stupid Rex Grossman. He’s going on my list I think. At least I got to have Lit’l Smokies for breakfast. That’s something that doesn’t happen often enough.

7. The CEO has decided that the new addition to Kjel.org will have the first name of “Tank”. Doesn’t matter if it is a boy or a girl, it works either way.

8. Sunday night Kjel.org took dinner over to the Lake Oswegans with the new baby boy. We stayed and dined and watched all the kids play; it was lovely as usual. During the course of dinner the CFO had commented about how they were happy that Jack Bauer was finally on again tonight. A little later an irritating commercial for American Idol came on. The CFO: “I can’t believe people still watch that show. Every season is exactly the same.” “Not at all like 24“, commented the new Daddy. Touche. [editors note: turns out that the CEO incorrectly remembered where he was when he heard that comment; the exchange actually occured at the Chief Educator’s lair earlier that day. It’s like I’d been drinking or something that night. More than usual, I mean.]

9. I have a dream, that one day my yard will be stick-free and my garage uncluttered. Today, in honor of the late Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, I am going to try to make that dream into reality. And then afterwards maybe drink some beer (or Magic Mouthwash?) and play video games. It’s the what the Dr. would have wanted I think.

* Title redacted upon instructions from CTU.

The Chief Educator is coming over to my house tomorrow to take a social studies test. The test is actually administered next door to the HQ, but I told him he could park in my driveway. He’s going to come early and review a bit; I’ve already got the flashcards made. A few examples: (answers below) 1. How many branches of the US Government? 2. How long is a U.S. senator’s term? 3. Why are there thirteen stripes on the American flag? The Chief is going to ace this test. I know he wakes up every day thanking George W. for the opportunity to take it.

1. 3
2. 6
3. For good luck

One of the presents that a lad received the other weekend in Bellevue:

Jr. sinks them from downtown with startling regularity. This makes no sense whatsoever, considering his daddy’s mad skillz at the game. Maybe he is secretly adopted?

A little bit of snow late is better than no snow ever. A certain boy is happy.

This “snowstorm“? Lame. Zaffino, the CEO can take most anything. The Jr VP on the other hand is just a boy. A boy who so far anyway has had his wintery dreams crushed. Please help out a poor sad little boy. I’m begging you.

I cannot tell you how happy I am to be somewhere where it is dark by 4:45 and simultaneously windy and foggy, (I don’t know how either, but it happens, I swear) with intermittent downpours and/or snow flurries. If only everyone could be in lovely Portland, Orygun to experience such things. . .

Damn those kids.

Hey baby, I got a mattress in the back of my van . . .
Kjel.org is back from their latest sojourn to Bellevue. The CFO drove up in the red Suby, while I piloted a sweet Chevy 3500 cargo van up and down I-5. I got it from my pals at the Barbur Enterprise. Incidentally, they are now the official purveyor of car and van rentals to Kjel.org. I’m sure they’re thrilled. Anyway, the van seemed to have an aircraft carrier-sized gas tank since after going up and back the gauge was down only to the halfway point, and I may not have been driving in the most fuel efficient manner: of course I insisted on making the van go 82mph uphill and into a headwind. I used the van to haul back a new bed that my parents had for us in Bellevue. The new bed will be nice. Kjel.org has been sleeping on a CFO sized unit since we got married; we are now upgrading to a CEO sized bed. Someday? A California CEO . . .

Wiggles: the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?
Jr. enjoyed his birthday party, at which he scarfed down an astonishing amount of pizza. Astonishing to my mom anyway; nothing surprises me anymore where the Stinkboy-pizza connection is concerned. I learned though this weekend that the lad has what may be an unhealthy obsession with the Wiggles. They seem to have hypnotized him in some manner. And this was even before he received his Wiggles guitar containing irritating songs with trance enforcing subliminal messages. The Wiggles might well be demons, sent to enslave children and annoy their parents. Or me at least. Maybe if I play one of their songs backwards the spell will be broken? I might email Dr. Jack and ask for his opinion on them just to be sure.

Put in NTN and the CEO might never leave
The CFO and I went to the Admiral pub in west Seattle to watch that crazy Seahawks game. Decided by a safety, of all things? The rowdy crowd at the Admiral loved it, all except this one obnoxious guy in a Cowboy jersey. A certain sister of the CEO kept taunting the guy and it seemed like she wanted to throw down with him, but as she is married to the Admiral’s new owner he was able to talk her out of it. The owner has a calming influence on rowdies and drunks (like my sister). If you’ve ever seen him you’d completely undertand why. A gentle giant to be sure, but the drunks don’t know that. The Admiral is pretty cool as it is (it’s already the CEO’s type of place anyway: 3 pool tables, some dartboards, about 15 TV’s and a menu that does not stray too far from the deep fryer) but the decor is stuck in the 80’s a bit. New carpet, paint, and dark wood will make it that much better; all those improvements are on the horizon for the Admiral. I predict a Kjel.org fact-finding mission at some point in the future to evaluate the changes. I look forward to issuing a report soon.

Kjel.org’s preferred source for plants and Christmas trees sends along the following picture of two young ladies and one fine new gentleman. He recently had a birthday; he turned 0 on Jan 3rd.

I need to rush home today and stock up on some survival supplies (beer and diet coke) since Winter Holocaust 2007 is fast approaching. And it better be approaching, since I’ve already promised the Jr VP some time in the snow. You don’t want to make the boy cry again, do you Zaffino?

Before I forget: last week I invented what to me at least was a new dish: stovetop fondue. I put oil in a pot on the stove and used some metal skewers to dip cubed sirloin and cut up vegetables (er, mushrooms count as a vegetable, right?) into the hot, hot oil. I even had a few dipping sauces on hand as I stood in my kitchen and slowly devoured a plate of meat. The oil was so hot that the meat only needed to cook about 15 seconds. Awesome. Somehow though I see it as a meal I’ll probably only have when the CFO is not dining with me. . .

Kjel.org will be in Bellevue this weekend for Jr’s birthday party. That evening, the Seattle Seahawks happen to be playing in town; it just so happens that they are in the playoffs this year. And it also just so happens that one of my favorite sisters now operates a sports bar in town. Hmmm, I wonder where I should go to watch the game?

Actually, I’m a little nervous. Several times when watching a sporting event with this sister, things have gotten a little bit out of hand. Perhaps prior to the game we should wet our whistles? she might have said. A capital idea, young lady; bravo! I would have responded. She and I then proceed to tuck into a cocktail or two. Or three. Or six . . .

36 hours later one of us wakes up in a ditch just outside of Longview; the other is trying to call the U.S. consulate from a jail cell in Vancouver B.C. (aka “the Good Vancouver”). Damn those Mounties.

Lately at the HQ: the CFO will wake up in the morning, take a shower, be fine for a bit, then run to the bathroom and puke her guts out. This occurs even before she has kissed me good morning. Weirdly enough, one thing that seems to help her queasy stomach is Altoids. The CFO might be nauseous, but her breath is admirably fresh. Ah, morning sickness. I believe the CFO is about ready to be done with you.

On the plus side though Jr. thinks that throwing up is the pinnacle of comedy. If he hears anyone being sick he’ll laugh and laugh and then make fake throw up noises too. Man he is a good boy.

Netflix. I love them. The CFO loves them. Lately though? They’ve been irritating us:

It has taken Kjel.org about a month to watch season 2 of Battlestar Galactica, and not for lack of trying. The reason it’s been taking so long is that Netflix keeps sending us DVD’s that are unwatchable, so we keep sending them back. We’ve probably gone through 8 DVD’s to get to the end of the series; it is supposed to be a three disc season. Are nerds unable to handle the discs without scratching them? That seems unlikely: nerds are usually good with technical things. My guess is that the DVD’s themselves are defective somehow. Or my DVD player has been taken over by the Cylons.

I have no idea why the CFO finds this so hysterical, but she does, so I will share:

Saturday I was cleaning up in the garage; it was quite a mess. While doing so I came across a vase with a flower in it that used to be on the table inside where our Holiday Tree* was currently residing. Apparently, it had been there for the last six months. I didn’t realize this for some reason. Knowing that the vase had been out in the garage for three weeks I assumed the flower was dead and threw it in the garbage can. As it turns out, the flower in question was never alive in the first place, and was in fact made out of silk. And very strong but bendable wire. I hadn’t noticed. I fished it out the can later and it is no worse for wear, or at least not too much worse for wear, once the garbage-water was toweled off . . .

* The CEO is working on being more inclusive.

Check out this story in today’s Oregonian about some kid in Hillsboro who went mental and pointed a gun at a cop during a traffic stop. He was shot by that cop, regrettably but rightfully so.

Excerpt from the article; bold text is mine:

HILLSBORO — Washington County sheriff’s investigators say a 14-year-old boy who was shot by a deputy had taken his father’s high-velocity semiautomatic rifle out of an unlocked gun safe, loaded it with steel-cased, full metal jacket bullets and sped off in the family car late Monday after everyone else was in bed. . . . Scruggs did not fire his rifle, but O’Connell said it was loaded with ammunition that would “easily pierce a police vest.” Thompson added that such a round fired from a high-velocity SKS “would go through a car. O’Connell said Scruggs and his father had gone target shooting with the weapon in the past week. ”

Let’s break down some of the language here:

The article describes the SKS as a “High-velocity semiautomatic rifle“. An interesting description. In another, more accurate description, the SKS is a carbine firing an intermediate-strength round.

Describing the rounds as “steel cased“, while meant by the writer I think to impart that those rounds mean business, actually means that they are cheap plinking ammo, likely Wolf brand (among the cheapest, since they use steel cases instead of brass). This seems likely since the story mentions that the kid and his father had recently gone target shooting.

“Full metal jacket” is the basic, default style of bullet used by the countries who are signatories to the Hague Convention, which, among other things, bans the military use of expanding ammunition. It would be worth noting the bullet type only if the kid had something different than a full metal jacket. This is why the CEO uses hollowpoints when he is out wacking evil zombie spuds: they’re much more destructive than full metal jacket rounds.

Any bullet fired by any centerfire rifle on the rack at Big-5 would “easily pierce a police vest” or “go through a car“.

I’ll give the writer the benefit of the doubt and assume she is not some knee-jerk antigun nut. In fact, it may be safe to assume that the writer knows and cares little about about guns or this gun in particular and is just parroting quotes from the the police spokesman in her story. So why would the cops be trying so hard to demonize this specific gun and kid? What might the Washington County Sheriffs Dept be feeling a little sensitive about? What might make them feel the need to play up the amount of danger in the already dangerous situation, perhaps to then justify pumping some number of rounds into the suspect? Oh yeah:

Monday night’s incident was the third in the past five months in which Washington County sheriff’s deputies shot someone. Lukus Glenn, 18, died Sept. 16 after two deputies shot him eight times when he threatened them, himself and his family with a knife outside his Tigard home. Jordan Case, 20, died Oct. 21 after a sheriff’s deputy shot him when he broke into a neighbor’s Tualatin apartment, then ran to a patrol car and tried to grab a gun.

This one at least looks pretty justified, but come on guys, you’re trying too hard here. It sounds like the facts are on your side here, so spare us the hyperbole: playing up the situation makes it look like you’ve got something to hide. . .

And the internet is back on at the HQ; Kjel.org emerges from the Dark Ages. . .

The Jr. VP turned two at the stroke of midnight on Sunday. As if on cue he started up with a tantrum New Years Day morning, almost like someone had told him that that’s what two-year olds are supposed to do. Very strange. To be fair, Jr. is a very good boy most of the time, and we’ve been asking an awful lot from him lately what with the holiday traveling and all. The lad likes his simple pleasures; give him those and he’ll usually be pretty happy: listening to Van Halen, hitting stuff with sticks, eating barbecue chicken pizza, stealing people’s seats, and watching the Wiggles on TV. Sorta like Daddy in that respect, except for the stealing people’s seat thing. A side note: Jr. no longer calls me Daddy. In his mind his parents are Mommy and Hey You! or Hey Sha!

We are heading up to Bellevue this weekend for a little party to celebrate Jr’s birthday. Pizza will of course be served. A big 2007 is in store for the boy and I hope he thoroughly enjoys himself for the next several months, because on a certain date in July his entire universe is going to collapse in on itself. He’ll make it through and out the other side I’m sure but who knows what sort of shape he’ll be in after the new-sibling trauma. Jr. has an (arguably) bad habit of kicking things or people he doesn’t like. We may need to keep the new joyous bundle away from his feet for a while depending on how he’s doing. Me, I’ll just wear shin guards around the HQ.

Sorry for the recent lack of content: internet problems at the HQ. I hope to have them fixed tonight, but we’ll see.