Blab. Ensuring that we will never live down our irreverent
foolishness, a reader suggests:
Since you can't sell WTC
rubble on eBay, here's another
way to make your fortune.
Hmm!
Nearly 12 tonnes of gold
appears to be buried under mountains of debris from New York City's destroyed
twin towers. [...]
The bars, worth about $106 million,
were stored in an underground warehouse near the World Trade Center and
held on behalf of the COMEX metals trading division of the New York Mercantile
Exchange.
We're trying to find our prospecting pan now.
Plurp. Yet another day. Yet another Day After. American flags
are flying in greater number than we've seen since the Fourth of July when
we were kids. (And that was, we must point out, a long, long time ago.)
Bush is preparing the country for war. People seem to support the idea,
spouting patriotic and often hormonal slogans. But it reminds us of the
scene in Gone With
the Wind when the Southern gentlemen shout that they are all set
to go to war and wup those Yankees.
MAN: We'll finish them in
one battle. Gentlemen can always fight better than rattle.
[...]
RHETT BUTLER : I think it's hard winning
a war with words, gentlemen.
[...]
MAN: What difference does that make,
sir, to a gentleman?
RHETT: I'm afraid it's going to make
a great deal of difference to a great many gentlemen, sir.
Today we seem to be playing Rhett Butler's part. Not that we are lobbying
against military action; it's not clear to us what else can be done. But
we are here to warn you not to think it will be glorious, or simple, or
distant. The U.S. has not fought a war on its own soil since the Civil
War, and that was before there were weapons of any significance.
Make no mistake. If this is war, we will not watch it only on our TVs,
as we have every war in our lifetime. We will not ride over the enemy as
if it were sleeping, as the U.S. did Iraq in the Gulf War. This will be
a war that the enemy brings home to us just as much as we bring it to them.
It will be a war in which U.S. civilians will die - schoolteachers, clergy,
cooks, children - horribly and in large number.
It will be a lengthy war. It will be a costly war, both in lives and
economically. It will be a war that redefines how we think about the U.S.,
and not altogether in a positive way.
It may be a necessary war. But it will still be war. And war, as we
are about to rediscover, really is hell.
Plop. In other news, bastions of American tolerance and understanding
Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson check in with this
colorful rant, according to the Washington Post.
Television evangelists Jerry
Falwell and Pat Robertson, two of the most prominent voices of the religious
right, said liberal civil liberties groups, feminists, homosexuals and
abortion rights supporters bear partial responsibility for Tuesday's terrorist
attacks because their actions have turned God's anger against America.
[...]
Then Falwell broadened his blast to
include the federal courts and others who he said were "throwing God out
of the public square." He added: "The abortionists have got to bear some
burden for this because God will not be mocked. And when we destroy 40
million little innocent babies, we make God mad. I really believe that
the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the
lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle,
the ACLU, People for the American Way -- all of them who have tried to
secularize America -- I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped
this happen.' "
Despite the impression some
may have from news reports today, I hold no one other than the terrorists
and the people and nations who have enabled and harbored them responsible
for Tuesday's attacks on this nation.
I sincerely regret that comments I
made during a long theological discussion on a Christian television program
yesterday were taken out of their context and reported, and that my thoughts--reduced
to sound bites--have detracted from the spirit of this day of mourning.
Anyway, it's sure a good thing we don't have anyone this dim actually running
the government.
Plurp.
The blue dog
thought that
most of the miseries of the world
were caused by wars
Friday, September 14, 2001
Blab. A knowledgeable reader tells us:
Things never were normal
where the blue dog is concerned.
We wonder if things were ever really normal anywhere.
Blab. Mistaking our usual foolishness
for seriousness, a reader writes to reassure us:
It's not just 'G' and 'the
meme-mixer' who're pleased to hear or yours and Helen's well-being. We
are too. Keep up the good work!
Thank you and, of course, we both realize that and appreciate it.
Blab. A reader writes:
I'm not the selfish type.
I "feel" for everybody on the East coast that's in the middle of this ordeal.
But, being on the West coast, we're too far away to actually comprehend
the depth of THIS. But, my selfishness is this: I was supposed to fly out
to Reno from Portland on 9/23 for my first anniversary. I've never flown
and this hasn't made it any better. Do I fly down there or stay at home?
It's hard to tell what to do. Ack! Forgive me for my selfishness - My "irritation"
is minor compared to what's going on - but I suppose it's a coping method.
I don't want to focus on what's REALLY going on. Let me live in my "it
can't happen here" world and allow me bury my head in the sand. It's safer
there.
The notion that anyone would actually take advice from Plurp is
too bizarre to consider. So instead, we'll simply say that this is exactly
the point of terrorism - to make you afraid in the everyday things that
you do, to make you fear where you live, where you work, where you walk
and where you fly.
We would hardly be human if this week's terrible events didn't give
us pause. But if we cower under our beds and hope nothing will happen to
us then, well, something has happened to us, and the terrorists
have won.
Plurp. More somber today, morose even. Tense. There is almost
no telling, from our apartment, that anything at all has happened.
We can't see the Twin Towers from where we are. Or couldn't; there are
large buildings in the way.
But we could, night before last, smell the burning odor, even though
we are four miles away. It was faint, and smelled of burning paper. But,
even so, you knew what it was.
They evacuated Penn Central Station and the Empire State Building that
night due to bomb threats. There were ninety (yes, 90) more bomb threats
yesterday, all bogus. It reminds us of the early 1970s, when bomb threats
on college campuses were so frequent that we ended up just ignoring them.
And yet ...
On the way to work yesterday, a nondescript truck passes, going the
other way, surrounded by black unmarked cars with flashing red lights.
Then, a few miles later, a long line of yellow dump trucks, maybe twenty
or thirty of them. Where are they going? Oh.
It is the heightened awareness of paranoia. What is the meaning of that?
Why are those here? No event is trivial or unconnected. There are
warnings in the wind.
Yo. Interesting near-real-time news feeds on underreported events
related to the terrorist incident can be found at Fox
News (click on Fox News Alerts: Check Here for the Latest -
it was working yesterday morning but not yesterday afternoon) and on the
main page of Stratfor (scroll down
to where it says Situation Reports).
Plop. Some few people of limited moral and mental capacity (sorry
- differently brained) are attacking people of Middle Eastern extraction
in the U.S. They shoot out the windows of a mosque. One brandishes a shotgun
at some random guy. Another threatens neighborhood shop owners who are,
in fact, Americans.
Could these colorful folks please just tie themselves to fence posts
until we have time to pick them up? Thanks very.
[...] Washington may well
be headed for a third option. Declaring a "war" on fundamentalist militants
both avoids the problems of naming a specific national sponsor and allows
Washington a broader mandate to tackle current and potential threats to
the United States. And, similar to the "war on drugs," the war on terrorism
would enlist the help of nations around the globe -- when convenient for
U.S. policy interests.
Such a global war on potential threats
would require the substantial involvement of U.S. intelligence agencies
and Special Forces in defining foreign policy initiatives. During the Cold
War, clandestine operations and support of democratically questionable
regimes were tolerated in the interest of blocking the spread of Communism.
Now, similar actions may well become more common against the widespread
threat from extremists.
The threat of fundamentalism is global,
stretching well beyond the Middle East through Africa, Central Asia and
East Asia. It is expanding into Eastern Europe and Russia and may well
take root on a smaller scope in South and North America. This gives Washington
both a boundless battlefield and a wide range of potential allies. Countries
like the Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia -- where Islamic militancy
is rising -- will become more important to U.S. policymakers. Relations
with Russia and India will also expand because both are combating Islamic
militancy and possess necessary local intelligence assets.
This will not be a quick war nor one
with a definite end point. Washington must be willing to accept greater
influence in policy from intelligence agencies -- whose lapses may have
allowed the latest attacks -- and from Special Operations forces, whose
clandestine operations may not fit with current accepted norms. Further,
the American people must be steeled against counter-strikes on U.S. soil.
Given the limited choices available to counter future threats of terrorism
against domestic targets, however, Washington will inevitably shift its
counter-terrorism strategies to a more global -- and unconventional --
posture.
Watch for Washington getting people used to this idea in the coming days
and weeks.
Plurp.
The blue dog
tried being irreverent,
inappropriate
and downright tasteless
Thursday, September 13, 2001
Plurp. Those of you who don't want to hear more about
the terrorist incident, or who don't want to deal with it by indulging
in irreverent, inappropriate and downright tasteless humor, shouldn't read
Plurp
today (or maybe for a while). We all deal with stress in our own way.
Blab. A kind reader writes:
Our thoughts are with you.
Glad you're OK. G
Thanks, G. You are apparently one of two people in the world who feel that
way.
Blab. The other kind reader writes:
Glad to hear you and Helen
are OK. -- the meme-mixer
Thanks, but we don't understand in what way that mixes the ... oh!
Blab.
Covering our eyes and thrusting our naked hand into the shoebox that contains
our pre-disaster Blabs, we find this pair of probing questions.
Why are all your photos of
the Unnamable One in the napping mode only? Doesn't he DO anything else
all day?
Our photos represent a random sample of the activities of Him Without Name.
In the rare moment when he's not sleeping, he is either ingesting, excreting
or annoying. Or some combination thereof.
Blab. On the subject of pubically twitting
our dear readers, a dear reader writes:
Please tell me "pubically"
was a mistake.
You would have to take that up with the anonymous reader who proposed it.
Blab. Another reader writes:
hate when I miss the joke.
Don't worry. It's been pretty unfunny around here recently.
Scary Babies, though perhaps scary for reasons other than originally intended.
Blab. An argumentative reader writes:
I'd argue that this WASN'T
the first Plurp Scavenger Hunt, that you challenged readers to find the
first entry that mixed memes.
You may recall that our readers didn't rise to that particular challenge.
(We have great and wonderful readers, but they are as lazy as we are.)
So we're giving them another chance, and one that might also be easier.
Dear readers, show those naughty terrorists that we will not be distracted
from the higher purposes in life. Tell us what you do
and don't like about Plurp (in honor of Plurp's first
anniversary), then try your fingers at the First
Plurp
Scavenger Hunt.
Oh, go do it. You know you want to. Tell yourself
it's a break from stressing out. Then you won't feel so guilty.
Blab. On the topic of Helen's own blog,
a knowledgeable reader writes:
Helen is too busy taking
care of Steve (and mending her back) to establish a blog though she appreciates
your encouragement......send her money for a maid and she will consider
it.......
Big donations (or small maids) may be entered into the Big
Blab Box.
Plurp. Speaking of small maids, imagine being the person who
has to dust everything in lower Manhattan.
Yo. An astonishing
photoessay on the World Trade Center disaster from Time by award-winning
photojournalist James Nachtwey. Simply unbelievable.
Plurp. Looks like our clever plan of swiping a wheelbarrow full
of World Trade Center wreckage to sell piece by piece on eBay won't
work. Fooey.
Yo. A correspondent points us at some interesting technical information
about the construction
of the World Trade Center towers and how they are likely to have behaved
when crashed into and subjected to high heat.
Our correspondent also reminds us not to forget Red
Rock Eater's Digest, which usually has very good links.
Yo. We figured any doofus who practiced with Microsoft Flight
Simulator could have flown those airliners into big buildings like the
World Trade Center. Not so, says somebody who probably knows, they
had to be pilots experienced with large commercial planes. Interesting.
(rebecca)
Yo. Two good sources of information on terrorism and military
stuff: Jane's and Stratfor.
(rebecca)
Yo. Satellite imagery of the Pentagon
and the former World
Trade Center site, post-kaboom. (Click to, um, enlarge.)
Rant. Some TV news commentator keeps saying This is the biggest
terrorist incident in recorded history. Like - what - there was some
awful event in the Stone Age in which Og killed everyone in Mesopotamia?
Or some unrecorded Jurassic event in which a Tyrannosaurus got rabies and
went on a rampage?
Sheesh.
Yow. They may blow up our city but they can't stop Helen.
You're a cheap thrill
You're a cheap date
It's a cheap thrill
Plurp.
The blue dog
didn't think things were
back to normal
Wednesday, September 12, 2001
Plurp. It's hard to know what to say. It's hard to know
what to think.
Yesterday morning, I was getting ready to go to work when the usually
silly morning TV was interrupted by a live feed of the World Trade Center
on fire. What a mess, I said. I'd better get out of here before
the traffic gets completely tied up.
Um, said Helen, pointing at the screen, that's not just a
fire. She pointed at the hole in the World Trade Center that, Wile-E-Coyote-like,
was a central circle flanked by two long slits. That was an airplane,
she said. This is a terrorist attack. Looking at the video, it was
obvious that she was right. Little did we suspect that it was just the
beginning.
As I drove north out of the City, I heard about the attack on the second
World Trade Center tower, then on the Pentagon. If it had been possible
to turn around and get Helen at that point, I certainly would have. But
southbound traffic had already ground to a halt.
I tried to call Helen when I got to work. All
of the lines were busy. So I IMed her and she told me about the collapse
of the first World Trade Center tower. Unbelievable. I headed down to a
conference room with a live news feed just in time to see the second tower
collapse, covering the lower third of the island in choking dust and debris.
I didn't get much done yesterday, well not in terms of regular work.
I stayed plugged into every news feed I could find, wondering what else
might happen. (As if what had already happened wasn't enough for one lifetime.)
For most of the day, I was just in a very heightened state of awareness,
taking in everything I could. It was only later in the afternoon that I
felt exhaustion setting in as my arms began to shake.
I stayed north of the lab with friends last night, there not seeming
to be any way to get back into the City yet. Helen, despite my pleas, walked
across the City to her cousin's apartment, where she stayed the night.
We're home now, and Midtown Manhattan seems eerily unchanged.
We're lucky. Nothing happened to us. We were with friends. And we're
fine. There are a lot of people - a lot of people - who aren't fine
tonight. We've heard from a number of our friends in Manhattan who are
OK. There are friends about whom we haven't heard.
I think this particular incident is over now, though the upcoming body
count will shock nearly everyone. And I have ongoing concerns about disease
arising from the World Trade Center site in the next few days; I hope I'm
wrong about that.
My larger concern, though, is what happens next. Bush will inevitably
find someone to blame and drop lots of bombs. But what else? I fear that
everyone who has been riding the horses of increasing power to intelligence
agencies (both internationally and domestically, both in surveillance and
extra-judicial action) will gallop to the fore and be given nearly unlimited
budget and license. Some wag on TV said we woke up in a very different
country today.
And, in spite of yesterday's horrors, I fear that even more.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Plurp. Update. Wouldn't you know it? What would have
been a happy day here at Plurp coincides with the worst terrorist
attack in American history. Helen and I were in our apartment when the
first plane hit the World Trade Center. I was on my way out of the City
when the second one hit, and at work when both towers collapsed. What a
mess. And, as of 11:30 AM EDT, it's still not over.
I'm OK. Helen is OK. Or, as OK as can be expected.
Please understand that the rest of today's Plurp was posted shortly
after midnight last night, before this disaster occurred.
Blab. A loyal reader writes:
Happy Birthday Plurp.
For, dear readers, the anniversary of which Steve has been writing is Plurp's
first birthday. How could any loyal Plurp reader fail to know this?
Sheesh!
Why, thank you! Read on.
Plurp. Indeed it is the first anniversary of Plurp. (Well,
depending on what you count.) We've been doing this stupid blog stuff for
365
consecutive days now! It's almost beyond belief.
So what have we learned from a whole year of Plurping? We're
not sure. We started this whole thing as a bit of an experiment.
You should do it, said Dave,
as
a sanity project. Dave has always had sanity projects - something that
he does other than Real Work, just for fun, just to keep him sane. You
know Dave.
It's very ... white! said Ian,
seeing a prototype of Plurp. He was right.
Now, 365 days later, we've written the frightening equivalent of a one
thousand page novel. (Yes, we did the math.) We've gone from it being difficult
to think of anything to say to it being difficult to shut up. (This is
also the story of our life.)
We've met (metaphorically, at least) a number of people: interesting
people, colorful people, and really very odd people. (You may, if you wish,
guess into which category you fall.) We've come to care about who
they are (though often we don't really know) and what's going on in their
lives.
It's been a difficult year, in many ways. Plurp certainly has
helped to keep us sane (to the extent that we ever were). We have become
obsessed with blogging. That's not surprising - we become obsessed with
lots of stuff. That, too, helps keep us sane. But we have sometimes neglected
friends, and family, in our pursuit of daily bloggery. We have spent time
blogging that might have been better spent in other pursuits. Or maybe
not.
All in all, it has been interesting. In a sense, we have done this for
our own sake. But, in at least equal measure, we have done it for yours
- for the imagined pleasure of your reactions, even when you don't tell
us what they are; for the thrill of well-crafted phrases that might delight
you; for the fun of just being silly with you.
So, thank you. Thank you for reading this drivel. Thank you for sometimes
Blabbing
at us. Thank you for helping to keep us sane. It's a very strange relationship
we have, you and we. But we like it. We like it a lot.
Yow. In honor of the first anniversary of Plurp, we have
two special treats for you. First, we give you a chance to tell us what
you like and don't like about Plurp. This is your opportunity to
encourage us in one direction or another, so please do. Especially you
folks who seldom Blab
at us! Think of this as you would going to church on Easter - you only
have to do it once a year, after all.
Ready? Here goes.
Plurp. Our second treat for the First Anniversary of Plurp
is the First Plurp Scavenger Hunt. In this hunt, you will
have the opportunity to regurgitate trivial and useless facts that you
can dig up by searching the Plurp
archives or (more worrying still) by knowing them already.
Type in your answer below each question. Some are easy; some are not.
Answer as many as you can and mash the Send! button at the bottom
of this entry. Remember, the more questions you answer correctly the more
we worry about you, so give it your best!
First Plurp Scavenger HuntWhen
was Plurp first posted? (Hint: Be careful.)
When did the Blab box make its first appearance? How about the
Big
Blab Box?
When was the first edition of Plurp that used a title other than
Plurp:
A Weblog?
Please identify yourself in one way or another so we can credit your
brilliant answers to you. If you're shy, use a pseudonym.
And thanks for playing!
Plurp.
The blue dog
didn't
know any of the
answers
Monday, September 10, 2001
Blab. A reader who might have a cat (or vice versa)
writes:
More Things That Surprise
My Cat Every Day:
The sliding glass door is only open to
the balcony when I'm home, and NEVER at night.
Why do I insist on brushing her when
the carpet does a fine job of removing excess hair?
I eat very strange foods that aren't
nearly as appetizing as dry kibble.
I feel a compelling need to leave the
house every day even though there's a perfectly sunny spot on the carpet
to nap upon right there in the apartment.
I waste a lot of time on the computer
when I could be napping all evening.
Cats
are clearly the dominant form of life on Earth, and they know it. While
we have temporarily established an uneasy position of Alpha Male in our
household, we know it's only a matter of time before The Unnamable One
hatches his plot to take over.
We live in fear.
Blab. Our readers prove that they are always after the Big Questions.
the first person to milk
a cow, what did they think they were doing?
We're not positive but it seems likely that, whatever it was, it was considered
opprobrious at the time. We can only imagine a group of outraged Stone
Age people on the plains of central Africa, huddled outside their grass
huts, gaping in horror at one of their number. You did what?!
Anniversary of what, a bobbled
election? The Market Crash of '87? The fall of Poland in WWII?
No, no. Much bigger than that. You'll see tomorrow.
Blab. Somehow we have been caught in the middle of a duct tape
vortex.
Dear Captain Plurp,
More submissions from last week's
party:
She used duct tape
To tape her show
The VCR's now dead
You know.
*************
Andy came to Clare's defense, her
Car now has a tape dispenser.
Duct tape: The Handyman's Secret
Weapon
*************
When Grandma showed up
In the nude
Grandpa really
Came unglued.
He needed duct tape!
The Handyman's Secret Weapon
*************
- Your Midwest Correspondent
Assuming that Burma Shave has no active patents on those road signs, we
a see a big career for our Midwest Correspondent with 3M Corp. Or someplace.
Blab. A group of non-bloggers writes, collectively:
We love Helen. We have
great great respect and admiration for Helen (although we don't hear/know
much about her except for that great story about how you two got together,
eventually). (Yes, we know more, but it seems fleeting right now)
We await anxiously the Helen blog, but we know it is possible that she,
like us, feels that there are competing demands on our time and energy.
Even though there are men in our lives who are obsessed with blogging,
we resist.
Helen is, of course, free to use Plurp as a surrogate blog, as many
of our readers do. As is already well established, we feel no competing
demands on our time and energy.
Blab. A reader attempts to resolve our social
problems while increasing our vocabulary.
"Is there possibly anything
I can do to be embraced by Steve's Circle of Friends again?"
Why, be pubically twitted on Plurp,
of course. (Oh, you already were! So what's the problem?)
Surely you don't suggest that we ridicule
our kind and generous readers? That would be rude, wouldn't it?
Blab. A reader with certain tendencies writes:
Slap her down. She's starting
to irritate me.
Whether this is directed towards ~Sara or Helen,
we think this sort of nasty display is completely unwarranted, and all
too typical of the trend towards easy violence that seems to permeate modern
American society.
Blab. On this same topic, an embittered reader writes:
I don't think you need to
take any action responding to ~Sara or whomever seems to be bitter.
Stick to what has brought you all your loyal readers rather than cowering
to the one or two narrow-minded thinkers who don't see the true greatness
of Plurp. Well, I admit I don't see the true greatness of Plurp,
but at least I'm not narrow-minded !
But don't change a thing ! Changing
based on the whims of the one or two loud voices is like a politician who,
well, it's like a politician.
We don't see any greatness whatsoever in Plurp, know we're narrow-minded,
and don't like any politicians. But be that as it may, we've decided
we should be nicer to our dear readers, or at least less obscure. So we'll
be trying out niceness (and perhaps even clarity) as a new form of social
interaction in the future. Should be exciting!
Maybe ~Sara will even stick around to see how it turns out.
Yak. Helen's review of the movie Hannibal.
Hannibal Lechter, eating
his way to the top.
Yow. Time and Google provideth. We found the lyrics to Albert
the Genius, which we were unable to find last
year.
Albert dance around, Albert
be profound
Albert let your hair stick out and
your socks hang down
We love the Web.
Plurp. You know the old joke which asks what a Jewish-American
Princess makes for dinner and the answer is reservations? Question:
What does Steve make for dinner? Answer: Phone calls.
Yak.
It looks like there's going
to be a run-off in the Democratic election.
I think they should all run off.
Yo. Google thinks that these
sites (mostly blogs) are similar to Plurp in some as yet unspecified
way. Mayhaps we should examine them, in hopes that there are interesting
blogs to read there.
Yo.Dave
leads us to an article on Exploding
Head Syndrome. (We don't cite his original link because it makes our
browser explode. Really.)
Are you mocking me? I feel
a little mocked right now and I don't like it one bit.
I've told my colleagues about your
fascinating website. I'm a PROMOTER for pete's sake!
Is there possibly anything I can do
to be embraced by Steve's Circle of Friends again? I eagerly await your
next posting.
Now, this might be ~Sara of recent
Plurp
fame. Readers may recall that we responded
to a contribution of hers on cloning in our usual idiom, suggesting
that federal laws be passed requiring a degree in biology of anyone who
wrote about cloning. ~Sara, or someone else, took
us seriously (a response to which we are not accustomed) and took offense.
We offered abject and florid apologies,
of a kind as would have turned the interest of most any young woman in
our misspent youth.
We have clearly reached the degenerate point in our life where we are
unable to make simple conversation with perfectly reasonable people. We
solicit
advise from our wiser readers as to how we can proceed.
Blab. A reader with an interest in singing squirrels writes:
It's not often that we come across a rock video featuring a squirrel, whose
chorus is Gonads and Strife. That is unique. And well worth the
twenty-five cents.
We also don't recall a previous rock video on the subject of hypothermia.
So that's special too.
(Because these little gems employ certain, erm, adult themes,
we have followed our usual practice of requiring you to do the cut-and-paste
thing instead of clicking right through. Yeah, we have no idea why we do
that either.)
Blab. Helen graces us with an explanation for her prolonged absense.
Helen is home from the Pacific
Northwest. Her mother has successful been moved to a large 2 room
apt in an independent living situation. House of 30 years has been
emptied and closed up All excess belongings have been dispersed - some
in this direction. Helen has NOT written any responses to Plurp and
cannot be held responsible for any notes emanating from that region........
she hardly had time to scan the weblog.
As you might imagine, this heroic effort involved a great deal of work
and emotional fortitude on the part of all of the participants, and we
think they deserve a big round of
applause.
Blab. Unable to let it go, an obsessive-compulsive reader writes:
Plop. An analog correspondent gives us enough clues to find this.
The Interior Department announced
Monday it had conferred national historic landmark status [...] on a California
garbage dump that turns out to be full of toxic waste.
"By preserving these unique sites,
we share our culture and rich diversity with our children for future generations,"
Interior Secretary Gale Norton said in a news release naming the toxin-leaking
Fresno Sanitary Landfill one of 15 historic landmarks. The landfill took
its place beside such well-known landmarks as the White House and the Brooklyn
Bridge
Our tax dollars at work.
Plop. Have you seen those weird ads featuring young women distorted
so as to have huge heads and finger-like bodies? They are, we seem to think,
fashion ads of some kind. Well, lucky you, now you can buy dolls designed
from these ads: Fashion
Attitude Dolls.
F.A.D.
Fashion Attitude Dolls are hip and on the go. Each doll comes packaged
in a collectible case, posed on a displayable doll stand, and wearing an
authentic outfit from her brand's most current collection. She is always
prepared for all occasions, with additional fashions and a change of shoes.
Her shopping bag, in which she carries her accessories, also doubles as
a keychain just for you! She stands 9 inches tall, perfect for posing with
attitude - fashion attitude, that is!
For fall, nothing says retro
chic like roller skates and authentic vintage-style Jordache Jeans. Just
ask this F.A.D. girl! Always at the peak of fashion, she looks hot and
adventurous in her denim jumper from Jordache's fall 2001 line. Peek into
her shopping bag where she's stored a pair of shoes (for when she tires
of skating), boy shorts, and a matching cami. Whether she's off for a date
or a fantastic night out with the girls, she's turning heads with that
style of hers!
Blab.
Covering our eyes and thrusting our naked hand into the shoebox that contains
our pre-disaster Blabs, we find this pair of probing questions.
mean?
Cats
are clearly the dominant form of life on Earth, and they know it. While
we have temporarily established an uneasy position of Alpha Male in our
household, we know it's only a matter of time before The Unnamable One
hatches his plot to take over.
F.A.D.
Fashion Attitude Dolls are hip and on the go. Each doll comes packaged
in a collectible case, posed on a displayable doll stand, and wearing an
authentic outfit from her brand's most current collection. She is always
prepared for all occasions, with additional fashions and a change of shoes.
Her shopping bag, in which she carries her accessories, also doubles as
a keychain just for you! She stands 9 inches tall, perfect for posing with
attitude - fashion attitude, that is!
