Super Bowl Pick.

Having no emotional connection with either team, I was in a quandary about who to pull for in tomorrow's Super Bowl. Everybody needs to pick somebody.

Using empirical research techniques, and scientific method, I.... oh hell... I just checked the rosters for former University of Michigan players. No contest, as it turns out. The Phoenix Cardinals have 5 former Wolverines, while the Steelers have only two, and considering the Cardinals are already the prohibitive underdog, the choice is easy. Go Cards! As a bonus, Alan Branch is from New Mexico.

And Go Blue! I'm sure no other University has, or maybe ever had, that many alums playing in a single Super Bowl!

New Math Geography.

Here's something to ponder.

Nearly every day, the twirling globe widget on the sidebar records a visitor from yet another country. It's now up to 229 countries. So, as I was changing the header, yet again, I wondered aloud to Margaret, "How many countries are there?" She said, "Good question, why don't you Google it". So I did.

195 is the answer. Hmmmm.

I think the discrepancy can be explained in the last paragraph:

"However...
Recognize that there are dozens of territories and colonies that are sometimes erroneously called "countries" but don't count at all - they're governed by other countries. Places commonly confused as being countries include Puerto Rico, Bermuda, Greenland, Palestine, Western Sahara, and even the components of the United Kingdom (such as Northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England - they're not fully independent countries, states, or nation-states)."

So, I'll be changing the header to better reflect the reality.
Unfortunately, I don't know all the countries and territories that are
represented there, as it only lists the 30 most popular. The rest are all
bundled under "Other countries". Whoever they are, 229 is still a lot!

Lest You Think I Hallucinate...

Occasionally, I come prepared.

Who is That Guy?

This has been driving me crazy.. ever since the first "McCain for President" TV ads started up here... (running incessantly about every 15 minutes). They always end up with this picture of some guy..

...supposedly this is John McCain. Does he look like this guy?

Now that looks like McCain.. (doing his best Pete Coors- well known right wing Nazi- impersonation; love the way the pocket flaps wave in the breeze!). Could it be that the first image has been manipulated to make him appear more... oh, I don't know... younger? Presidential? ...instead of like the old guy in your neighborhood who stands in the yard in his bathrobe, shaking his fist at all the cars, and yelling at them to "slow down!.. whippersnappers!" Hey, it works for all the fashion magazines.

With "Friends" (of the planet) Like This, Who Needs Enemies?

There are times I'm really glad we don't have satellite, or cable TV access. This is apparently one of those times.

Any of you who may have viewed the Planet Green network in its brief life, let me know if it's really this bad...

"It's impossible to say whether the show's smug superiority is more grating than its anorexic thinness of content, but seeing them in combination may fill you with a kind of retributive rage. I for one want to go out and kill a dolphin."

"Grapes."

If you don't know who this is, I feel sorry for you. Got a rare chance on Saturday night to watch the Red Wings game on Hockey Night in Canada on CBC out of Windsor, Ontario. After the game we got to see this.. Is that a great suit, or what upholstery? And that's not all.

Uh... Thanks!.... Somebody.

I owe somebody a big "Thank You". Wish I knew who. This very outrageously colorful item of headgear arrived with our weekly mail forward.

Let me back up a bit and explain how our mail works.

Full time RVers, like Margaret and I, get to pick where we call "home". Pretty cool, huh? After a lot of research, back in 2003, we chose South Dakota. Thousands of other RVers call South Dakota home, as well, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because there is no state income tax, no vehicle inspections, and vehicle insurance rates that rank among the lowest in the nation.

Where there are incentives like that, there are numerous businesses that sprout up to cater to people like us. One such place, in the tiny town of Emery, SD, is My Home Address, Inc. When you send something to us by USPS, that's where it goes. It gives us a street address in the community that allows us to get driver's licenses, vehicle registration, voter registration and more. For all intents and purposes, were South Dakotans! Unlike many of the people who use this service, we actually stop in from time to time and pick up our mail in person. That lets us go to the bargain hot lunch at the Senior Center, and meet and chat with our "neighbors".

Usually once a week we call Ron at My Home Address and tell him where we'd like that week's mail sent. And that's where we came in...

Last weeks mail delivery came in two packages.. one Priority Mail envelope, containing all the bills, and checks, and magazines, and other flat stuff. and a small box. The box had the hat, in a plastic bag, and nothing else. No shipping notice, no notes. Just the hat.

The folks at My Home Address had to obliterate the original address and return address before they put their address label on it, so the original return address is mostly unreadable. I can make out the last three letters on the first line: "son", (maybe "sson"), and the last digit of the zip is "5" (maybe "45", maybe not).

So there it is... somebody knows about my checkered military past, and sent an appropriate gift. If someone doesn't fess up here, it will forever remain a mystery. But thanks... whoever you are. I wore it at the MGA trial this past weekend.

Bone Appetít

We having Chow for dinner?

Interesting thread floating around the portion of the blogosphere that I hang around in... dog for dinner. Read Patrick's interesting piece here, and Steve Bodio's here. Further links to related posts and articles at the respective blogs.

Save me the tenderloin!

Whats the Matter With Kansas?

Hey, we're back. Miss us?

We've been on the move for the last week or so.. from Oklahoma to Kansas to Michigan. Kansas was our stop last weekend for an AKC trial outside of Wichita... which leads us to the title of this post. And no, I'm not talking about Thomas Frank's excellent book by the same name, wherein he investigates why hundreds of thousands of poor Kansans voted against their own economic self interest in the 2004 elections. (Hint: they drank the Bush KoolAid).

No, I'm talking about our own wacky experiences in Kansas. First, we stopped in the brand new Wichita World Market... where we've found a wine we really like. Once in the store, I discovered we weren't going to be there for very long. No wine and beer section! What the hell is this? When leaving, one of the employees asked if we found everything OK... that's all the invitation I needed. Like she was prescient, she said, "Ah, the liquor?... thank you, Kansas". I don't understand what convoluted statutes allow Sam's Club to have a complete liquor store attached to their building, and forbids World Market from selling wine and beer. We never did get any wine.


Then, as we were leaving the state on Sunday, we witnessed a phenomenon we saw a couple of years ago: Every Spring, Kansans set themselves on fire.

They have their reasons. Good ones it turns out, as explained at the link. It's just bizarre to drive past mile after mile of smoldering grasslands. The smell and the haze aren't all that pleasant, but they're working on that.



And then there's "Pastor" Fred Phelps in Topeka. Actually, God hates you, Fred.


Now, I don't want to leave the impression that all is bad and bleak in Kansas. Saturday night we were invited out to dinner at the Kabob House restaurant on Wichita's west side. An intimate (read: small) place, featuring Turkish and Mediterranean cuisine. This was clearly a winner. I had the "Donor Alexander Kabob".... grilled, seasoned lamb, covered with a tomato-butter sauce, together with rice and bulgar. It was sooooo good. Finished up with a delicious Turkis coffee.


Now we're back in Michigan... I'm so glad we weren't still in Kansas when Kansas University won whatever meaningless sports tournament we watched on TV last night. We might have gotten trampled by the celebratory run on the campus malt shops. "Rock. Chalk. Jayhawk." What the hell does that mean? (Can you tell my money was on Memphis?).


Michigan. Snow in the forecast for the weekend. Figures.

Not With a Bang, but a Whimper

Brian at MGoBlog has all the detailed analysis anyone could possibly need on the Pryor commitment earlier today.

Just as a side note... We're pretty sure we know where he's going, but are we really sure he knows where he's going... in his loaner Corvette?

"If everyone's here," he said, "University of Ohio State."

That's a MAC school, isn't it?

Well.... if he takes too long to figure out the name of the school, they'll just take the 'vette away and give it back to Maurice Clarett.

Leave it to the Finns & Russians...

...to do Southern Rock right! Todd, this is for you ;-P



HT Steve Bodio, and/or whoever sent it to him, with info on the band at the link.

You Want Fries With That?

How about a feather and a barf bag... You can't beat this meat. Hope they make it... Detroit needs some favorable press =)

Whoa!

Blogger's gone crazy! Over the last hour the Feedjit Live Traffic counter, and the SiteMeter have been rolling up numbers like this was the Daily Kos , or FARK, or... or... the Barack Obama for President blog, or something. It's like dozens (or more, it doesn't look like it's let up yet) of people all around the world hit the "Next Blog" radio button that sits onobtrusivly at the very top of the page in the Blogger Nav Bar at the same time, and they all came up, "Hare-Brained Express Tour 2008".

If you're one of those people, leave a comment, and let me know how you really came to be here. And thanks for helping my visitor count!

"I Don't Know Art.. But I Know What I Like"

..and this isn't it. And actually, I do know art. Mojo Nixon on Sirius Satellite Radio's Outlaw Country loved the story, though.

The Dark Side.

Absolutely last word on the Subpar Super Bowl... The Nueva York Giants were the recipients of some of the greatest luck in the history of sport. Or was it luck? Maybe there were dark forces at work that we can only wonder at, or dream of.

This was the kind of "luck" that Notre Dame used to have before their god deserted them after the hiring of Charlie Weis. There must be supernatural forces in play here... but not benign forces. These are dark forces. These are Faustian- Robert Johnson down-to-the-crossroads kind of sinister forces. I'm convinced of it. What other explanation could there be for this...


So enjoy your brief notoriety, Eli. Down the road, the piper will still have to be paid.

Damn... I despise that whole hillbilly family ;^)

Life Comes At You Fast...

..at least here in New Mexico. And I like fast stuff, so was enthralled by this news of a new "land speed record" out of Holloman Air Force Base. (and not just because the puppy's name is mentioned in the article!)

No indication if Amtrak is looking into the technology for getting the trains to run on time.

What Bulgarians Want.

Had our first visitor from Bulgaria yesterday. One of the fun features of SiteMeter is the ability to glean a lot of information from the visitors to the blog. This would include the search words they used on Google to end up with the old Hare-Brained Express 2008 on their search results.

I don't know what's more disturbing.. the search, or the fact that we had a post that was, at least on the surface, relevant.

I'm going to go out on a limb, and say this visitor is an old Soviet Bloc female Bulgarian Olympic weightlifter.

T-Rex vs. Blind Faith

So, we managed to extricate ourselves from the trial site last Sunday while there was still a lot of daylight left. That gave us our opportunity to spend the night at the very nice campground of the Dinosaur Valley State Park. As a bonus, there were only 3 other campers in the entire park, so we were able to spread out considerably.

We got hooked up, fed the dogs, and went back into Glen Rose for a damn good Italian dinner at Juliany's. (No review links or web page). Second time we've eaten there, and it was just as good this time as the first.

Monday morning we were able to hit a part of the park's extensive hiking trail system. Extensive enough to have a lot of back country camping locations. Our objective, however, was to follow the trail along the river to see the dinosaur tracks, left in the sand over a hundred million years ago, during the Cretaceous Period. The tracks were left by the two critters below,

one vegetarian, one meat eater. The tracks can be seen clearly in the below image, and also in more detail if you click on the new slide show on the sidebar. There's something just really cool about being able to "time travel" like this.

We spent a couple of hours on the trail, ending up at the two models (see the slide show), before returning to the Express to pack up and get out before the very generous 2PM check out time.

As we left the park, we drove by a neighboring enterprise:

The cleverly named, "Creation Evidence Museum". Yin and Yang? Fact and Fantasy? Interesting juxtaposition. We certainly didn't have the time to go in and visit, and I would have most certainly gotten us tossed out if we did. I expect we'd see a model of Fred Flintstone and his pet, Dino. Overall, it appeared pretty low budget. A bigger-budget, much more subversive version is in operation in Kentucky.
Not to worry, though. Look at those teeth. My T-Rex can shred their Dog-ma.

Oregon: The New Georgia.

I didn't think it was possible to be this drunk without being dead. As the story notes, this is the second time in recent months in Oregon for record level plastered women. Gotta be all that rain and snow.

Britney!

Who cares? Really.
If you got here because you searched "Britney"... get a life.