Random Nuclear Strikes

I may bitch and moan about some of the patchouli stinking, hemp wearing, Marx reading lunatics who live around me and want me to conform to their ideals, but as I’ve said in the past, this is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and that is part of the reason I stay.

I’ve been meaning to link to this post of Joe Huffman’s all week, but I cannot find the pics I wanted to accompany it with.

Joe’s wife and daughter visited him here in Seattle recently and this post contains a link to the pics taken while they were here. Some of the most impressive one weere taken during their lunch atop the Space Needle.

The pics I was hoping to find were taken in 2003 from the roof of the newest skyscraper in Seattle, the IDX Tower, which my employer helped build. I got invited to tour the building during the last week before handing over the keys to the new owners. One of the best parts was getting to stay up on the roof for an afternoon.

It may only have 40 or so floors, but there are only 4 or 5 buildings that stand taller in downtown and it is still one hell of a height. The fools in the city planning office put a limit on the total height of new buildings in the early 90’s and, if I remember the Job Boss correctly, this this is barely under the limit. By like less than a yard.

I think I even still have the shirt from the day of the topping off.

And one of cooler points about the IDX is that if you click on this pic to enlarge it, check out the panels along the top. They ring the building and light up at night.

But since that is his part of the deal, I’ll probably make a poor attempt to imitate.

First up, I don’t know what country this gentleman is from, but he apprears quite unable to concentrate on the task at had.

I’m pretty sure that the thought going through his head is “Eyes on the Prize!”

Next up, I’m sure you all remember David’s post from a couple weeks back with the Jessica Simpson USO photos.

Well, if you enjoyed those, try this link. Wave your mouse across the pic and try not to strain your wrist doing it.

To which all I have to say is, she’s never going to get that car washed at that rate.

Yesterday I featured one of my former students whom just so happened to have a darker complexion than I so as to save myself from possible email messages stating that I was “Insensitive” to bootiful women whose “ancestors originate from Africa”, due to February being ‘Black History Month’.

Today, I’d like to introduce you to Artima.

As you can see, she is above the curve among the entire student body. In the courses she has taken from me, I do not know that I have had many better students and Artima, like Tamara, will be missed when she graduates this summer, though not for her snores.

Artima can assemble the best breakfasts in bed. A talent not to be overlooked in a woman.

While packing up for the impending move of Casa de Analog, I finally dug out and tested my remaining turntable, which I have neglected to feed in at least one too many years.

I must sadly report that the motor is quite dead. Probably from too many ‘Stop on Snare’ evenings.

It will be recycled by a known parts man and will help its other brother turntables live long and fulfilling lives.

But as soon as I’m not broke, I will be spinning from the outside in, once again.

With this bad boy,

It’s not a T-Rex, but I don’t make that kind of money and I won’t be going pro.

But watch for the Soundboard to get reeeeel interesting shortly after delivery (if I can ever figure out the analog to digital conversion).

Go see Rodger. He has a cartoon that uses the word “Fungible”.

You might want to print out and keep a couple copies in your glove box if you live in an area heavily infested with “global warming is all because of humans” freaks.

Like I do.

That February is Black History Month.

I was quite easy to do, you see, since the only history course we teach at the Occidental Tush Institute is called “Posteriors of the Past”. All of our instructors as well as our courses are repectful of people of all races, mostly because we just don’t recognize that they’re are any differences between folks or make special dispensations for anyone because of such a silly notion as ‘skin color’.

All hineys are equal at OTI.

But, since I’m sure I’ll get hate mail and/or be called racist if I forget, I’ll be dedicating this weekend to students of mine with more skin pigmentation than others.

A couple years ago, I had a gifted student named Tamara. She excelled in toning class and in OTI’s style courses.

The day she graduated was both a happy day and sad day. I was sad to she her leave the school, but happy that she was starting her new life.

I still miss her cute little snores.