I was just outside undergoing a special part of the annual Christmas torture putting up Christmas lights. As compared to some of the zillion watt displays in the neighborhood, mine is downright skimpy considerably smaller, but quite fetching nonetheless.

The lights are all purplish-pink, the kind one normally only sees in Cape May, New Jersey. You can’t buy those babies up here, and they are even difficult to find in the stores in Cape May (the residents must all go to a secret store), so I went online and found them.

You’ll know the house when you see it, not only because of the purplish-pink lights, but also because of the traffic jam I expect will result on the Parkway, as people flock to the Extravaganza.

A couple more hours of Christmas-related drudgery fun, and it will time for cocktails.

Yes!

My friend Craig is asking for a favor. When the Nicest Guy in the Blogosphere asks for a favor, I snap to. Anyway, December 11th (that would be today) is Craig’s wife’s birthday. In that regard, he (and, therefore, I) ask that you take a moment to send a birthday wish to Mrs. Craig at spousalunit@mtpolitics.net. He, I, and she would appreciate it very much.

Thanks.

I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell hate to have to wear a tie. To me, it is akin to a multi-colored noose that serves only as a food magnet. Curiously, the price of the tie seems magically to be directly proportional to the amount of food it attracts and the staining power of said food, particularly mayonnaise and other oil-based edible gookum. My dry cleaner has put a kid through college removing “lunch” from my ties.

I have often wondered just who should be blamed for inflicting this useless fashion accessory on men all over the world. It turns out that it wasn’t a single person at fault, but rather a regiment of Croatian soldiers who, after kicking the Turks’ asses in 1660, marched into Paris to be presented to King Louis XIV. They were wearing brightly colored silk handkerchiefs around their necks, which was probably a custom borrowed from the cloths worn by Roman orators to warm the vocal chords.

King Louis, a fashion-minded guy, was so taken with the colorful adornments that he created his own Regiment of Royal Cravattes (the word cravat, being derivative of the word Croat), the members of which decorated their necks, as did the Croats. The practice of wearing these damnable things traveled to England and eventually to the United States, thank you very much.

Who among us hasn’t cursed a blue streak, when trying to dress in time to make an appointment, has had to tie and re-tie the damned necktie a half dozen times to get the length of the front and back pieces just right so as to be the proper distance from one’s belt? Why??? The only “rational” reason I have ever heard for wearing a tie is that it hides the buttons on one’s shirt. This strikes me as tie-industry baloney, because what’s so bad about buttons?

Fortunately, I don’t have to wear the damned things anywhere near as often as
I used to, which suits me just fine.

Oh, and a final word to the Croats and their multi-hued neck rags. Bite me!

For a bit of history of this cursed fashion accessory, see here and here.

Earlier today I actually saw the Tallest Dog in the Blogosphere, the Big Kahuna himself, Glenn Reynolds, the InstaPundit. I saw him as I entered the smallish but brightly lit room. He was looking at the wall opposite him, and appeared not to have noticed me.

Nevertheless, I realized that this could be my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to speak to the Ultimate Blogmeister:

Jimbo: “Holy Crap! You’re Glenn Reynolds, the Instapundit!!! Lawyer and Law Professor, right? That is sooooo cool. I’m a lawyer too! Really! No kidding! This is so cool; I can’t believe it. Oh, and you’re a guitar player! I know that, because I read you all the time. I play guitar too!! You brother is in a rock band. I read that too!! I played drums for years in a rock band!! Isn’t that wild? If you and your bro ever feel like jammin’ I could lay in the drum part, or play some guitar. I’d be happy to do that. And your blog….Wow!! A gazillion hits per day. That is really terrific. I have a blog too. I’m Jim from Parkw……”

Glenn: (turns head in my direction) “Can’t you see I’m trying to take a leak here?”

Jimbo: “Oh, sorry. Never mind.”

Glenn: (resumes looking straight ahead) Heh. Indeed.

As I was shopping at the local supermarket, I was quite surprised to see Jeff Goldstein, the amazing blogger at Protein Wisdom, standing in the produce aisle. He appeared to be staring intensely at the McIntosh apples on display. I decided to introduce myself.

Jimbo: “Excuse me. Aren’t you Jeff Goldstein of Protein Wisdom?”

Jeff: (turns toward me)

Jimbo: “I’m Jim from Parkw…..”

Jeff: “You look a lot like my deadbeat neighbor.”

Jimbo: “Never mind.”

Jeff: (turns back to the produce) “So, where were we before we were interrupted by that Vulgarian?”

I have always been drawn to works of art that depict things bigger than they are in real life. For example, I have always been drawn to sculptures like this one in Philadelphia, and I grew up just a short ride from this larger-than-life statue of a woman. I hope someday to get to see this.

It is, therefore, not surprising that I would be a fan of the Discovery Channel’s series called “Big” even though the only episode I have so far seen involved the construction of a 31 foot electric guitar, which was built to scale from a 60’s vintage “Red Rocket” guitar (click on “guitar” box and tabs). It boasts having the world’s largest pickup, which was constructed by the guitar pickup guru, Seymour Duncan (check out the photos of the building of the pickup).

Of course, being a bit of a goofy bastard, thinking about all these “Big” things got me to wondering how big a suppository for an elephant would have to be. I figure that it would probably be about this big.

That constitutes today’s peek into the serpentarium inside my cruller.

As a result of the hard work of some well-placed sources, I managed to get an interview with a genuine comment spammer. Here’s how it went:

Jimbo: “What is your name, sir?”

Spammy: “My name is Sammy, but people in the business call me ‘Spammy.’ Kinda catchy, no?”

Jimbo: “Frankly, no.”

Spammy: “No sense of humor? That’s your problem.”

Jimbo: “I’m really not interested in your attempts at humor. I am, however, interested in learning more about what goes on in the minds of spammers like you.”

Spammy: “Let’s be clear here. All spammers are not alike. Don’t lump me in with the e-mail spammers. I am a ‘comment spammer’ – a specialist.”

Jimbo: “Oh, I see. A specialist, are you? .How many bloggers’ comments do you figure that you spam in a given day.”

Spammy: “cheapsattlelitetv dot com Are you kidding? I can spam 100,000 comments with a single mouse click. And, I can fit lots of mouse clicks into one day, let me tell you. penisextension dot com”

Jimbo: “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Spammy: “cheap tickets dot com What do you mean, what do I think I’m doing? onlinepoker dot com”

Jimbo: “You son of a bitch. You’re spamming this conversation!”

Spammy: “texasholdem dot com Yeah, what of it? I never miss an opportunity. refinancenow dot com”

Jimbo: “Do you realize how many bloggers would like to cut your limbs off and feed them to you?”

Spammy: “freemovies dot com Sucks to be them, I guess. hotsex dot com”

Jimbo: “Do you have any idea how much I would like to cut your heart out and shove it up your ass?”

Spammy: “cheap Levitra dot com Well, then I guess it really sucks to be you, doesn’t it? lovematch dot com”

Jimbo: “Don’t push me, shitball.”

Spammy: “sisteraction dot com What are you going to do Chicky? Delete me? Bwahahahaha…….This interview is over. And, oh your comments are MINE! girlsongirls dot com“

Well, I tried.

On November 27th, without my having noticed, this blog became two years old.

In trying to think of something to say on this most inauspicious of occasions, I checked back to see what I said on the one-year anniversary of this undertaking. It turns out that everything I said then still applies, except that I am even more grateful for the number of times folks have stopped by here for a while (92,000+) and for the hours of wonderfully entertaining, and informative reading my fellow bloggers have shared with the world, including my small piece of it.

One thing that made this year special was the chance to actually meet some of you in person. Not surprisingly, what you read, is what you get in person. Accordingly, a special thanks to Eric, Rob, Velociman, Dax, Kelley, Key, Laughing Wolf, Aubrey, Zonker, Catfish, Denny, Geoff and Gordon, and Mammamontezz. Great people, all.

Finally, a very special thanks to Craig, my Montana pal, who keeps this place running and who always, always has time to lend a hand and the patience to deal with Jimbo, the cyber-dolt.

Again, thank you all so very much.

Thanks to my friend Bill from Missouri, a Navy Vet.

Darth Monkeybone at Mamamontezz’s place directs us to the Victor David Hanson essay, entitled “How Far We’ve Come.” It struck me as one of those pieces of writing that leaves me thinking that I ought to use this computer exclusively for online shopping and shoot-‘em-up games and stop pretending that I can successfully string sentences together in a manner that results in something that’s worth anyone’s time, including my own.

It’s not unlike those occasions when I would watch Gene Krupa, Buddy Rich, Joe Morello, or John Bohnam play drums, or Chet Atkins, Eric Clapton, or Mark Knopfler play guitar, and decide that the drumsticks and the guitar might make excellent kindling.

For me, the enjoyment that comes from reading or listening to the work of masters of their craft is sometimes tempered by the unpleasant realization that there are people (lots and lots of people) who can do the kinds of things I like to do far better than I can ever hope to do them.

I’ve never burned my sticks or my beloved Gibson, so I’ll certainly emerge from this latest inadequacy funk. However, for now, I think I’ll just use this high-tech paperweight to play a few games of Twenty Questions.

Thanks to karbonkountymoos for the Twenty Questions Link. It came in handy today.