Lushness and Aggie

Is our Aggie an incipient lush? This is not an idle question. When the Irregulars enter the social whirl, the girl's always enjoyed a hearty pink gin. Or two. In her brave quest to develop interesting new dysfunctions for us to metablog, she has lately mentioned scarfing two bottles of red in quick succession.

And she's a writer. We all know what that means. Big risk factor. Think Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker (Hell, the entire Algonquin Round Table...), Raymond Carver, Adela Rogers St. John, Charles Bukowski, Jean Stafford, and for all I know, Ann Landers and Dear Abby.

Just yesterday, she posted that trying to be a metamuse was more difficult than she'd ever imagined, and wondered what it took for us to notice her. I sense that this bid for attention may be a wrenching cry for help.

Must we ESIs stand idly by as Agatha sinks into a slough of sloe? Will we urge her to find a 12-step program as we enter one of our own, for co-dependents? Should we stage a showy intervention, a la certain extended-cable-package reality televison programs with lamentable production values?

Or perhaps we need look to the danger signs behind the windows of our own glass houses first, and ask ourselves what roles we have played in this sorry saga -- 4th Dwarf's ever-present rum flagon and documented bent for erratic nautical courses; the Chair's trademark martini glass and Dean Martin-esque warbles at parties; Conch Shell's secret compartments and unexplained -- but fishy -- long absences; the Independent Observer's penchant for glasses of all kinds. And yes, my own weakness for quantities of fermented chokecherries.

Tangled questions. Perhaps we need to call an emergency meeting...

Those clever buggers at the Ottawa Citizen are pretty sharp at knowing which stories to give free access to and which ones to put their little key symbol next to.

Turning strip club into university earns Ducharme an award

Ex-Hull mayor joins diplomat, elections boss as recipient of highest Mexican decoration

The former mayor of Hull, and later Gatineau, has been inducted into a major Mexican order for turning a strip club into a university. [link]

A bit of web searching has turned up an award speech. My French is weak, so I'm not exactly sure where it talks about the Strip Club, but I think it must be the espace plus confortablement they call the Maison des Citoyens.

Il a également logé les fondateurs de l'école représentant l'Extension de l'UNAM au Canada, l'UNAM-ESECA, leur offrant tout d'abord un petit espace dans les installations de la Société pour le Développement Économique de l'Outaouais, puis il a généreusement offert un autre espace, ce qui nous a permis de travailler plus confortablement car les deux espaces se trouvent dans la Maison du Citoyen.

Crittercizing design

Being who -- and what -- I am, I'm a huge fan of lurking alongside roads at night, so that when headlights reflect the red glare from my baby-yellows, it jolts the crap outta drivers. It's a coyote thing. It amuses me.

But last night, restless 'round three or so, I was rudely aware of the rather astounding number of unwanted and unasked-for little electrical eyes floating in the once-pristine dark of my den -- smoke detector blinking every 30 seconds, power strips, clock, CD player, DVD player, VCR, amps, tuners, modems, RF converters, cell phone charger, cordless phone, answering device, microwave oven, what-have-you. (I'm a surprisingly plugged-in coyote...)

Each of these indoor light pollutants, singly, is egregious enough. In concert, they turn the joint into a red/green/yellow/blue Christmas tree. I thoroughly resent the clueless electronics components makers, engineers and industrial designers who perpetrate this. Light emitting diodes and backlit liquid crystal displays have become dirt cheap -- a penny a pop. So product designers all plonk these things unthinkingly onto their gimcracks, some merely to let me know the damned thing is plugged in. (Of course it is. I plugged it, and don't expect the f*ing plug to fall outta the wall anytime soon.)

Costs 'em squat, and they can call it a 'feature'. A pointless one, resulting in one more selling point to list on the box, when I'd actually pay extra for its removal. Feature this, boneheads: one irritating little light to 'inform' me a thing is plugged in, and yet another to 'confirm' that it's actually turned on, when I know that already too, ain't a feature, it is crappy industrial design. And I have black electrical tape that trumps your stupidity. And makes your ugly 'design' even uglier, but so what?.

I am an aesthetical coyote. I just figure little glowing eyes in the dark are a privilege to be reserved for animate (and animistic) critters. Thank you very much. You may now return to more blogworthy creepy videos of little girls being harrassed about breakfast.

(Image: Environmental Science Program, Dedman College, Southern Methodist University)

Moderation

Wine Pour by katiew

It's hard to imagine Aggie being down to only two bottles of wine on a weekend. I wonder how this'll go with her seasonal affective disorder.

For my part, I'm going to make sure to not bring Dame Aggie to any genocide movies this year and the next time I'm at the store, I'll picking up some very bright lightbulbs for her. Some of these new energy savers can really brighten a place up.

Conchie, have you been taking our dear friend for her constitutionals? You know those are always good for her spirits.

A Break from Regular Programming

While Musie is on an extended break taking care of her Chinchillas, I've pulled out the following film from my Grade 4 Social Studies class. I ask all the ESI's (and guests) to view and discuss.