Articles like this one keep me infuriated regarding global warming/climate change. In the article, which isn’t even about global warming/climate change, a team of hurricane forecasters is basically characterized as irresponsible for predicting a year’s hurricane activity as much as six months in advance. But the same type of people chiding the hurricane team for making unfounded predictions and being wrong for several years in a row — even after adjusting forecasts in mid-season — are telling us what the planet’s climate is going to be like in 50 years, and they say the debate regarding their predictions is over, they are right, and that’s that. What the fuck.
I know hurricane activity isn’t necessarily akin to climate change, but these grossly inaccurate hurricane forecasters use “climate signals” to help them make their predictions. If these “climate signals” contribute to terrible predictions then what are the global warming alarmists using that make their calls so much more accurate so much further out?
Never mind. I should probably just shut up and let other people think for me, like reknown scientist Al Gore. The debate is over, after all.
So the United Nations is saying “oops” and is releasing a report that says the wordwide AIDS epidemic isn’t quite the catastrophe it’s been saying it is for the past decade or so.
I like this passage best:
Until recently, most [India AIDS] estimates were made by giving anonymous blood tests to some young women who came into public health clinics because they were pregnant or feared they had a sexually transmitted disease; those results were expanded with statistical models.
But epidemiologists have realized that such a method — usually applied in big urban clinics because it was more efficient — oversampled prostitutes, drug abusers and people with multiple partners, and ignored rural women. Then the statistical extrapolations exaggerated those errors.
I expect a strikingly similar passage to be written somewhere down the road in regards to global warming.
This is yet another reason to hate the U.N. They ratchet up the hyperbole over some supposed worldwide catastrophe to a point where everyone is afraid to breathe. Then they spend a decade forcing the most wealthy nations on earth to do something about it (i.e. give away billions of dollars), and of course the U.N. decides it’s the best entity to manage the crisis and the money that comes with it. Then, down the line, when the supposed catastrophe has been milked for all it’s worth, the U.N. says “our bad” after someone calls bullshit on them — in this case it’s the US Agency for Int’l Development — and proclaims that while shit is bad, shit ain’t nearly as bad as we thought. But thanks for the cash! Here’s nothing in return!
Steve Czaban, a sports talk radio host, said it best in his blog in terms of the latest worldwide crisis:
And yet, people still want to think Global Warming is not the greatest attempted swindle in the history of mankind. Nah! Couldn’t be! Why would the United Nations LIE to us in attempt to get MONEY???
Because some dumb fucks will believe anything. And they’ll believe it over and over.
This weekend, to commemorate the completion of my kid’s third year of life, we had a party at the house. At that party she was lavished with some truly nice, costly presents. Knowing how much some of that shit cost, all that went through my mind while she tried to figure out how to rip off wrapping paper was how much it’s going to cost me in reciprocal presents over the next year: a princely sum that is going to suck to pay.
Because it’s not like I don’t already spend an assload of cash on her, the girl currently owns a couple things she was given, such as DVDs. So yesterday we took those things back to the store in exchange for a gift card to buy something as a replacement. I got her the perfect additional item to complement everything else she received this weekend: Guitar Hero III for the Wii. I also claimed first dibs on it, told the girl it’s not for her, and told the boy he can only play it when I’m around to keep him from breaking my new axe, which he undoubtedly would do without my close oversight.
I have to admit that I shredded my first real gig after playing a set at a backyard party and kicked Tom Morello’s ass in the first battle. I’m racking up sponsorships and melting faces in clubs all across the land and completed my first video shoot. I am well on my way to becoming a Legend of Rock.
Anyway, when I got the game, I walked past a line of people waiting to get Wii consoles. 100 came in to the store that morning and its employees were slowly and judiciously passing them out on a first come, first served basis. As I walked past the line with my game in hand (which comes in a box about three feet long by about a foot and a half wide), most looked longingly, understanding that my Wii was sitting at home just waiting for me to come rock its buttons off. I didn’t know whether to feel pity or empathy for the poor suckers in line just hoping to play Wii Sports on their own TVs.
Eh, who am I kidding. I couldn’t have cared less one way or another.
Today is my daughter’s third birthday. I’m not going to write a touching, heartfelt ode to her creation and growth to this point on my blog for “the internet” to see. It’s dumb when dumbass mommybots do it and it’s even dumber when dumbass pussy fathers do it. If I want to get warm and fuzzy about my daughter I’ll do it for her and in a way she can understand my feelings for her. It’s not the business of “the internet” and I don’t need to illustrate for it that I appreciate the (supposed) joy of parenthood like parental braggarts do. Memo to mommybots and pussy dads: You’re supposed to be good parents and give a shit about your kids. Stop patting yourself on the back for doing what’s expected of you.
However, days like this does make a man reflect. For instance, I was in the O.R. for the wife’s c-section three years ago today. I was fascinated by the work the doctor was doing and was craning my neck to look into the blood and guts after the baby was yanked out. The highlight was seeing the wife’s uterus resting on her sternum while the OB was in there taking inventory and dusting out the cobwebs or whatever she was doing.
Knowing how much I enjoyed seeing a person sliced open with her guts hanging out (not to mention how much fun it was to scrape roasted Iraqis off the insides of T-62s back in the day), I can’t figure out why I can’t make it 5 seconds into 2 Girls 1 Cup without bailing on it.
Someone once said to me, “if you like me you should like my shit.” I guess I just don’t like those two girls.
Yesterday was my longest race to date, a 5-miler as opposed to all the 5Ks I’ve been running this year. It was held at the zoo and was the biggest race in terms of runners I’ve been a part of yet, with 430-some finishers.
Considering most 5Ks around here are generally rinky-dink, with maybe 200 finishers if the race is lucky, you’d think a bigger race with more participation and some pretty nice sponsors at a pretty high-profile place would mean a better event. Wrong. Here is a short list of my problems with the race:
1. No mile markers.
2. No time splits.
3. Poorly marked route — I actually had to call out to a couple guys who inadvertently veered off course.
4. The only water station being maybe a mile in.
5. Planning a course that ran behind the elephant house and past a giant pile of hay, elephant shit and whatever else was mixed in. Imagine getting a whiff of that 4+ miles into a run.
The only thing I had going for me to help me out was my watch, and that wasn’t working for me very well because I’m not used to racing 5 miles and never knew how far into the run I was and whether I should kick it up, slow it down, or maintain speed.
Fortunately, none of my issues with the race were enough to fuck me too hard and I did come in under my goal time of 40:00. And it was a nice run for a Sunday morning. And the refreshments and such when it was over were pretty good (although I wasn’t really into the beer at 8:45am after a 5-miler). And for once I actually got a cool looking race t-shirt that I wouldn’t be ashamed of wearing in public. So I guess I really don’t have a whole lot to bitch about.
Never mind then.