Just a mirror for the sun

This week I spent an extended amount of time driving across the fruited plain, seeing America... and a bit of the People's Republic of Michigan. So lucky you, you get another lame blog post out of it!

In Rolla, MO, I happened to stop for food at what might possibly be the dirtiest Burger King in the world. There were flies everywhere, and some gigantic Starship Troopers looking bugs in the entryway. I don't even want to know what it was that made the floor feel sticky. To add to the ambiance, there were two California-looking guys sitting by the door talking very loudly about GPS devices and government conspiracies.
I happened to see the two tinfoil-hatters 100 miles down the road when I stopped for gas. I quickly and quietly went inside to escape their harrowing gaze.

That wasn't the worst part about my stopover in Rolla, though. It turns out that the University has apparently bought into some self-esteem crap or something, and changed its name from The University of Missouri-Rolla to The Missouri University of Science and Technology. As acronyms go, "MUST" is a really crappy one. Sure, UMR doesn't mean anything, but everyone knew where you were coming from.
In my book, it's not a good day for the one-time Missouri School of Mines.

With the recent surge of insane behavior from Mississippi, Springfield Missouri may have been slipping in its position as the most bizarre city in America. Fortunately, an incident I witnessed on my trip should firmly valut them back into the top spot.
Now, this didn't happen within the city limits, but I say it still counts... and as I am Judge, Judy, and Executioner for this contest, it counts. So, just outside of town I saw a truck broken down on the Interstate, missing a tire. No problem, the driver of this vehicle probably took it into town to have it repaired... only he wasn't using a standard-issue auto jack to hold up his truck. Oh no, he was showing off his redneck-engineering skills by propping up his crippled truck with the odds and ends he had on hand. Namely, a Bobcat.

Not this kind of Bobcat: (which, admittedly, would have been hella impressive)


But THIS kind:


Way to go, Springfield. Way. To. Go.

I got to stop in Indiana for burgers and Green River soda. As I've mentioned here before, I love Green River like a mother loves her children... maybe, if she were a cannibal mother... OK, so it's not a perfect metaphor. Regardless, I love to drink Green River soda. I managed to down about 6 of them before I felt my kidneys were in mortal danger. THAT was a good day.

I've taken down the link to Fred Thompson's Presidential Campaign... for now. Apparently, there was an election, though I can't quite recall who won. In its place, I've included a link to the site for Teh Fred's radio show. If you don't happen to live in an area that carries his show, then you're definitely missing out - check out his archives, which contain terabytes of full shows, and all sorts of other Fredaica.

I made another Stuckey's Stop!! Huzzah!
In McLean, IL, inside the Dixie Truck Stop, you can find a (pretty sad excuse for) Stuckey's. Well, there was one corner with some pecan logs, and small bit of merch. If there was more cool stuff hanging around there, I sure didn't see it. So, perhaps some signs are in order, guys.
Nevertheless, it counts. Stuckey's FTW!

For if the road were easy, your faith would not be needed

Right off the bat, you'll notice that I've been fiddling around with the template tonight... assuming that this is even readable on your 'puter. I've got just the one monitor to test it out with, but I'm really happy with the way the blog's looking now. It seems so much more readable than before - all the way to eleven, as far as I'm concerned. (That is, naturally, subject to change as I have the opportunity to test-drive it on differing sizes of monitors.)

You mileage, of course, may vary. If the blog is just flat-ass broken for anyone, drop me a comment or email, and I'll dial it down a notch.

This all started because of my discovery today of Fred Thompson's exploratory committee's website: I'mWithFred. I tried to put up their donation widget in the sidebar, but it kept hijacking the text and turning it solid black. (which puts readability at around .8 if you must know) So instead of having a massive landslide of cash credited to my wicked communications network, I'll just have to settle for a button and a link.
I haven't really talked much about this weirdly-early start to the campaign, primarily out of apathy towards the current crop of candidates. Fred changes all that in a heartbeat. Can you imagine Fred at the next debate? Hell, he'll rip that wackjob Ron Paul's throat out with his teeth, then piss down his neck... and that's just his scripted introduction! Just wait until he really gets rolling with some questions. No matter who you eventually vote for, that's just good television any way you slice it.

My leopard's navigation skills are totally crap

Why not to fuck with the Jews: Reason #3871

I heard this on the radio as I was walking out of the house yesterday, but I thought for sure it had to be bullshit. Turns out I was wrong.

JERUSALEM — A man clad only in underwear and a T-shirt wrestled a wild leopard to the floor and pinned it for 20 minutes after the cat leapt through a window of his home and hopped into bed with his sleeping family.

"This kind of thing doesn't happen every day," said 49-year-old Arthur Du Mosch, a nature guide. "I don't know why I did it. I wasn't thinking, I just acted."

You think the little pissant jihadi-wannabe's throwing rocks in the streets are scary? Even if they're throwing leopards, the Jews aren't breaking a sweat over it.

When asked to comment, Fred Thompson was reportedly not impressed. "Wrestling a leopard in bed? Please. Around here, I call that 'foreplay.'"

----
Update: I found some video of this while trolling the web-nets for zebra porn. Keep in mind that it's from Reuters, so there's the standard-issue gratuitous parading of a body for the crowd.