injaynesworld we have "A Darwin Award Winner..."

The human capacity for stupidity never fails to amaze me.  Witness this guy who southern California firefighters found stuck in a tree trunk by following his screams down into a creek bed.   It took 90 minutes paid for by taxpayer dollars to free this idiot and no reason was given as to why the guy climbed into the hole near the base of the tree to begin with.

Normally, I would save such stories for the “Sunday Recap,” but this one just cried out for immediate attention.    I’m calling it “Occupy Elm Street,” although "Up Shit Creek" resonates with me, too.

Feel free to offer your own captions.

injaynesworld it's the "Sunday Recap..."

Let's see if I still remember how to do these things...

What’s in a name…?

When Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab set out to make a name for himself  and get some of those 72 virgins promised in all the brochures, being forever known as the “Underwear Bomber” probably wasn’t what he had in mind.  

Entering a plea of guilty this week to attempting to blow up a plane bound for Detroit in 2009 with a homemade bomb tucked neatly between his balls, one can only assume Umar was last in his class at training camp.

His first mistake was choosing a plane bound for Detroit.   Either the boys back at terrorist dispatch were hazing the new guy or all the good cities were taken.   I mean, seriously, like folks on a plane going to Detroit actually have something to live for.   I can only imagine his pride when he came up with the genius idea of hiding the bomb in his drawers -- because nothing says “Hey, nothin’ goin’ on here,” like the smell of singed pubes.   Now our wayward warrior is destined for a life in prison, his “tidy whities” perennially around his ankles, and the butt of every gang-banger’s “Is that a bomb in your pants...?” joke.   There will be no virgins for Umar and his only claim to fame a footnote in the jihadists new edition of “How Not To Blow Up A Plane."

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Leave the driving to us…

Never one tempted by the sport of marathon running, or running at all for that matter, I nonetheless admire those committed souls who will push their bodies to their limits and beyond to run in a sweaty, smelly pack of like-minded individuals all for the public glory or even just personal satisfaction of completing their stated goal of crossing a finishing line miles away.  I mean, that is the whole point, right?

Apparently, Rob Sloan, a runner in the U.K.’s Keilder 26.2 Mile Marathon didn’t get the memo.  After turning in a third-place finish and declaring the race “unbelievably tough,” the bloke was busted when it was learned that he had hopped on a spectator shuttle bus and ridden the last 6.2 miles of the race, before emerging from the woods near the finish line.   Blimey! (my friend Annie would say)  That takes some nerve.  Turns out people in cars following the bus saw him get on and off and then run through the bushes.   I’ll bet the folks on the bus must’ve had their suspicions, as well.  Seriously, dude.  You really thought no one would notice?    You must be out of the same gene pool as the “Underwear Bomber.”

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Under the "But where would you put it?" category...

If you had $908, 245 and questionable taste, you too could have purchased this statue of supermodel Kate Moss contorted in a yoga pose and made out of 10 kilograms of 18-caret gold at the Sotheby’s auction house in London this week.  

The lucky bidder, it turns out, was from Asia, home to all those American jobs we used to have.

Personally, I don’t get the appeal.  Maybe if it was made out of chocolate.  Complete that fantasy on your own.

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The "Steaming Pile of Shit Award" this week goes to the Topeka City Council...

...for decriminalizing domestic violence.

The conflict is over how to fund the enforcement of domestic abuse prosecution.  With budget cuts of 10% facing city and county departments, including the D.A.’s office, domestic violence cases have become the hot potato tossed back and forth between law enforcement agencies, none of which want it on their books.   The D.A.’s recent decision to save money by not prosecuting such cases, instead dumping them on the city’s doorstep, led to the city council’s vote of 7 to 3 to simply decriminalize the misdemeanor. 

Seems to me like the problem right off the bat is classifying it as a “misdemeanor” in the first place, putting it in the same category as shoplifting which, by the way, will still be a prosecutable offense under the new budget cuts.  Guess we know their priorities.    Fist in your mate’s face, no foul.   Swipe a DVD – oh, man, you’re in trouble now.

Meanwhile, Kansas Republican Governor Sam Brownback is working on another tax cut for that state's rich.

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In more political news…

The GOP has no clue as to how to react to the growing “Occupy Wall Street” movement…

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And you’ve got to feel sorry for Mitt Romney…

...when he’s passed in the GOP "Holy-crap-there's-a-black-guy-in-the-White-House" primary polls by another black guy, this one known best as the “Godfather of Pizza.”

In California, we now have open voting primaries, so I’ll be voting for Cain and hoping he gets the Republican nomination just to see the Tea Party’s heads explode.

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Someone else running for office…

This Elizabeth Warren impersonator represents why I’ll be sending the real Elizabeth Warren some of my limited cash intake.

To see and support the real Elizabeth Warren, visit ElizabethWarren.com. 

Okay.  How did I do?

injaynesworld we awake "Under The Big Top..."

… where hangovers are discouraged.   You don’t want to wake up with your head spinning, look up and see this.   I promise you.

Even on your average morning, it can set the room in motion.  And so it was with the first few days I awoke in my mountain top cottage.   Unlike many children, I harbored no fantasies in my youth of running off and joining a circus.  Nor did the pyramids of Egypt ever beckon me.   Yet, here I am in a six-sided, one-room home that, from my morning pillow, might easily be mistaken for either.   My ceiling, I’m afraid, is far more adventurous than I am.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.   A tour should start at the front door. Two actually.  French and facing west, they are the first part of the cottage to greet the day.  The deck extends all the way around the house, which makes “walking in circles” a literal rather than figurative expression around here.

   

Open the door and you’ll find yourself looking through the center of the cottage to my bed and office on the opposite walls.  And yes, that is a giant pole right smack in the middle.  Unfortunately, its circumference is too great to allow for pole-dancing, nor do any handsome firemen slide down from the roof, but it does hold the whole place up, so it can be forgiven such shortcomings.   

Take a turn to the right and you’re in my kitchen/dining area complete with a Hasbro “Easy Bake” oven perfect for single-serving size pizza or a muffin tray of six should the urge to bake strike me.  It never does.  A full-size frig, microwave, toaster and coffee maker complete my food prep needs.

Wall #3 houses the bathroom and boasts another awesome view.  See, it really is a tree house.

   

A jewel of a sink brought home by the owner from a trip to Spain somehow found its way to this little place, although I can’t imagine that was her intent when she bought it.   Or maybe it was.   She’s much more generous than I am.

Swing around another 6^th of a turn and voila!   Behold the boudoir.  And really, what more does anyone really need in a bedroom?    A dresser would just be frivolous when plenty of space can be found under the bed, and storage containers are now made to house pretty much anything from panties to pumps.  I tell myself that there are people who make do with far less room on submarines.

And here we are at wall #5, the office, and another amazing view.   Desk, laptop, printer, boom box – yes, I still have a boom box because I like to blast my music and my neighbors, who you will meet shortly, don’t mind a bit.

Finally, wall #6, the living room.   My favorite spot is the couch where I flop nightly, remote in one hand, wine in the other and enjoy catching up on back seasons of “Dexter” who, I believe, has more integrity than just about anyone in Washington.  So there you have it.  And all this contained in a room that is no more than 26’ from one side to the other.  

Mason loves it here.  He's turned from a pussy to the neighborhood bad-ass and there are plenty of tailless lizards around who will attest to his prowess.  He still won’t kill a damn mouse though.  

And Dixie couldn’t be happier to be able to sun herself on the porch while keeping an eye on me inside, wherever I happen to be.  

Oh, wait.  I promised to introduce you to the neighbors.   Meet the Moo family.   They’re nosy, but they don’t complain much.  

So ends the tour of my little treetop temple.  Believe me.  I know how fortunate I am.  There may not be a luckier fool on the planet.

Thanks so much for stopping by.

injaynesworld we "Call A Spade A Damn Spade..."

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It’s not a color-challenged heart.  

Good news!  There is no more hunger in America.  Those children who go to sleep each night with empty bellies knotted in pain and whose cognitive abilities are being stunted by lack of adequate nutrition – they aren’t hungry.  They’re just experiencing “food insecurity.”

And now there’s a cute new “poverty-stricken” Muppet named Lily to tell us all about it.  Sesame Street’s TV special airing tomorrow night got the title right:  “Growing Hope Against Hunger,” but then cops out with their discussion of “food insecurity.”

How is “food insecurity” easier to explain to kids than “hunger?”  Kids know bullshit when they hear it.  While I believe the show’s heart is in the right place, glossing over the shameful epidemic of hunger in America by assigning it a more palatable name just makes it easier for people to turn their eyes away from the real horror of this nation’s hungry men, women and children. 

“A rose by any other name smells just as sweet” and hunger by any other name is still a national shame that robs us all of the many contributions that a healthy, adequately fed population might bring to this country. We’ve become so politically correct so as not to offend, but there are some things we should be offended by.  There are some things whose harsh reality should not be made palatable. 

I’m sure the Sesame Street special will be well done and a valuable starting point for a discussion with children about hunger.  But if you really want your well-fed kids to understand what hunger does to a person, take them to a homeless shelter and introduce them to some real life children who are experiencing such lack.   Lily, the Muppet, doesn’t live there.