May 11th, 2004


Graphic post.

"My name is Nick Berg, my father's name is Michael, my mother's name is Susan. I have a brother and sister, David and Sarah. I live in ... Philadelphia."

That's what the man read before he was decapitated with a knife. While still conscious.

I don't want to live in a world where this happens. I don't want to live in a world where people can act like this. What the fuck did Nick Berg do to anyone that deserved that? What the fuck did Daniel Pearl do to anyone that deserved his death?

I want to be safe. I want to be able to go outside the boundaries of my state and feel safe. I want my brother, who has not spoken English in the last three weeks, because he didn't want to be identified as an American in a foreign country, to be able to travel freely. I want to be proud to be a Texan. I want to not have to worry about someone deciding that the Medical Center (a medical center?) or the Ship Channel or NASA are good strategic targets. I want everyone in the whole wide world to agree that cutting off a conscious man's head with a knife is not only not OK, it reduces us all as a species.

The motherfuckers who killed Nick Berk said "Allah Akbar" when they held up his head to the camera. "God is Great." Fuck Allah. Fuck God. If they had anything to do with this, they don't deserve worship or admiration or love. They deserve contempt and loathing and eradication. They deserve to be reviled in the world.
Relampago ocean

Vets and viruses

On to happier things.

Crianza went to the vet this morning. Before she was taken "to the back" to do whatever evil thing it is that they do back there, we were looking at the chart for what pulik are supposed to be, and I guessed that Crianza wasn't quite at the lower limit. I was right. She weighs just under 22 pounds, and the range for pulik is 22-33 pounds. And aside from the toenail incident from a few days ago, she's a happy healthy puppy. Her very pregnant vet was pleased to see her right before maternity leave. Barring some unforeseen trip to the vet, there won't be any interruption in Crianza's vet care due to the birth of her vet's baby. Relampago goes tomorrow to get his stiches taken out and for a general exam. His vet is in his 60s and male, so I doubt that he'll be going out on maternity leave. He weighed about 35 pounds when he had his surgery, but some of that is fur, so I'm guessing he's probably in the range too.

I spent a good part of my morning reading. Somehow I picked up a virus on my computer yesterday, and the tech guy was here for a long time trying to get it out. Fortunately, he found a patch (though none of the major commercial sites had the patch worked out yet) around two o'clock and I was able to get back online and to my e-mail and files.

It's been raining torrentially today. I fear that the dirt rut in front of my house is now a moat. How I'll get home is a good questions, as there aren't any drains left on the street during the reconstruction. I fear that I'll end up having to park several blocks away and have to hike to the house. I keep telling myself that the road repaving project is a good thing for me, because one day I'll be able to have a real live driveway, with real live gutters, and a real live curb. And then I can do the rose garden in the front. But the fact that Relampago doesn't even bark at the backhoe guy anymore, gets me all dejected. There's no point in barking. The backhoe guy is going to be there for awhile.

I hate being right

Park a block away. Check

Trench in road in front of house. Check.

Fortunately for me, unfortunately for my neighbors, I came onto the street to find two cars, noses down in the ditch, stuck beyond hope. Apparently my neighbors trusted the makeshift bridges into the driveways and their cars paid the price. There was a collection of people gathered around the cars assessing the damage.

I drove on to relatively higher, dryer ground.