66-measure musical break: further proof that God hates me.

Normally, I don't talk much about me. That's not really why I'm here. However, I just cna't let this one go by without comment.

Last night we're at Karaoke. It's a bar in a bowling alley. A retired Air Force guy is the KJ, and the chickie bartenders are totally cool. I'm there for the, um, atmosphere. I don't sing for anyone, let alone sing for free. I just drive the car, pay the tab, tip the staff, and avoid arrests.

Back to last night. Hubby chooses his songs to fit his mood. Sometimes he's in a George Strait kinda mood, sometimes he's all over the charts, as he was last night. He decides last night to take a chance on a song he's done at home a few times, but not ever in public: "Life's been good," by Joe Walsh.

This song is not on my list of faves. Hell, it's not even on my list of songs I sort-of like when I'm taking pain meds and can't be bothered to change the radio station. But he sings it well, as he does most songs, except that stupid song by Tim McGraw and the one that goes "save a horse, ride a cowboy." He should just leave those alone, you know?

Back to last night. If you don't know how Karaoke works, you might want to get out of that cave, Osama. The lyrics scroll along the screen, and if there's a lyric-free musical break, it'll say so: '4 measures' or '8 bars.' "Life's been good" has a long intro, a long outro, and a musical break that can only be described as "insane."

66-measure musical break. Two minutes, forty-one seconds long.

So while we were waiting for the song to start back up, I made an algabraic list of all the things "66-measure musical break" is equal to.

8-squared plus 2 equals "66-measure musical break"

Here's my list of other things that a 66-measure musical break is equal to:

1. too much weed in the 70's
2. 1 jackass songwriter
3. too much of a good thing will make you go blind
4. the time it takes to get your food order from our Wendy's drive-thru
5. the fight in the bar
6. the time it takes to chug a double-shot cappuccino and a donut
7. time for a quickie
8. the lifespan of certain flying insects
9. a catnap
10. the encouragement for yet another unfortunate performance of "Summer Nights"

Life may have been good to Joe Walsh, but damn! Sometimes you just gotta quit while you're ahead!

God Don't Like Ugly

Well, howdy! I finally got my butt in gear and downloaded Blogger for Word. Now I've got tons of crazy fronts and a half-dozen error messages. Woo-hoo! Big time!

So I'm trolling around the Obscure Store yesterday (as I do every day) and Romenesko has posted an article about a cop who pretended to be in Iraq as a soldier so that he could continue to receive his police pay while on leave of absence. Where was he? Working in another US city as a contractor for Lockheed.

Let me tell you, my panties bunched up real fast. What an absolute wanker.

Here's this guy who thinks he's so damn special that he can scam his local taxpayers, lie to his employers and his public, all the while profiting from the misfortune of war. He is, without a doubt, the prime candidate for a bitch-slap.

Such disrespect for the real soldiers who live the war every day, and those who paid the ultimate price. Disrespect for the families left behind to cope and carry on. Disrespect for the public who trusted him to uphold the law with honesty and fairness.

To quote a favorite movie character of mine, the Indestructible Mushu: "OOOH! All right, that's it! Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dis..."

A regular to Obscure Store suggested the man be sent to Iraq to "earn" the money he wrongfully received through deception. If I were a soldier there, I'd send him back to the US postage-paid. If I lived in Delray Beach, I'd be asking for his badge and sidearm.

No one wants a liar watching his back.

Blue Rahja, Where Are You?

So I'm watching the news, thankful that the kidnapped teen was able to text her way out of a bad situation, when another kidnapping was reported. This time, a week old infant was kidnapped. So that got me to thinking, just how many people are kidnapped/disappear each year, how many are recovered, and what are the chances my kid will be 'napped?

Crazy stats, these.

According to Court TV's Crime Library, 2,300 Americans (adults AND kids) are reported missing every single day. Dang! In 2001, over 800,000 people were reported missing, but only 50,000 were not juveniles. The good news (if you call any of this "good news") is that only about 100, yes-just 100, fit the stereotype of a kidnapping in which the person was taken against by a stranger or "vague acquaintance."

I've often wondered why it was so difficult to find a missing person. Are we too busy to pay attention to the people around us or to check the missing kids posters at WalMart?

I wasn't able to find stats on how many missing people are found each year, but I did find this. Tons of info on how to protect your kids, how to report them missing, what to do next, and also on how to search for missing kids.

We're definitely starting text lessons, just in case.

We are the champions!

Well, the football team won at home for the first time since anyone can remember, and the band was completely wound up. They played well, which is saying something. Word on the street was that the National Anthem wasn't going to sound all that good, and it rocked! The rest was a snap.

Oh, and the game wasn't half bad, either. No injuries, no fighting, and the parents were relatively well-behaved. Of course, the other team made more errors than a Dan Quayle spelling test. There was one particularly sweet moment when the other team had the ball, it was fourth down and they just had to punt--when out of nowhere, the punter gets tackled by one of our guys. Awesome!