An old set of Reebok commercials. quality.

…because they figured out time travel. Who knew ? That’s the only way possible it could have taken us five-and-a-half hours to get to Dallas last night. Either that, or I was riding my moped and didn’t realize it.

Yeah, time travel. That’s it.

Update: Actually, I’m really really glad I wasn’t stuck in this train wreck:
I-35 Closed for 10 Hours

So, for reasons detailed below and others (specifically ones that will cause a sharp increase in our car insurance rates) yesterday kind of sucked. If we were being very web 2.0 about it, I would tag November 20, 2006 as craptacular, craptastic and piss-poor.

The events of the day behind me, I opted for the intelligent mature option when I finally got home: drink a large bottle of wine and watch television (there were some extended conversations with the dog about various, ill-advised traffic flow decisions made by the city, but she was kind of mum on the subject so I won’t go into it here).

TV is not generally my thing as we only get four channels. But as I was surfing (and drinking), I ended up splitting my time between Antiques Roadshow: South Dakota and Deal or no Deal. They’re really the same show: cross section of America contestant picks an item, hoping its worth a lot of dollars, with no real idea of how said dollar will come to them, or how many of its dollar bill buddies it’ll bring along (ok the timeline is a little different, but work with me here). One show has class and rich cultural history, the other has an attention deficit afflicted host and aspiring models but the essential principals are pretty close.

They should really ponder a crossover. Stick antiques in the cases on the game show- congratulations you picked the Navajo Blanket, the banker would like to offer you a nice armoire to walk away now.

I’d watch that.

I have got to get that computer fixed soon…

…shit.

It’s been acting a little iffy lately, but I think we’re really screwed now. For those that don’t know, that little icon with the folder over the question mark is pretty not good. Essentially, I now have a very nice white plastic paperweight.

This is kind of like Han Solo crashing the Millennium Falcon into something large and very unforgiving. Or Robert Redford in the Natural throwing his bat in a wood chipper.

At least I backed up.

I redesigned my portfolio site, wadetreichler.com

I could write reams of Starbucks – their harmful trade practices, their butchering of coffee nomenclature (not to mention the Italian language), their over-roasted, over caffeinated coffee and the pathetic irony of my continued patronage of an establishment that I so thoroughly despise.

Today though. Wow. The above photo is a shot of the drink container that’s supposed to prevent you from getting second degree-burns and nerve damage from just-under-fusion temps that they keep their brew at.

Who the hell is responsible for unleashing this monstrosity on the world? That logo has always been creepy enough (The mermaid scares me… really, really scares me) but that pattern? In no decade this side of 1950 would that be a good idea. I can see epileptic Starbucks patrons across the country seizing if the baristas whip those things around too quickly.

See, this would be an ideal use of the threat level system that the Department for Using The Constitution as a Grease Rag for our New Fascist Machine (aka DHS) has for terrorism: “Threat level Mauve: warning, imminent threat to your sensibilities/good taste possible at ever corner in America (sometimes even on both corners). Avoid looking directly at people carrying red cups and talking very quickly on their Bluetooth headsets.

Be Afraid.

It’s entirely to early in the day/week/morning to post something worth-while, thought-provoking or funny. Video of industrial equipment accidents will have to do for now.


It’s kind of like watching Cops, a high-speed police chase or really, anything on fox.

We’ve been asked to work up a youth-based site. Normally the second I buy or write something it becomes instantly uncool, so this is a bit of a challenge. But I kind of dig where this is going. (link to biggun)

Because if you don’t, you’ll have no justification for yelling at the TV for the next two years. Find your precinct headquarters in Travis county here.

Karl Rove is not Aleister Crowley, Severus Snape, Darth Vader or Satan. You can kill him by ensuring your vote is counted and being vigilant at your polling station.”

From Warren Ellis’s BAD SIGNAL mailing list: (via boing boing)

Update (aka the ‘morning after’ the long dark political hell, that the last 6+ years have been): It’s like a political Christmas, and Santa keeps throwing presents our way…