Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Aground and Wrecked after Cyclone. E. Bengal, 1909

I hate twits ... I disdain manipulative trolls. I spit in their oatmeal!

We’ve been stressing in our house. My oldest is graduating. I am peeved at the school secretary. She knows it and runs for cover when she sees me. … And then there’s knobby knees’ job issues. His boss asked him to take on the European office. We would either live in the UK or Vienna. There were all sorts of side issues, none of them pleasant.

I did not want to make the move. Boss person was insistent. He called me on the phone, saying I was hindering KK’s career. I suggested that he was talking to the wrong person. He said some things. I suggested that if anyone was holding back my pet Scot it was he, and I told him I could think of six, maybe seven companies that would gladly hire him away, pay him more, and give him more responsibility without a move to Europe. I told him that KK was free to make his own decisions, and that I am not his mother. I am his wife. I asked him if he needed KK’s mother’s phone number. We did not part amicably.

When KK got home that evening, I told him the above but in much greater detail. I thought he would be angry with me. He wasn’t. He’s good at soothing Pixie upsets. We had a nice cuddle, and he spoke soothing words. Then he went off to his work room and got on his phone. He shut the door, so I didn’t hear the calls at all. I presumed it was work related. He often brings home work, making calls all over creation into the evening.

In an hour or so, he found me at my desk. Annie and Katarina and I were watching the old Treasure Island movie on my big ViewSonic monitor. He said, “I go to work for [insert name of company here] first of July.” Now this company is the major competitor of the one he works for now. They tried to recruit him last year and two years before that.

The deal is, he has to travel a bit more than he has the last two years, but that’s all within the Western United States. We do not have to move. He will start at about seventeen thousand dollars more than he makes now. That’s not enough for me to quit working, but it will help tremendously. He also gets a boot up in management from where he has been. The nature of his work will change too.

He called his boss, now his soon to be ex-boss, and he wrote a formal letter of resignation. His boss has not taken this well. … But I have. Soon to be ex had their attorney write a “you have confidentiality obligations” letter. Company A’s attorney wrote one back restating the law and threatening lightning and thunder if ex so much as peeped a complaint. Both letters were rather rude.

Soon to be ex has been a pain in the butt since. KK took the remainder of his vacation and personal time. That means he is essentially done because there are more weeks of leave time than there are days left with his former employer.

Another plus is that he will be free of the military contracts he’s administered. They were very stressful.

So, how was your day?

Friday, May 25, 2012

Being PINK is such hard work ...

Now if only the Library of Congress were this responsive ...

… and Rutherfod's second name was Franklin. Ouch! Thank you, dear Madam, for reporting this error and helping us improve the quality of our catalogue.

Best regards,

Jean-Luc Cossy, lic. phil

Federal Department of Home Affairs FDHA
Swiss Federal Office of Culture FOC
Swiss National Library NL

Hallwylstrasse 15, CH-3003 Berne
Tel. +41 31 32 31644
Fax +41 31 32 28463

De : _NB-Info
Envoyé : vendredi 25 mai 2012 08:57
À : _NB-CatRef
Objet : WG: A correction to your listings

Von: Rachael de Vienne []
Gesendet: Donnerstag, 24. Mai 2012 19:45
An: _NB-Info
Betreff: A correction to your listings

Your catalog lists the works of J. F. Rutherford under the name "John Fredrick Rutherford." This is incorrect. Rutherford's first name was Joseph, not John.

Best regards,

R. M. de Vienne, PhD

Thursday, May 24, 2012

She was a pixie ... and the world is a sadder place when pixies die.


When distant cousins communicate through ...

When distant cousins commuicate .... One might get an email such as this one:

Dear Viktoria Louisa,

I am pleased to hear from you after time long past. I am looked for qualifications of teachers in Austria and pleased to send you to education ministry web presence. Will you be long residing in Austria? Or in Scotland? Do you have certain date of removal?

Forgive my bad English as you are forgiven your German of child.

K ----

In a Pink Mood ... God Created PINK

The artists are unknown to me, though I'd certainly like to know who they are.
If this is your work, please contact me.

The Pixie Cogitates on Stuff

I think the Bible book of Genesis is misunderstood. Christians layer it with prophetic applications that find no place in the New Testament. If it’s not there, it’s wild imagining, but Christians have always been full of wild notions.

The first chapter illustrates what I mean. Those inclined to study prophetic themes find in it hints as to the length of ages planned out by God. They see periods of seven thousand and one thousand years. This is hooey … mostly. Paul, in Hebrews, suggests that the successive days were longer than twenty-four hours. He does not suggest a terminus. [Yes, I know it’s the fashion to doubt Paul’s authorship. His is the name that tradition attaches to the book. Let’s go with tradition for now.]

The Decalogue suggests that the days were not the long period Paul saw, but twenty-four hour days. Paul saw the rest day, the seventh day, as continuing. This is, I think, not at all relevant to the author’s intent. No one before the Apostolic age would have thought twice about the length of the days. They would have focused on other issues.

The creation story was meant to contrast The God with the gods and goddesses of the nations. That the God of Israel is superior to all other gods, that their claims are fake, that they are non-Gods, is the real message. You worship a sky god? Our God made the sky. You worship the sun, the moon, the stars? Our God made them to serve his purposes. You think they regulate human affairs? Our God made them to tell the times, and seasons and years. They are, among other things, a giant clock.

Your gods have animal aspects? A jackal’s head? She appears as a heifer? He has sex with a cow? Our God made the animals and gave men responsibilities to care for and manage animal creation. He set men above animals and in a relationship to them similar to his with us. I don’t mean that animals are to worship man. However the expression “in our image and likeness” implies (within the lexicographical meaning) a resemblance in authority and approach. That man is created in God’s image and likeness is connected with his proper ‘dominion.’ There is much less connection to appearance than there is to responsibility. Genesis establishes the chain of universal authority. It implies a bad result from abusing authority or contravening God’s establishment.

The creation story focuses on the reasons for worship. God made all things; he made them to be “good,” and useful. You drop your children into flames to ensure fertility? Our God created fertility and freely gives it. Genesis presents a God who gives gifts, not one that must be bribed, cajoled, who delights in death and blood.

I’m not writing a scholarly paper about this, though I did that once back in the day. I am simply puzzled at those who find messages and thoughts never intended by or presented by the original author.

Most Bible study is like that. I mean it’s detached from reality. No one would read contemporary fiction that way. Well some might. There’s always a fool out there. Think about all the Shakespeare theorists! Genesis tells a far different story than you might think.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Pixie's Day

The Pixie awakes at 7.40 am, opening one eye and deciding that other than a quick trip to the bathroom and a sip of water, she is not ready for the world and the world is not ready for her.

Pixie’s feet hit the floor at 8.30 am. Her first thought is of coffee. Collecting yesterday’s coffee cup off her desk, she heads for the kitchen. There, blurry eyed, she misses the note left by Knobby Knees saying that the pot was all ready to go, and all she has to do is push the button. Accordingly she fills the reservoir. This is a bad idea. Water runs everywhere. The Pixie sees note. She is peeved at self.

The time is now 8.51. The pixie is sipping coffee and removing tags and old tape from some used books. Ronsonol is good for that. Pixie thinks about a “Mr. Graper” who is a mystery. He lectured in Salem, Oregon in May of 1899. The Pixies both loves and hates mysteries. ALL mysteries must be solved. This is a pixie compulsion.

The pixie takes time to twril and dance.

The Pixie finds a McDonald’s French Fry box on the nearest bookshelf. She knows just which daughter to blame. Depositing the box in the trash, she starts the laundry. Dark clothes get a second rinse because the pixie and her children tend to be allergic to all sorts of laundry soap.

The pixie returns a bottle of leather cleaner (used on antique leather books) to its proper storage area. She sighs.

It is now about ten minutes after nine am. The Pixie writes two letters seeking documentation, all the while wondering why some organizations can’t step into the 21st Century and have email addresses. Letters are proof read. A cranky sounding (unintended) sentence is rephrased. Letters are printed.

The Pixie picks up pile of proof-read manuscript pages. Opening the computer files, she makes the noted corrections. She thinks evil thoughts about the editor of the Salem, Oregon, Daily Capitol Journal. Even though he is long dead, she’s considering digging him up and beating him with a stick for not including Mr. Graper’s first name in the article.

The pixie re-shelves a dozen or so books. This gives her time to consider her priorities. Which will she put first? World domination or writing? She decides to punch holes in recent printouts and file them in binders, opting for a mindless task that will allow her to cast biblical curses at the editor mentioned above.

At 9.17 the pixie curses the fairy of disorganization and wonders when it bit her. Pixie opens another file, adding comments based on two old newspaper articles. She frowns, remember another article. She wonders where she filed it. Pixie puts that on her list of things to find. She writes.

At 10.18 Pixie is fact checking. She finds an overlooked letter in a magazine from 1884. She has a eureka moment! She prints out said article and goes looking for related material, stopping only long enough to get fresh coffee.

It’s 10.51 and the pixie did not find what she wanted. She’s grumpy and may make stronger coffee. She is taking a break now to flirt with Knobby Knees over the phone.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Two more just for the fun of it.

The world needs more pleasant surprises ...

Why this pixie does not live in South Carolina

A fifteen foot long Rat Snake.

I'm back

I've been on the sick side again. ... and Busy (note the capital B) with end of school term stuff. At night, when not snuggling, kissin' up and otherwise making Knobby Knees hot and bothered, I've been sitting in a chair with a quilt pulled up to my neck and molting ... Bad week.

But I'm back. I emailed Roberto because of that earthquake. Pixies worry. He's good. His computer isn't. So that's good. Now I only have to worry about the rest of my world. Being a Pixie is so ... involved.

I've started a separate project apart from my writing partner. It's an era he wont touch. I know why, and I respect his decision, but I have no problems handling issues still current in the religion we're researching. It's not my religion, though I am sympathetic. I have no vested interests, so any displeasure at what must become myth busting will come to me, not him. I am certain displeasure will come. If some hate us for what we write about the 19th Century, they'll certainly be upset by a well-documented history for the period 1942-1977. I can foresee being really unpopular in some circles.

Of course, if they'd EVER produced a history written to a professional standard, then they'd not have a reason to be upset. Mind you, I'm not attacking them. I'm just scraping myth off the face of an otherwise fairly presentable edifice. Did that make sense? I never know if I'm making sense. We pixies are so easily distracted and confused!

I can't devote a lot of time to this new project. We have a half finished book, and another planned. So this will get very little and very inconsistent attention. As always my goal if accuracy.

I've abandoned my previous religious affiliation. Abrahamic Faith people are good people, but I simply do not believe as they do in key areas. They've become a "one message" religion, focused on Socinian non-sense. As one notorious religion writer once infamously said, "Religion is a snare and a racket." Faith is not that at all. There are people of Faith among Abrahamic churches. But on the whole, it's not a comfortable home for me. ... Or a convincing one.


Are you okay, Roberto? Haven't heard from you since the earthquake. Tell us how you are.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Harry's Musical Debut

From Harry

I haven't been writing much lately, but here is a little something and a promise of more. Harry

I rehearsed this afternoon with our eighth grade band. Another teacher and myself will be performing tonight in our Spring concert. Did I mention that I cannot play a single note. It's going to be fun and I will write again as soon as I get home to describe my experience.

The band was going to try a "Mutt & Jeff" thing, although I doubt if any of them know who they were. Mr. S, who is a good 12 inches taller than me will be playing the Sousaphone, badly. The band had voted for me to play the piccolo, but I literally have no lip for it. I could not make even the most rudimentary sounds come out. I had originally asked to play the triangle, so I ended up with the cymbals. That's good. I am perfectly capable of smashing things to make loud noises. Tonight a star is born.

Note from the Pixie: I wanna see youtube video!

Friday, May 11, 2012

Adventures in Night Time Snuggling, Stamp Collecting and ... Stuff

I don’t feel so good today. I haven’t written a thing, just read stuff. I think we need to change our outline a bit, but I’m not certain. It will take until we nearly finish the chapter to tell, I suppose.

I’ve had my baby half-sister for most of the day. Dear LORD and little Rabbits! That kid never shuts up until she keels over and sleeps. I was never like that! I’m positive … Okay so maybe I was a little like that. Or maybe I’m like that still but in denial.

I’m still playing with my stamp collection. I bought a few cheap lots from an ebay dealer I like. Lots like this leave me with duplicates, but they’re an inexpensive way to get harder to find and more expensive stamps. I’ve been working on my Germany albums, especially volume one, trying to fill in the empty spots in the semi-postal pages. You non collectors probably don’t know what semi-postal stamps are. They’re charity stamps, a kind of voluntary tax. You pay for regular postage and a small amount more to fund state welfare programs.

This has been slow going because most of those I don’t have are expensive. I watch the lots of miscellaneous stamps. Nice ones creep in and go unnoticed. For instance in 1923, Germany overprinted a regular postage stamp for semi-postal use. Unused it’s not that expensive. Used it is. On ebay at this minute there is one used single priced at about eighty dollars. The one in my collection came in a large, messy lot. They were all stuck to two old album pages. I soaked them off. There were a number of really useful stamps and five semi-postals, each used and more expensive that way. I paid seven dollars and postage. Not bad, huh?

Block of Semi-postals: 1923

Anyway … playing with my stamps is calming. I have lots to be not calm about right now with the school year ending, chaos at my other job, bad boys on Fourth Street, and a daughter graduating and transitioning to college. There’s a gang of juveniles breaking into cars. One of my friends who is in the gang task force thinks they’re part of an organized Hispanic gang that is found in several Northwest cities. I have no clue. I hope they catch these little twits.

I want this one!

Ever see a 13 year old Hispanic gangster try to act brave? One of these days I will tell you about hauling one off to a hospital to have the cut in his forehead attended to, and having him pee on the wall as an expression of his manhood. There are ways of taking the manhood out of a thirteen year old wannabe gangster, ways of making them shake in fear. One of these is a quiet talk about what he as a first-timer will face in jail. There is no cure for stupidity.

Now … the only spot of sanity in my life this week has been my pet Scotsman. I do not know how he remains calm through my panic. He does though. Did I mention that he’s a good kisser? Prolly did at least once.

Someone sent me a bunch of documents, few of which directly connect to my current research. But one must plan ahead. I also got a cut and past in an email from someone on our history blog. It’s a post from the private area of one of the anti blogs. I seldom look at those; the comments are usually stupid, uninformed at best, moronic at their worst. This one referenced our research in a very nice way, though I was a bit peeved that it quoted a few paragraphs. No real harm done though. The really good part was where one person took the other to task for using “school yard name calling” against a certain religion. He said it made him look as if he had no real argument. Having read this, I’d agree.

I’m supposed to write up a wish list of documents, books and booklets we would like to see. I haven’t really started that either.

I never wrote up our family outing day. I should do that. Maybe I will eventually. Remember I took some time off after my adventure in the hospital? I asked if Knobby Knees would take me to the park. I meant the one closest to our house. I just wanted to relax, sit in the park and watch my river flow by. This instantly grew to an unmanageable project. Daughters 2 and 5 said we should have a picnic. Okay, fine, as long as I don’t have to cook, wait on anyone or what ever.

Daughter three said we should call gram and gramps. Okay fine, if they want to come. My sister called. “Doing anything fun?” she asked. “Just an impromptu picnic,” I say.

She asks where and can they come too. I say the name of the park. Daughter two suggests another park. It’s a more private park, not at all well used. Once it was bigger, but county budget problems have shrunk it. The older bits of the park are still there, gone semi wild from lack of care. But it’s a fun place, and out there in the wilder parts is a fire pit.

A trip to the store, a stop at Kentucky Fried Chicken, lots of phone calls between relatives and we have a huge family picnic going. Fifteen people eventually show up in that park. We have sleeping bags, not that we planned on staying the night, but because (according to Daughter Five, they’re “more nicer to sit on.”

We stayed way into the dark hours, with gramma and grandpa fading away last. We remained. The girls had drifted into sleep. It was coolish, but we had the fire going. We let them sleep and we cuddled. We spent the night out there, dozing, listening to the water and the night noises.

About two am I went to find a private spot and came face to face with a small white-tail doe. We regarded each other from about ten feet distance. Our pasture is not far from a protected area, and we have a doe who has visited us regularly for three years. She will eat out of my hand. But this one and I were strangers. She eventually moved off into the trees.

Let me tell you about the trees. This is an old park. Some of the trees are old growth, native trees, and many are the plantings of a hundred or more years ago. I have an old photo of the area dated 1917 that shows many of them as well grown then. It was an area of farms and scattered houses then. Only two of the original houses remain, hidden in a canopy of trees. This is Pixie country, with a place in my heart.

Early in the am, K. Knees mom called and asked if we were still out there. I told her we were. She said, “We’re on our way. We’ll help you pack and we’re bringing breakfast.”

I was stiff from sleeping against a log (two of them if you count Knobby Knees). It was fun, good for me, and I keep thinking back to that night. I miss my childhood adventures in the high Cascades, but this was a good substitute.

The Goat's Reaction ... to baby sitting pixie children ...

Friday, May 04, 2012

Pixie Panic

Update: I have two folders done: Folder 1 contains original but miscellaneous single issue magazines, pamphlets and booklets from 1700-1860. There are twenty-three rather fragile, original items all in archival sleeves. Folder 2 contains booklets by John Nelson Darby and Benjamin Willis Newton. Some rare stuff in there.

Knobby Knees is still sleeping, but he looks better. He's cute when he's asleep, and not nearly so annoying as when he's awake.

Update to the Update: Folder three is done. It containes 26 items organized by current research needs. Tracts by Grew, Storrs, Seiss' magazines as a few loose issues, Age to Come and Adventist stuff. Probably I'll shuffle all of these around later. But since I'm using them now, they all gone in this binder. There's a booklet on e-bay I want. It's seventy-five dollars. Damn it! (close your eyes! I did not just swear!) My writing partner emailed the guy, but he wont budge on the price. There's a book too, but wildly over priced. On the book I can just be patient. One will show up at a price we can accept.

Knobby knees is awake. He's standing over my shoulder being pitiful. I think I'm taking him to town to air him out or something. Men! He has cute knees though. ... Just sayin'

So, I'm off reorganizing our pamphlet and tract folders. My messy work room now looks as if a category one storm hit it. Open notebooks, loose archival sleeves, papers have exploded everywhere.

The worst part of this - also the reason I undertake this once a year - is that things get misfiled or, because our research needs have changed, are better located in other folders. I have three folders open and the contents spread all over my workroom bed. You can see my little self sorting, right? Do you see the frown on my face? I've lost stuff. ...

After spending an hour looking I find the missing junk in the huge Old Theology Quarterly folder. Now this made sense two years ago. It does not now. (I'm not sure my memory lasts two years. Hence the confusion.) So I have my ah-ha! moment, pull them out and resort. The missing pamphlets were:

John Gale: Universal Charity, the Bond of Christian Unity, London 1716.

Thomas Emlyn: Extracts from An Humble Inquiry into the Scripture Account of Jesus Christ, Boston, 1790.

Aaron Kinne: A Display of Scriptural Prophecies With their Events and the Period of Accomplishments, Boston, 1813.

Orville Dewey: The Unitarian Answer, Boston, 1826.

A folder with little chap books by Mary Sherwood. All from the 1820s.

David Tandy, Daniel's Vision of the 2300 Days, no date but about 1830.

Jacob Blain: Glad Tidings, Buffalo, New York, 1856.

George Storrs: The European War: or, the position and prospects of the Papal Roman Power and the Napoleon Dynasty, New York, 1859. [Can we whisper, "rare"?]

George Storrs: A Defence of the Bible, or Revelation vs. False Philosophy, New York, 1866.

[... okay, I'm going to make a couple of my readers jealous. I paid ten dollars for the pair of G. Storrs booklets. Jealous now?]

Oh, I paused in the middle of writing this. Knobby Knees came home unexpectedly. Poor man cut his hand on a job site and has six stitches. He's pale. I babied him best I could, got him lunch, and put him in front of the TV. He's dozing now. Poor baby.

Thursday, May 03, 2012

So ... I've been reshuffling pamphlets ...

Pamphlets re-catalogued today:

Archibald Mason: Two Essays on Daniel’s Prophetic Number of Two Thousand Three Hundred Days and on the Christian’s Duty to Inquire into the Church’s Deliverance, 1820.

Christian Observatory: A Religious and Literary Magazine, February 1849.

Stories for the Young Pilgrims, Boston, No Date.

Kate Hankey: The Old, Old Story, Scriptural Tract Repository, Boston, 1882.

H. L. Hastings: Our Little Ones who Sleep, Boston, no date.

H. L. Hastings: Shall We Meet Beyond the River? Boston, 1882.

M. Joblin: The Paternity of Jesus and Arraignment of Josephitism, Cleveland, no date.

The Prophetic Times and Watch Tower, June 1883

William A. Burch: Good News No. 56, November 1894.

William A. Burch: Good News Supplement, December 1894.

Calvin French: Immortality the Gift of God, Boston 1842.

R. E. Neighbour: The Dark Place, the Lamp, and the Dawning Day, Elyria, Ohio, no date.

The Prophetic Times, March/April 1872.

The Prophetic Times, February 1873.

Extracts from Doctor Priestley’s Catechism, Salem, 1796.

J. W. Denton and O. R. Jenks: The Advent Movement, no date

Phenix XXV: Of the Torments of Hell: The foundation and pillars thereof discovered, searched, shaken, and removed, With infallible proofs that there is not to be a punishment after this life, for an to endure that shall never end, London, 1658.

The Second Appearing of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Judgment by Him Introductory to the Millennium, or Universal Earthy Blessedness, Scarborough, 1847.

Old Books and Pixies

One or two of my blog readers collect antiquarian books. I do too, of course. There’s a photo on here somewhere of part of my personal library. It changes, grows constantly, sometimes by leaps and bounds and sometimes by a single item.

Today the mail brought me an exceptionally rare booklet. It is undated, though by appearance it’s from between 1880-1900. By content it’s closer to 1890. You’ve probably never heard of it. I hadn’t until last year when another historian sent me a scan of it. I found an original in an online bookseller’s catalogue and bought it for $14.00 plus postage. This was good.

My Library. I should update this photo.

My writing partner and I have a fairly large (for the subject matter) collection of little pamphlets and broadsheets. Conserving and organizing this is an ongoing and sometimes difficult task. We use two storage methods for the smaller items, putting those that are part of a series in library boxes. We have a significant number of H. L. Hastings’ Anti-Infidel Library tracts. They’re all in archival boxes. Many of these things are not part of a series, or we have so few of them that it doesn’t matter. These we put in archival quality plastic sleeves and in three ring binders. About once a year I take these all down and reorganize. It’s a huge task. I’ll start that soon.

We have many things that need a professional rebinding. Being poor (relatively speaking) we don’t have the money to invest in that. For instance, we own an original copy of Shimeall’s Napleonism Unveiled. If you search the internet book sites, you will only find modern reprints. They’re expensive in their own right. The cover on our copy is detached and so ratty that it’s not worth repairing. It needs a rebind. A professional quality rebinding for this book is about eighty dollars. I paid five dollars for it. It will have to stay as is. We have other things like this. Too many. But you get them the way you find them.

Paper restoration is even more expensive. We have a few issues of Prophetic Times a magazine published in the 1860s and 70s. They’re in bad shape; the covers are detached on most; they’re age yellowed. They need a good professional conservation. The cost is more than it would ever be worth to us. We leave them as is and only handle them when we absolutely must.

In our collection is a book by Samuel Clarke. Now you probably do not know who he was or even care. That’s fine. We all have our crazy interests; this is mine. Samuel Clarke was part of the circle that encompassed Isaac Newton, William Whiston, Robert Boyle and that Oxford-London grouping of scientist-theologians. This copy originally belonged to the Library Company of Philadelphia. It still has the bookplate and number and card. This was book 777 in their inventory, purchased with money provided by Benjamin Franklin and his associates. Fun stuff. It came off one of the bookseller sites ( for a minimal amount of money. It needs some restoration. Neither of us can afford that.

Restoration rather than rebinding is hugely expensive. And, we’re “functionally poor.”

I told you ... blind dates are a bad idea ...

The Great Goat Conspiracy!

You distract her, and I'll unlock the gate!

Wednesday, May 02, 2012

On making a pixie laugh ...

There's a small group of internet griefers who hang out in a chatroom just to harass people. For the last ... what? ... two years or so they've had a pet name for me. It takes a while for people with this mentality to figure out that all that does is put them in my power, making it easier to get them out of the chatroom. Most have leared that vital lesson by now. One or two have not. One of the slow learners searched the Internet for a rude picture to send to me. I can't post the full photo. This is not an XXX rated blog. But you get the idea ....

Now this is supposed to shock me, leave me incensed, full of frustration and anger. How silly can you be?! I deal with this mentality in the classroom. It's Middleshool. It's what bad boys do when they can't think of anything else to do. All you did was give me a laugh and the subject for a blog post. You just be havin' a nice day!

One last thought: You need lessons in Goat anatomy.