Not Who You Think It Is

It's not Gillian Anderson. Really. It's a Poser figure.

On a totally unrelated note, I'd like to start a movement. Not the musical kind. I hope that I can get Al Sharpton involved, mainly because I wouldn't be bothered if some people got fired over this particular bee in my bonnet. See, I'm a night person. Always have been. Today I was forced to greet the day courtesy of one of the maintenance monkeys here at the apartment complex using a leaf blower. Before 7:30. A.M. Because of this,I learned that Tucson's noise ordinance ends at 7 so I couldn't even throw that at them. But still... a leaf blower at 7:30? I know my family is laughing at me, because they get up at about the time I'm thinking of possibly going to bed. Regardless of the time zone difference. (If I didn't look like them, you wouldn't know we were related based on their diurnal habits.)

So, I'd like to start a national movement. Or even an international one. Why not? The rights of the nocturnals have been trodden for far too long. We may be a minority, but that doesn't give you diurnals the right to just bang pots and pans together when the sun comes up. (You selfish bastards.) I'm quiet when you're asleep, and I should be afforded the same courtesy. Your laws have a decidedly anti-nocturnal bent, so I say that infringes on my rights. Not to mention my lefts. I'd like to call it something like "Everybody Shut the Hell Up" movement. But that's mainly because I'm no good at coming up with slogans. And having a movement called "ESHU" will just make people say "Gesundheit" in confusion, and that doesn't even begin to address the issues.

So? Who's with me? Down with daylight oppressors! We want meridian equality and we want it now! (Or something. I said I was no good with slogans.)

The Benefit Of Insomnia is a Squid Ninja

This is the other thing that came of my sleeplessness. Call me shallow, but I dig the way this came out.

What Do You Do When You Can't Sleep?

The Mrs. and I seem to be alternating our sleepless nights. At least we're creative during our rest-free episodes. Yeah, I know, this is just a variation on a theme. But it's not a shop-related image, and that's what's important.

It's Just The Way My Brain Works

Don't get me wrong... despite our present pet-free lifestyle, the whole pet death/pet food recall thing has struck a nerve. I get along with animals much, much better than I get along with most people. The lovely late night ASPCA spot that runs with Sarah McLachlan as a spokesperson rekindles my desire to be the superhero that beats the crap out of people who mistreat animals. Got it? Good. Just making my point for the following thought that came into my head when I heard about all the dog and cat deaths from the tainted food:

Isn't that how the apes became human pets in the Planet of the Apes mythology?

Turns out I was wrong, at least as far as the cause is concerned. The dogs and cats of the world were wiped out by a space plague, so humans naturally used apes to fill the pet niche. Which, I'll grant you, is a much greater leap than the pet to slave, slave to master leap. I mean, if the "traditional" pets really were wiped out, humans would be more likely to switch to something like a ferret as a pet. And "Planet of the Ferrets" just isn't as menacing a title. More like a straight-to-DVD Disney offering, with Tim Allen being contractually obligated to be a ferret.

There May Be A Story Here

But not at the moment. In case I haven't mentioned it lately, Photoshop is pretty friggin' cool.

Watching Words Vanish

With all the legal-themed brouhaha in the news of late, I've noticed something unsettling. The proliferation of the phrase "pleaded not guilty". Apparently it's in fashion to give statements of innocence while wearing a skirt. (Think about it for a minute, you'll get it.) I remember quite vividly the word "pled", and how people "pled not guilty". Now, after a quick search, that word barely registers on the intertubewebs. In fact, the blogger spell-checker is underlining it. Thankfully, dictionary.com has it, albeit tangentially. I know the language changes over time, and I know it's inevitable. I just would have rather it changed a generation after me, so I wouldn't have to twitch all the time. Either that, or have it swing back the other way so we could start tacking "e"s on everything, and spell words like "happiness" with flourishing f-like characters. Viz:

She's Got Layers, Despite Being Nude

I've made so many CafePress shops in the last few days I've literally lost count. A gaggle, perhaps. Or a pod. Creating all those stores and (hopefully) eye-catching images has reminded me just how nifty an application is Photoshop. So today, I'm shying away from T-shirt-themed art to something a bit more... odd. It's an exercise in the functionality of layers. Something with which I've rarely dabbled, despite having experience with the program since version 1.5 or so.

Try Looking Out The Damn Window Instead

In reviewing my site logs, I saw an interesting IP address from a visitor. No, it's not from my former employer or anyone associated with that lovely organization. This visitor was part of the Department of Homeland Security (unwgsgs2.cbp.dhs.gov). The funny part is that this visitor came to my site from Intergalactic Stacey's site. It just struck me as funny that a DHS governmental employee went to a site called "intergalactic" anything in his or her quest for finding illegal aliens. Not funny as in "ha ha" funny, but funny as in "ah, more wasted money and if I don't laugh I'll scream" funny.

In case the DHS person returns, I've got a free hint for you to scribble into your job aid: the intergalactic alien is the kind we need. They'd bring advanced technology, and I might even be able to bypass the whole "flying car of the year 2000" (which I'll never get, and about which I'm very upset) to get my very own USS Jenolen. Pre-crash, that is.

Punctuation Is Important, As Is Shameless Self-Promotion

While driving around scenic Tucson today, I spotted a sign that made me guffaw. Normally I try not to guffaw while driving, but we were stopped at a light so it was OK. (Deb hadn't seen the sign, so she just thought I had finally snapped.) The sign, crafted from fine stone-ground cardboard, was tacked to a telephone pole. It read: "Shit-Zu Puppy's For Sale". I gave them credit for the hyphen, as I thought that the word required one. (Turns out it doesn't.) Not in that part of the word, of course, but I thought it was there. The woefully inappropriate apostrophe s would normally have me enraged, but the first part of the sign really took the sting out of it. There's a word of advice to those of you who are a tad shaky on some of the more fundamental rules of grammar: make the first mistake really funny, and the others will be glossed over by your reader.

In other news, I've been a CafePress madman of late. Eight new stores and counting. If you're interested, click me. If you're not interested, that's fine too.

*sniff*