My dear Bloomfield, DON’T YOU HAVE A JOB OR SOMETHING???
Ah, Bloomie; to be able to swing cats in such rarified, nay, glitzy surroundings! I confess that I must be contented with the comparatively bucolic; were you to drink enough and were the sidhe to admit you (dream on 
), your cat would hit only grass-stem chewing yayhoos, surly panhandlers, surly police, surly drag queens (do come for Pride this weekend!), cows, wannabe artistes and poetasters, and an architectural eternal question. But it’s home.
I do applaud your decision to blow off the PeTA convention. Some feathers are best left out of the cap, eh?
Nanohedron wrote:
I do applaud your decision to blow off the PeTA convention. Some feathers are best left out of the
Do I hear footsteps approaching? Is it Cranberry? Get ready to duck.
Well Nanohedron,
I just finished drying out my basement and replacing pretty much everything that was in my bathroom. I guess I can’t complain too much being that you are still without power. I did find out today that Minnesota has about 30 tornado touchdowns a year. Last Tuesday alone we had six. Hopefully this isn’t the start of a trend.
BTW: Aside from Pride this weekend, there is also the Hot Summer Jazz Festival in downtown Minneapolis from now until Sunday. It is all free anda wonderful time.
Seth
Seth, my power’s up, now…
A friend just called (yes, I actually have some) who lives in a basement apartment -hereabouts we call them languid snooty tone “garden level”- and he’s still mopping up, although he didn’t suffer a power outage. Go figure. I count myself luckier. Fortunately his instruments weren’t damaged, and he’s got a lot of them. 
Bloomfield,
Come out to the wonderfully wide open sandhills region of Nebraska. You can swing your cat with wild abandon for miles and miles with no fear of colliding with anything but the occasional cow. Just watch where you step. The topography is much more interesting than say Kansas and not near as dusty as Oklahoma (sorry Walden). The gently rolling hills will lull you into a serene state of cat swinging bliss. Just watch where you step.
Mark V.
Very good to hear, Mark. I’d like to give that a try. You see, it’s probably just me and my lousy technique, but serenity was usually not the result of my cat-swinging exploits: Neither on the side of the cat, nor of the lucky by-standers.
It’s all in the wrist my good man, it’s all in the wrist.
Mark V.
Oh! Oh! I have to tell this one.
On the night of the tempest with the power out, an apartment neighbor was sitting out on the sheltered balcony watching the show with another apartment neighbor, a college student. Well, the first neighbor goes back to his place to get a pack of smokes, putzes around for a bit, and goes back to the balcony for more. Apparently the college student assumed that my neighbor had retired for the night, for there he was, buck naked and dancing in the storm! The student saw my neighbor, squeaked, and ran back to his apartment.
He sells insurance on the side…I wonder if that has anything to do with it.
What do you mean? Some of us live for liquid smoke.
(oh…not the circular kind, unless you want stood up)
We’ve got liquid smoke here in the middle states too. My Grandma puts it in her meatballs. Mmmmhh Methodist potluck lunch…Mmmmm
Mark V.
If you think that looks like fun try oiling a rickety 30’ wooden windmill in 60Mph wind. That’s some kind a fun I tell ya.
Cat Swinging seems pretty wussy to me. Now, cow-swinging…
Yeah, I would be cow swinging but for my fear of hitting the occasional cat.
Minneapolis? Minneapolis is full of cry babies! Over here in St. Paul we got it much worse..and you don’t hear us crying in the dark?! 
Come on Nano..it wasn’t THAT bad..I quite enjoyed going for a walk in it..
Actually, Davey, it was gnarly. Possibly St. Paul didn’t have the full effect that the St Anthony Falls area did. It happens, after all.
Oops! I missed a few while I was off doing gainful work.
Nine!
Eight!
Seven!
Six!
Five!
Four!
I am worried about you, Jerry. I know insanity, know it very well. And I am worried about you, Jerry.
Now let me get this straight.
You, Bloomfield, are worried about MY sanity?
Yes. Who is going to feed the jolly elves when they come to slip that jacket with the long sleeves on you, and take you away, Jerry?
Try St. John’s Wort, Jerry. Did me a load of good. And as for the alleged side effects: well, first off it’s not true, and second off, I wasn’t meeting any girls anyway, so it doesn’t matter, really.
I wouldn’t take Bloo all that seriously. He likes to wear a crown when he’s at home.