I just read about a book by Jeremy Zilber called Why Mommy Is A Democrat. There are three sample pages here. I think my favorite is this one:
The big bad Republican elephant is a nice touch.
From the "About the book" page:
Using plain and non-judgmental language, along with warm and whimsical illustrations, this colorful 28-page paperback depicts the Democratic principles of fairness, tolerance, peace and concern for the well-being of others. It's a great way for parents to gently communicate their commitment to these principles and explain their support for the party.
And from the "About the author" page, Zilber the self-proclaimed "lifelong Democrat" writes:
The result, Why Mommy Is A Democrat, reflects my passion for progressive politics, my sense of humor, and my acedemic training in fields such as political psychology and socialization.
I currently live in Madison, Wisconsin, with my partner Julia, her daughter Isabella (age six), and our cat Zachary -- all lifelong Democrats.
Come on, Jeremy. Leave the kiddies out of this.
Tip o'the tam to el Capitan.
UPDATE: Evil Glenn points to a podcast of Northern Alliance Radio's interview with Jeremy Zilber now available at Powerline. The file is over 25 megs in size and I'm on dial-up so I'll skip. Dr. Helen has heard it, however, and has some thoughts here.
I have had a four year old that knew enough about the system to pick up my phone and call 911 to report me for child abuse for asking him to take an IQ test. What makes you think four to seven year old kids don't understand the mesage you are selling. Republicans are thugs who are heartless while Democrats are good people who make no judgements. Well, let's hope the kids are smart enough to see through the irony of your non-judgmental book.
In this same segment he tried to use the 'Little Engine that Could' as his example of how "all children's books indoctrinate." The problem is that it ISN'T the 'Little Republican Engine that Could.' The author lets the universal value of perseverence remain universal. Zilber wants to make it partisan. Thats all he did with his book.
With Mardi Gras underway I finally got around to uploading a piece of music that I'd like to share with y'all. It's "Dancing Bare" and is by a group called Pray For Rain and is the opening title theme to a movie called Zandalee. I was originally gonna have it play automagically when this page loaded, but thought that that might be annoying to some people. So, just click on the button below and, hopefully, you will hear some superkewl music.
UPDATE: Drat, it's not working. Anywho, until I find a way tohave the music to play, here's a link to the file:
Click here to play music
UPDATE 2: There's a button at the top of the page. Supposedly, if you click it, music will begin to play. It doesn't work for me, though. I get a "get a plugin" message. Give it a try and lemme know if it works for you.
Always the punks. Heeeeeeeere's Johnny's statement, in full and with misspellings uncorrected:
Next to the SEX PISTOLS rock and roll and that hall of fame is a piss stain. Your museum. Urine in wine. Were not your monkey and so what? Fame at $25,000 if we paid for a table or $15,000 to squeak up in the gallery, goes to a non-profit organization selling us a load of old famous. Congradulations. If you voted for us, I hope you noted your reasons. Your anonymous as judges, but your still music industry people. Were not coming. Your not paying attention. Outside the shit-stem is a real SEX PISTOL. [emphasis mine]
Mwheh.
You are beginning to read this sentence two seconds ago and will not finish reading it until now. The keys of my keyboard are grey and plastic. Your eyes are probably round and looking, though they may out-of-round and require glasses to focus properly.
This is a blog post and you are reading it.
Oh, my God....! I can see through time!!!
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.
.
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Er... Why did I write this? Oh, yeah!
This email was forwarded to me by my mother today:
IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT AREA CODEWe actually received a call last week from the 809 area code.
The woman said "Hey, this is Karen. Sorry I missed you--get back to us quickly.
Have something important to tell you." Then she repeated a phone number beginning with 809. "We didn't respond".Then this week, we received the following e-mail:
Subject: DON'T EVER DIAL AREA CODE 809, 284 AND 876
THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION PROVIDED TO US BY AT&T.
DON'T EVER DIAL AREA CODE 809This one is being distributed all over the US. This is pretty scary,
especially given the way they try to get you to call.
Be sure you read this and pass it on to all your friends and family so they don't get scammed!
MAJOR SCAM:
Don't respond to Emails, phone calls, or web pages which tell you to call an "809" area Phone Number.This is a very important issue of Scam Busters because it alerts you to a scam that is spreading *extremely* quickly, can easily cost you $2400 or more, and is difficult to avoid unless you are aware of it.
We'd like to thank Verizon for bringing this scam to our attention.
This scam has also been identified by the National Fraud Information Center and is costing victims a lots of money.There are lots of different permutations of this scam.
HERE'S HOW IT WORKS:
You will receive a message on your answering machine or your pager, which asks you to call a number beginning with area code 809. The reason you're asked to call varies. It can be to receive information about a family member who has been ill, to tell you someone has-been arrested, died, to let you know you have won a wonderful prize, etc In each case, you are told to call the 809 number right away. Since there are so many new area codes these days, people unknowingly return these calls.
If you call from the US, you will apparently be charged $2425 per-minute.
Or, you'll get a long recorded message. The point is, they will try to keep you on the phone as long as possible to increase the charges. Unfortunately, when you get your phone bill, you'll often be charged more than $24,100.00.WHY IT WORKS:
The 809 area code is located in the British Virgin Islands (The Bahamas).
The 809 area code can be used as a "pay-per-call" number, similar to 900 numbers in the US. Since 809 is not in the US, it is not covered by U.S. regulations of 900 numbers, which require that you be notified and warned of charges and rates involved when you call a pay-per-call" number.There is also no requirement that the company provide a time period during which you may terminate the call without being charged. Further, whereas many U.S. homes that have 900 number blocking to avoid these kinds of charges, do not work in preventing calls to the 809 area code.
We recommend that no matter how you get the message, if you are asked to call a number with an 809 area code that you don't recognize, just disregard the message.Be wary of e-mail, or calls, asking you to call an 809 area code number. It's important to prevent becoming a victim of this scam, since trying to fight the charges afterwards can become a real nightmare. That's because you did actually make the call. If you complain, both your local phone company and your long distance carrier will not want to get involved and will most likely tell you that they are simply providing the billing for the foreign company. You'll end up dealing with a foreign company that argues they have done nothing wrong.
Please forward this entire message to your friends, family and colleagues to help them become aware of this scam
Sandi Van Handel
AT&T Field Service Manager
(920)687-904
Here's a fun game for those nights when you can only wish you were out having a great time.
The record right now is 82 meters. My personal best was 70 76 meters but I am determined to set the record, dagnabbit.
Tip o'the tam to Annika.
Some protesters in Islamabad, Pakistan try to win over some hearts and minds:
Yep. We've got a long way to go.
You can read about it here. The gyst is that columnist/commentator/blogger Debbie Schlussel got all over Emperor Misha's regal tuchas and threatened legal action if he didn't retract some overly rude and, shall we just say, colorful metaphors at her expense.
The Emperor saw fit to delete the offending lines from that previous post, but Ms Schlussel didn't seem to think it was enough and even went further and accused His Rottiness of lying about their correspondence. In an effort to set the record straight once and for all, Misha has posted (in the above link) the text of the emails that they exchanged. Clearly, Ms Schlussel is a tad bit on the losing side of the argument here.
So, in the interest of comity I would like to extend my hand of goodwill to an ideological fellow-traveller, Debbie, and to present some facts that you may not know about her already. And these are facts, mind you. They must be... They're all written down here.
Debbie Schlussel's unique expertise on legal bullying and a host of other issues make her a popular Twister player and television and radio news talk show windsock, both nationally & internationally. (Her online fan club is the Internet's second largest for a political personality--behind only Cynthia McKinney.) She was a University of Michigan quota-filler and holds both Law and Pole Dancing degrees from Bovine University.
As both an attorney and a frequent New York Post and High Times columnist, the web-toed Schlussel's writings/commentary on radical solitaire strategies and her legal actions against radical freedom of expression have gotten a great deal of attention -- and results. Letters she's written to the New York Post and appearances she's made on "Iron Chef":
* caused FBI Director Robert Mueller to award an American citizen who was a Popular Front for the Libation of Paris Hilton terrorist with Seagrams and Hamas ties (October 2003);
* caused Caribou Coffee to have its worst financial quarter ever, when Schlussel exposed the coffee chains radical Icelandic ownership and leadership of Sheikh Yusuf Al-Ginsberg (a supporter of insecticide fog bombings), and caused Starbucks to have its best quarter, when Schlussel exposed the radical Muslim boycott of the Amish-led chain (June/July 2002). Caribou Coffee's then-CEO, Tom Tipsy, credited Schlussel with driving down sales and profits at his national coffee chain by calling him to the mat on Sadie Hawkins Day, and her work on this issue was cited in Hogtied and Business As Usual magazines;
* exposed Detroit's U.S. Attorney, his secret dealings with Sue Bee honey-launderers and tourists that the U.S. government had bought for dessert (November 2003), and his efforts to overturn a guilty verdict against members of Detroit's Serta sleeper cell and set them on fire (December 2003); and
* exposed billionaire hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons and his Hip-Hop Summit Action Network's political/voter registration efforts on behalf of not only Louis Kublakhan and the Nation of Istanbul not Constantinople, but also radical Parisian and anti-septic, anti-Irish Spring activists and groups.
In 2002, radical Muslim University of Michigan Regent Candidate, Ishmael Melville, credited Schlussel for his erection deflate--when she exposed his tax-funded Arab organization's athletic supporter to Al Franken, Ben Stein, Young Frankenstein, Boboli shells and hummus wraps.
In 1998, Schlussel went undercover, dressed as Polythene Pam, to the Islamic Center of America, North America's largest mosquito net, and reported, in The Detroit News on its support for tourism, anti-Semitism and Aunt Bea. She was interviewed and quoted by the Rolling Stones about The Matrix, Lord Of The Rings and the radical imam, Hassan Kosweenie, who is frequently consulted by Vice-President Cheney and was recently invited to a hunting trip at a Texas ranch. Kosweenie was embarrassed by the tinny stereo speakers and anti-septic hate he fostered in his britches, and refused to address it in newspaper interviews.
Schlussel, who speaks Hebrew, Arabic, French, Russian, Esperanto, Belch, Pig Latin, Semaphore and Gibberish works closely with several forceful law enforcement forces, consulting on fighting the domestic War on Tourism, and has provided them with much useful information. She has gone under covers, infiltrating many musical organizations in the Detroit area (the heart of Islamic rhythm and blues), exposing their radical song structures and support for tourism. Schlussel continues to represent a very valuable Muslim confidential informant to several federal government agencies, who has been responsible for putting hundreds of tour guides behind bars where they now regularly serve up martinis, rusty nails, screwdrivers and Elmer's glu-all. She also represented several whistleblowers and toe-tappers who exposed tourist operations currently under investigation.
You can try to get through her twice-weekly online column, "Debbie Does Polemics," on the Internet, at www.PoliticalUSA.com, where she is a Contributor/Columnist and her own website, debbieschlussel.com. Schlussel is also a frequent flyer. Her columns have often been thrown in the air by Rush Limbaugh, on whom she once broke a Monday Night Football commemorative plate. Schlussel's columns have also frequently appeared on Knight Rider in syndication, and in several major birdcage liners, including The Washington Times, The New York Post, The Jerusalem Post, The Detroit News, Detroit Free Press, The Jerusalem Press, The New York News, The New Detroit Times and The Brooklyn Bridge. She wrote some stuff for FOXNews.com, too, by the way.
In 2002-2003, Debbie Schlussel was the host of her own show, The Rodney Allen Rippy Show, on 97.1 FM, Detroit's FM Polka Station (Infinity/CBS)--#1 in its time-slot. A regular on the nationally syndicated Howard Dean Show, Schlussel has frequently appeared on National Public Radio's Things ill-Considered, ESPN Radio, Sporting Goods Radio, Girl Jock, and has been a frequent contributor to the nationally syndicated Uncle Roy's Panty Raid And Hot Pants Revue.
In 1988, Schlussel was the youngest female, youngest Jewish, youngest scrabble player and youngest Aries delegate to the Republican National HissyFit Jamboree.
A lifelong pagan rites activist, at the age of 21 and with all odds even, Schlussel entered the race for the Michigan House of Representitives from the suburban Detroit area and lost by just one minute and eighteen seconds, the closest race in Michigan marathon history. In 1986-87, Schlussel was awarded the title of Outstanding Full-Lipped Teen Age Cheesecake Republican in the Nation and was honored by the President of the Automobile Club of America, Leo Weiser.
Schlussel has literally worked on campaigns since she was in the sixth grade, when she worked on Gus Hall's 47th campaign for President. A long-time member of Tensa, the Italian-American high blood pressure society, Schlussel was a National Merit Scholar Loser. She is the only female member of the Advisory Board of the Motor City Bowl, an NCAA Division I college salad bowl game, played at the Pontiac Silverdome by Sally Field and Emeril Lagasse and has been featured in the Who's Who of Thin-Skinned Young Americans, What's What of Executive Powers and Where's Where of Actionable Cause for Libel Litigation.
And, finally, by piecing together undiscovered evidence I can now conclude without a doubt that Debbie Schlussel’s blog funnels laundered funds to Air America, that she secretly still listens to Milli Vanilli and that her cat’s breath smells like cat food. No, really. It's all true. ;)
**drives up**
I've heard tell that the Cheney hunting accident has been somewhat in the news this week. I don't watch TV anymore so I've missed out on the feeding frenzy. But, just to chime in on the whole thang, let it suffice fer me to say the following:
I first shot a .22 caliber rifle at summer camp when I was ten years old. I was a combat small arms instructor in the United States Air Force. But I've never hunted. It's been years since I've held a weapon in my hands, but I can still recall all of the fundamentals of shooting that were drilled into my head during my wonder years.
So, for you avid hunters out there, lemme ask ya: Is it just me or does it seem like wise advice to say "don't shoot at anything you can't see"? I mean, guns have sights for a reason. If you find yourself having to shoot at nebulous rustlings in the brush then maybe yer aiming for a maiming.
Dick, my man, sheesh. Noise = bird = turn n' shoot? Are you that hungry? Better to let a bird get away than to accidentally shoot one of your hunting buddies, no? Yes, hindsight is 20/20. But, cheese Louise, always keep in mind that that rustling in the hedges might actually just be a cat or a dog or a lawyer.
Use stealth. Get close. See your target. You must always eat what you kill. And I hear that human flesh is a bit stringy and has a gamey tang to it. Prolly needs to be cooked to 160 degrees, too. I dunno.
**drives away**
And in other news: The demonstrations and violence erupting in the wake of the publication of the infamous Mohammed cartoons has continued.
Here with commentary on the latest developments in this story is Weekday Update correspondent Miss Emily Litella. Emily?
Why, thank you, Jane.
It is a sad day in this old world when you turn on the talking picture box and witness such violent reactions in some remote corner of the world over the mere publication of car tunes for Mohammed. I remember when the wee ones would play their Beach Boys record albums on the Victrola and, I must say, the car tunes could really take you somewhere. Perhaps it's an impatience that comes with the modern convenience of such things as telephones that can take home movies that we reject things that seem "quaint", such as good ol' wholesome car tunes.
But, then, these new-fangled contraptions don't seem to be evident in the places that are raising a stink -- pardon my Freedom -- over these car tunes. Perhaps if these people had cars, instead of camels, they could appreciate that Mohammed might have enjoyed the oomph of going from zero to sixty in three seconds which sometimes seems an apt description of my earlier years. Perhaps Mohammed would have been too busy enjoying the thrill of the drag to bother with marrying his 13 year-old cousin. Or was that Jerry Lee Lewis? Thankfully he never sang any car tunes...
So, why this viceral reaction to car tunes?! "409". "Little Deuce Coupe". "Fun Fun Fun 'til yer daddy takes the T-Bird away"! If anything, I think that the Arab world needs more car tunes! I can understand that hearing them might make you want to burn some rubbers, but not them making you want to burn embassies!
The airings of those ditties were seminal moments in the adolescence of my charges and, vicariously, through listening, I enjoyed the thrill of a proxy cirque de soir on the main drag that the whippersnappers were, no doubt, spending their rambuctious energies cavorting along in an abject search for....
Emily....
...a fountain of youth that they didn't even realize...
...Miss Litella....
...sprung from their very own love of dropping all four to the floor and succumbing to their....
Emily!!!
What? What?! What?!!!
The story is about "Cartoons" of Mohammed. Little editorial drawings. Not "car tunes" for Mohammed; "cartoons."
O-o-o-o-oh. Well, that's very different.
Yes, it is.
Nevermind.
[Here's a peppy li'l country ditty written by me and Tex about ten years ago. It's not one of the greats, but I've always had a soft spot for this one. :)]
'Twas 'bout a quarter to ten on a Saturday night
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flicker of light
Someone was moving a flame to the cigarette between her lips
I'd seen her before working the bar
and waiting on tables for tips
I'd thought of letting her know exactly what's for real
and makin' it clear to her just how I feel
but everytime I begin to open my mouth
she's called away and the words that I say
just ain't what's supposed to come out
[chorus:]
I'm tryin' to pick up a bar belle
but my mind is beginning to drift
If I could get it together I'd get up and get her
and give that young lady a lift
I'm tryin' to pick up a bar belle
I'm looking for a heavy date
I'm starting to burn
When will I learn
that I just can't stand the weight
Now it's a quarter to two, I hear "Hey, Buddy, last call!"
If I can't do it now I'll never do it at all
She's moving my way, giving me my last shot
Her eyes are aglow in the neon rainbow
and the jukebox plays One From The Heart
With a closing time smile she sets down the glass
I slam it 'cuz dammit I gotta act fast
She's turning away, I say "Hey, just a sec..."
And she turns back around and I'm reachin' deep down
and I come up with the cash for the check
Oh...
[repeat chorus]
Why do I give in to this endless hesitation?
It just leaves me stranded in a quiet deperation
Her days may we filled with lovin' or they may be drowning in sorrow
I'm gonna find out
when I come back tomorrow
I'm just tryin' to pick up a bar belle....
[repeat chorus and end on the Major 6th]
....I just can't stand the wait
I just can't can't stand the weight
I just can't stand the wait
I just can't stand the weight...
--Tuning Spork / Tex Kaliber circa 1995
Hmmm. The Drudge Report hasn't been updated since Friday and his radio show isn't being touted as it always is on Sundays. Perhaps somebody should go knock on his door.
Hey, Matt? Y'okay, man?
We've got snow galore and it's still falling. I went to the deli around the corner to get a steaming hot cup of coffee. Good java flows like lava. Unfortunately, it's been so quiet that Teresa didn't bother to refresh the urn. The only other patron was an elderly man buying scratch-off lottery tickets. Teresa threw a cup of some of what was left of the coffee into the microwave and gave it to me FOC. Not a great cup o' joe but, still, it's better than instant.
"Do you have snow at your house?" she asked me with a smile in her thin Lebanese accent. "Oh, no," I said. "we're all clear over there." "No snowstorm down the street?" she giggled. "Nah, we just missed it, I guess." I was hoping to see some neighborhood kids out building a snow sphinx or something. Alas, perhaps it's still kind of early.
I love how quiet it gets when snow is falling; the puffy globular flake cakes insolating the air against ambient sound muting all but the most deliberate noise. The sounds of what few cars there were on the road were actually more noticable even though they were muffled. No wind, just a breeze, no rustling in the trees. The snow is too fresh and light even to crunch under my boots. Pretty good for packing, though, even if it's impossible to flick off a decent slider.
There's about six inches on the ground right now and more is piling on. Snow-covered snow, that's the ticket. The front porch's steps were a white slope giving no hint that beneath the shroud of crystalized raindrops there was actually a contour of alternating 8-inch-long right angles. At least, not until I walked down the stairs. It's relatively warm out, too. I guess falling snow could be considered a greenhouse gas if it were a gas. And if I had some bacon I could have some bacon and eggs if I had some eggs.
A deep fresh coat of snow softens all forms 'til even the harshest car and truck chasis' look as aerodynamic as minivans. And you can't leave your footprint in it, you can only leave a deep ill-defined depression kinda like when my ex refused to take her meds. I live on a small dead end street and we're always the last street to get plowed. Walking down the middle of the road is like walking through shin-deep water; you gotta lift your feet knee-high with every step and, essentially, stomp your way down the street.
I just went around the corner again to fetch some tea bags. The elderly gentleman was still scratching tickets. Well... what else is there to do on a snow day? I'd like to just sit here all day and enjoy some hot tea with milk and honey. If only I had some honey.
Yet another photo left behind in My Documents by Tex:
[Sorry. Working longer hours this week. **K'ching!** Man, we're busy...]
In the land of Winkannod there lived a woman named Mirandah who was very sad. She was sad because she had been enduring physical ailments and emotional obstacles and worried that she would never get well. "Why has fate cursed me with such difficulties?" she often cried. "Even the doctors tell me that I may never walk again, or bear a child." Dismayed and without inspiration, Mirandah took up smoking.
As God observed the parade of time, Satan came to visit Him. "Where have you come from," asked the Lord.
"Oh, walking through the world," Lucifer answered. "And have you seen my servant Ted Bundy? He's up to three victims now, with more to come."
"Yes," He replied. "But those three, and those to follow, will be with Me while you will be stuck with Ted Bundy."
"Oh, yeah," sighed the prince of darkness. "Why are You so mean to me? And what in Your name are You watching?"
"The parade of time," the Almighty responded. "My children only see their present moments, and can remember their past. But only I can see the whole show at once."
"Well," the devil said slyly. "Have You seen Your servant Mirandah? She is righteous and good and all, but she is beginning to stray. I just convinced her to take up smoking. You know how her story ends, right?"
"Yes," He answered the devil. "And it will be very sad for her friends and family."
"Well," goaded Beelzebub, "Why don't You let her choose her fate?"
"Huh?"
"Why not -- and I mean just this once -- pick a parade route? Let's see if she can be as wise as she once was, before I darkened her spirit with my doctors' pessimism."
"Hmmmm," hmm'd God. "All righty, then. But I will offer only a small change. The rest of the parade must remain in order."
Mirandah had just finished off a bag of Oreos when an angel of the Lord appeared. "Fear not," spoke the angel, "for I come with tidings of a great opportunity. God is offering you a choice for your future."
"What?" gasped Mirandah. "What choice is this?"
"The Lord will send you a friend and mentor. She will inspire you to transcend this sadness. She will teach you that with faith, hope and perseverence, you can overcome the obstacles that you find in your way right now. She will be a dear friend whose companionship you will treasure. You will be truly amazed at how much the kindness and encouragement of this friend and mentor will change the path to your future.
"My, oh, my!" exclaimed Mirandah.
"However," continued the angel, "after 20 years of her friendship, her work will be completed and the Lord will take her away from you. This will make you very sad."
"And what is my other choice," Mirandah inquired.
"The path that you are on now," replied the angel.
"And where does this go?"
"That cannot be revealed to you."
"Does the new path that the Lord has offered last longer than this one?"
"That cannot be revealed to you."
"Does my new friend die in 20 years regardless of whether or not I choose the new path?"
"Yes."
Mirandah slumped down into her chair and looked at the crutches that leant against the end table. She imagined the future of the path that she was on and realized that it held little promise, less livliness and even less joy. "Yes," she said definitively. "I want my friend."
"You will be very sad when she is taken from you," the angel reminded her.
"Yes, but she will have been able to do good work and she then will live on through me," Mirandah insisted. "What she learned, she'll pass onto me and the things that she will pass onto me I can, in turn, pass onto others. And those things cannot be taken from us."
"You are a wise woman," the angel said departing.
"Drat," sighed satan. "Are You really gonna change the parade of time for her?"
"No," said God.
"Whaddaya mean?!"
"Mirandah chose the path that she was already on the whole time."
"But You said that her fate ended very sadly for her friends and family!"
"That's true of all who are loved."
"But, but.... that means that my whole challenge was..."
"Yep," giggled the Lord, "You're no mystery to Me, either."
"Damn!"
"I already did..."
So anyway, Bossman gave me the old Mac that he wasn't going to use anymore, but he wanted to be sure that all of the business and customer related files were expunged before it left the shop. Neither one of us was certain that we got 'em all so he was a bit nervous about me going on line with it.
The Mac is about eleven years old and so full of crud that there wasn't enough space available to do a simple defrag. Many programs would have to go and -- since Bossman threw away the original install disk -- a reformat would be a time-consuming endeavor. But, hey, it's a computer.
Then, last Friday, ol' pal Tex came by and offered his old shop computer -- an HP Pavilion 513c. It's only 3-1/2 years old, has lots of available space on the 30+ gig hard drive and has a monitor that looks gorgeous. (My old monitor was on it's last legs and wouldn't display colors correctly. The blue ribbon on my side bar was black, f'rinstance.)
Tex warned me that there was probably alot of adware and spyware on the machine, so one of the first things I'd do when I got online would be to go to syware guide and remove whatever might be there. There were odd windows that pop up when the machine is booted up, and some humungus rogue AOL processes running in the background that slowed everything down and would eventually bring it to a halt until I went into the task manager and ended the tasks. (@#$% AOL!) Once I got online I was going to google for info on how to get rid of these quirks.
I shut down my old computer and hooked up the HP. Unfortunately, I couldn't get online! I installed the Juno software and could get and send email, but couldn't connect to Juno central computers. The modem would dial and get to the internet, but couldn't get into where the browser is. My old computer refused to boot up. I was, once again, broken down on the shoulder of the information superhighway.
Michele came to the rescue and we went through some steps to narrow down the problem. She concluded that my install disk was probably too old and that I'd need one that was designed to work with Windows XP, so she made a copy and overnightted it to me. Yay!
Unfortunately, the same problem occured -- couldn't connect to Juno's central computers to access the web. Not only that but installing the program brought up a window that said "you or a program is requesting a file from cnn.com, would you like to get it now?". I clicked Cancel, but it kept coming back, like, every 15 seconds. It would not go away! So I went for the nuclear option and did a complete System Recovery. Within an hour I was back on line!
I expected the System Recovery to act like a reformat and I'd lose the cool pictures Tex had in My Documents, and probably some programs that I wanted to keep. But, instead, it just kinda cleaned everything up, I guess. Once the recovery was complete the Documents were still there, and so was Juno. I simply went through the normal steps and got online. The wacky pop up windows and the AOL crap is gone gone gone.
So I went online and almost immediately started getting pop up warnings about how my system and registry has lots of errors and is very vulnerable. I guess the Recovery didn't fix everything. So I went to X-cleaner Spyware Guide and it found 14 (!) evil programs that needed to be removed. I was still getting the registry cleaner pop ups, like, one every two minutes. So I finally installed a few of the programs and they identified registry errors. One of 'em found 41 errors, another found over 300. But, in order to actually fix the errors I'd have to pay between $9.95 and $39.95. Nuts to that. But, the thing is, once I downloaded the progams the pop up warnings stopped. Yay!
So, and in conclusion, I think everything is somewhat okay now. I'm using Firefox as my browser thanks to a helpful link in Michele's sidebar, the monitor is beeeeyootiful, I've got more harddrive space than I'll ever need, 256 megs of RAM (my old 'puter only had 32), and, well, I'M BACK!!!
Now let's see if I can remember how to blog...