Context

Great piece on context from Shakespeare's Sister.

I couldn't say it better, nor would I try.

Poppy. 2002 - 2005

My gerbil friend, Poppy (aka Papa), died this afternoon.



I already miss him.

Ok...another quiz

But this one is Shakespeare's Sister's fault.

I must admit I'm surprised I didn't score higher on apathy. Not that it really matters.

---

You scored as Utilitarianism. Your life is guided by the principles of Utilitarianism: You seek the greatest good for the greatest number. The said truth is that it is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong. --Jeremy Bentham Whenever the general disposition of the people is such, that each individual regards those only of his interests which are selfish, and does not dwell on, or concern himself for, his share of the general interest, in such a state of things, good government is impossible. --John Stuart Mill More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page... Utilitarianism 85% Hedonism 85% Existentialism 85% Justice (Fairness) 60% Strong Egoism 40% Apathy 40% Kantianism 35% Nihilism 25% Divine Command 0% What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03) created with QuizFarm.com

Where's the cake?

My inner child is six years old!

Look what I can do! I can walk, I can run, I can
read! I like to do stuff, and there's a whole
big world out there to do it in. Just so long
as I can take my blankie and my Mommy and my
three best friends with me, of course.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

I am 7 cats old

This time of year always makes me sad.

My best friend was buried in this month (8 years ago), and my first cat died after an extremely valiant battle against renal failure (2 years ago). They were separate creatures, different species and genders, but they meant a lot to me.

My cat, Jet, chose me in 1995. A friend at work mentioned that one of her friends had a 6-year-old cat she that she had agreed to watch for a short time that turned into a long time, but could no longer care for…was there anyone in our department who would take over the responsibility. I went to the little apartment where Jet was staying to see this feline. She was solid black with two long, white whiskers, one on each side of her nose. She looked like a walrus.

I sat on the couch, talking to the nice lady about the situation, and Jet climbed behind me, resting on my hair as it spread over the back of the couch. She chose people that way, by sleeping on their hair. I agreed then and there to take over the responsibility.

I had recently moved into an apartment and had not yet completed my unpacking process. Jet was frightened to death of this new place and chose to hide among the boxes. Behind them. Under them. For two weeks. I came home one evening from work to an empty apartment. I called for her, at first curiously, then with more and more desperation. I called my dad (who still fixes everything), crying as I explained that I had somehow lost my cat. Then, just as I was about to curl up in a ball and die, Jet ambled out, cautiously, to find out what the commotion was all about. She greeted me at the door from that day on.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I was not the greatest cat mommy. I stayed out too late, too often for her taste. She always had plenty of food and water…but she wanted me there. She made sure to indicate her displeasure with “deposits” in the living room, the kitchen, the bedroom…anywhere she could. At first she covered the deposits, then she just grew annoyed with me and laid them right in the middle of the room. I learned slowly to not stay away too long.

She would sleep on my hair at night, which REALLY annoyed me. I couldn’t turn over without being in pain, so I taught her to not do that. She stopped and, when I was ready for her to sleep by my head again (post-haircut), she refused. She was stubborn.

In 1997, I learned that she had a bladder stone. I took her in for surgery and had it removed, but the doctor said that the stone had partially blocked her from being able to urinate completely, causing a backup to her kidney. This, in turn, began renal failure. She had 5 months to 5 years.

She stayed with me for the whole 5 years, until she was 13. As she aged, her two white whiskers became two black whiskers. She gained a bit of white under her chin. But we played often. She loved catnip toys, especially toy mice stuffed. She also loved her wand toy, which had a dangly toy at the end that she could stalk. We cuddled some, but she was never much of a cuddler. She preferred to just be in the same room with me. She took to sleeping in the dining room, in the guest bedroom, and in my shower. If I forgot to close the closet door in the morning, I could find her there in the evening after work.

Toward the end, she was drinking water, then going directly to the litterbox to drain what she had just consumed. I couldn’t keep up with her litter box. We went through a 35lb container of litter each week.

One afternoon, November 25, 2003, I noticed that Jet wasn’t moving much. She was alert, but lethargic. The vet said he thought she was in final renal failure, but it would take until the next morning to know for sure based on test results. We could only wait.

That night, Jet and I slept in the bathroom. She was in the shower, I was next to her. I talked and reminisced. She glared at me, as if to say, “Not now. It’s not time to think sad things.” She could be a pain. She also put her hand on my leg, which calmed me down. We both knew, but only she was able to deal with it. We fell asleep next to each other in the bathroom.

I got the call at 9am on November 26. Her kidneys were done.

As we drove to the vet’s office that final time, I reached over to pet her often as I drove. She finally grabbed my finger in her hand, as if to ask me to calm down. We reached the office, and were ushered into the back. I stayed with her to the end. I had never seen her more calm, and she was a very calm cat. As the drugs flowed through her, she glanced at me. It may have been my imagination, but it sure felt like a thanks. I stayed with her for about 30 minutes. She has stayed with me ever since.

I am 7 cats old.

(Tip of the keyboard to Lobablanca and the Sun Dog for making me cry all afternoon)

Dude, You Got a Mayoral Post

Eighteen-year-old Michael Sessions won the mayoral election in Hillsdale, Michigan with a $700 summer job campaign budget. He won by two votes over incumbent mayor Doug Ingles. And as a write-in candidate. Who says teens are lazy and have no ambition? Mayors who lose their jobs.

Wonder if he'll run for president in '08.

Harry Reid Is My Hero

Sen. Harry Reid today invoked a rarely-used rule (Rule 21) that forced the Senate into a closed session, booting all cameras and unnecessary personnel from the Senate in a demand for discussion about Scooter Libby's indictment and to "discuss a Senate Select Committee on Intelligence report on the failure of Iraqi WMD intelligence," i.e., the reasons we got into this war in Iraq in the first damned place.

As Pam says at Pandagon, "This is a revolt, a showing of spine like we've not seen before, along with the brass balls that we thought were auctioned off."

I've not said this here before, and for the record, I ALWAYS supported going into Afghanistan. I NEVER supported going into Iraq -- it always stuck me as Dubya picking a fight because Poppy was insulted. And now someone, Sen. Reid specifically, FINALLY grew a set.

From Americablog via Pandagon, some history of secret sessions:

Since 1929, the Senate has held 53 secret sessions, generally for reasons of national security.

• For example, in 1997 the Senate held a secret session to consider the Chemical Weapons Convention (treaty).
• In 1992, the Senate met in secret session to consider “most favored nation” trade status for China.
• In 1988, a session was held to consider the Intermediate Range Nuclear Forces Treaty and in 1983 a session was held on Nicaragua.
• In 1942, a secret session was held on navy plans to build battleships and aircraft carriers, and in 1943 a secret session was held on reports from the war fronts.
  

Six of the most recent secret sessions, however, were held during the impeachment trial of President Bill Clinton.

Thanks to Pam for the heads up and Pandagon for hosting the speech.

UPDATE: I just tried to leave Sen. Reid a message thanking him. His staff numbers are all busy, and his voicemail is full.