Rambling Rhodes

My New ThunderJournal! *lightning strike*

I have officially, personally, made a definitive decision about something that's been bothering me now for over four years.

I've never liked the word "blog." I don't care if it is the result of meshing the words "Web" and "Log." Blog = Dumb. I do not tell people I blog. I tell them I have a Web site.

Well, I'm sick of saying I have a Web site. That has all the verbal punch of a gurgling whisper, even though it is still better than saying "blog."

Let it be known, from this point on, Rambling Rhodes is no longer a blog. I've thought long and hard on this, and I've decided that Rambling Rhodes should only be referred to as a. . ."ThunderJournal!" *lightning strike*

This is my own personal ThunderJournal! *lightning strike*

When I'm writing, I'm not blogging, I'm ThunderJournaling! *lightning strike*

In fact, now that I think about it, I'm not even going to consider myself a journalist any more, either. I'm a ThunderJournalist! *lightning strike*

I can't believe how cool this thing is now. It's so hip, and now, and wicked, and sweet. I'm marvelling at the sheer ultra-coolness of my entirely revamped ThunderJournal! *lightning strike*

Flight Plan

As someone who is scheduled to fly to Baltimore for a tech conference on Sunday, I find shit like this to be a tad disconcerting. Lousy terror plots. *shakes fist*

Must be a joke. MUST BE!

Yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/060809/ids_photos_ts/r1533909385.jpg">I'm so sorry.

Via.

Okay, that was weird

I haven't done a good bathroom-related post in awhile. It's not because I've lost my enthusiasm for providing bathroom-related content, it's just that nothing much has happened lately for me to report on.

Until just now.

I was using a urinal, when some guy came in to use the other one. Which wasn't unusual. It was his "technique" that was unusual.

He litterally stood about two feet away from the urinal and let the amber stream fly. From the corner of my eye I could only see a yellow line originating somewhere behind me from an invisible source, right on into the porcelain retainer.

Gradually, the strange pee man shuffled inch by inch closer to the urinal, as if he was fighting against the pressure of his forceful piss, and by pee standards, I guess it did sound pretty forceful. At any rate, by the time I wrapped up my own peeing business, the other pee dude had taken up a more traditional urinal proximity.

It's really weird to see a pee stream right next to you, but you can't see the source. It was like a dimensional door opened so an alien from the planet Klaxor could take a piss.

An open letter

To stupid people. All stupid people.

A meerkat is a varmint. Yes, it is a cute varmint, and it does cute varmint things. That said, it's still a varmint. If I were to be bit by a varmint, and I was given the choice between killing said varmint or undergoing a series of rabies shots. . . goodbye varmint. You were a cute varmint, but now you're a dead varmint.

And that's just me. If I had a child, and the choice was between my child undergoing possibly unnecessary rabies shots, or erradicating an entire family of varmints? Goodbye varmint family!

That is all.