So if I was not at the gunblogging event of... at least the year, then where was I? Well, Better Half and I took something of a short vacation up in the hills of Western North Carolina with her parental units and sister. We rented a nice little three-bedroom cabin on the side of a "mountain" (the locals call them that, but I still abide by the Pacific Northwest definition of a mountain - it has to have no trees at the top, and snow on some portion of it year 'round), and then enjoyed ourselves by poking around the area. Our first and primary stop of the visit was Chimney Rock Park, which is, indeed, something to behold. Unfortunately, the section of the park where Last of the Mohicans was filmed was closed for maintenance... the park was just bought out by the state, so they probably have to get everything up to their standards. Otherwise, we explored a few little towns in the area, picked a metric tonne of apples at a pick-your-own farm (in reality, it was only about 2.5 bushels, but if you have never picked that many before yourself, that is a lot of apples), and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Anywise, below are some pictures I took during the weekend... click to enlarge, though, be aware - the larger files are a bit big.

Today I had my first interview... not just the first interview of this current job-hunt, but the first interview of my life. It is funny how going straight into the military from college will shape your life.

That said, the worst part of the interview was something of an odd point. It came before I even left my apartment... I walked in front of my bathroom mirror, dress shirt on, and tie looped over my neck, stood there for a second, and went, "Well, gosse, now what?" The last time I tied on a bib... er... tie was... years ago, and my brain simply could not recall how to do it. Thank God for muscle memory.

Ties need to come with instruction manuals, I tell you what.

My brand-spanking-new Dell XPS came with OS X installed! What the hell?!

Oh.

Wait...

Nope, that is just Vista. Sure could have fooled me.

Sarcasm aside, my bright, shiny new toy is here, and doing what every Windows machine does when it is first plugged in - taking hours to install all of the various updates it needs. Vista surely is pretty, though... And, yes, this will be our first personal machine with that OS installed - behind the curve, we are.

So I just received some relatively unfortunate news from my parents - my old cat, Spot, had to be put to sleep today. He had been developing both cutaneous and visceral mast cell tumors over the past few months, and they finally progressed to the point where he could not sleep for the pain, much less move well. While he was one of the grumpiest felines I have ever had the pleasure of working for, he was still a good cat, and for those of you who do such things, I would appreciate a prayer or two for him. Hopefully he finds the peace he was grumping about lacking down here... or he is giving God hell for the deficiencies of his corporeal life. I would wager on the latter.

You know, I have been vaguely considering changing my online pseudonym... And, amazingly enough for me, there might actually be a reason.

Years ago, my family and I happened to live in a little town called La Plata, MD. Wee town. About as middle-of-nowhere as you can get in Maryland. Had schools with "no smoking" signs surrounded by tobacco fields. We moved out shortly after I started college, and shortly after that, the town got pounded by an F5 tornado, to the point where most of the downtown section was destroyed - like I said small town. The miracle of the event was that no one was killed, for which everyone was thankful.

Next town I lived in, nothing happened.

Following that, I happened to move to a little place called Pascagoula, MS. Even smaller town. With a Wal-Mart that had a gun-supply section that would rival most dedicated gun shops. And more rednecks than you could shake an alligator at. Oh, yeah, and I moved there in early 2005. A few months before Hurricane Katrina rolled through. The area I lived in suffered a 15-foot storm-surge, but my saving grace was that my apartment was on the third story of the complex - everything underneath that, however, was a loss. Going back after the storm, I have never before seen destruction of that magnitude before or since. And, to this day, you have no idea how frustrated and annoyed I am at almost all of the focus and attention after the storm being directed at New Orleans - in reality, while that particular town was significantly damaged due to its levees failing, the brunt of the actual hurricane damage was inflicted on the Mississippi Gulf coast. They may have been rednecks, but they lost everything, and NOLA only got most of the attention because of idiotic politics. But, moving on...

Next town I lived in, nothing happened.

Afterwards, we moved to San Diego, CA. Hot (but dry), obnoxious people, really fraking stupid laws, traffic, high cost of living... the list goes on. Oh, yeah, and they have lots and lots and of dry, highly combustible plant material out in the scrub. Lots of it. And it burns. Quite well. Well enough to threaten San Diego sufficiently to convince millions of people (Better Half and I included) to find somewhere else to be. Oh, yeah, and they just had a 5.8 earthquake right up the road, and thankfully after I already bugged out.

Now we are in the next city, and I am really hoping the current trend continues and nothing happens. I just cannot move... ever again.

Either way, I am thinking "Stormbringer" sounds kinda cool... Not very original, I know, but still... (And, yes, I am joking about the name change, but that is one hell of a coincidence chain there...)

The first car I more-or-less owned (it was technically my parents', but it was "my" car) was a 1986 Honda Accord LXi, and was a remarkably decent car for a teenager with a brand-spanking new license. I had grown up with it (having been born only four years before it was produced), and I was trained on it for the aforementioned license. And, most importantly, it was a manual transmission.

I say "most importantly" for one primary reason - I like manual transmissions. I will be honest, though - I absolutely, positively, unequivocably hated it when I was learning to drive (especially around hills... or stoplights... or traffic... or parallel parking slots), but, over the years, I have learned to appreciate the pleasure that comes from really driving your vehicle. In addition to its manual transmission, the Accord also had the benefits of a sunroof, and a surprisingly sports-car-like handling, for being a four-door econobox. However, eventually, the Honda went to the great junkyard in the skies.

Next up for me was a Subaru Outback wagon - all-wheel driven, dual moon/sunroofs, and, of course, a manual transmission. And, again, semi-purchased from my parents (you can probably guess where my manual-tranny tendencies originate). Unfortunately, that particular vehicle took up scuba late in life, thanks to a girl by the name of "Katrina".

Finally, I now have a nice little Mazda 3 hatchback - and, yes, it has a manual transmission.

One of the byproducts (at least for me) of being raised with, training on, and owning manual transmissions is something of a disdain for cruise control. Much like an automatic transmission, I view it as another level of separation between the driver and the vehicle, and I like directly controlling my cars. Not to mention the fact that directly driving my car, rather than letting a computer decide when to shift and what speed to maintain, forces me to stay awake, engaged, and active, and possibly keeps me a better, safer driver.

All this said and explained, after driving somewhere around 800 miles straight yesterday, trying to manhandle a 12-foot Penske truck all the way, I would have killed for cruise control. I am not sure if my right leg is ever going to talk to me ever again...

Yesterday, I had the misfortune to fly into Philadelphia International Airport (*waves at Sebastian*). It has been at least a year, and probably two, since I have been in that particular corner of the world, but a few things stood out to me in the experience.

First, the Philadelphia airport is falling apart. I mean, I can understand some degree of wear and tear - after all, it is an airport, and many thousands of people go through it on a daily basis. However, when your toilets are, quite literally, falling off the wall, there is something wrong with the situation. I wish I had thought to take a picture of it, but suffice to say that it surprised and concerned me enough that the thought of a camera was the last thing on my mind.

Second, Philly is filthy, alliteration aside. No, it is not nearly as bad in the public, well-trod, highly-trafficked areas, as, no doubt, the city officials and workers are trying their best to put a good face on what is turning into a very problematic city. However, in the brushes with the outskirts of the city's underbelly that riding its trains afforded me, the true depth (in every sense of the word) of decay became apparent. This is not to say that Philly is the worst city or something, just that it is bad.

Third, rowhouses are dreary, drab, depressing, and, in some cases, disturbing. Yeah, they are better than the alternative for some people, but one would think that their residents would have sufficient pride in their abode to at least try and keep it from looking like it is about two months away from dissolving into the ground. I am certainly not asking for a complete remodel/repaint/rewhatever, but a little picking up after themselves would do their residences a world of good.

Fourth, I really do not miss the northeast all that much... In fact, you could almost go so far as to say that I do not miss the eastern seaboard all that much. I have spent enough of my lifetime in those locations already... it is definitely time for someplace else - and, oh, look, I am already there.

Home shopping can be quite interesting... you get to see large tracts of the land around you, the varieties, designs, decoration styles, arrangements, and features of all of the various homes can be quite intriguing, and there is all kinds of information to pore over, track, and monitor.

It is also a pain in the pigu, because finding a "perfect" home is, simply put, impossible.

Job shopping, on the other hand, is royal, unadulterated, unmitigated, heinous torture, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

This is going to be a fun few weeks... really... I am just bouncing off the walls with glee!

Oh, wait, no, that is just my head going through the drywall...

You know you are in Tennessee when the airport you fly into not only has a simulated veranda, but also a plethora of rocking chairs (all occupied, by the by) to go on it.

Better Half and I made it here in one piece and are getting settled, so no worries on those counts. More writing when I get the chance or inclination.

It is always interesting to see one's whole life packed up into tan-colored boxes and spirited away...

Posting will be light for the forseeable future, once again. Oddly enough, I am actually headed away from water this time, so I cannot blame my lack of weblog productivity on that. I think having my primary CPU in a crate far out of my possession is a fairly decent excuse, though...

And, just to stir the waters a little (especially since I already know my answer), was it racist of me to be very, very uncomfortable having loaders who almost exclusively spoke another language, and only spoke English in a broken and disjointed manner?

Well, ladies and gentlemen, the second portion of my adult life is complete.

Kind of a bold statement, I know, and one really has to wonder how I, someone in their mid-20's, can actually come out and say that so decisively, especially considering how non-decisive a person I tend to be.

In this case, the answer is relatively simple - as of midnight last night, I was released from active duty in the United States Navy. After about four years of service in the Surface Warfare community, and attaining the rank of Lieutenant, Junior Grade, I have decided that it is time for me to move on to other things.

What prompted this change? In a single word, family. When I started my quest to be in the Navy, the thought of getting married... well, had not even occurred to me. I dated, sure, but I was an eighteen-year-old male - how many of those actually think of the "m"-word? Since then, I have met and married my wife, and it is interesting how one's priorities shift after an event like that. Better Half has procured a job in Tennessee, and while there are Navy bases in some rather strange corners of the country (including Millington, TN, for that matter), none of them are within a close enough driving distance for me to be home every night for dinner with her. And after being married for over 2.5 years now, and being able to spend maybe only six months total together, we are getting kind of tired of the whole "geographical bachelor(ette)" concept. So, after having to deal with that separation for a time now, the opportunity for me to have a little more locational control over my life came up, and we jumped at it.

I will go ahead and cut some people off at the pass, and answer the more prevalent, and generally more interesting (in my opinion) questions in relation to military service. Since being commissioned, I have lived in Georgia; Pascagoula, MS (before Katrina); Jacksonville, FL (after Katrina); and now San Diego, CA. On my various ships, I have visited Pascagoula, Jacksonville, and San Diego (obviously); New York City, NY; Earle, NJ; Ingleside, TX; Pensacola, FL; Norfolk, VA; Kings Bay, GA; Everett, WA; Seattle, WA; Panama City, Panama (no, not Florida); Manta, Equador; Acajutla, El Salvador; Oranjestad, Aruba; Montego Bay, Jamaica; Apra Harbor, Guam; Jebel Ali, United Arab Emirates; Manama, Bahrain; Darwin and Brisbane, Australia; and Pearl Harbor, HI. Depending on how you count it, I have sailed through twelvish significant bodies of water - the North Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico, the Caribbean Sea, the North and South Pacific, the Philippine Sea, the Coral Sea, the South China Sea, the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea, and the Persian Gulf. Additionally, I have seen the Galapagos Islands, Cuba, Djibouti, Kuwait, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, the Phillippines, the Maldives, Oman, and Saudi Arabia - oddly enough, from the ocean, most of them look more-or-less the same (and Djibouti looks a lot like the coast of Southern Kalifornistan). I have been through the Panama Canal twice, the Straits of Hormuz more times than I care to remember, and the Straits of Malaca; I have crossed the Equator literally more times than I can count, and once I even managed to cross the Equator and the Intenational Date Line simultaneously - yes, that makes me a Golden Shellback (along with making me a time traveler... the IDL still gives me headaches). Finally, I have been in nineteen timezones, including a half-zone (can someone please explain to me why the central section of Australia does that?).

All said, it has been a busy four years.

What is next? Honestly, I am not entirely sure at the moment, but I have time to figure it out. At the moment, Better Half and I are headed to the grand old state of Tennessee, so who knows what that horizon holds after that. Why did I write this? Well, now you all know why there are some pretty significant gaps in my writing on this weblog... Yes, surface ships have internet access underway, but for those of you who remember dialup... yeah, the ships' connections are slower.

So, Say Uncle or Squeaky... either of you got someplace we can crash?

(And, just so we are all on the same page, this weblog post, along with most of this weblog in general, is just about me - forgive the selfish moment. As always, the views, thoughts, pictures, comments, and posts written and found on this weblog are the sole intellectual property of their respective authors (and whatever hallucinations, voices, or otherworldly entities prompted the expressive urge), and do not represent the official position of any employer, organization, or governmental entity, including, but not limited to, the Department of Defense.)

Remember that big fraking bug I encountered a few weeks ago that could withstand 70-mile-per-hour wind?

Yeah, his buddies know where I live. And I am not sure if they are too happy with my removal-by-carwash method of dealing with him.

So anybody got any clues as to what to call this thing?

23JUN08 2116 Update: It turns out this thing is a Ten-Lined June Beetle, or polyphylla decemlineata, as shown near the bottom of this page and this one. Still not going to screw around with it.

Oddly enough, I do have a few hobbies apart from scribbling on this weblog and going out and perforating paper... And below, you will find a few images of an example thereof:

(All of the images can be clicked upon for a giganto version... and, in retrospect, I should have used a larger image for the backgrounds of the first two and last, and 3 and 4 should have stars in the background somewhere...)

I present you with the USS Serapis... at least, the steampunk version. Yes, it is an exoatmospheric vehicle... but also designed to navigate the waters of whatever planet it happens to set down on (especially considering its design precludes it from landing on solid ground). That also adequately explains why its ventral side is... well... completely unarmed. Details. Speaking of armaments, she sports a single-mounted heavy cannon fore and aft, a twin-mounted light cannon forward, and port and starboard gatlings (on the drive sponsons). As for how that drive mechanism works... uh, I have no idea? Aether turbines, maybe? It is a steampunk spaceship - gimme a break.

Anywise, this is my first venture into this brass and steam (hence the rather large boiler-looking contraption in the aft section) world... Not my best work, but it was distracting for a time.

A lot more of my work (some of it quite old) can be found here.

You know, I am entirely uncertain as to which is worse:

Option 1: I somehow managed to tear off a sizeable chunk of my right big toe's nail while unpacking boxes. Cardboard boxes. Filled, largely, with towels, bedding, kitchen supplies, and other wedding presents - objects I would not exactly consider dangerous.

Option B: I did not even notice said missing chunk until I happened to glance down and think, "Oh, wow, that is a rather large amount of blood..."

Thankfully, I failed to decorate anything in a pretty crimson, but in retrospect... ow?

A large-caliber, high-volume, quick-reload water gun. Preferrably with the option to load ice cubes, should I so desire.

I grew up a cat person... My family always had at least two, most of the time three, cats in the house. They are, by and large, relatively well behaved animals, and with one notable exception, all of ours have been relatively taciturn creatures.

But for the love of all that is holy and good in this universe, this apartment complex I am living in now has completely soured me on canines. One particular undomesticated mutt lives directly underneath me, and is let out on the patio sometime in the morning - probably when its owners go to work. Then, from 7 until about 11, it barks. Every day. Non-stop. At anything. At nothing at all. Continuously. Even with windows closed, any hope of sleep is dashed, and once I am awake, any hope of sanity slides rapidly.

For the love of God people, train your damned pets. Obedience school cannot be that pricey, and I am fairly certain it teaches those atrocious mutts to shut the frak up. This falls under the category of crapping on the rugs, chewing up the shoes, and breaking into cabinets, people... Sure, you probably are not around to enjoy the vociferousness of your mongrel, but at least think of other people occasionally.

Of course, common courtesy has all but bloody disappeared from modern vocabulary, so what am I to expect?

Well, this world has managed to put up with me for the past twenty-six years. Kind of surprising, that.

I am back, from wherever the hell I have been for the past few months. Posting frequency might pick up.

Or it might not. *shrugs*

1. If you are going to leave a car sit for seven months, unplug the stupid battery.

2. Read warranties. I never would have known that my Mazda's warranty covered dead batteries if I had not taken it into the dealership.

3. If an inch-and-a-half long insect hisses, and is capable of holding onto a car at speeds up to and including 70 miles per hour, do not screw with it. Just ain't worth it.

4. Washing an absolutely filthy car makes it seem brand-spanking new... and also exposes any dings, scratches, and dents it might have accumulated.

5. The USPS is just straight-up buggered. Period. End of story. Full stop. Sure, their rates are going up, but their customer service and efficacy is going straight in the toilet.

6. Not having a cell phone, oddly enough, sucks. Of course, not having any phone at all really sucks, which may be the root of my lack-of-cell-phone suckiness, since I do not have a landline either.

So... on the year I was born...

Ronald Reagan is president of the US.

The space shuttle Columbia completes its first operational flight.

Yes, I am young. Stop snickering already.

Automobile manufacturer John Delorean is arrested and charged with possession of 59 pounds of cocaine.

More the shame, since that pretty much killed what few chances the DeLorean automobile had, so far as I understand it. However, also as I understand it, a reincarnation of the original corporation is offering sales of both used and new (yes, I said "new") versions of this very shiny (both literally and figuratively) car. Considering that the new ones start at $57,500, I might have to wait a while to snag one, though...

The Cable News Network, or CNN, is launched.

Well, I guess you can blame my birth-year for the mainstream news scene pretty much going to hell. Good to know.

Time Magazine's Man of the Year was for the first time given to a non-human, a computer.

The first computer virus, written by Rich Skrenta, escapes into the wild.

My generation has grown up with computers, virii, automation, digitization, CGI, and all the rest permeating their lives since the beginning... One has to wonder what the next generation's toy is going to be.

Kirsten Dunst and Elisha Cuthbert are born.

Was never terribly fond of the former, but, while Better Half is the hottest girl I know of, Cuthbert runs somewhere in the top five.

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial is the top grossing film.

And still one of the better movies out there, despite being a little dated.

Ozzy Osbourne bites the head off of a live bat thrown at him during a performance, later hospitalized with rabies.

And, just think, all these years later, he has not learned a damned bit more of common sense. Certainly has made a lot of money being oddly stupid, though... There seems to be a pattern about that.

"I Love Rock 'N Roll" by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts spends the most time at the top of the US charts.

[Insert a repeat of the comments concerning E.T.]

To quote the memorable Captain Reynolds, "Huh."

Found by way of Say Uncle.

...plus one extra, since my connectivity, as usual, is lacking.

Happy anniversary babe. Here is to many more!

In alphabetical order for listing purposes, but not necessarily for reading purposes, what I have decided to read over the coming days:

The Machineries of Joy, by Ray Bradbury
R is for Rocket, by Ray Bradbury
The Vintage Bradbury
Deception Point, by Dan Brown
Digital Fortress, by Dan Brown
Airframe, by Michael Crichton
Disclosure, by Michael Crichton
Rising Sun, by Michael Crichton
Sphere, by Michael Crichton
On the Run, by Gordon R. Dickson
Alas, Babylon, by Pat Frank
The Forever War, by Joe Haldeman
Between Planets, by Robert Heinlein
The Cat Who Walks Through Walls, by Robert Heinlein
To Sail Beyond the Sunset, by Robert Heinlein
Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein
Waldo & Magic, Inc., by Robert Heinlein
Skeleton Man, by Tony Hillerman
The Wailing Wind, by Tony Hillerman
The Testament, by Eric Van Lustbader
Logan's Run, by William F. Nolan
The Lost Planet, by Andre Norton
Walden Two, by Burrhus Frederic Skinner
Cryptonomicon, by Neal Stephenson
The Steps of the Sun, by Walter Tevis
DragonLance Chronicles, by Margaret Weis
Freehold, by Michael Z. Williamson

So I have already read eight of these, but collectively they should be able to keep me entertained for a few months, at least. Not nearly enough Heinlein, granted, but if I started grabbing any more off my shelves, I would just give up and take the whole collection, and that would just be excessive. I really am trying to branch out of my typical science fiction rut, I promise!

You know, after having done long-distance relationships for the past five-six years, give or take a little (both with my previous girlfriend and now with my wife), I have started to develop one hell of a sizeable dislike for airports. I love flying... I honestly do. I like going places and seeing new things. But I absolutely despise, with a purebred passion, having to see the woman I love step through security and out of reach, sometimes for months upon months on end. Not exactly sure what posting habits will be like over the coming days, but try not to expect too much.

So, I have to admit, those stupid little five-dollar tool kits from WalMart make all the difference in the world. As a child, I was only able to make use of the tools, knives, and implements I could scrounge up around my mother's kitchen (and that she would allow me to use, of course), so my carvings were sometimes... crude. But Better Half and I decided to splurge and get a "real" pumpkin-carving kit, and here are the end results:

First off, we have Better Half's, using one of the templates included in the tool kit.

Next, we have mine, as carved from a kanji I somehow managed to draw myself about a year ago. Points to whoever gets it.

If you ask really nice, I might make the template available...

So I do not actually have any pictures of the flames, but what I do have are some semi-decent pictures of the smoke:

This last one was taken of San Miguel Mountain after the fires, though while there was still smoke/ash in the air. There still is today, and I would imagine it is going to be sticking around for a while.

Here's how it is. Starting sometime on Sunday morning, fires started lighting all around San Diego, mostly centering around Witch Creek and Harris, and then spreading rapidly from there. Augmented by the wonderful Santa Ana winds, those fires just took off, and by Sunday afternoon, most of San Diego was at least smelling the smoke, if not experiencing it directly. Monday morning, the situation had deteriorated that places all around the outskirts of San Diego were evacuating, and those evacuation areas kept spreading and spreading, along with the fires. I went into work that morning, but was planning on going on a vacation starting that afternoon, and actually leaving town sometime Tuesday. I left less than two hours after arriving, and Better Half and I grabbed all of the important documents, expensive items, and other such things, stuffed them in our Mazda 3 (did not even fill it), and took off. The place we were going to be staying was still expecting us Tuesday for check-in, but we called ahead and they were ok with us arriving on Monday. After that, we spent a week in Desert Hot Springs, and enjoyed the hell out of it.

The good news is that the vacation was already scheduled, so our accomodations were already arranged and all of the planning had already been done. We just had to scramble a little to leave the day early, and then we decided to extend it another night on the other end and stay through until Saturday (today). Today, we drove back down into San Diego, and got back to our apartment. I will probably get around to telling you about the vacation and providing pictures, but here are the important parts: Better Half and I are ok, and completely undamaged by the fires. The air quality is a little rough, but with our little purifier, it is ok in the apartment. Other than that, the apartment, complex, and surrounding areas were relatively untouched. There is ash all over the place, and a fine layer of black on everything, but nothing burned. Or, rather, nothing of mine burned. From my balcony, we can actually view one of the many mountains around San Diego that did burn, and it is now a deep black, as opposed to the normal, desert tan it used to be. And that mountain is only a scant five or so miles away.

But, as I said, the important thing is that Better Half and I are fine, we had a very relaxing vacation, and we were not hurt. The stuff is replaceable, and was all insured, so it really, in the end, did not matter.

Coincidentally, Shane, the only person so far to take me up on my open offer of free authorship here on "walls of the city", also lives in San Diego, though his house was much more directly threatened by the flames. Thankfully, he and his wife, as well as his property, survived, and you can look forward to his eventual writings once he gets back from his vacation. I think I will leave it to him to introduce himself... good way to get him warmed up here.

Other than that... Yeah, "walls of the city" looks a little jacked up at the moment. Entirely my fault - I forgot to close a [div] tag in one of my posts, so it jacked up the webpage. I thought it was the template's fault, and went through it, and could not find an error. So I threw my hands up, completely stripped the old 3.x templates, and replaced them with 4.x templates. Unfortunately, I have not yet had the chance to go through and... well... fix it. So, you get to deal with the purple. Life is rough.

At this point, I would only ask that your thoughts are with those who actually lost something in these massive blazes, and with those firefighters who have worked non-stop since Sunday to try and control them. Both parties are in considerably more need than Better Half and I, though we definitely appreciate your thoughts over the past few days. As I said, more to come later, and I certainly hope none of you have to go through this kind of thing yourself.

Far be it for me to ask potential atheists and agnostics to pray, but if all of you could take a moment and hope that Better Half and I do not have to evacuate, we would take it as a kindness. We can see the glow of the fires over the hills from my apartment, and even though we have lived through hurricanes and storms, these fires down here in Southern Kalifornistan are more than a little worrisome. Not sure when next I will be able to post, but we will catch you on the flip side.

So THAT is who the [warning, spoiler-laden link] Face of Boe [/warning, spoiler-laden link] was! Son of a monkey... I guess when you are paradoctoring paradoxes and violating just about every single Einsteinian law of reality and physics, things like that are bound to happen from time to time.

That said, I was completely not paying attention, and just heard the, "... they used to call me the Face of Boe..." line, and it took easily 30 seconds for the comment to sink in. Scrambling for the remote, I had to rewind and rewatch completely just to make sure I heard it right. Good to know Jack finally got his wish... Lazarus' family had to step in and intercede before he could complete his final desire, and I am still not convinced that was the right thing to do.

Nicely done, Mr. Davies, nicely done.

So here's how it is.

As some of you may be aware, my job regularly takes me away from home, sometimes for remarkably extended periods of time. I just returned from one such period, but have been blessed with relatively good connectivity for most of it. That said, my schedule over the coming months is... complicated.

Like I said, I am back in my current abode, so I will be able to get back to my "regular" posting habits. That said, Better Half will be arriving tomrrow, so you can imagine just how important posting on my weblog will be in comparison to spending some time with her. Hey, I have a hot wife… can you blame me? If that were not enough, a little while after she comes to visit, I will be leaving once again, only this time for a much longer period than before.

What is all of this leading up to? Well, as I have mentioned previously, I really do not care about how much traffic this weblog does or does not get - just not something worth worrying about. I do not make a whole lot of money off what advertisements I have here, so that really does not matter. I do not write this for anyone except myself, so that part does not matter either. However, any way you look at it, it is something of a shame to let an already-constructed, already-running, already-trafficked weblog just sit and... well... sit... for however long I am unable to tend to it.

As such, I am now holding an open casting call.

Have you ever wanted to start weblogging, but were too intimidated by the prospects of trying to set all of this jazz up for yourself (and it really can be a royal pain in the arse, let me tell you)? Do you want another weblog to which you can crosspost entries, to get them a little more traffic and exposure? Are you just so prolific that your writings cannot be contained within a single weblog? Do you enjoy writing on a variety of topics, ranging from the Second Amendment, to comedy, to Firefly, to atrocious laws, to dumb people and the things they do, Battlestar Galactica, to just about anything else? Are you still reading this?

Well, what I am offering is unfettered access to write and publish on