We were making lunch for the office (it's Dave's birthday today) and Heather and I were in the kitchen when a small explosion sounded somewhere outside. We went to go see if Duff was okay (he was at the grill). DA started yelling "Where's Duff's head? Where'd his head go?!" We got outside and Duff was a bit shook. Apparently he thought he was done for when he heard the blast. A power line fuse exploded. Now his hearing's gone. Or he's trying to ignore me. So we've got half power for the lights, but the computers are fine. The linotronic is down, AC is off, and it's starting to heat up. We're just hoping the $300 worth of meat in the freezer will stay frozen. They replaced the fuse and it blew again. The second power surge has taken down some of our computers and phones. I have to shut down before mine goes. Five computers so far. Freaky.

Task: Reorganizing bookmarks. Ever wondered about Clarus the dogcow? You can learn all about Clarus in infamous Tech Note 31 on Apple's website. Or see what your Oz prison name would be here. Mine's Nipple Nibbler. My porn name is Ginger Lake. I always liked that one. And my smog name is Elizabeth Lake. So there. Or see what the White House lists as known names of stimulants. I swear some of them are completely made up. DEA Type: "Excuse me, young man, could you tell me what the slang is for marijuana? You know, 'Mary Jane.'" Young Man: "Sure can, Mister. Me and my friends call it... uh... Dinkie dow. Yep, that's the hip term. That's street." Must pause to get Barenaked Ladies off radio. Ahem: Why The Barenaked Ladies Suck by Claire I do not like the Barenaked Ladies. I never have. This fact amazes a friend, who loves them. His argument: they're really good. He thinks that proves his argument. Here's my argument: The Barenaked Ladies are basic pop music. Nothing special instrumentally. They try and write these witty, funny, catchy songs that completely and totally fail to be any of those things. It's not wit. It's not a sharp sense of humor. It's annoying. It's even more annoying because these guys seem to believe their press releases and seem smug about how clever they are. Take another band that tries to be clever and witty, the Old 97s. They generally succeed. Rhett Miller has a great turn-of-phrase. Take a look at lyrics from Barrier Reef: The Empty Bottle was half empty, tide was low, and I was thirsty. Saw her sitting at the bar, you know how some girls are, Always making eyes, well she wasn't making eyes So I sidled up beside her, settled down and shouted, "Hi there." "My name's Stewart Ransom Miller, I'm a serial ladykiller." She said, "I'm already dead," that's exactly what she said. [words/chorus] My heart wasn't in it, not for one single minute. I went through the motions with her./ Her on top, and me on liquor. Didn't do no good, well I didn't think it would. [chorus] That's clever. Compare: Chickity China the Chinese chicken You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin' Watchin X-Files with no lights on, we're dans la maison I hope the Smoking Man's in this one Like Harrison Ford I'm getting Frantic Like Sting I'm Tantric Like Snickers, guaranteed to satisfy Like Kurasawa I make mad films Okay I don't make films But if I did they'd have a samurai Gonna get a set of better clubs Gonna find the kind with tiny nubs just so my irons aren't always flying off the back-swing Gotta get in tune with Sailor Moon Cause that cartoon has got the boom anime babes that make me think the wrong thing It's rhyming with pop culture references thrown in. Not even obscure pop culture references. At the very least. And that is why I don't like Barenaked Ladies. I have no problem if you like them, just don't expect to convince me differently.

I have been noticing over the last ten years the decline of Saturday morning cartoons. As a kid, there was nothing better than trying (and failing) to sneak down my squeaky stairs without waking up Mom, and then turning on the TV and watching cartoons. I loved cartoons. I still love cartoons. But man have they gotten insipid. This guy agrees.

42 appears in so many television shows. I have to imagine that a lot of people love Douglas Adams (42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything). For instance, it's Fox Mulder's apartment number and the number of Buzz Lightyear's spaceship, offhand. It's either a) a random coincidence, b) really is the number of life, the universe and everything, or c) a geek's code for Douglas Adams fandom. I'm going with the inside joke reference.

St. Paul was a haven for gangsters in the 1920s. The town had a non-extradition policy, meaning that criminals wanted in other states/counties could hang out in St. Paul and were safe from warrants in other towns. A police officer would meet a wanted criminal at the train station and let them know that they were safe here but if they so much as picked a pocket they were screwed. If I recall one story, someone did grab a purse and the police tracked this individual down, made him give them the purse and its contents, and gave them back to the purse's owner with their sincere apologies. The whole Turf Club corner at University and Snelling was the site of a huge shoot out back in the day. Dillinger would hang out in that town. The Commodore (around Selby and Western) was once a hotel and home to many well-known mobsters. It had a huge fire back in the seventies and they turned it into condos. Some people lived there that I knew and I loved going over there just for the history. St. Paul was originally called Pig's Eye. There was this guy who lived in a cave that was one of the first settlers to the town and he had a patch over his eye because it was pig-esque. There was no name for the growing town, so mail was addressed to "Pigs Eye, Minnesota". When it was decided that the town would be the state capitol the people-that-be figured it needed a more respectable name, so henceforth: St. Paul.