Neanderpundit

I have, on several occasions, pissed off people and been uncerimoniously de-linked from their websites with malice aforethought.

That’s fine. I haven’t de-linked any of them because frankly, I’m not a six year old, and this is not a playground. And I still love and respect those folks, despite the fact that they won’t bother to admit they’re wrong despite having been proven wrong. Fuck ’em. Feed ’em fish heads. I’m not here looking for traffiic from anyone, if you like what you see and come back, fine. So there are several folks on my blogroll who have no return link. No biggie.

On the other hand, sometime you have to do some weeding, and this is a classic case.

Little green footballs has been slowly morphing into the Daily Kos for a while now, and until today I hadn’t experienced it for myself. No, I won’t link, but on the front page now, a post or two down is a piece on global warming deniers.

Look, you moron. The thermometer is five hundred years old. There have only been thermometers with any degree of accuracy for a hundred of those. Anything before that is a guess.

I had a pissing contest some ages ago with one Charles Fuller, who came here with this little gem of logic: Evolution is a theory. So is electricity, and yet when you flip the switch the lights go on.

This is facile on it’s face, because electrical theory can be tested over and over and over again in real time. Evolution cannot be tested in real time when it comes to humans, because we cannot travel back in time and see what the beginnings were and observe the results. The same is true of global warming/climate change. We have so little data about the actual temperature of the planet that we can only guess as to what it’s temp is supposed to be, and those guesses are by their very nature less accurate than the margin for allowable error.

The idiot at LGF and his commenters are yapping away about how we have cap and trade now (s02) and how it didn’t destroy business (wrong. Wrong in epic, heroic, olympian ways, look at the now almost nonexistent american steel industry) and why this would be any different (Because it is based on utter stupidity, and less gummint control is better than more).

So Buh Bye, LGF. Go fuck yourself with a cactus. Go pound sand up your collective asses, and while you’re at it, take a flying fuck at a rolling donut on a gravel driveway.

Update: Please welcome Joan of Argghh! to the blogroll. I read her blog daily, and it dawns on me that I always have to click on one of her comments to do so. I USED to have a link to her blog, I’m damned if I know why I don’t now.

Anyway, corrected.

I has it.

About four years ago, my nephew showed up here with a Cushman Truckster. It was a wreck but he was able to jump the starter and get it running. In fact, he used a whole damned five gallon tank of my gas to drive it around the damned neighborhood, and that without any brakes! Anyway, he was given it, and while I think his intention was to get it running again, I’m at the “posession is nine tenths of the law” point, after four years. The truckster is similar to this one:

Though it’s not painted a tasteful tactical black.

I dug around until I found someone capable of sending me a wiring diagram, which I then modified until all of it’s extraneous bullshit was removed. I wanted only the bare minimum required to make it run, and that’s what I wired up. I managed to garbagepick enough wire and other crap to get started, and this weekend was D day.

I have managed to put it back together and charge it’s four year old battery and get it to turn over, and nothing.

I figured today I’d pull the carb off to see if any of the passages were clogged, and this morning it dawned on me like a brick in the face:

What makes me think that four gallons of gas would sit around waiting for me to use it?

yes, a quart of gas and it started instantly.

And in case you might want to know what it takes for 4 gallons of gas to evaporate, it’s about four years.

Don’t be. According to statistics, you’re much more likely to find a weak spot in the second floor, fall through the floor and the ceiling below it, land facefirst in the toilet, get your head wedged in and drown. You’re more likely to stand on a land mine and be flung 1200 feet up in the air, utterly unharmed, until being sucked into the jet engine of a 747 on approach. You’re much more likely to be standing next to a mountain in colorado, and be smothered by an avalanche of breasteses. You’re equally likely to be involuntarily anally probed in your kitchen by aliens. No, not them ones from outer space, them ones from south of the border.

Don’t sweat it, really. Even if you get it, unless you’re old or have a bad immune system, you’re just going to feel like crap for a while.