Fact: When overheated, Teflon pans can emit toxic fumes that are lethal to birds.
Fact: The temperature at which the Teflon will release these fumes is 536 F.
Fact: That's a lot of overheating.

Yes, I own a bird. Yes, I still cook with Teflon. I'm aware of the danger, but I'm also aware of how to avoid it- therefore, I'm not terribly worried about inadvertently killing my bird. Maybe this makes me a terrible pet owner, but honest to god, I'm not in the habit of letting random pans overheat, on my stove. I have never actually let a pan overheat, mostly because I'm obsessive/compulsive when it comes to cooking. No pots or pans are ever left unattended for any length of time. The only thing that gets left on the stove that I do not constantly hover over until it's finished cooking is my stock pot when I'm making soup, and that contains absolutely no Teflon. (and the burner is always on simmer, never higher than that)

I honestly don't understand people who pitch every pan in the house that might contain a trace of Teflon. Call me crazy, but it's almost like they're admitting that they're completely incapable of being careful.

"Hello, I'm a dumbass, and if left to my own devices, I will surely kill my bird with my own stupidity."

Yes, there's a thing called simple human error. Mistakes can happen. But eradicating every trace of Teflon from your home? Well, first of all, I doubt that the people screaming the loudest that THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY FOR THE SURVIVAL OF YOUR BIRD are actually *doing* this. There's Teflon in almost every oven. The drip pans on your stove are made of Teflon. Obviously, both of these things are capable of overheating. But all we hear about is how it's vital to replace your pots and pans with stainless steel, enamel, or cast iron. Because if the pots and pans are replaced, the drip pans and the oven will magically not cause any problems!

And don't forget the fact that butter, cooking spray, and oil- if overheated- will emit toxic fumes capable of killing your bird just as quickly as Teflon fumes.

I'm all for keeping my pets safe. I'm also all for taking some personal responsibility for your actions.

"My grandmother left a pan on the stove all day, and her birds both died! Oh, it was so sad!"

First of all, what was the old bat doing, leaving a pan on the stove ALL DAY LONG?? And while it's sad that her birds died, she's goddamn lucky that she didn't burn her entire house down. See, people- there are dangers involved with cooking that extend BEYOND the safety of our little feathery friends. If you cannot remember to take a pan off the stove, or you are incapable of making sure it doesn't overheat...then maybe you shouldn't be setting foot in your kitchen, ever again.

"What if there's an emergency in the other room! What if there's an earthquake!"

Ummm...ever heard of turning the stove off? Really, it only takes a second! You just reach over, and turn the knob. Then you can scamper off to see to your emergency, or...do whatever you do in case of an earthquake.

I just have no patience for people who cannot even *try* to be responsible for their actions.

If that wasn't already glaringly obvious.

This is not going to be a long or particularly coherent entry, because I have felt like ass all day long and I seem to have no attention span to speak of today.

Now then.

I have an original character named Zane who has appeared in a few of my short stories. Originally, he was created in about ten minutes to be a roleplaying character, back when I was still on AOL. Melissa had "The Artist", and I had Zane. We thought it would be interesting if they bumped into each other.

But of course, this was roleplay...and nothing happened exactly the way we thought it should.

After that, he made the occasional appearance in a few short stories, but I slowly got away from RP. Zane languished as Real Life sort of snuck up on me, and totally destroyed my desire to write. But then, along came stef and The Block, and Zane was brought out of retirment and into a modern day RP.

He's not a nice guy. He enjoys hurting people, and his weapon of choice has always been a harpy blade.

Fast forward to this summer, when Shawna sent me a birthday present. Keep in mind, this was after months of tormenting me with hints and clues of what it might be. (One that still sticks out in my mind is "It's smaller than a breadbox...") I was, of course, beside myself with anticipation. I have a love-hate relationship with surprises, and this one was *really* killing me. Finally, the package arrives, I rip it open...and what do I find, waiting for me?

My very own harpy. (Ignore the horrible quality of the photo, my camera sucks)

This is, of course, both wonderful and dangerous at the same time. I'm a known clutz, for one thing- and in record time, I proved to everyone who knows me that sending me an exceedingly sharp birthday present might not be a good idea...although, I'm pleased to say, I seem to have overcome my clumsiness for the time being, because I did not lose any fingers in the attempt to take this picture! *feels proud*

This is, by far, the single coolest birthday present I've ever gotten.

Say hello to Camilla. She is a lutino cockatiel, roughly 15 months old, who came to live with me last July.

Her hobbies include (but are not limited to): Viciously and vindictively attacking her toys when they dare to brush against her, pooping on food that she finds offensive in an attempt to Send Me a Message, falling off of her perches while making Bird Eyes at me, eating, eating, eating, did I mention eating? Splashing around in her water dish, screaching in my ear whilst sitting on my shoulder, yelling her head off every time the Enzyte (For Natural Male Enhancement™) commercial comes on television, and playing the whistling game with me.

Because she was kept in very close proximity with a blue and gold macaw, an amazon, and a sun conure, she is *incredibly* loud when she wants to be, and seems to have no clue that, as a female cockatiel, she should not be interested in vocalizing very much. She whistles constantly. She can wolf-whistle like a pro, and seems to enjoy making up variations on that theme, especially when I'm involved with talking to someone on the telephone. She seems to get incredibly miffed if she is not included in the conversation in *some* way. There have even been a few times (2, to be exact) where it sounded suspiciously like she was trying to say a *word*.

She didn't come from a very good breeder, those seem to be in very short supply in my area. She has the notorious "lutino bald spot", which means the breeder probably bred two lutinos together instead of breeding a lutino with a grey (or other mutation). She was terrified of hands when I got her, but slowly she's figuring out that she likes it when I rub her chest. She still isn't terribly fond of head-scritches, but she likes to cuddle up on my chest, with her face shoved as close as mine as she can manage. The breeder had her on an all-seed diet, but she's slowly getting used to new things. Currently, her favorite thing in the world seems to be popcorn. She also went nuts for a batch of birdy bread I baked for her, back around Christmas. (jiffy corn muffin mix, corn, peas, carrots, a hardboiled egg + shell, and some seed) Because of this, I'm slaving away tonight making up a new batch. I get such a kick out of the fact that she attacks it with such *glee*, even though she turns her nose up at most fresh veggies.

Tonight's recipe:

1/2 cup fresh peas
1/2 cup fresh green beans
1/4 cup sweet corn
1/4 cup sweet potato
1 hardboiled egg + shell
1/4 cup of seed mix
1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix
1 egg
1/3 cup of water

All veggies and the egg are pureed in the food processor and then added with the water and the second egg to the corn muffin mix, mixed, and baked till golden. This stuff freezes *really* well. I make small muffins, freeze them in packs of four, and then every day, I give her half in the morning, and half in the evening, before bed.

Right now, she *knows* what I'm doing. Or thinks she does, at least. Every time she hears the microwave beep, she assumes it means popcorn. For her, of course. Also, she assumes popcorn is on the way when my coffee maker beeps. Now, she's also progressed to assuming that the sound of the food processor also means good food for her, so she's up on her rope perch, eyeing me impatiently. Because as of yet, I haven't brought anything *good* back, with me.

She has absolutely no patience. But since I don't either, it works out rather well.

This summer, I'm totally looking into getting a male. I am not truly happy unless the house is completely chaotic, and...we're getting there!

If you have any positive thoughts/energy/good vibes to spare, please send 'em mom's way this week. She's facing some potentially nasty medical stuff, and any and all help in bringing about the best prognosis possible would be much, much appreciated.

Thanks.

People tell me I shouldn't bother, that you've made your choice and I should respect that. Have the decency to move on quietly and without much fanfare. I'd like to think I've done that, but it doesn't stop the thoughts that pop into my head at random times...usually right before I fall asleep at night.

Or like now.

Are you happy? Do you think about us at all? Do you think about the destruction you left behind?

It doesn't matter. People make choices. People break promises. People lie through their teeth and don't ever realize that someone else might see that they *are*, indeed, lying.

He knew. He knew for a long time before I even realized he had the first clue that something was not right where you were concerned. It used to make me so goddamn angry that you could jerk him around like that. That you would manipulate him, like he was some sort of puppet. I didn't give him enough credit, I guess- because imagine my surprise when I finally snapped and ranted about all of the lies, and he sat back with a sad smile on his face and said "I know."

He didn't care any more. All the times you assumed he didn't care, and there I was, going to bat for you, insisting that he loved you more than anything. I was stupid. I didn't see it. But I understand *why* he didn't care any more. He couldn't take it any more, always feeling like a non-entity. Always feeling like he didn't matter at all. Like he was invisible.

I try to make him feel like he matters. I try to listen to him, even when he doesn't have anything to say besides "I'm tired, It's been a long day." It doesn't bother me, the way it used to bother you, when he slips up and repeats himself. Or maybe doesn't know quite what to say. You know *why* it doesn't bother me? Because he's a wonderful man, with a huge heart. I didn't know that people like him *existed* before I met you. It's ironic, isn't it? I didn't compete with you for his attention. I didn't steal him from you, like so many people tried to insinuate that I would. You gave him to me. You *gave* him to me.

I should thank you for that, but I'm too angry. You hurt him. Not by leaving- no, like I said, by the time you left, he was completely burned out and just didn't *care* any more. You hurt him with all of your lies. You hurt him by assuming that he was too stupid to see the truth.

Did you hurt *me*? I wish I could sit back and say no. I *can* say that I expected this to happen, all along. I *can* say that the first thing I felt on realizing that you were gone for good is *relief*. But I can't say it didn't hurt. Still does, actually, at weird times. Always when I least expect it. Always when I think you're not on my mind any more. Something will happen, and I'll get the urge to tell you about it, because it's something that only *you* would understand. It takes me a while, sometimes, to realize you're not going to re-appear in a week or a month with some tragic story excusing your absense.

It's funny, though, because it doesn't always feel like you're gone. Sometimes I feel like you're still with me, and that just...pisses me off more than you can imagine. It makes me happy, too- good luck figuring that out. I never claimed to make sense. I never claimed to be rational.

I loved you. I would have done anything for you. It wasn't enough. And that's funny, too, because I always knew it wasn't enough. Think of all of the times I came running to you, an emotional wreck, because of this *feeling*...this certainty...that you needed more. You would reassure me, use all sorts of pretty words that I knew at the time were completely meaningless. We play these silly games with ourselves when there's something right in front of us that we want to believe more than anything else. More than our common sense.

He told our friends that if you ever come back, they're not supposed to let you get ahold of me. As far as you're concerned, both of us are gone forever. See, he's funny that way. He gets protective as shit over people he cares about. I'm funny that way, too.

I don't ever want to hurt him the way that you did. He deserves better than that. He tells me that I do, too...but I'm not so sure. See, I'm not stupid. I know this is karma, because I've treated people I cared about *very* badly. I've thought of myself before them, quieted my conscience with whispers of "this is what I need to do, for my own good." "this is what I need to do, to be happy." It's all bullshit, of course. I can see *now* that I should have done all sorts of things differently.

I can't change the past, but I can stop myself from repeating the same mistakes in the future.

I can take a look at *you*, and how this ended...and resolve to never treat another person how you treated the two of us. I'm sure I'll still fuck up, and make mistakes...but I can *try* to be a better person.

A part of me will always love you. A part of me will never forget how *good* things were. And a part of me will never stop missing you. But I've learned it's not the end of the world. Things are *good*, now. I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time.

I hope you are, too.

If enacted, the Constitution Restoration Act will effectively transform the United States into a theocracy, where the arbitrary dictates of a "higher power" can override law.

By Chris Floyd
Published: March 12, 2004

One of the sticking points in crafting the just-signed "interim constitution" of the Pentagon cash cow formerly known as Iraq was the question of acknowledging Islam as the fundamental source of law. After much wrangling, a fudge was worked out that cites the Koran as a fundamental source of legal authority, with the proviso that no law can be passed that conflicts with Islam.

We in the enlightened West smile at such theocratic quibbling, of course: Imagine, national leaders insisting that a modern state be governed solely by divine authority! Governments guaranteeing the right of religious extremists to impose their views on society! What next -- debates about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin? Oh, those poor, ignorant barbarians in Babylon!

Well, wipe that smile off your face. For even now, the ignorant barbarians in Washington are pushing a law through Congress that would "acknowledge God as the sovereign source of law, liberty [and] government" in the United States. What's more, it would forbid all legal challenges to government officials who use the power of the state to enforce their own view of "God's sovereign authority." Any judge who dared even hear such a challenge could be removed from office.

The "Constitution Restoration Act of 2004" is no joke; it was introduced last month by some of the Bush Regime's most powerful Congressional sycophants. If enacted, it will effectively transform the American republic into a theocracy, where the arbitrary dictates of a "higher power" -- as interpreted by a judge, policeman, bureaucrat or president -- can override the rule of law.

The Act -- drafted by a minion of television evangelist Pat Robertson -- is the fruit of decades of work by a group of extremists known broadly as "Dominionists." Their openly expressed aim is to establish "biblical rule" over every aspect of society -- placing "the state, the school, the arts and sciences, law, economics, and every other sphere under Christ the King." Or as Attorney General John Ashcroft -- the nation's chief law enforcement officer -- has often proclaimed: "America has no king but Jesus!"

According to Dominionist literature, "biblical rule" means execution -- preferably by stoning -- of homosexuals and other "revelers in licentiousness"; massive tax cuts for the rich (because "wealth is a mark of God's favor"); the elimination of government programs to alleviate poverty and sickness (because these depend on "confiscation of wealth"); and enslavement for debtors. No legal challenges to "God's order" will be allowed. And because this order is divinely ordained, the "elect" can use any means necessary to establish it, including deception, subversion, even violence. As Robertson himself adjures the faithful: "Zealous men force their way in."

Again, this is no tiny band of cranks meeting in some basement in Alabama, as recent reports by investigators Karen Yurica and David Neiwert make clear. The Dominionists are bankrolled and directed by deep-pocketed, well-connected business moguls and political operatives who have engineered a takeover of the Republican Party and are now at the heart of the U.S. government. They've made common cause with the "American Empire" faction -- Cheney, Rumsfeld, the neo-conservatives -- who seek "full-spectrum dominance" over the globe. The Dominionists provide money and domestic political muscle for the Dominators' imperial ambitions; in return, the Dominators provide a practical vehicle -- overwhelming military might and state power -- for making the Dominionists' dreams a reality.

The Dominionist movement was founded by the late R.J. Rushdoony, a busy beaver who also co-founded the Council for National Policy. The CNP is the politburo of the American conservative movement, filled with top-rank political and business leaders who set the national agenda for the vast echo chamber of right-wing foundations, publishers, media networks and universities that have schooled a whole generation in obscurantist bile -- just as the extremist Wahabbi religious schools funded by Saudi billionaires have poisoned the Islamic world with hatred and ignorance.

One of the chief moneybags behind the rise of Dominionism was tycoon Harold Ahmanson, Rushdoony's protege and fellow CNP member. In addition to establishing theocracy in America, Ahmanson has another abiding interest: computerized voting machines. As reported here last year, Ahmanson, a fervent Bush backer, was instrumental in establishing two of the Republican-controlled companies now rushing to install their highly hackable machines -- with untraceable, unrecountable electronic ballots -- across the country in time for the November election.

The Dominionists also have strong backing on the Supreme Court, Yurica notes. Justice Antonin Scalia, author of the unconstitutional ruling that gave Bush the presidency, declared in the theological journal First Things that the state derives its moral authority from God, not the "consent of the governed," as that old licentious reveler Thomas Jefferson held in the Declaration of Independence. No, government "is the 'minister of God' with powers to 'revenge,' to 'execute wrath,' including even wrath by the sword," Scalia wrote. He railed against the "tendency of democracy to obscure the divine authority behind government."

Meanwhile, the tools of dominion keep expanding. Just days after the Congressional Bushists launched their theocratic missile, General Ralph Eberhart, head of America's first domestic military command, said the Regime must now bring the experience learned on foreign battlefields to the "Homeland" itself, including the integration of police, military and intelligence forces, "wide-area surveillance of the United States" and "urban warfare tactics," GovExec.com reports.

Put this juggernaut at the service of democracy-hating extremists with no legal restraints on their enforcement of "God's sovereign authority" -- plus a proven track record of subverting the law to gain political power -- and what would you have? A mullah state? A military theocracy?

Or should we just call it "a second term"?

--------

source

I have spent the entire day cleaning and re-arranging STUFF. It has been one of the most exhausting days in history. (Which is why I'm waiting for coffee, right now)

And now, for your viewing pleasure? More desk pics!

Looking sorta respectable

Spongebob trick-or-treat.....*thing* (which is full of candy), subwoofer, Tiko the Attack Iguana, tiny fan, router from hell, and the stereo.

Right next to the desk, we have More Important Things! Television, DVD player, assorted DVD's, and other crap.

Books, CD's, cigarettes, flashlight, pens, notebooks, remotes, and altoids.

Photoshop book, speakers, Gollum statue, Sephiroth, Ron Weasley, Vivi, Spongebob, and Ducks of Good Luck.

------------
Randomness:
------------

New project, Soul Perversion, is still in the works. I'm working on a new layout, more new characters are being added as we speak, and I'm already 30,000 words into the first story that will be going up there. I *will* write a second story as well, before the whole thing is made public- because lord only knows how long it'll take me to add *more* content.

It's all in my head. I just have to motivate myself and get them *from* my head, into story form.

------------

You'll also be seeing a few mini character playlists popping up here from time to time. Why? Because it's fun, and it keeps me out of trouble. I need no other reason than that.

------------

I'm tired. It's been a long day. But productive, at least!

I am *not* a Miyavi fan. That said, this song is growing on me even more than Ashita, Genki ni Naare. (Even though every time I hear the latter, I think of the video- which has that endearing "Let's get Miyavi drunk and leave him in a field with a cardboard box, a toy piano, a peace flag, and a pinwheel!" vibe going for it) The music is catchy, and there's that sexy little exhale at the beginning that makes me like it whether I want to or not, because...well, c'mon. Sexy exhale! I am not made of stone, even if I *would* like to strangle the body doing the exhaling sometimes.

(Random note: New music up. Selections from Yasunori Mitsuda)

Had an absolutely brilliant day, even if it did happen to be Friday the 13th. Listened to music, hung out online since the DSL was finally working again, watched MoonChild and made up my own subtitles to go along with the movie. Tortured Tendai with my running commentary on gangster!gackt and vampire!hyde. Laughed myself nearly sick, got to see the Big Guy for a little while, and just generally had a wonderful time.

Now? I'm just all relaxed and happy, thinking over various and sundry new (and old) character ideas, smoking too much, and trying to get the Miyavi crack out of my head.

I have more to say, I'm just not in the mood to take the time to say it. Later, maybe.

I've gotten started on updating the linkage. Unfortunately, if you're using Mozilla- the new navigation bar isn't going to show up for you. This does not make me happy, and I'm looking for a solution. If I don't find one, you're going to have to suffer. (Like anyone cares what I link, anyway)

Now, to kick things off properly? Some rather pointless babbling.

So. I spent most of yesterday and *all* of last night working on downloading Ghost of the Robot - Mad Brilliant. For anyone who doesn't know, that's the band fronted by James Marsters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame. What possessed me, you ask? Well, how could I resist? For months I've been hearing rabid fangirls spout off about how utterly craptastic the music is. I've also heard just as many rabid fangirls spout off about how godlike and talented James is. I just had to hear it for myself.

So, I struggle. Curse BT every time the connection dies. Watch as it sits idle for hours, and then picks up out of the blue with a burst of amazing speed. On and on, until I got up this morning (er, afternoon?) to find it finished. The house is quiet, I sit down with my coffee eagerly anticipating what I'm about to find. I pull up winamp, load the album...

And what greets me? Utter crap. This goes beyond being merely "bad". This is embarrassing. Honest to god, it is the single worst bit of "music" I've ever forced myself to listen to, and all things considered? That's really saying something.

I swear to god, James is tonedeaf. You just...*know* there's a problem when you're suddenly realizing that this guy makes Britney Spears look talented.

In short? Unless you enjoy punishing your eardrums, avoid Ghost of the Robot at all costs. (Sorry, James. In the future? You might want to try "singing" without the British accent. Because, you know what? Dude, you don't really have one!)

In other news, I think I'm getting a cold. Must hunt down some tea, asap.

And also, since I have so much bandwidth to burn through each month, I've decided to put up a few MP3's whenever the mood strikes. Right now, we have a few selections from FF VII, FF VIII, and FF IX- so if you want 'em, grab 'em...because lord knows how long they'll stay. The selections will change whenever I'm in the mood to change 'em, and who knows what you might find here the next time you peek in.

The links section is currently down until I have time to properly update it, but hopefully I'll get around to tackling that in a few days.

Have fun!

**clicky**

It sounds laughable, but it's not a joke. Some of our self-appointed moral leaders are defending the morally indefensible by annexing Abu Ghraib as another front in America's election-year culture war. Charles Colson, the Watergate felon turned celebrity preacher, told a group of pastors convened by the Family Research Council that the prison guards had been corrupted by "a steady diet of MTV and pornography." The Concerned Women for America site posted a screed by Robert Knight, of the Culture and Family Institute, calling the Abu Ghraib scandal the " 'Perfect Storm' of American cultural depravity," in which porn, especially gay porn, gave soldiers "the idea to engage in sadomasochistic activity and to videotape it in voyeuristic fashion." (His chosen prophylactics to avert future Abu Ghraibs include abolishing sex education, outlawing same-sex marriage and banishing Howard Stern.) The vice president of the Heritage Foundation, Rebecca Hagelin, found a link between the prison scandal and how "our country permits Hollywood to put almost anything in a movie and still call it PG-13."

Fucking amazing.

One of these days, I'll have something to say again. A lot of somethings, I think.