Well, Rand suggested we introduce ourselves, so here it is…

Continue reading Who is this Case fellow, anyway? →

So, we all got into our skycars last night and blasted over to the Encounter Restaurant at LAX, Jetsons style, to meet and imbibe alcohol and comestibles with the inimitable Jane Galt and estimable companion (whose name, forgive me, has escaped my feeble mind) during their several-hour layover from Mexico back to the drudgery of her job (which she claims to love) in New York.

As can be seen below, I had a camera with me, but decided to not be obnoxious and take pics of everyone there. I’ve got a rare and (in my humble opinion, difficult to create) unflattering photo of Jane, that I won’t post (I’m saving it for extortion purposes, after the point at which she becomes not only famous, but rich).

I sat across the table from the charming and lovely Asparagirl. I captured a picture of her embracing an Evil Democrat (TM). I’ve no desire to blackmail her (it would be pointless–she just started a job with Mouseland–Eisner, even in his present semi-submissive state, isn’t going to make her rich any time soon).

I’m going to post the picture, as a punishment and perpetual reminder, sort of like the Scarlet Letter, to modify her future behavior, and make an example of her for any others who may desire to stray from the true path of non-Democratism (which, I hasten to add, is not the same as being a Republican).

It’s probably a fruitless endeavor, though. Given that it’s her husband (who’s surprisingly charming himself), I suspect that she’ll remain incorrigible, and persist in such shameless activities.

The two newlyweds apparently have a new joint blog, called the Protocols of the Yuppies of Zion. I guess I’m behind the times, because I see that all the cool blogs have already blogrolled it.

Others in attendance that I can recall (forgive me again, do I have to remind you that there was alcohol involved?) were Pejman, who has his own report, the lovely Emily Jones (the blogger formerly known as Hawkgirl), and several others who may remind me if they see this.

A good time was had by all. If anyone didn’t have a good time, they didn’t deserve to. That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

[Update on Sunday night]

In looking at the pic, I realize that I didn’t realize how spiffed up for the occasion the happy couple were. They’re not just dressed for the twenty-first century, with George and Elroy Jetson. As anyone can see, Scott actually garbed himself for the twenty-fourth. He looks ready to step onto the bridge of whatever version of the Enterprise is extant at the time.

“Scotty, the airplanes continue to come in. Can you hold the restaurant steady?”

“I canna’ hold her, Captain. I need more power.”

And won’t Brooke make a positively fetching ensign? And not just one of those unnamed expendable ones that goes off on an away team…

For those who were following the saga, I brought Stella home yesterday. She had another close call on Friday, but the antibiotics seemed to finally kick in on the weekend.

She’s as ornery as ever, particularly when fighting to keep pills from going down her gullet twice daily. She has banished the usurper, Jessica, and retaken her rightful place in my lap.

Last night, the prognosis wasn’t good.

The doctor still didn’t know what was wrong, and didn’t think she’d make it through the night without a transfusion. She also didn’t know how well she’d do with one–there was a good chance that we’d either get a test in the morning that indicated something dire and untreatable, or only expensively treatable, or that wouldn’t indicate anything at all. Any of those results would be bad news. She wasn’t hopeful for a test result of something that was easily treatable.

Nonetheless, we decided to, in cryonics parlance, “transport her to the future,” in the hopes of superior medical technology on the morrow, by giving her a two-hundred dollar transfusion, but not spend the extra hundreds of dollars to move her to an emergency clinic overnight, where they might do more extensive (and expensive) tests.

Bottom line–the gamble paid off. She was more alert this morning, and her red cell count was doubled from yesterday. An hour or so later, we got lab results that indicated a blood parasite that had been munching on her platelets, easily treated with tetracycline.

Her underlying health seems to be very good for her age–the doctor says that her liver and kidney functions are those of a much younger cat, and if we can get her through this, she should have more good years left.

Hooray!

I could bring her home tonight, but I’m working long hours right now, and going to Fort Lauderdale this weekend, so we decided to keep her at the vet until Monday, where they can keep an eye on her progress and get the medicine in her.

Hopefully, I’ll have a healthy cat again next week. Thanks you again for all the good wishes–I really appreciate it.

And though I’ve never cat blogged before, I’ll post pics when I get her home, for those who are now curious.

Stella is fifteen (which is probably pretty geriatric in cat years). Which makes me feel old, because I’ve had her since she was a kitten, and I wasn’t any spring chicken when I got her.

She lives for three things–lying in my lap, clawing expensive furniture, and food.

Yesterday, she didn’t show up for dinner. In fact, she didn’t show up for lap, either. I didn’t see her at all.

When I got home from work today, she wasn’t upstairs complaining about being fed late. Indeed, she wasn’t upstairs at all. I found her downstairs, lying on the floor in the middle of a bedroom.

I picked her up, and carried her up to the kitchen. Normally, she’d be crying by the cabinet in which the cans of food are kept, but she seemed indifferent. I opened a can and put food into the bowls for her and Jessica (the younger cat). She didn’t eat.

I couldn’t get her to drink, either. She wandered out of the kitchen, and seemed to be walking quite wobbly. She’s spent most of the evening lying on one of the stairs.

I don’t have a good thermometer for taking her temp, but I’m wondering if she’s come down with something. It seems too sudden for her to just be getting old.

Anyone have any ideas?

[Update on Tuesday morning]

Per the advice (and I’m sure I’d have done it anyway) she’s ensconced at the vet. No word yet on what the problem is. Thanks for all the good wishes.

I’m hearing about a 6.5 quake up off the California central coast a half hour ago. I’m down in southern California right now (Redondo Beach) and didn’t feel anything, but if it was really that big a quake a few miles from San Simeon and Cambria, I hate to think what this place looks like right now. Every time I go in there, I can’t help but think about what a disaster in waiting it is, in the event of a significant quake. They have some beautiful art glass there, but their insurance company may have a big bill, assuming they carry quake insurance.

I’m also wondering how many of the antiquities at Hearst Castle in San Simeon were damaged.

[Update a few minutes later]

It also occurs to me that this isn’t far from the Diablo Canyon nuclear plant, the one that was being protested by Martin Sheen and other loons back in the eighties. I wonder how it held up?

I’m hearing about a 6.5 quake up off the California central coast a half hour ago. I’m down in southern California right now (Redondo Beach) and didn’t feel anything, but if it was really that big a quake a few miles from San Simeon and Cambria, I hate to think what this place looks like right now. Every time I go in there, I can’t help but think about what a disaster in waiting it is, in the event of a significant quake. They have some beautiful art glass there, but their insurance company may have a big bill, assuming they carry quake insurance.

I’m also wondering how many of the antiquities at Hearst Castle in San Simeon were damaged.

[Update a few minutes later]

It also occurs to me that this isn’t far from the Diablo Canyon nuclear plant, the one that was being protested by Martin Sheen and other loons back in the eighties. I wonder how it held up?

I’m hearing about a 6.5 quake up off the California central coast a half hour ago. I’m down in southern California right now (Redondo Beach) and didn’t feel anything, but if it was really that big a quake a few miles from San Simeon and Cambria, I hate to think what this place looks like right now. Every time I go in there, I can’t help but think about what a disaster in waiting it is, in the event of a significant quake. They have some beautiful art glass there, but their insurance company may have a big bill, assuming they carry quake insurance.

I’m also wondering how many of the antiquities at Hearst Castle in San Simeon were damaged.

[Update a few minutes later]

It also occurs to me that this isn’t far from the Diablo Canyon nuclear plant, the one that was being protested by Martin Sheen and other loons back in the eighties. I wonder how it held up?

Chopped liver?

I thought bloggers were writers. Some of us, anyway.

The BCS is totally screwed up. But we already knew that, didn’t we?

I don’t know how anyone, even a computer, can think that a team should be playing for the national championship after being clobbered in its last game of the season and losing its conference championship. It should be like that high-school kid who’s suing the university that accepted him, but then rejected him after he blew off his last semester.

Removing disparity of scores from the calculation was a good notion, in that it discouraged coaches from running it up for BCS points, but it went too far. They should have retained it, but capped it (perhaps at thirty points or so). Had they done so, I suspect that yesterday’s trouncing of Oklahoma by Kansas State would have (justly) knocked them out of a trip to New Orleans in January. And as for LSU, seriously, considering how weak the SEC is this year, how hard is it to survive that conference with only one loss?

Anyway, as many people are saying, it looks like there will be two national championship games this year–one in the Big Easy, and one in Pasadena. There’s no question that USC got screwed by the system (particularly because they had a weak strength-of-schedule ranking due to playing in the Pac 10). And as for their opponent, consider the situation had scores been a factor in the BCS calculation. Michigan was only two scores from being undefeated at Oregon and Iowa–they were blown out by no one. It could be just a couple of my degrees talking, but if the number-four team beats the number-one team on New Year’s Day, why shouldn’t they be considered the national champions?

Anyway, even if not, a Michigan-USC Rose Bowl will seem like old times, and good ones. Let’s just hope that it’s officiated by NCAA rules, instead of west-coast rules (in which apparently it’s not necessary–scroll down the page to number ten of the worst calls in officiating history–to have possession of the ball when one breaks the plane of the goal line).