I just found out that Ted, my grandmother’s housemate for the last 25 years or so, passed away last night at 6pm. He’ll be missed a great deal… he was a wonderful guy, full of knowledge, good vibes and kindness. I am glad that he made it for as long as he did. I’m surprised that it hit me so hard as it was fairly expected to happen soon, but the reality of it is a blow. He was more a grandfather and mentor than the ones related by blood were.(They both passed away early on in my life.) He’s part of why I got into the computer / tech field in the first place.
Tag Archives: death
6323 – First Card of the Season!
Newt and I got a lovely Christmas card from christin and head! Thank you!
It’s coming down with thick, heavy drops of rain, so holiday shopping tonight is out. I feel a nap with the Newtster coming on.
Just got off of the phone with my brother, who is sounding really good.. just went through a major flu-bug, and he dried out his system during that time. I hope he bounces back strong and healthy.
My grandmother is improving. had a serious blood infection and pneumonia, but no brain damage and even no stroke. Bottom line is that she’s improving and the infection is gone… so that’s one less worry.
Rhode Island was giving hell to Newbie and CS again today… I think that if it keeps up, they both will walk before the month is through. I’d hate to see Newb go, especially, as we started there the same day, and have a sort of comeraderie, getting together at lunch and gabbing, etc. I’m beginning to wonder if someone dropped a house on RI’s sister.
Flash toons updated here and there – Making fiends #6 & Strongbad Email #91
An uncut, restored version of the original Godzilla will be hitting theaters soon. This is the Japanese original, sans the Raymond Burr inserts.
Pretty awesome… my brother and I went to see The Third Man a few years back, and the same distributor is u[ to their old tricks. More power to ’em!
Tori Amos journal sells for $10,000.
Rudolph: Behind the scenes.… explains Yukon Corneilious’s Pick-licking, among other tidbits.
I'd like to pull the book out of my mind and open it here.
Dream elements… crushing a can of black cherry soda that was still full on a hike… I dump out the sugar-water and flatten the can like a hockey-puck and slip it into my pocket for safekeeping. I’m walking through a rainforest, and there are 3-foot tall mechanical geese everywhere. They’re made of clear glass and when they sing exotic plant seeds and bulbs shoot from their mouths and burrow into whatever they land on … dirt, trees, rocks, water… One faces me, and I catch some seeds on my chest and arms… the seeds penetrate into my skin, but don’t bloom back afterwards. A huge flock of parrots flies over head and the sounds of their wings is almost deafening as they retreat from a gigantic inky-black cloud that is swirling behind them, slowly pincering in and engulfing them. The mechanical birds fly up and feed on the cloud, going from being transparent to a deep, opaque crow-black. It seems to make them heavier, as they stop flying, and instead glide slowly back to the ground, lined up in formation, no longer distributing plant life (or shooting me, either.) Rain starts falling from the now-clear sky, and the surrounding plants are growing so rapidly, it’s almost like I’m shrinking, instead. The scent of ozone fills the air, and mixes with some sort of heady, sweet smell, like honeysuckle and oranges. I notice that though a great amount of water is falling, I’m not getting wet, even though there’s no cover overhead…a drowsiness surrounds me and I wake up, pretty comfortable and refreshed.
Dang, this week just blew on by. I can hardly believe it’s Friday again.
Fantastic Kate Bush resources via nomi –
rare mp3s – http://www.norbry.net/kate-bush/mp3/
Kate photos as a little girl.. http://home.att.net/~james51453/index.htm
How to swear in 113 languages.
a year ago – istockphoto, dead links, Shitou Xiqian, smiled at, fortune cookie, walkerbot, Liver Eatin’ Johnson
2 years ago – hungrybaby, New Apes move lame, wiseacre, Champions stats for the Shadow, Dwayne Dibley?, Poul Anderson passes away, LJ moves in space,
3 years ago – Everway character- wanders the storm path
“My Angles Are Many/My Sides Are Not Few”. -Dodecahedron
Well, the new Ren & Stimpy was suckadelic. Adult Swim takes that prize home from now on, or until someone who I respect tells me that the new R&S is actually good again.
Battlestar Galactica is back. and… Starbuck is a girl? And no Egyptian helmets? I’m not sure how I feel about that! I’ve got to find a picture of a new cylon. The old ones were one my fave villain designs.
www.livejounral.com is evil! don’t go there! One little typo, and you get pooped on!
Strom Thurmond Dies at 100 archived
I call the cat Tiny, because he’s my Newt.
I slept really poorly last night, despite hitting the sack early. (or is it because?) I’m feeling very “heavy in the face”… puffy, I guess? I was quite groggy for about 10 minutes after getting up, and really didn’t get wakeful until after my shower.
Harrison Ford finger-pointy gallery.
A parody on the ending of every 80s movie ever made. 6 min.
via ben peek-
it looks like there is a ghostly procession of mourners, forever showing their devotion. (Mark Twain in the box)
“CASTRILLO DE MURCIA, Spain – A man dressed as the devil leaped over babies lying on mattresses on Sunday as the small Spanish town of Castrillo de Murcia held its traditional Corpus Christi celebrations.
While many people across Spain celebrate the Catholic festival with processions and mystery plays, this northern Spanish town has for centuries chosen to protect its young from evil spirits with this unusual ritual.
Dressed in a red and yellow costume, the man representing the devil was pursued around the town by a Catholic priest — leaping over the babies in his flight while the anxious parents stood nearby.
In all, he vaulted over around 20 mattresses each holding four or five babies.
It is believed that the devil, known as El Colacho, draws all the evil from the children and leaves them cleansed. Parents bring their children from all across the northern region of Burgos to participate in the ritual.”
They show close ups of the sausage people at the site. The Hot Dog shark reminds me of Turbo and Drunko, twin brother robots who fight alongside the bikini eating bees.
via seebelow – Steve Ditko’s Objectivist Comic Books
And like a real life Howard Roark from Rand’s The Fountainhead; who chose to work in a quarry rather than compromise his vision, Ditko simply walked away from Marvel.
So, um, does that mean Stan Lee is Peter Keating?
a year ago – walkies, 1800autopsy, poddish feelings, Captain Kirk’s chair auctioned, peg legs, signed lease.
two years ago – Noticing Newt’s getting to be so big (remember, I have a size 15 foot), got an email from Robin Tunkel, Evil News, horrible dream, Santie “quits” FMM, top 100 banned/challenged books of 1990-2000, why read poll, my free pc didn’t work out,
Protected: CRITTERS
A little Fort Lauderdale history..
The Killing of the Cooley Family
PLUS:
Fort Lauderdale’s first industry: How to prepare coontie starch
“Cooley was reported to be growing coontie (arrowroot), and he had a mill to make it into starch, the manufacture of which appears to have been the area’s first industry. By 1835, coontie starch was bringing eight cents a pound in northern markets.”
The following text is exactly as it appears in the original:
FROM THE CHARLESTON COURIER
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA OF FLORIDA — By Dr. Strobel.
When about half way between New river and the Miami, our water suddenly shoaled, and we were under the necessity of getting out, and dragging our canoe over. This place is called by the people the Dividers, the water south of it running towards the Miami, whilst that on the north empties itself at New river. It appeared to be nothing more than a sand bank running from east to west
As we approached New river, the land upon our right consisted of the same sandy pine barren as I have already described. The Indian arrow root, called coonte, is found here is great quantities. We landed, and collected several roots, which were very large, weighing several pounds. This is the Indian’s principal bread stuff. It is met with in most of the pine barrens in this section of Florida, but it grows in such profusion in this neighborhood, that they come from considerable distances to procure it. Mr. Cooley (whose wife and children were so inhumanly murdered by the Indians a short time since) was engaged in the manufacture of this article, and had brought it to great perfection. The following is the manner of preparing it: A sufficient number of roots being collected, they are peeled, washed, and grated, in the same manner as potatoes, and thrown into large tubs of water. After remaining in soak for a certain length of time, the water is stirred and strained: by this process it is greed of the feculent matter. The coarser portion, thus separated, may be given to hogs, whilst the finer portion, which passes through the sieve, is allowed to settle. The farina, which is almost insoluble in cold water, subsides at the bottom. The water is drawn off, and the yellow portions which remain on the top are removed. The white arrow root, which from its specific gravity, is found at the bottom, is collected, and repeatedly heated with fresh water, until it becomes perfectly pure and white, of a granular, glistening, crystalline appearance. I am inclined to think that , when thus prepared, it is very nearly, if not quite equal, to the Bermuda arrow root, not only as a starch, but also as an article of diet. And here I may as well mention the circumstances attending the murder of Mr. Cooley’s family, as they are calculated to illustrate the treachery of the Indian character. He had resided among them for many years, spoke their language well, and treated them with uniform kindness and hospitality. Indeed, such was his friendship for them that he named his sons after two of their chiefs. Standing in this relations, and confiding in their profession of friendship, which had led him into a fatal security, he left his home for a few days, and returned to find it desolate. His wife and children had been murdered, and the smouldering ruins of his house lay before him. It is a remarkable fact, that the villains who did this deed had not the hardihood to scalp the poor wife and her three innocent children. Was it the recollection of former friendship that induced them thus to spare? Or were they conscious that their own savage colleagues would have blushed for the chivalry of those warriors who could find no work more becoming their tomahawks and scalping knives than the cruel butchery of women and children? The unfortunate schoolmaster shared a different fate; to him they owned no obligation of friendship: he was a man, and, as such, capable of resistance; his scalp was, therefore, torn from him, and borne off as a testimony of their cruel and savage triumph.
It should be borne in mind that, in their devastation of his other property, Mr. Cooley’s manufactory was spared. This, no doubt, will be serviceable to them hereafter, in preparing their food. I have no pretensions of being a military man, but it appears to me that it would be well to place a sufficient body of troops between Cape Sable and New river, to cut off the supplies of the Indians from that quarter, and to prevent them from escaping into the everglades, from whence they may readily pass to the Florida Keys. If they once cut down into the everglades, they will scatter like a covey of partridges, and each one will have to be hunted up separately, which will be an interminable task.
Towards night we came up with several Indian hunters, who were lying around their fire. We went ashore, with the determination of joining them. On our approach, a dog sprung out, and uttered a noise between a yell and a bark, which echoed and re-echoes through the woods. In an instant the Indians were on their feet; but a whoop from JOHN soon brought them down upon their haunches. We went up and seated ourselves around the fire
They at first seemed to take no notice of me, as they sat on the opposite side of the fire, their dusky faces partly obscured by the current of smoke. Occasionally they eyed me sulkily and by stealth. A few words, chiefly monosyllables, passed between them and JOHN, but they did not enter into any length conversation. A silence of some minutes having elapsed, which induced me to believe that I was not a welcome guest, I concluded that something must be done to conciliate. I therefore told John to inform them that I had something to eat, and some fire-water, and that we must be good friends. This information acted upon them like a charm. They began to snuff the air like a parcel of hungry dogs, become more sociable and conciliatory, brought out some fresh venison, which they placed over the coals to broil, having first run a stick through it. To keep my word, I produced my cold ham, and biscuit, and gave each (they were in number three) about a gill of gin; the instantaneous effect of which astonished and alarmed me. It was almost miraculous: from being silent and demure, they became talkative and forward. They insisted upon having more whiskey, and endeavored to possess themselves of the bottle by force, and I was obliged to conceal it. They were now unable to repress their flow of spirits, and began to sing, and dance, and to make the more horrid faces, thrusting their tongues out of their mouths, and rolling their eyes in every direction. As they reeled, and danced, and yelled around the fire, throwing themselves into the most ludicrous attitudes, they resembled a parcel of infernal spirits, or the furies. This sport they continued until perfectly exhausted, when, one by one, they sank upon the ground, and fell into a sleep. I place my buffalo skin on the opposite side of the fire, covered my head with a cloak, and slept soundly until morning. The Indians were up betimes; they rose from their lairs, shook themselves, kindled up the fire, and ate a scanty meal. Upon the subsidence of the effect of the liquor, all their former reserve seemed to have returned. Having collected some coonte, they placed it along with their venison in their canoe, paddled rapidly up the everglades, and were soon out of sight. It being now time for me to think of returning, John and myself took the opposite direction, and paddled back for Cape Florida, and, as we had nothing to delay us, arrived at the Cape about 3 o’clock in the afternoon: there, according to agreement, I found Mr. Dubose’s boat in waiting for me. So that I was enabled to reach the Light-house about six o’clock in the evening.
Oh, man. I had a nightmare this morning about Newtie dying… and then read all about a bunch of humans and animals dying today. Three LJ entries, another person in Maryland shot…
I feel for anyone who loses a loved one or neighbor, regardless of how many legs they walk on. I had a giant taste of grief waking up this morning, and though it left quickly, it’s a thing that’s easily recalled.
I know that this sort of thing happens every day…but I don’t think about it daily. Who could, and be sensitive and thoughtful about the whole thing?
I only hope that when those that I love depart, they go knowing that they’re loved and will be remembered with good thoughts.
Tell someone that you care for how you feel today. Even if they know, I’m sure they won’t mind being reminded. I tell my sweetheart, my brother and Newt that I love them as often as I can.
Personal entry with the most empty eye-sockets and unusual headwear, ever!
Frightening dreams last night. Newton (as he was as a kitten… no more than three pounds, tops) was running around the house (not any one I’ve ever lived in) and there was some sort of party going on… lots of food being prepared. Newt’s bouncing around, being generally nosy, and he touches an oven surface burner-coil with his paw. He’s okay, so I sweep him up, take him to another room and make him stay there, because I don’t want a potentially dangerous repeat performance. Somehow or another, he gets out, goes back to the oven, and gets electrocuted…I don’t know why, but he turns into a stack of steaming multicolored post-it notes. This doesn’t seem absurd in the dream… I’m stricken with grief until I wake up, and Newt’s there, snuggled close. Strange mixed feelings in that split second, of relief and confusion…. I feel good now, because I know he’s safe, sound, and not an electrocuted stack of lightly-glued paper.
Is it wrong of me to delight in a Zombie Abe Lincoln shredding the inside of his crypt… clawing his way free, in search of brains to devour? I bet my sweetie’d be quite adept at kicking zombie booty…The shotgun would take a zombie head right off. Minimum fuss.
Rustboy looks wonderful. I really dig low-budget cool-as-heck animation stuff like that.
The weather has become quite a bit cooler, overnight. Low of 73F… nice! Looks like my connection dropped at about 1am this morning. I hope my beloved remembered her jacket today!
Something I’d have done as a kid…(who am I kidding… or I’d do now) JC Penney is marketing a modified Barbie Dream House as a GI Joe “Forward Command Post.” Little boys can play house, so long as the house in question is part of an overall street-by-street urban combat scenario. (from boing boing)
More doodles…
Disneyland: The Inside Poop – http://www.mouseplanet.com/potties/
“On the average, each guest visits the restroom three times.” So say the authors of this article at Mouseplanet detailing of the Happiest Potties on Earth, a site that review of all 52 public restrooms in the theme park And they even took pictures. Ewww….
Dr. John C. Lilly Dies at 86 – http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/aponline/20011002/aponline210347_000.htm
Dr. John Cunningham Lilly, who championed the study of interspecies communications during a career that probed the mystery of human consciousness, has died. Lilly invented the isolation tank, and pioneered communication with dolphins. He was 86.
ok…
where are foom23, saerlithe, & larisa?
{update} ok.. I got answers on the first two… how about #3?
Everyone who has ever fought a troll in D&D should pause a moment in memory.
Subject: [MASSFILC] Poul Anderson – November 25, 1926:August 1, 2001
“We brought Poul home from Alta Bates for terminal hospice care.
We gave him Jubilaeum Akvavit, Carlsberg Beer and Boeuf Tartare.
We gave him all our love. About midnight, he slipped away.”
signed Karen, Astrid and the rest of the Andersons.
Please pass this around verbatim and in toto.
Everyone is encouraged to repost without alteration.
Since many of us are fans of science fiction and fantasy, I thought that this would be of considerable interest to many of us here. Poul Anderson, long-time science fiction and fantasy writer, is in hospice care, and is expected to die very soon.
This from the bottom of Jerry Pournelle’s daily column at http://www.jerrypournelle.com/view/currentview.html#Tuesday
************
Friends —
It’s with a heavy heart that I write that my father, Poul Anderson is receiving hospice care at home and is not expected to live more than a week.
I know that some of you are fans of his work, and if you would care to send an e-mail direct to my parents house ( trigonier@earthlink.net ) expressing what it has meant to you, he would be very appreciative. I’ll be going down there myself tomorrow (they’re in the Bay Area), so will not be getting mail here for a few days.
Astrid Bear
Dream memory
I had a horrible dream last night. A freaky, nonsensical one. For some reason I was running in a underground tunnel system, with a long, deep channel of water runnning down the middle. I had a box of comic books, and some little figurines that were Newton and my sweetie (Not sure if they were really them, or just toys, but my dream mind said to protect them at any cost). There was a pack of wolves chasing me, and the tunnel was badly lit… All I could see was the wolves eyes in the dark, and echoing growls. To throw the animals off my scent, I urinated on some of the comic books… I remember taking a long time to weed out the ones I didn’t like as much… old Issues of Superboy, and tossed them down a side tunnel. I dove into the water, and swam upstream… the water seemed very clean, so I don’t think I was in a sewer. only one wolf followed me, and I savagely ripped out it’s throat when it clamped it’s mouth on my right arm. It was very vivid, and turns my stomach just thinking about it. The body I put in the water, and sent it floating downstream to the others, hoping it would make them slow down, and possibly eat him. I waded out of the water, figurines still in hand, and bright lights and a klaxon alarm went off… I began running again…Newton was on my shoulder, wearing a diving mask and a snorkel.
Then I woke up, heart racing, and in a sweat.
Yuck.
thank you so much
she was of great help to nosey me here
and for leading me to the forensic entomology site – http://www.uio.no/~mostarke/forens_ent/introduction.shtml
[edit, in 2004]
or try
http://web.archive.org/web/20040408083218/http://folk.uio.no/mostarke/forens_ent/introduction.shtml