JamesSavik

http://hanzismatter.blogspot.com/2011/08/steve-caires-of-engrish Sunday, August 21, 2011 Steve Cairnes of Engrish.com sent me this today From Hector Garcia's A Geek in Japan: "At first glance, it seems like a kid with a supercool sweater with a Japanese character. The problem is that the character 痔 means “hemorrhoid” in Japanese. Probably the designer confused the character 侍, which means “samurai” and is pronounced “ji”, with the character 痔 that means “hemorrhoid” and is also pronounced “ji”… Both characters are graphically very similar but the meaning is totally different!"

Long bow.

I'm a bow hunter. Using a rifle is no sport for me... unless the deer have their own.

It's the pre-season. You get cut for eating with the wrong fork. If super-doofus couldn't keep his shit together in the pre-season, the coaches had zero confidence that he could or would when it really counts. Had it been some one else, maybe they would have cut him some slack. But not Chad Johnson aka loco pringa who has been a dick and a diva everywhere he has been.

I think the idiocy virus is going around.

Pandora After clearing security and going down two different elevators, I guessed that I was at least 500 meters underground. The corridor had heavy steel blast doors with key card locks and biohazard signs every 50 meters. The deeper into the facility that we went, the higher the biohazard protection level of the labs that lined the corridors. I asked the guard what the USAMARID needed from the Dept. of Homeland Security and he told me that answer was well above his pay grade. We finally entered a lab marked BL-5 and I followed the guard inside. We had to strip and leave our clothes in a locker. We passed through a chemical shower and another steel door to a locker room where we put on surgical scrubs. We passed through a final airlock where a computer sat in front of the final door. The guard told me to go log into the computer in the corner of the room. He then excused himself saying that this was as far as he goes. The computer asked me to input my name, rank and agency: McGrath, Scott Special Agent Department of Homeland Security. The computer then asked for me to to state my name, surname first. "McGrath, Scott." The computer screen turned green and displayed: Voice Print ID verified. Agent McGrath clear for access to Pandora. The big steel door popped open and I entered the lab. A group of eleven men were waiting: two scientists and nine other agency representatives. As soon as I entered, the senior scientist said, "Good. Now that Homeland Security has arrived, we can begin." "Gentlemen. Everything that you see here is above top-secret. The code word is Pandora and its very appropriate." "Several years ago CIA and NSA received intel that there was a BL4 bio-weapons lab somewhere in the tribal areas of Pakistan just across the border from Afghanistan. They also found that over several years that appropriate equipment for such a lab from Germany, France and Russia had been diverted from legitimate projects and had ended up somewhere in Pakistan." "We've been looking for that lab ever since. We finally found it two weeks ago. As soon as we located the lab, a joint team of SEALs and Delta Force operators were sent in on a covert raid to bag and tag it. What we found was horrifying. Please follow me." As I looked around I saw a few familiar faces: Colonel Will James was a troubleshooter for the Joint Chiefs. SAC Gwen Heller was FBI's Senior Agent in Charge of their counter-terrorism desk. The imminent epidemiologist Dr. Tom Ross of the CDC was looking very troubled. Most of the others I had never seen before but their very bearing screamed military or spook. We entered a room with black boards and display monitors. The scientist continued the briefing: "We found that the lab was working on a number of weaponized pathogens. All of the familiar horrors like Anthrax, Marsburg and Smallpox and one that we've never seen before. It is a chimera virus that we have code named Pandora. It's why we're here and it may be the scariest damn thing I've ever seen in a bioweapon." "Pandora began as a flavivirus called VEE or Venezuelan equine encephalitis virus. Through years of manipulation and gene splicing, it has become this." The big monitor in the room came to life and showed an electron microscope image of a spherical virus. The scientist said, "This little horror is a blood borne pathogen that attacks the brain. It causes fever and chills and then the victim falls into a coma. While the victim is in a coma the virus continues to attack the brain and eventually destroys the cerebellum while leaving the lower brain function essentially in tact. At this point about a third of the victims die. The rest wake up from the coma and attack the very first person that they see. They continue attacking everyone in site until they are killed." "When we raided the lab, three of our guys got bitten and succumbed to the infection. This is what they look like now." The scientist pressed a button that caused a panel to retract. Behind thick glass were three people that had once been elite special forces operators that had been transformed by the virus. As soon as the panel retracted and they saw us, they attacked the glass with such violence that the glass was smeared with their black blood. It was clear that anyone that those things got their hands on would be in very serious trouble. The scientist caused the glass to retract and continued: "Bites spread the virus. That's how our three operators got infected. The infection runs its course from 24 to 36 hours. They are vulnerable to tasers and gun fire. They retreat from fire but attack pretty much everything else: people or animals. The virus leaves the brain in a continuous state of rage that causes their hostility and the only thing that will stop them are kill shots. You can shoot them to pieces but unless you get their head, spinal cord or their heart they just keep coming." "We brought you here to see it with your own eyes. This is no bullshit. Pandora is real and we know that the terrorist have it. It's only a matter of time before they use it. When they do, we had better be ready because the epidemiology of this thing is terrifying. Once this virus is established and starts spreading by secondary vectors like mosquitoes, there simply aren't enough bullets to stop it." * * * * the Call "Look, I know you weren't really ready to talk to me, but I have to tell you what has been going on. Just listen to me ..." the voice on the phone said. I sighed at my cell phone. The clock by my bed read two oh-three am and I had a crazy woman on the phone. "Jessie. How nice to hear from you. What gave you the idea that I didn't want to talk to you. Not taking your calls, ducking your voice mails or actually hiding from you?" Now it was Jessie's turn to sigh. "Oh come on Philip. We've known each other too long." "It's what you are saying girl. It's crazy. It is just like what the Army said in their press release: a gas was accidentally released that causes confusion and hallucinations." "You are a smart enough reporter to know a cover story when you see one." I said, "I have to admit that it is a little convenient. But what you are saying. It just sounds so crazy. Look humor me. Tell me the story again." Jessie cleared her throat and said, "Yesterday morning at about three am, the paramedics brought us a psyche case. He was fighting and biting and appeared to be seriously injured. We put a bite mask on him and put him restraint table. He had some kind of seizure and flat-lined. We called a code blue. We gave him direct cardiac adrenalin and shocked him at least a dozen time. We pronounced him dead at 3:25. The only ID we found on him were a dog-tags. We called our contact at the Yuma Proving Grounds per established protocol." "We got busy with a car crash. Bunch of kids. Nothing serious but cuts, bruises and a broken arm. We had just cleared it when this corpse started going ape shit." I said, "This is the guy you pronounced right?" "Yeah. Dead. Stone cold, dead as a post. No heart beat, no respiration. Nothing. Starts growling and thrashing around under the sheet. If he hadn't been restrained, he would have gotten up." I said, "This is where we have a problem with your story. Corpses don't get up." "No shit Sherlock. This is where it gets weird. We figured that we had made a mistake and pronounced him too early. We went back to work on him but got no vital signs. No heartbeat, no blood pressure. We gave him enough Valium and Atavan to put an elephant on his ass and he was still fighting us. No. That not right. He was fighting to get at us." "That's when the Army showed up, shut down the ER and came up with that bogus cover story. They gave everybody vague threats and discouraged us from talking to the press." I paused for a moment and said, "That's one hell of a story but I've got nothing solid. What can I take to my editor?" Jessie said, "You remember the paramedic from last night?" I said, "Yeah." "He was bitten. He here now and he's in the same shape as the guy from last night. On top of that, he bit his wife and kids and they are in isolation with high fever and we've got seven more bite related cases. Dr. Lawrence just pushed the panic button and called the CDC and I don't mind telling you I'm scared shitless." My cell phone went dead and a recording started: This conversation has been terminated for reasons of National Security. It repeated itself and my phone went completely dead. * * * * Law & disOrder "Oh my god, I think I killed him!" , the young woman shouted holding a shovel. I answered, "I'll check. Stay back. Where is he?" She said, "In the back yard. He surprised me on the patio. He tried to grab me but I smacked him." Her hand were shaking as she held the shovel at port-arms. I pulled my Beretta and clicked off the safety and pulled my mag-lite. I keyed my radio and said, "This is one-L-19 responding to complaint of a prowler, I'm Code 2 at 145 Pine Valley Highway. 10-70 reported in the back yard. Roll backup." Dispatch responded, "One-L-19, Code 2, any available backup please respond." I wasn't holding my breath for back up. As crazy as things were going that night, I wasn't really expecting any for a while. "Mam- go inside and lock the doors. I'm going to clear your back yard." She disappeared inside the garage door with her shovel and I heard the latch snap. If it was illegal aliens in this neighborhood it would be a first. The surrounding terrain was some of the roughest desert in the South West. This little berg was a well-to-do far flung suburb of Tuscon way out south of Red Rock. I went around the side of the house and found the gate to the back yard standing open. There was a diffused blue light coming from a bug-zapper on the other side of the fence. As I passed the gate there was a distinct smear of dark blood. Thought to myself- it looks like she got a piece of him. As I went into the back yard, I yelled, "Pima County Sheriff's Office! let me see your hands!" I swept the yard with my mag lite and saw nothing on my first sweep. It was a nice place. It was a fenced in back yard with a pool, pool house and tool shed. The tool shed door was standing wide open and a light was on inside. As I swept through the yard, I saw a shadow move in the tool shed. I came around, put the mag-lite and Beretta on the door of the shed and ordered, "You in the shed. Come out and let me see your hands." Suddenly a big guy in army fatigues, combat boots and a holstered side arm appeared in the door of the shed. The flash-light beam in his face made him stop. There was blood on the side of his face and he appeared quite pale. What bothered me the most was the blood on his hands. Holy shit. What I stumbled into? On seeing his side arm I yelled, "Drop the weapon. Drop it now!" He started coming toward me and began accelerating. I yelled one more time, "Drop the weapon and get on your knees. Last warning!" He continued to accelerate toward me. I shot him twice, center mass and he fell on his back. I keyed my radio mike and said, "Shots fired, shots fired, suspect down! I need a bus and a supervisor now!" I approached the suspect, leaned over and took the pistol out of his holster. As I was securing his weapon, the suspect opened his eyes and made a grab for my legs. "Stay down! There's an ambulance on the way!" The suspect rolled over, got up and came after me again. I took two more shots and dropped him again. He got up faster this time. I put two more rounds in his chest and another two in his head. This time he didn't get up. I looked around at the scene and there was blood and gore everywhere. Somewhere in the night I heard the boom of a shot gun. The shot gun went off three more times and there was a blood curdling scream. I heard the gate creek and I turned to see another messed up person shambling into the back yard. The man was in his thirties and had a bloody neck wound. I ordered him to halt but he kept coming for me. I shot him twice once in the chest and one in the head. As soon as he had dropped a horribly injured Mexican man came through the gate snarling and running toward me. I shot him twice and went dry. I quickly slammed another magazine into my gun and decided that it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. As I ran through the gate there were two more. I shot them both and sprinted for my cruiser when I saw dozens of those things coming toward me. I jumped in the patrol car, fired it up and ran over three of them as I ran like hell. What had just happened? Why had I just left the scene of a shooting and run over three people? What the hell was going on? What was wrong my my freaking bullets? Nobody got up after taking center mass shots at close range. Nobody. I listened to my police radio as unit after unit reported gunfire, officer involved shots fired and people acting crazy. The world was falling apart for no apparent reason.

Good riddance to the NFL's top diva

I love the Pacific. It's always got something new to show us and it's always cool stuff.

Check my blog for unofficial Easter eggz. The War Inside- when you make super-soldiers to save your civilization, what do you do with them when the war is over? The Inquisitor- the world has gone downhill after a near apocalyptic war. Coming soon: First Night The opening hours of the zombie apocalypse!

He wasn't really looking for himself. He knew that he was dissatisfied with the status quo. Meeting and interacting with the old woman was the key.

The Inquisitor Anybody who wants this job shouldn't have it. They would just be thugs. The people who should have it burn out or flip out. Philip Baker was just trying to hang on to his retirement and self respect. Once being a special agent for the Bureau was a respectable job. That was the job he had signed on for twenty-seven years ago. That seemed like a long time ago. Before the wars. Before the genetically engineered plagues were released. Before the Night of the 13th Prophet when Islamic terrorists nuked Washington, Atlanta, Chicago, LA and Seattle and the great capitals of Europe from Moscow to London. Before the Great Crusade when Muslims were systematically slaughtered globally to the last toddler. Before a string of Christian religious fanatics had seized power and turned the United States of America into the Christian States of America. It was a very damaged nation and world. Summers were short. Global warming was replaced by nuclear winter. Millions of people worldwide were dying of radiation poisoning. Millions more were dying slowly of cancer. Plagues periodically flared up when the viruses released by the Jihadis re-emerged. The jury was still out on whether the ecological damage to the planet could ever be healed. The world population had crashed from a high of seven billion to a little less than three billion. The Bureau had became the Bureau of Purity- greatly expanded with wide latitude and new mandates. Instead of a special agent, he was now an inquisitor. In addition to the laws that the Bureau traditionally enforced, a new Uniform Code of Morality was enforced by every law enforcement officer in the land. The UCM was passed at a time of great fear. When things went bad, the Evangelicals claimed that the country was being punished for tolerating immorality. The laws were passed out of fear and were being expanded every year. Things that had not been a crime before were now capital offenses. Alcoholism, drug addiction, insanity, homosexuality were all grounds for summary execution. More than likely they would simply be conscripted in the slave labor gangs that were forced to clean up the radioactive waste lands that were once our largest cities. As Baker thought about the past, he tasted bile in the back of his throat. How many had it been? Once we thought of Hitler as a great villain of history. How would history judge the Christian States of America? Lady Liberty's white robes of piousness were dripping with the blood of billions. He was working inside the Atlanta restricted zone. Some parts were hotter than others and fugitives had taken to hiding in the fringes of the various hot zones around the country. He was after a bad one. Jason Sutter had been a gay activists back in the day. He wrote books and was a dissident leader according to his file. The Bureau had wanted him for years and a snitch had finally fingered him in the ruins of Norcross, Georgia. Sutter had been on the run for almost twenty years. What the Bureau really wanted him for was he obviously had information about the underground railroad for perverts that closet miscreants or the misguided had set up to get them out of the country. Baker entered the restricted zone from the East at the checkpoint at Duluth, GA on I-85. The main roads had been cleared and it was obvious that a great deal of clean up had already taken place. He slowed down and keyed the suspected address into the vehicles GPS. Working in the zones never failed to give Baker the creeps. When he got off the interstate at Beaver Run Road to drive into Norcross, he passed a shopping mall. On one side the mall was wrecked and burned. On the other side cars were still parked in neat rows. In the neatly landscaped parking lot, trees provided shade. The only thing that moved down there now were crows. Driving past the mall on the eerie deserted streets, businesses and homes sat still and deserted. Abandoned cars had been bulldozed out of the main roads. FEMA's spray painting was still clearly visible on the fronts of buildings. There appeared to be nothing visibly wrong except all of the windows facing West had been blown out in the shock wave. Of course he was ever mindful of the clicks of his vehicles geiger counter. In some places the radiation was so intense that a flat tire might be a death sentence. He took Buford Highway West and then turned North on Jimmy Carter Blvd and passed through the ghost town of Norcross. After crossing Peachtree Industrial, he turned off into the suburbs and came to a house on Summit Point Drive. While the rest of the neighborhood was deserted, the house and yard was well kept. When he got out of his vehicle, he noticed an old woman wearing a bright blue blouse with a kitten on her knee sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. She raised her hand and waved in greeting. Red roses were blooming on trellises framing the porch. Baker approached the old lady cautiously and noticed that as he got closer, she was very obviously blind. The kitten in her lap eyed the approaching inquisitor suspiciously, hopped out of the old womans lap and vanished into the bushes. She said, "Welcome stranger. I get visitors so seldom that it makes my day. Would you like a cup of tea?" Astonished, Baker replied, "No thank you mam." She said, "Please, call me Meridith young man. No- you aren't that young. I can tell from your voice. You're from before." "Yes Mam. I'm Philip. How long have you been here?" "I've been here since the world ended Philip. I was in my late fifties when it happened. I didn't see much point in evacuating." "Meredith, I'm a policeman and I'm looking for a dangerous suspect." Meredith said, "Hump. Morality police?" Philip said, "Yes Mam." "You're looking for a boy that had the misfortune of being born gay?" "Just saying that is a violation of the Uniform Code of Morality mam. Homosexuals chose their perversion." Meredith laughed, "Don't try to bully me. I grew up in a time when we spoke our minds. Besides, my cancer will kill me soon enough. There's very little you can threaten me with." Baker sighed. This was going nowhere. "How do you live here?" "They help me. You know why I never left this huge grave yard?" "No Mam. Why are you still here?" "Because the Ayatollah's won. The evil men that destroyed our cities. They had morality police and morality laws. They had things you could say and things that you couldn't. We may have destroyed them but we became them. I had rather live out my days in the radioactive ruins than live in chains. I was free once and I chose to remain that way." Baker said, "Is there anything you need Mam?" The old woman sat on her rocking chair like an ancient monarch. She shook her head and said, "Leave those kids alone Mr. Morality Policeman. They're just trying to live. The preachers and the false prophets in power now have forgotten that the lord said live an let live." Baker got back in his car. He called into headquarters and told his supervisor that the lead in Norcross was a dead end. When he passed the checkpoint and left the restricted zone, he pulled out his badge and threw it out the window. He had grown up before. He remembered what it was like to be free and not live in constant fear. It was time to live again.

You really believe that sunshine? I hope you never have to find out what it's like to be helpless and in the power of your enemies.

The happy go lucky Disney attitude that nothing will go wrong and everything will turn out all right in the end. That only happens on TV.

While I don't understand exactly, I know pain when I see it. I send my best wishes to those who are suffering from this. Hang in there.

1) Be creative 2) have a plan 3) use it as an outlet 4) use it to connect with people that follow your writing 5) use it as a testbed for stories. Even if it doesn't generate a lot of comments, you'll get to see how many hits it gets. 6) use it to show you're still alive while on hiatus 7) use it to generate discussion or debate 8) use it to see the other side 9) use it for feedback 10) use it for fun

The War Inside Stardate 43887.3 Dr. Walter Ingalls, Starfleet Medical Personal log. At the request of the Angosian government, Star Fleet has dispatched a team of doctors and other specialist to help rehabilitate veteran's of the Tarsian War. When I first got this assignment, I thought that we would make quick and easy progress. Nothing could be further from the truth. What I first thought were symptoms of severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a much more complicated condition created by conditioning, drugs, genetic engineering and nano-technology. This may well be a case where we can not think in terms of a cure per see but to manage the condition to improve the patients quality of life. This interview is typical of the patients that we have seen at the Luna V facility. Subject 378- Rayner Zale Ingalls- I specifically asked to speak with you because you have had nothing to do with Roga Danar's insurrection and have expressed no interest in therapy or to live anywhere but the Luna V facility. I wanted to understand your reasoning. Zale- There's simply no point in it. What I have become, what we are, we're not Angosians anymore. We're something else. Something horrible that frightens those of us who were conditioned to be soldiers most of all. Ingalls- So you consider the conditioning program irreversible? Zale- They can remove the drugs, disable the implants, reverse the genetic alterations but... how do you get rid of the faces? I personally have killed over three hundred Tarsians. My enhanced memory allows me to remember each and every face in exacting detail. Can we get rid of that? You can take the soldier out of the war doctor. It's much more difficult to take the war out of the soldier. Ingalls- Perhaps we can help. We have treated many Federation veterans of the Dominion War. I'm certain that we can help. Zale- Maybe you can. I will see how it goes with the others before I commit. Ingalls- No good soldier commits to action without intelligence or reconnaissance. Zale- (laughs) You sound like a soldier yourself. Ingalls- I fought in the Cardassian War and the Dominion War. Zale- It's good to talk to a fellow soldier. Most of the Doctor's are nice young people who have no idea... Ingalls- Yes. Tell me your story. Zale- (sighs) It's fairly typical tale. I will tell it in trade. Your story for mine. Ingalls- That's only fair. Zale- I was young when the war started. I was in my first year at university studying architecture. The war was going very badly at first. Angosians aren't naturally a warlike people. Many of our first generation soldiers hesitated. We suffered defeat after defeat. The Tarsians were... brutal, almost animalistic. We soon discovered that the Breen were backing the Tarsians in a bid to destabilize the area around Romulan space. Both sides were pawns in a much bigger game. I volunteered when our home world was bombarded and several of our cities were leveled. We asked for help. Not from the Romulans of course. The Federation wouldn't get involved. We were able to secure key defense technologies through third parties that made our military at least competitive. With Klingon disrupters, Romulan shields and old Federation warp drives, Angosia was able to build a small, formidable fleet that was able to stop the Tarsians cold and turn the tide of the war in our favor. But... I'm getting ahead of myself. I joined our military in the third year of the war. After basic training and testing, I was asked to join a special unit. We were warned that it was dangerous and that many didn't survive but being young and patriotic, I volunteered. It was nothing like the training that I had previously had. Rather than Subadons (Angosian equivalent of a drill instructor), we had counselors. We were enhanced by biological engineering, drugs and nanotechnology. Most importantly, we were conditioned not to be like other Angosians. Ingalls: What do you mean? Zale: When it came time to kill, we were conditioned not to hesitate. I was there for the our first assignment: to retake Angosia VI. The Tarsians had captured one of the planets in our home system and we had to remove them. Angosia VI is a cold desert world with low gravity. It can barely sustain life. The military called it Operation Mystic Winter. Those of us that went called it hell. We launched on four troop transports with twenty-five hundred men each and equipment. One transport was destroyed in space. One crashed landed. The two that did land were badly off course. The first day we lost thirty men to the cold. It took us days to move into position to strike the Tarsians and they had air superiority until the very end. Finally we were able to hit their defensive perimeter and our programming kicked in. I didn't even know that it was possible to move that fast. I would look around and the hands and feet of my fellow soldiers were just a blur. We fought until we were completely out of ammunition. Then we used knives, clubs, rocks and even our bare hands. We won the battle. When it was all over there were only twenty-seven hundred of us left. Historians call it the turning point. To me it's just another one of a score of nightmares that keeps coming back over and over. Ingalls: By all accounts, the Battle for Angosia VI was the turning point. Zale: And I have the campaign ribbon, the Angosian star and... a lot of dead friends to remember it by. Ingalls: That's the part you never get used to. Burying your friends. Zale: The conditioning lets you turn it off. Ingalls: What do you mean by turn it off? Zale: Part of the conditioning allows you to turn off emotions. The only problem is that they don't go away. They don't stay turned off forever. Just long enough to keep you from being distracted from your mission. Ingalls: You were promoted after Angosia VI. Zale: Yes. That's when it got so much worse. It's one thing to be a soldier. To be responsible for the lives of others... that's hard. I was given command a platoon (24) of soldiers that had just completed the conditioning program. We fought in a number of minor skirmishes and did extremely well. We were in the first wave of the invasion of Kavis Alpha. I lost eight of those kids. I can still call them all by name. Enhanced memory is very difficult when you want to forget. Ingalls: That battle forced the Tarsians to the peace table. Zale: It was a great shock to the Tarsians. Angosians that could snap their necks like twigs and didn't shy away from striking killing blows. That's the battle that scared them. They couldn't handle us at all and they knew it. The war dragged on another year and a half but they had gone from swaggering militarists to skulking cowards that hid in bunkers. Ingalls: You seem to still have a lot of anger towards the Tarsians. Zale: You're damned right I do. I'm angry at all of the lives they took. And for what? To gain another star system? To be acknowledged as a regional power? No. We know the Tarsians all too well. They were just bullies with more weapons than sense and stopping them made it all worthwhile. Ingalls: You consider the sacrifices that you and others had to make worth while? Zale: Honestly, I didn't expect to survive the war. Ask our soldiers an most of them will tell you the same. Ingalls: Don't you ever want to leave the Luna V facility? Zale: No. To win that war, I had to become a monster. I am still that monster. I can still snap a mans neck or jam his nose cartilage into his brain in a split second. There lies the problem. We had to learn how to act without thinking- to not hesitate to kill. That is an absolute necessity in war but it has no place in peace. I am no longer fit to be a part of any civil society. I am a weapon that must be locked away until it is needed again. For me the war never really ended. I see, I smell it and I feel it every time I close my eyes. I am no longer in a war. The war is in me. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Angosia III ( http://en.memory-alp...iki/Angosia_III ) was a world visited by the Enterprise-D under Jean-Luc Picard on Stardate 43489 ( http://en.memory-alp...d_%28episode%29 ) The Tarsian Wars were a protracted conflict in which the Angosians were forced to create super soldiers to survive and eventually win the war. What does a peaceful society do with super-soldiers once the war is over and they are no longer needed?

I don't watch it. I left that world and ain't looking back.

Good to see ya Meeko!

Don't break a hip, hurray!

Yes, yes- I'm older than geological formations. You kids get off my lawn! Buick my ass. I just have to peddle faster.

Typical of the NCAA to go well over the top- unless you are an elite SEC school. The pervert is in jail and the coaches and administrators have all been fired. The NCAA is re-flogging a horse that isn't getting any deader.

red hair/blue eyes

Babylon 5. I am a shadow.

Meh... that's the SciFried network. Even when their shows work, which is rare, they cancel them in their prime so they don't have to pay the cast. I don't even watch their crap anymore. Besides, when I surf through, all I ever see is psycho ghost-busters bullshit and wrestling.

I love to see questions like this. They make people like like clocks to be politically correct. It's about that AZZ ok? Always has, always was, always been about that Azz.