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Things that make you go WTF

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Just now, ProfessorTomoe said:

/* goes off to fetch brain bleach */

So much for my emotional health and sanity ... *

If I may be permitted an aside...

I was once chatting with my friend Liz, whose late father was part of the Danish diplomatic service. I was telling her about World of Warcraft, that dread time waster among MMOs. One thing that is rather useful to learn is how to cook. One of the easiest ways to do this at intermediate levels is to catch lots of fish and cook them. But fishing takes time to learn and I am lazy, so accordingly I had a character of mine who did know how to fish send several packages containing stacks of 20 fish each to the would-be chef de cuisine. I reflected to Liz that it must be odd to work in a mail service where part of the job is hauling packages of dead fish from point A to B.

Liz responded with a story from the real world. Her father had been privileged to read some of the communications sent from the British diplomatic service. One of these happened to be regulation changes for how to use diplomatic mail. It read as follows:

"Due to the recent incident in South Africa, it is with immediate effect from now on and in all future forbidden to use the diplomatic pouches for the transport of live bees."

Once again, real life surpasses imagination. In any event, I still find myself incapable of imagining what kind of mind in which universe would think that it was a good idea to send live bees by way of diplomatic pouches.

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27 minutes ago, The Old Hack said:

 

If I may be permitted an aside...

I was once chatting with my friend Liz, whose late father was part of the Danish diplomatic service. I was telling her about World of Warcraft, that dread time waster among MMOs. One thing that is rather useful to learn is how to cook. One of the easiest ways to do this at intermediate levels is to catch lots of fish and cook them. But fishing takes time to learn and I am lazy, so accordingly I had a character of mine who did know how to fish send several packages containing stacks of 20 fish each to the would-be chef de cuisine. I reflected to Liz that it must be odd to work in a mail service where part of the job is hauling packages of dead fish from point A to B.

Liz responded with a story from the real world. Her father had been privileged to read some of the communications sent from the British diplomatic service. One of these happened to be regulation changes for how to use diplomatic mail. It read as follows:

"Due to the recent incident in South Africa, it is with immediate effect from now on and in all future forbidden to use the diplomatic pouches for the transport of live bees."

Once again, real life surpasses imagination. In any event, I still find myself incapable of imagining what kind of mind in which universe would think that it was a good idea to send live bees by way of diplomatic pouches.

The origin of killer bees is now revealed...

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2 hours ago, Vorlonagent said:

The origin of killer bees is now revealed...

... and to make things worse, they have diplomatic immunity.

Update:

I have spent much of today dealing with the pain—emotional and physical—by sleeping. I normally have the television on for background white noise. I haven't even had that. You could say I'm at a bit of a low point.

UT Southwestern, however, has been a beehive of activity. They've e-mailed me a survey, wanting me to rate the service and treatment that I received at my first appointment with the neurosurgeon. Mrs. Prof is out of the house right now, so I'm going to wait and let her do that one with me. That should be a laugh.

They've also already phoned me and asked to set up an appointment with their "pain program." What is this "Pain Doctor"'s job, anyway? To sit and listen to people in agony, tell them he's not going to do anything for them, and then shunt them off to a quack holistic "pain program?" No wonder the son of a biatch's name is Noe. (Even his handshake hurt, BTW.) Anyway, I told them I'm not ready to set up any appointments yet until I talk with my insurance company. (Ha! Bet ya didn't see that one coming, you jerks! (They did sound taken aback by this.)) They said for me to just call and tell them when I was ready.

I don't think I'll ever be "ready." Not for what they want me to go through.

Dear lord, will an insurance company actually have an idea of how to fix my underlying back issues, or at least how to treat them? Or am I going to be treated like an opioid outlaw, living on the edge of society and handled like scum? God, what do I have to do to get some real relief?

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My brother; my eldest brother, is now 40 years old. FOURTY. Memento mori and all but good Lord I didn't think he was already pushing that old!

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2 hours ago, Red Regent said:

My brother; my eldest brother, is now 40 years old. FOURTY. Memento mori and all but good Lord I didn't think he was already pushing that old!

My son had the same reaction when he hit 30. He considers himself old. Ha! He's funny. Let's see what he's like after he hits the big 5–0. ;) 

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4 hours ago, Pharaoh RutinTutin said:

How old is old?

Take whatever age you claim to be now
Add twenty years

Nope.  I'm old.  Not adding 20, I'm just old.

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20 hours ago, ProfessorTomoe said:
On 6/16/2017 at 9:28 AM, Pharaoh RutinTutin said:

How old is old?

Take whatever age you claim to be now
Add twenty years

Hell, I was old when you subtract twenty years from my current age. Physically, at least.

According to Traveller character generation rules, old age might start at 34.

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34 minutes ago, mlooney said:

According to Traveller character generation rules, old age might start at 34.

Then in November, I'm officially old according to their rules if you subtract 20 years. Mrs. Prof would already be old minus 20 years.

Trivia: our birthdays fall two calendar days apart, but hers came 363 actual days earlier. We used to celebrate our birthdays on the day in between until Mrs. Prof's father passed away on that day, back in the late 80s. He was a WWII veteran who went in with the second wave at Omaha Beach on D-Day as a medic. He made it home, and hopefully he helped others make it home as well. Better to celebrate his memory on that day.

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12 minutes ago, ProfessorTomoe said:

Trivia: our birthdays fall two calendar days apart, but hers came 363 actual days earlier. We used to celebrate our birthdays on the day in between until Mrs. Prof's father passed away on that day, back in the late 80s. He was a WWII veteran who went in with the second wave at Omaha Beach on D-Day as a medic. He made it home, and hopefully he helped others make it home as well. Better to celebrate his memory on that day.

Agreed. Please extend to Mrs. Prof my belated thanks for her father fighting for my family's home and freedom.

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6 hours ago, The Old Hack said:

Agreed. Please extend to Mrs. Prof my belated thanks for her father fighting for my family's home and freedom.

Mrs. Prof nodded her head in acceptance. She has other things on her mind. Read on.

Any time Mrs. Prof comes home and starts off her salutation with, "I know you're going to shoot me," I know it's not going to be a good day, or in this case, evening. I was advised that "we" have volunteered to foster two kittens who are still being bottle-fed. Without asking me, of course.

After all of the "You're killing my job" and other complaints from the previous couple of weeks, I did not take the news well. I'm still not happy about it, but what the hell am I going to do? It was either this or euthanasia. Anyway, I made it very clear to the person who dropped them off that the situation was problematic, given my disabilities and injuries. She promised to try and find another foster family as quickly as possible.

In the meantime, allow me to introduce you to Flannel (top, male) and Shoehorn (bottom, female):

large.Flannel01b.jpg

large.Shoehorn01b.jpg

Our household cat is not happy with their presence. He has hissed at one of them, hissed at Mrs. Prof, and rejected their smell. I can only hope this is a short, short fostering period.

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14 hours ago, ProfessorTomoe said:

Mrs. Prof nodded her head in acceptance. She has other things on her mind. Read on.

Any time Mrs. Prof comes home and starts off her salutation with, "I know you're going to shoot me," I know it's not going to be a good day, or in this case, evening. I was advised that "we" have volunteered to foster two kittens who are still being bottle-fed. Without asking me, of course.

After all of the "You're killing my job" and other complaints from the previous couple of weeks, I did not take the news well. I'm still not happy about it, but what the hell am I going to do? It was either this or euthanasia. Anyway, I made it very clear to the person who dropped them off that the situation was problematic, given my disabilities and injuries. She promised to try and find another foster family as quickly as possible.

In the meantime, allow me to introduce you to Flannel (top, male) and Shoehorn (bottom, female):

large.Flannel01b.jpg

large.Shoehorn01b.jpg

Our household cat is not happy with their presence. He has hissed at one of them, hissed at Mrs. Prof, and rejected their smell. I can only hope this is a short, short fostering period.

It is taking all of my willpower to not die of diabetes right now. Dawwwwwwww! 

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33 minutes ago, Zorua said:

It is taking all of my willpower to not die of diabetes right now. Dawwwwwwww! 

They are *very* demanding kittens. Hungry all the time. Feedings are noisy and messy affairs.

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20 hours ago, ProfessorTomoe said:

They are *very* demanding kittens. Hungry all the time. Feedings are noisy and messy affairs.

If you were closer I would take them from you.  An extra person, fur covered or not is what I need in my life right now.

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The kittens have been placed with another more experienced foster home as of tonight. Thank goodness, on behalf of both Mrs. Prof and myself. Cute as they may be, they consumed way too much of her time (she even admitted that) and interrupted her sleep to the point that she's going to probably crash out hard tonight. She's in the process of cleaning up the cage and feeding syringes. Our cat is going to be happy about this as well.

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Here's some interesting Canadian WTFery:

https://www.theweathernetwork.com/news/articles/yukons-famed-sour-toe-stolen-with-80000/83402/

First off, why would that story be on The Weather Network? Second, why would anyone steal something like that? And third, why would anyone drink something that has something like that in it?

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The Gong Show returns

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2017/06/21/abc-revives-the-gong-show-but-does-it-still-work-in-a-world-rife-with-amateurs/?utm_term=.1103421e74c6

Will anyone fill the shoes of Eugene Patton (April 25, 1932 – March 9, 2015), aka Gene Gene the Dancing Machine?

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14 hours ago, Pharaoh RutinTutin said:

The Gong Show returns

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2017/06/21/abc-revives-the-gong-show-but-does-it-still-work-in-a-world-rife-with-amateurs/?utm_term=.1103421e74c6

Will anyone fill the shoes of Eugene Patton (April 25, 1932 – March 9, 2015), aka Gene Gene the Dancing Machine?

I am very sorry, but even he could not fill the shoes of George S. Patton (November 11, 1885 - December 21, 1945), aka Old Blood and Guts.

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Mrs. Prof sponsored a beautiful black cat at the Garland Pet Adoption Center. She trapped it in our own back yard, practically with no effort at all—the cat walked into the trap, she pulled the trigger, and the cat just kept on eating. It must have been an escaped domesticated cat. Anyway, she paid for all of its shots and everything else, including a microchip. It has been in its own adoption cage for a while now.

Move to another spot in the GPAC's building. There's a communal room where many not-so-friendly cats are kept in cages, next to signs that read, "If your child is less than 16 years old, HOLD THEIR HAND." Well, the wife of a staffer at Garland Animal Control came in and did just the opposite. She let her 8-year-old kid run rampant. At one point, he tried to pull a black cat out of one of the cages. He got bit, sending Mrs. Animal Control staffer into a texting frenzy.

Garland Animal Control came in and confiscated every black cat that was in that communal room for quarantine, since the 8-year-old brat couldn't (or wouldn't) identify which cat he'd messed with. They also got on to a GPAC staffer who was in the middle of an adoption for not IMMEDIATELY filing a bite report, saying bites take precedence over adoptions.("Throwing their balls around," as Mrs. Prof called it.)

Well, today, Garland Animal Control took things one step too far. They confiscated the cat Mrs. Prof was sponsoring, even though it hadn't even been in the communal room when the brat got bit. Mrs. Prof found out and simultaneously broke down and blew up. Tears and phone calls started flying. She's now on her way up to the GPAC to figure out WTF is going on, and to do everything she can to get the cat transferred to our usual vet (due to an upper respiratory infection that's been making the rounds among the cats) for treatment.

If you haven't figured out by now, Garland Animal Control is run by an egotistical bastard who sees Mrs. Prof as a threat to his territory. The entire TNR program had to be rammed down his throat by a city councilman on her behalf. I believe this is his way of getting back at her, and so does she.

Things that make you go WTF? Yep, I think this qualifies.

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