A boring traffic post with a twist -- horse race!

Only once before have I used a traffic post to set up a competition, and that was only because I hate the French. Well, time to do it again. Since passing France on the all-time list of most-frequent visitors to Eff You, Denmark has been widening its lead. I cannot help but notice that Sweden, once the No. 2 source of visitors  to Eff You, has been lollygagging, and Denmark is poised to pass the Swedes, as well. I supposed if folks in Denmark were motivated and banded together, they could continue to surge in the rankings. Not sure how many people in Denmark care, of course. But the Swedes, I think, are no longer fooled by my promises of pr0n, naked wimmen and such. They are ripe for defeat.  Just sayin'.

That ax is out there somewhere . . .

. . . but nobody knows when it is going to fall. Speculation on the end of the project is rampant, with estimates ranging from tomorrow to two weeks from now. I think tomorrow is possible, but unlikely, although I believe some of the 300 or so folks remaining on the project will get cut tomorrow night. I still think it all comes down Sunday night. A guy I know who is usually pretty plugged in says Friday close of business. Not unreasonable, I think.

The takeaway here is no one knows -- or at least no one who knows is talking. The firms know, but they won't say for fear of  everybody jumping for other projects while the firms still need some warm bodies here. That rationale doesn't really apply, though, if the project is ending anytime before, say, Monday. There are a number of projects starting Monday people could try to get on, but none starting before then. Obviously, if people know the project ends this weekend, they can apply for another project to follow this one. Equally obviously, people can apply for a Monday project even without knowing -- hell, I've applied to three.

That means there is a decent chance I will be gone from this project Monday even if this project continues. The firms could have avoided this result (in general, not just specifically my departure) by sharing some information. As it is, even the project managers at the agency are being kept in the dark, probably on the assumption they would tell us, and the firms don't want that. Personally, I hope everybody finds something for Monday and the project goes on for another couple weeks, completely unstaffed. It would serve the firms right.

I looked out at Eff You Nation and saw a deep longing for more kitten video

Being a benevolent ruler, naturally I give the people what they want:

Am I not merciful?

Reel it in, people, this fishing trip is almost over

End of days people -- this swordfish is almost on the deck. I've rolled a few bones, studied some chicken innards and all kinds of other weird shit they do in the movies to see the future, and I am predicting that the absolute drop-dead date for this project -- for the temps, at least -- is Sunday. With about 300 temps still on this thing, I'm guessing most of them will be cut Thursday. A bunch will be kept around a few more days for some clean-up work -- I will be one of them -- but Sunday, the whip comes down, they thank us for all our hard work then tell us not to let the door slap us in the ass on our way out. Naturally, they won't tell us anything ahead of time, so I could be wrong, but no one will know it until the cuts come. The firms aren't even telling the agency anything. Yes, that makes them dicks, but that's OK -- if the project isn't ending this week, the firms are fucked because everybody thinks it is and is looking for projects to jump to. If this thing keeps going, it's going to be pretty shorthanded. Ah, poetic justice.

Did I fart?

Actually, if that were the explanation, I must have farted a lot, but I'm pretty sure that's not true. (I did nod off a couple times, so I could have farted like a dog while I was asleep and not know about it, but I don't think that happened, either.)

At this point, I'm sure all of you are wondering, "What the hell is that boy talking about?" OL, I'll splain. As I mentioned previously, I got moved a little while ago. As it turned out, my seat was even better than the near-perfect seat I had before. It is ambush-proof and I have bootleg internet access. Perfect. Of course, I was sitting next to a fucking neurotic chick, but that was tolerable, since she never spoke.

Well, almost never. She spoke to tell me that she could hear the music from my headphones and could I please turn it down. She would say this regardless of how low I turned it, so I basically started ignoring her. When I moved into my seat, the two desktops were touching (ours were the only two desks in our "row:" we were two desks backed against a short wall/window, facing out from the wall. Sweet.)

Tuesday or so, I noticed that our desks were about 6 inches apart. And each day thereafter, they were a few more inches apart. She was moving to the left every damn day. Yesterday, the desks were about 2 feet apart. And today, she had moved to another seat in a row further off to the left. I figured that if I wasn't ripping, I must have vicious BO or something. Finally, I asked my team leader what the fuck was going on.

Turns out to be much more bizarre than somebody fleeing farts or BO, though. The chick has a severe sound sensitivity, apparently, and was fleeing the miniscule level of sound escaping from my earbuds. Why she can't just buy some damn sound-cancelling headphones is beyond me. I don't see how she survives in Temp Town without them.

Because this sensitivity of hers apparently is much worse than not wanting to hear a little Toby Keith leak out of my headphones. Apparently, after I left yesterday, somebody opened a bag of baby carrots by squeezing it until it popped. The "pop" apparently damn near sent her into apoplexy and she nearly fainted. Made me feel a little better about her moving away. It wasn't personal -- she's batshit.

Naturally, the tem leader wouldn't let me sneak up behind her and yell "Boo!" Apparently there's a lot of paperwork when somebody dies on the job.

A scared temp conversation

Two temps arrived together this morning, just before time to fire it up. As they entered the suite, one temp sort of wrinkled her nose, and the following conversation ensued:

Temp 1: This room smells bad.
Temp 2: This rooms always smells bad. This is just the first time you noticed.
Temp 1: I guess this is what a project smells like.
Temp 2: It smells like temps and fear. Mostly fear.

Yeah, when the time gets short on a project, the fear level rises. Right now, folks are approaching the trapped-in-a-small-room-with-a-hungry-tiger level of fear. Sure, we saw lots of projects posted in recent weeks, but they've staffed already. Will anybody be staffing once we get cut loose? It's a crapshoot.

My God, it's worse than Saturday night in Chicago!

Another 50 people got whacked from the project tonight. Even by Chicago standards, that's a lot of people getting whacked in one day. Also, turns out the 40 people who got cut the other day were actually 80 people -- the 40 I knew about, and another 40 from a different review location a few blocks away. Took awhile for the news to trickle over to where I am. That makes 130 people cut this week, roughly, and leaving us with about 300. I told you it was a big project. Anyway, this is definitely end of days, so I will go ahead and predict that nobody is still working on this project past Thursday. Come August 1, we'll all be gone. It was a good run, but it is coming to an end.

Hard to complain, what with the bunches of overtime we got over the last six weeks. Market still looks busy. Hope that's still true in a week.

Glad the neighborhood wasn't too jacked up for Lebanon to pay its first visit to Eff You

If you were thinking that things are a little too hectic in the Middle East these days for someone in Lebanon to drop by Eff You, then you would be wrong. Civil war in Syria on one side, Israel duking it out with Hamas on the other side. Sounds bad, right? Well, when the going gets tough, the tough go to Eff You for a quick visit. Got our first visitor from Lebanon yesterday.

Lebanon is a major Middle East crossroads and for many years benefitted from that. It was a part of the Ottoman Empire for about 600 years, becoming a French mandate after World War I. The country gained independence in 1943, and for a long time, things were good:

Before the Lebanese Civil War (1975–1990), the country experienced a period of relative calm and renowned prosperity, driven by tourism, agriculture, commerce, and banking.[10] Because of its financial power and diversity, Lebanon was known in its heyday as "the Switzerland of the East".[11] It attracted so many tourists that the capital, Beirut, was referred to as "the Paris of the Middle East".[12] At the end of the war, there were extensive efforts to revive the economy and rebuild national infrastructure.[13]

That civil war sucked, and Lebanon has had trouble ever since. Despite periods of stability, Lebanon keeps getting torn by warfare, frequently involving outside forces.

Anyway, by all accounts it is a beautiful country and, because someone in Lebanon came to Eff You, the Wolves family is now obligated to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Lebanon in times of trouble, so don't mess with my peeps. Lebanon, welcome to Eff You Nation.  Come again soon.

Still kickin' it big-time in the Indian Ocean -- got me some Madagascar

I admit, there are a few more Indian Ocean hotspots left to conquer, but joining Reunion in the Eff You family of nations is Madagascar, our latest first-time visitor. Madagascar is home to a metric shit ton of species found nowhere else. A former French possession, the island nation off the southeast coast of Africa is nominally a democratic republic, but since 2009 has been ruled by a guy who seems to have taken power in a sort of coup and dissolved the legislature. Sounds like a dick.

Based on what Wikipedia says -- and we all know that if it's on Wikipedia, it must be true, right? -- it's a pretty poor country:

Madagascar's GDP in 2009 was estimated at 8.6 billion USD, with a per capita GDP of $438.[11] Approximately 69 percent of the population lives below the national poverty line threshold of one dollar per day.[108] The agriculture sector constituted 29 percent of Malagasy GDP in 2011, while manufacturing formed 15 percent of GDP. Madagascar's sources of growth are tourism, agriculture and the extractive industries.[109] Tourism focuses on the niche eco-tourism market, capitalizing on Madagascar's unique biodiversity, unspoiled natural habitats, national parks and lemur species.[110] An estimated 365,000 tourists visited Madagascar in 2008, but the sector has declined as a result of the political crisis with 180,000 tourists visiting in 2010.

Having said all that, somebody from Madagascar came by, so please extend a warm Eff You welcome. Come again soon, and bring your friends.

So, maybe Maryland screwed up

Ya think? In it's never-ending bid to curtail the Second Amendment rights of its citizens, Maryland managed to cost hundreds of Maryland residents their jobs -- or at least force them to move to Tennessee. Beretta USA Corp., the American subsidiary of the Italian weapons manufacturer, has decided to relocate its Accokeek, Md., facility to Tennessee. Why? Because Maryland can't be trusted, that's why:

Beretta U.S.A. Corp., located in Accokeek, Maryland, announced today that it has decided to move its manufacturing capabilities from its existing location to a new production facility that it is building in Gallatin, Tennessee. The Gallatin facility is scheduled to be opened in mid-2015. Beretta U.S.A. had previously planned to use the new Gallatin, Tennessee facility for new machinery and production of new products only.
“During the legislative session in Maryland that resulted in passage of the Firearm Safety Act of 2013, the version of the statute that passed the Maryland Senate would have prohibited Beretta U.S.A. from being able to manufacture, store or even import into the State products that we sell to customers throughout the United States and around the world. While we were able in the Maryland House of Delegates to reverse some of those obstructive provisions, the possibility that such restrictions might be reinstated in the future leaves us very worried about the wisdom of maintaining a firearm manufacturing factory in the State,” stated Jeff Cooper, General Manager for Beretta U.S.A. Corp.
“While we had originally planned to use the Tennessee facility for new equipment and for production of new product lines only, we have decided that it is more prudent from the point of view of our future welfare to move the Maryland production lines in their entirety to the new Tennessee facility,” Cooper added.

It's so weird -- when you threaten people's livelihoods, they go somewhere else. So long, Beretta. I don't blame you for not trusting Maryland.  Apparently, Maryland legislators -- and presidential hopeful Gov. Martin O'Malley -- thought they could crap all over Beretta and still keep the jobs and capital investment in the state. They banned every single fucking firearm Beretta makes by limiting magazine capacity to 10 rounds -- Beretta firearms all exceed that capacity -- and thought the firm would stay here. Good for Beretta. Fuck Maryland.

World's cutest kittens fight to the death, or something

OK, maybe not to the death. Mrs. Wolves captured on video a desperate battle as Mayhem defended a paper bag while Murder tried desperately to breach the keep. Who will come out on top? Enjoy the kit-tays:

Yeah, that's going to leave a mark

All of the recent reshuffling of the suites last week apparently was done mostly to put all of the people who are not members of the DC Bar in the same room. Tonight, the reason for that became apparent, as they all got the ax. The project managers closed the doors to the suite, told everybody to take all their stuff home and check their email. Yeah, you're fired. About 40 people, I guess, and while it does not signal that the end is near, it does signal the beginning of the end. These people were doing responsiveness review. That means we're done with that now. Still an unknown (at least to me) amount of first review on potentially privileged stuff, I guess, and then an unknown amount of privilege log material. So we could have a ways to go. Not that anyone will tell us.

In any event, I think Rod Steward was wrong (that includes Sheryl Crow, who did a great cover of the song, and Cat Stevens, who wrote it):

No, this was just the first cut. Only about 40 people gone, and still nearly 400 left on the project. The deepest cuts are yet to come. I think Mick had it right about what happened tonight:

The ghosts of projects past emerge

Any long-term reader of this blog knows I rarely bother to learn people's names. While I may or may not see them again, I just don't really care. Temp Town is not a place to go to make friends. (Yes, there are people in Temp Town whose names I know, and even a small number I consider friends, but by and large I just don't give a fuck what your name is because the odds are I won't see you again and, if I do, I still don't give a fuck what your name is.)  In any event, I give nicknames to identify people who crop up repeatedly and are worth referencing. I'm pretty sure I already mentioned the Garden Gnome, who is on this project, and, of course, Santa Claus. Since I go moved to my new and improved seat, however, two blasts from the past have emerged.

The first is the guy I used to refer to as Douchey McDouchehead. He is seated in the room I am now in, so I see him everyday. I think he recognizes me, because he gives me stinkeye every time he looks at me. It's probably because of this exchange years ago:

DMD: I'm such a fucking loser that all I can think about is going to France one day (OK, I made up that quote because I can't remember what he actually said that made me chime in, but it was something like that. It was nearly a year ago -- sue me for not remembering.)
Me: Yeah, France is great, except it's full of French people.
DMD: I'm French.
Me: You're really not undermining my argument here.

He since has been renamed Milhous because he looks like the character Milhous from "The Simpsons."

The resemblance is uncanny.

There is another figure from projects past in my new room: Riff Raff. Surely you have seen "Rocky Horror Picture Show" and are familiar with Riff Raff, the loveable, if evil, caretaker of Frank N. Furter's mansion? Well, for those who have never seen the movie, let me enlighten you; for those who have, I refresh your memory:

Riff Raff, of course, is the dude with the stringy, white hair. Alas, in Temp Town, Riff Raff is a female. But she's a dead ringer.

Snack-time zombies

It's not a practice I consider to be a big draw for a project -- as in, would this factor convince me to take a project over some other, otherwise comparable project -- but on this project, the firm pays for "snack time" twice a day. It is, for the most part, junk food, and for people working this many hours a week, the financial benefit is less than negligble. But twice a day, like clockwork, the snacks come in and the temps get out of their seats like zombies and stagger toward the snacks. The rapidity of their reaction is a little frightening, as is the mindlessness of it. You can almost hear them chanting, "Free food" as they lurch toward the snack table. Or are they saying "Brains"?

I want to shout at them, "CVS down the street has a better selection!" but the "free" aspect draws them in. Nothing attracts temps like free food. Never mind that for a nominal amount -- certainly relative to what they're making on this project -- they could have food they actually want. That's just crazy talk.

The bear is loose my ass

Apparently, it is a favorite phrase of President Obama's to utter as he goes on his pointless trips to various food vendors. He apparently loves to say "The bear is loose!"  I don't think he realizes how stupid that makes him look, given the current world environment. But he does it anyway:

WASHINGTON (AP) — "The bear is loose!"
Those were President Barack Obama's words as he ditched his motorcade and left the White House on foot, favoring the fresh air in a walk toward the Interior Department.

As President Obamaa drinks beer in Colorado and eats Mexican in DC and grabs a burger in Delaware while Russian special forces disguised as pro-Russian separatists shoot down airlines, it seems pretty fucking clear who the bear is, and it ain't Barry:

Cracow — According to the July 11 Washington Post, aides to President Obama are using a Twitter account with the moniker #TheBearIsLoose to drum up trade for the president’s current magical mystery tour. Here, along the banks of the Vistula River, with the immediate neighborhood getting more ominous by the week, the notion that the Bear is loose has a different connotation: The Bear is indeed loose, once again, and has been making a lot of trouble, first in Crimea, then in Donetsk and Luhansk and other parts of southern and eastern Ukraine, while continuing to threaten the Baltic democracies and occupy Transnistria in Moldova. The Bear is Vladimir Putin’s Russia on the prowl, not the beer-swigging Barack Obama, “connecting” with the citizenry.

Never mind that Obama is getting jacked up globally by Russia (and pretty much anybody else who feels like taking a shot at the U.S.). This "bear" horseshit is embarrassing. Russian strongman Vladimir Putin isn't worried about hashtags. He's too busy making Barry his bitch:

One can trace a line from any global hotspot to Russia and its authoritarian ruler. Iran? Russia has assisted its nuclear program for decades. Syria? Russia is Bashar Assad’s arms dealer. Iraq? Russia is sending men and materiel to the central government. Afghanistan? Putin muscled nearby Kyrgyzstan intoclosing our air base there, crucial for transport, resupply, and reconnaissance in the war against the Taliban. The contretemps between the United States and Germany is the result of Edward Snowden’s breach of national security. Where is Snowden? In Russia, where he has just asked to have his visa renewed. I wonder if Vladimir Putin will say yes.

Look, I can't find the reference, but somebody smarter than me tweeted out that "the bear is loose, and it just ate Crimea," or words to that effect. Face it, Barry ain't the bear. The bear is a badass animal, and that ain't Barry. Putin, maybe. And Barry not only isn't the bear, he isn't ready for the bear. Unlike Ronald Reagan, for instance, in 1984:

Countries losing their enthusiasm for destroying their economies

First you had Australia repealing its carbon tax. Next we have South Korea deciding that an economy-destroying tax might be stupid.

Maybe all this is happening because of the horrific damage these kinds of measures do to a nation's economy. May it's because it is becoming ever-more clear that the science is not settled and that the warming alarmists, including government agencies, are fudging the data routinely.

But it's good to finally see some resistance to economic suicide for no environmental gain.

Things are a little mixed down on the farm, but looking good overall

Went to the farm yesterday to see how things were going. My farm partner, who owns the land, has been largely absent lately, clearly has not been tending things. Of course, with me working like a dog, I haven't been much help. There were a lot of weed-choked beds. Left me worried about the potatoes. It didn't hurt production much, near as I could tell. Lots of beans, squash and onions. I would imagine tomatoes are a few weeks away, but here's what I brought in yesterday:

I'm sure we'll see more soon.

Dammit, I loved Rockford

One of the truly great screen and television presences, James Garner, is dead at 86. He starred in two hit TV series -- "Maverick" and "The Rockford Files" -- and bunches of top-flight movies, including "The Great Escape."  He had a shitty childhood, but he came out of it a better person. I always liked Garner because he was, let's face it, a likeable guy. I think he was unable to mask that as an actor and chose not to. He portayed characters who were like he was -- likeable. He hasn't worked in recent years -- let's face it, he was old -- but I will miss him as an actor and as one of the good guys.

So I give you this, from The Great Escape, one of the great buddy movies ever:

RIP, James.

You will start your day with kittens and you will like it

The kit-tays were snuggled up on the sofa yesterday, looking so cuddly Mrs. Wolves had to take a picture. Naturally, if Mrs. Wolves has to take a picture, I have to post it:

She thought it was a wonderful display of sisterly trust and caring. I just thought it was cute. Makes you want to go get a kitten, doesn't it? Remember, though, they grow up into cats.

Hard work and clean living paying off? Or dumb luck?

Going with dumb luck. A couple days ago, one of the project managers walked into the room and announced that everyone was moving, get ready to go somewhere else. He didn't tell us where, but he told us it was happening now.

Naturally, it wasn't. Almost everyone else in the room gathered up their stuff and then stood around, milling, holding all their crap with no idea where to go. I sat where I was, in the greatest seat in the house, waiting. I was hoping that, having survived one attempt to move me to a shitty seat, I could dodge this attempt, as well.

It didn't work out that way. As it turned out, most of the people in my suite were sent elsewhere and told to "find a seat" in one of the other suites. That, of course, is a recipe for disaster -- the seat you will find will, of course, suck. This is where it helps to have friends in low places.

A long-time acquaintance of mine is a team leader in one of the other suites. She came to me and told me to follow, as she had a seat for me. It turned out to be even better than my old seat. It is in a corner, against the wall, facing out from the wall - no one can sneak up behind me. Even better, because of the layout, I have only one neighbor, to my left. She is damn near deaf-mute, so I am left alone. And, finally, somehow, someone forgot to turn off the internet access from my terminal. Thrown out of the best seat in the house, I managed to land in the only seat on the project that is even better.  Thank you, Jesus.

Only a temp could dress well and still look like a homeless person

Temps aren't famous for being sharp dressers, but it happens. Normally, when it comes to temps, you can play a game on the Metro: when you see a rumpled, dissheveled person with unruly hair, you can play the guessing game, "Homeless, Temp or Federal Employee?" Hard to tell the difference.

Anyway, we have a dude on the project I call Santa Claus, mostly because he is rotund and has long, snow-white hair and a bushy white beard. Dude probably makes serious coin at Christmas working at some mall. But it would have to be a pretty downscale mall, because he is unable to shake that Temp vibe. No matter what he wears, he looks like a homeless dude.

Today, Santa Claus was wearing what is known (in the South, anyway, and more particularly in South Carolina) as a Charleston Tuxedo. The Charleston Tuxedo consists of khaki pants and a blue sports jacket with a button-down Oxford shirt. It is considered, in Charleston, at least, to be appropriate attire for everything from weddings to funerals. In general, it works.

Well, Santa Claus put on the Charleston Tuxedo today and it didn't work. I couldn't tell you what exactly didn't work, but the dude still looked like he either slept in or ate out of  a dumpster -- he just looked homeless.

At least he's trying, though, which is more than can be said of the guy I like to call Hunter S. Thompson, who always looks like he is coming off a bender, starting a bender or maybe is in the middle of a bender. Anyway, he is tall, gangly, gray curly hair and likes to wear shorts, the dress code notwithstanding. Unlike Santa Claus, Hunter is not even trying to dress well. You look at him and think "Venice Beach homeless dude." You can easily see him sleeping in a lifeguard stand by night and by day charging people to look after their car when they park in "his" parking space. Not happening in DC, I guess, but that's the look he's cultivating. Or maybe he just moved here from Venice Beach.

The more I think about it, the more I think these two guys could pair up to be the next Moby and the Hobo. The great irony here is that Moby and the Hobo first appeared on this blog during a project involving the same client and law firms as this project, but I never actually named them that until later. I do think that Moby and the Hoboes is a great name for a band, though.

Any way, in honor of the sharp-dressed men on this project, I give you this:

I mean, seriously, who doesn't like flowers?

My plans for this evening, which included some posting on a number of topics, were disrupted by my car's plans for this evening, which included refusing to go further after I stopped for gas on the way home. Anyway, I have a fallback posting position, and present it herewith:

The summer flowers in the front bed are pretty glorious, apparently. Not that I ever see them.

Mrs. Wolves took these pictures, since I am almost never home during daylight, and when I am, I am not stopping to smell the roses, which these aren't, anyway.

But they're purdy, and I like them, even if I only see them in the dark.

I only planted four bulbs, and they are propagating in a rather promiscuous fashion. I will transplant them in the fall to take advantage of their wanton reproduction.

The universe is out of balance: RIP, Tommy Ramone

I am really late to this but, truthfully, when I read the news Saturday morning, I really wasn't ready to blog about it.  But it isn't going away. With the death of Tommy Ramone Friday, all four of the founding members of that group are gone. It seems wrong that all of them died so young, yet all of the original members of The Little River Band, contemporaries of The Ramones but in no sense even remotely as consequential, remain with us. Fuck, Keith Richards has now outlived all of the original Ramones. The universe is out of kilter.

Tommy was originally just going to be the manager, but became the drummer in the band's formative days because Joey, the lead singer and the original drummer, couldn't play drums and sing at the same time. Some people say he just couldn't play drums. Anyway, Tommy took over as drummer and played with the band through their first three albums. After that, he still produced much of their music but no longer played. He hated touring, and that's what The Ramones did. Their album sales were never huge, so they made their living playing hundreds of live gigs every year.  I saw them at least three times, more than any other band I've ever seen that wasn't a local band when I was in college or, later, a band I was in. Those don't count.

The Ramones were punk before there was punk. In 1976, they toured in England in support of their second album and basically gave birth to the punk scene there, influencing bands like the Sex Pistols and The Jam. They were a huge part of my youth, and I am beyond sad that all of them are gone. Sure, the replacement Ramones are still around, including later drummers Marky and Ritchie (who was fabulous) -- and even Elvis Ramone, who played two gigs as an emergency fill-in --  and bass player C.J. Ramone.

Anyway, so long Tommy. Steady as hell, as you can see in this live performance of "Blitzkrieg Bop," from their first album. The refrain of "hey, ho, let's go" became a staple of Ramones performances.

While I'm on The Ramones, got to give a hat tip to Richie, the only Ramones drummer to sing lead vocals and be the main writer on songs, including this one:

Slovenia comes knockin', whattaya gonna do?

Why, you open the door and say, "Welcome to Eff You Nation!" That's right, Slovenia came by for the first time today. It's getting hard to get first-time visitors here -- the only places left are mostly in Africa and the Pacific (by which I mean the tiny island nations out there in the middle of nowhere). I assume there are problems with electricity and internet access in many of those countries. But hey, we keep trying.

So, Slovenia. Slovenia is located in east central Europe, with a small coastline on the Adriatic Sea, and bordering Italy to the west, Austria to the north, Croatia to the south and southeast and Hungary to the northeast. Before independence in 1991, it was part of Yugoslavia. The population of slightly more than  2 million is majority Slovene, but contains significant ethnic Hungarian and Italian minorities, which use those languages even though Slovene is the only official language.

It seems right pretty:

Anyway, a big Eff You welcome to our visitor from Slovenia.

Happy Bastille Day, I guess

The French don't call it that -- apparently they call it the Fete Nationale, which means something like National Throwdown -- but everybody else does. It's the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, a Paris prison where political prisoners were held, in 1798, part of the lead up to the French Revolution. Kind of like the U.S.'s Fourth of July, only they engaged in a lot of French-on-French violence, which is hard to discourage. Anyway, they have a big parade and stuff -- in fact, the largest annual military parade in Europe.

So, throw down, France. And know that on Bastille Day, 2014, Denmark surged past France to move into sixth place on the all-time visitors' list at Eff You. Don't like that, France? Refer to the name of the blog.

I got all the kittens you can handle

Mrs. Wolves has put together yet another video of the World's Cutest Kittens, Murder and Mayhem. This one involves a pig's ear. Seriously.

That's Mayhem doing the honors on the hunk of swine, which is supposed to be a chew toy for the dogs. Go figure.

I think I should stay out of the kitchen at work.

As if the image of bicyclists' butts wasn't enough to keep me away, the conversation I overheard later today should keep me away from the kitchen at work permanently. It also should fire up my effort to find an exit strategy, but that's a topic for another day.

Anyway, I was in the kitchen to refill my water bottle from the dispenser there that pretends to deliver filtered water but probably draws it straight from the Potomac. As I was waiting for the person in front of me to fill her 60-gallon water bottle, I got a dose of madness from some guy who was just standing around in the kitchen for no apparent reason.

He was talking about what I at first thought was a woman. I thought he had commitment issues. He said this:

Temp 1: She's so sophisticated, but it's hard to just turn myself over to her. But she knows my favorite routes. She always takes me the same way.

Yes, he was talking about his GPS, not a girlfriend. Looking at him, I decided not to burst his bubble. After all, interacting with his GPS is probably the only dates he ever has. Has to be the only female voice he ever hears that isn't saying "go away."

Traffic post of interest only to me and maybe one other person.

It would appear that Denmark is only 10 visits behind France for 6th on the all-time list. Hmmmm. I fucking hate the French.

OK, I apologize to the sport of soccer

I know, I know, I shouldn't. Never back down, never give in, right? Well, when I called soccer the most boring sport in the world, I was wrong. Sure, it's pretty stupid, they have no idea how long they're going to play, they break ties by playing a completely different game and they never fucking score, just run up and down the field for days on end, it seems. But it is not the most boring sport in the world.

I walked into the kitchen here at work a few minutes ago, and on the TV at that moment was the new Official World's Most Boring Sport. That's right, there on the screen in all its full-color, big-screen, HD glory was the Tour de France. For a couple minutes, until I came to my senses, I watched a bunch of dudes in a huge bunch cycling through the French countryside -- from behind. Not from the front. Behind. No panning the camera across the beautiful French countryside. Just a bunch of butts. I hear that sometimes they show them from the side, and sometimes from the front, too. Great. Bunch of fucking guys out for a bike ride. Again, sorry, soccer -- boring as you are, the Tour de France (and I assume all those Tour de Wherever bike races) is worse.

Once again, I must say, "Damn, y'all"

Saw an ad today on The Posse List for a new project, starting Monday, with a rate of $35 per hour. Only a 3-week project, with no mention of overtime, but we haven't seen $35/hour since late 2008, kids. And this project was accepting any-jurisdiction bar memberships, not requiring DC Bar membership. Whoa. Market must be pretty tight out there. Of course, with more than 400 people on the project I am working, that means at least 1 in 6 contract attorneys in DC are on a single project. There are lots of projects out there these days. Maybe the rates will rise and stay there. Of course, when this project ends, there will be a whole bunch of people looking for work. Probably take rates right back down again. We'll see.

Chapter the umpty-umpth, in which I display my ninja-like skilz

Mad ninja-like skilz, if I do say so myself. A fly was buzzing around the Wolves' computer -- the one I'm working at, anyway -- and I swatted that bad boy right out of the air. He lay stunned on the desk until I crushed his worthless fly butt. Dead. Not quite Mr. Miyagi snatching a fly out of the air with chopsticks, but not too shabby.

OK, OK, I promised to get back to serious blogging in a minute, or at least as close as I ever get here.

Proof that people who follow soccer have a tenuous grip on reality

There are people at work who actually give a shit about what happens in the soccer World Cup. I'm not talking about the wannabees. The room where the internet terminals are also has a widescreen TV, tuned to maybe ESPN, something showing soccer, Wimbledon and the Tour de France, which apparently spent three days as the Tour de England. But I digress. When the game between Argentina and the Netherlands came down to penalty kicks -- why play for two fucking hours and then settle the matter by playing a different game? -- a bunch of people crowded into the internet room to watch. One woman, whose aquaintance I have avoided with great vigor, said of the crowd, "Hey, after all, it only happens every, how many years?" I closed out my online stuff, said to her, "Big fan, huh?" and left the room. Presumably, somebody won the game after I left.

Anyway, dipshit non-fans who hope to appear to be fans and, thus, be hip are not the point of this. I was in the kitchen before the game and overheard a temp on the phone say something along these lines"

Soccer-loving Temp: I presume you're going to watch the game? Well, when they pan the beach -- you know, Copacabana -- which I know they will do repeatedly, keep an eye out for Tomas. He's there and will be on the beach."

Yeah, Tomas and about a gazillion other people, right? He should be easy to spot. Does watching soccer rot your brain?

"Unexpected" border crisis? Hardly.

For one thing, anyone listening to all of Barry's talk about "Dreamers are our future" and shit like that, anyone who watched him rewrite immigration law (without that niggling constitutional requirement that laws be passed by Congress)  to create what amounts to amnesty for any illegal immigrant under 30, and anyone who watched thousands of illegal immigrants convicted of felonies released because of the sequester (yup, couldn't use any other funds, got to let the crooks go, sorry) knew that Open-Borders Barry was practically begging for a flood of juveniles and others to illegally flood across the borders.

Apparently, Immigration and Customs Enforcement knew it too. Months ago. Follow the link. ICE was advertising to hire people to help handle "up to 65,000" juvenile illegal immigrants expected to come to the U.S.  And they were advertising in January. Unexpected my ass. Totally predictable. And still the jackass won't even visit the border to get a first-hand look at the mess he created. Too busy fundraising elsewhere in Texas. Didn't Bush get skewered for not visiting New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina? Oh, yeah, but he's a Republican. That's different.

I told you to get used to kitten videos, didn't I?

So listen to me for once, OK?

Can't get enough. Does that remind me of something? Why, yes, it does.

It's long, but damn it's funky. I love me some funky.

This project is killing me, and it isn't even entertaining

I worked some fairly short days this weekend -- no more than 6 hours Friday, Saturday or Sunday -- but I still haven't had a day off in 4 weeks, and my ass is dragging. Has it been worth it? Financially, sure, but what about the blog? As with all really large projects, there exists on this gig a fair assortment of oxygen thieves, run-of-the-mill incompetents, colorful characters and the like, but this time there really hasn't been a lot of entertainment value. There's a lot to bitch about, but most of that would be pointless, not to mention lost on the non-temp portion of my audience. And the temp portion of my audience would think I was bitching about someone other than them, and they might be wrong. So I'm trying not to bitch too much. I prefer funny shit. This project has had a dearth of funny shit, alas. So get used to kitten videos, bitches.

I've got 3/4 of a BRIC

At any given moment, it appears that I have traffic from three out of four of the BRIC countries -- usually, as now, Russia, India and China. Brazil occasionally checks in to give me the BRIC foursome. People say these four countries are the future. If that's true, I hope I check out early. It's hard to tell which dominates these countries -- widespread poverty amidst strong economic growth, of the massive corruption that makes the first condition inescapable. All four of those countries lack a middle class, and all but India lack even an inclination toward some kind of genuine representative government. I'm not happy with the way the U.S. is going these days, but if the BRIC guys are the future, count me out.

Combining haiku and porn

Alas, I am on the privilege team, which means I am drafting privilege log entries based on the privilege coding of all the other people on the project. Naturally, most of them are wrong. Today, roughly half of the "privileged" documents I looked at weren't. The bad part is, I can't throw a document out on my own authority. I have to ask a firm attorney. I was 43 for 44 today, but I still have to ask whether the pinhead who claimed privilege over something at the first level was right, even though it is clear he was wrong. Whatever.

So I have a haiku for you. I need to drive traffic, I failed to post yesterday, so I need to pander to the audience. I think this works:

Frustrating project.
Privilege logging sucks ass.
Did I mention porn?

Dig it, people.

I wasn't kidding about the kitten internet assault

No mud yet, but Murder and Mayhem are into the wrestling. Here, they go at it tooth and nail to determine, um, whatever it is kittens are wrestling over:

Once again, Mrs. Wolves is the video maven here. She nicely edits this to a watchable length. Watchable if you like cats, or kittens. Anyway, if you pay attention, there are a number of places where you can clearly see the "M" branded on each kitten's forehead, although they are, of course, natural stripes. I don't brand my pets. Usually.

Mrs. Wolves confounds me again

Perhaps "befuddles" would be a better word for it. I'll let you decide. Yesterday, I got an email from Mrs. Wolves while I was at work that said, in its entirety "Israeli ambassador not that bad!" So I responded, "No picture?"

I was thinking in terms of this:

Yes, that is the Israeli model Bar Rafaeli. Absolutely what I had in mind. Alas, Mrs. Wolves did in fact send me a picture. But it was of this guy:

He, apparently, is Ron Dermer, Israel's ambassador to the United States. You can imagine my disappointment. Mrs. Wolves, however, seems satisfied.

We're doing the full kitten internet assault

I gave Mrs. Wolves our old Flip video recorder and told her to give me kitten footage. She got creative.

Just waitin' on the viral views to start pouring in. Got more where this came from.

Confirmed: Record shattered

Traffic has been rather desultory lately, but not for lack of trying. I posted 62 times in June - better than twice a day -- and shattered the old Eff You record for posts in one month set in December 2013. That month I put up 48 posts -- I must have been home a lot because of snow. I'd have to look. Anyway, this is a big jump from that, like 33 percent. So I've got that going for me.

Of course, traffic was flat, so it doesn't seem to have helped. Which means that, like the record for posts in a month, I am shattered.

I just got a visitor from a country that doesn't exist

So the other day I got a visitor from "Palestine." What country is this, I thought. So I started doing some research. Oddly enough, Wikipedia (and I am not suggesting Wikipedia is always right, because I would be laughing too hard to type that) apparently does not consider "Palestine" to be a country, describing it as "a geographic region in Western Asia between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River. It is sometimes considered to include adjoining territories."

Oddly enough, Palestine could have been a country right after World War II:

The United Nations Partition Plan for Palestine was a proposal developed by the United Nations, which recommended a partition with Economic Union of Mandatory Palestine to follow the termination of the British Mandate. On 29 November 1947, the U.N. General Assembly adopted a resolution recommending the adoption and implementation of the Plan as Resolution 181(II).[2]
The resolution recommended the creation of independent Arab and Jewish States and the Special International Regime for the City of Jerusalem. The Partition Plan, a four-part document attached to the resolution, provided for the termination of the Mandate, the progressive withdrawal of British armed forces and the delineation of boundaries between the two States and Jerusalem. Part I of the Plan stipulated that the Mandate would be terminated as soon as possible and the United Kingdom would withdraw no later than 1 August 1948. The new states would come into existence two months after the withdrawal, but no later than 1 October 1948. The Plan sought to address the conflicting objectives and claims of two competing movements: Arab nationalism in Palestine and Jewish nationalism, known as Zionism.[3][4] The Plan also called for Economic Union between the proposed states, and for the protection of religious and minority rights.
The Plan was accepted by the Jewish public, except for its fringes, and by the Jewish Agency despite its perceived limitations.[5][6] With a few exceptions, the Arab leaders and governments rejected the plan of partition in the resolution[7] and indicated an unwillingness to accept any form of territorial division.

So anyway, there you have it. Not a country, but could have been a country, except Arabs all wanted the Jews dead and wouldn't accept a Jewish state. Why Google classifies them as a country is beyond me, but, hey, welcome to Eff You Nation. Which also is not actually a country.