Silflay Hraka

So, Joe Trippi’s left the Dean campaign. Has Zephyr Teachout also left?

Her last post at the official Howard Dean weblog, Blog For America was this one at 5:41 pm on Tuesday, urging everyone to get out the vote in New Hampshire.

Since then there’s been nothing from her, despite her fairly regular posting habit. (Note: the date range here is a reflection of when Google indexed the page, rather than when a post was actually published. Still, there are a number of posts in January prior to her last one, which paints a farily accurate picture of her posting habits.)

Consider also some of the increasingly plaintive calls for Zephyr to post something, calls that are so far unanswered.

We need a post from Zephyr.

Zeph, you there?
Posted by Pat in Chicago at January 28, 2004 09:03 PM

Is the well-known staff still there, such as Zephyr Teachout and Matt Gross? Hellooooo.
Posted by Jean4Dean at January 28, 2004 11:19 PM

Where is Zephyr?
Posted by Lali at January 29, 2004 12:29 AM

Maybe Dean really has traded broadband for dialup.

Update: According to what admittedly is a something less than official pronouncement, Zephyr is “asleep.”

Zephyr didn’t leave. She’s just getting some sleep. She’ll be blogging tomorrow. It’s been great reading all the comments–and the support for Governor Dean and for Trippi. See you in the morning.

Posted by Mark Sundeen DFA Staff at January 29, 2004 02:10 AM

Another Update: Damn, there goes my scoop. Zephyr is back, though she doesn’t mention anything about the Trippi fiasco, which is why I went looking for her in the first place, and what most of the commenters at the blog seemingly desired.

Howard Dean: re-arranging the place settings on the Titanic.

The thing is, until Dean replaced Trippi, no one really thought the ship was sinking, though they might have been aware of a spot of engine trouble. Now everyone is panicking, desperately trying to find a way out onto the upper decks, or fighting over the open seats in the lifeboats. Meanwhile, Billy Zane is taking potshots at Leonard DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. It’s total chaos.

It’s as if Captain Smith spotted the iceberg ten miles away, with plenty of room to maneuver, and instead gave the order for ramming speed.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t about to support Howard any time soon, but I had some faith in him as an adversary.* Now he has, after taking careful aim, not just shot himself in the foot, but also in the other foot, right hand, shin, belly and jaw.

You dance with those what brung ya, Howard. Especially after they manage to make you the Belle of the Ball for a good while. It’s not Joe Trippi’s fault you combined Scarlett’s attitude with Melanie’s looks.

The web lifted you up, Howard, and now the web is going to do it’s damndest to bring you down, if for no other reason than if you manage a primary victory after dumping Mr. Internet then people like Larry Purporo will feel vindicated.

Like Fredo, you double-crossed the family. Like Michael, we’ll make you pay the price. Howard, you’re nothing to us now.

You must understand, Howard. It’s not personal. It’s business.

*Yes, I realize that for Howard to be an actual adversary he would’ve needed to realize that I

A.) Existed
and
B.) Opposed him

I do my best with what little I have.

Ngnat has learned the “Here’s the church, here’s the steeple, open the door and see all the people” mantra one enunciates while clasping hands together, raising paired index fingers high, then finally bringing one’s fingers to the inside to wiggle at oneself.

Now unless one has learned the trick of undoing the clasp long enough to bring one’s fingers into the palms of one’s hand, there are no people to be seen at the end of the verse.

This proved to be the case the first time Ngnat tried this. She opened up her hands and saw nothing but palm. She held her faulty hands for inspection.

“Where are your people?” SW asked her.

Ngnat considered for a second or two. “They must be outside,” she decided.

We’ve finally figured out why Scotty M hasn’t slept for the past two nights. He has a cold, his first one, courtesy of one of the two sisters whom Ngnat had a play date with last Saturday. The younger was a veritable faucet of snot and, as girls tend to do when being ignored by those bigger and older, paid attention to the smaller and younger–Scotty, in this instance. She hugged him, declared her love eternal, and deposited some rhinovirus for his later use.

Ngnat was a daycare baby, so she was sick for most of her first two years. Ever since SW decided to stay home we haven’t had to deal with sickness, other than the contagious flu hysteria. We’d forgotten what a sick kid acts like, so it kind of snuck up on us this time. It’s nothing serious. Scotty has no symptoms other than a runny nose, though if it continues long enough he’ll be at risk for an earache. The angle of the Eustachian tubes in infants is much flatter than it is later on in life, so they clog up more easily.

It’s not much of a cold, but it’s enough to wake him up every two hours or so. Once he gets congested enough that it interferes with his breathing, he wakes up. At that point he cries until one of us holds him upright long enough for the mucus to drain down. I was on mucus guard from nine until one last night, and again from six-thirty to nine this morning. Scotty and I spent most of the second period zonked out in the downstairs Lazy Boy. SW took the harder middle watch–she went to bed about an hour ago in anticipation of same tonight. Poor thing had been yawning since dinner, at least.

Scotty went down soon afterwards, after a lengthy rock. I’m a good fit for him right now–he can rest his heat in the upper crook of my arm, and the rest of him just curls into place. I can usually count on pacifier, blanket and daddy lap to put him down deep in about fifteen minutes.

All of which come to naught when I try to transfer him to the crib. No matter how slowly I move, he wakes up the minute head touches mattress. The best I can hope for is that he falls back to sleep once I leave, which does usually happen, but I can never get him down without a protest.

It’s nice to have goals, though.

The 7ist edition of the Carnival of the Vanities is hosted by The American Mind this week.

If you’d like to host the Carnival, drop us a line. Information on how to join the Carnival can be found here. If you would like to be added to the Carnival announcement list, send an email to cotvanities-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Upcoming Carnival stops include;

February 4th A Perfectly Cromulent Blog
February 11th On the Third Hand
February 18th Four Right Wing Wackos
February 25th Da Goddess
March 3rd American Digest
March 10th Aaron’s Rantblog
March 17th Patterico’s Pontifications
March 24th Pete Holiday
March 31st Eric Berlin
April 7th Leaking Pure White Noise
April 14th BoiFromTroy
April 21st Southern Musings
April 28th WOLves
May 3rd The Thief’s Den
May 12th Confessions Of A Political Junkie
May 19th Dispatches from the Culture Wars
May 26th Spot On
June 2nd Tiger
June 23rd A Single Guy In The South

Also, be sure to check out the Carnival’s offspring:

The Bharteeya Blog Mela

Bonfire of the Vanities

Carnival of the Capitalists

The Kissing Booth

Carnival of the Canucks

The BestOfMe Symphony

Bull Drum: Kevin Mangum, Sid Stafford
Chopper Blues: Charlie Stafford, Kevin Mason, Clif Ferrell
Specks: Tommy Calisto, James Evans, Curt Hendrix,
Puppy Drum: Colin Riddell, Scott Glass
Croakers: Andy Humer, John Turner
Puffer Fish: Adam Stockwell, Dallas Romanowski, Greg Kowalski, John Grey, Nathan Wright, Carl Stafford*
Cut Bait: Jason White, Travis Verts, Rob, Mike, Rev. Stafford, Mr. Humer, John Wnek*

*Paid for trip, thus earning seniority, but were unable to make it.

My ISP’s connection to the net today has been in and out all day long–almost certainly due to network traffic generated by the new virus. Rather than keep fighting it in an attempt to get a post up, I think I’ll wait until later.

I’ve booked the same house as last year, for October 16th-23rd. The cost has gone up to $125 each ($1374.92 before the security deposit, which I will cover), owing to both an increase in rent and my lessened ability to cover as much as I have before, as the wife has selfishly chosen staying home with the kids over earning money for me to fish with.

That $125 buys you a week, or whatever portion thereof you wish to make use of. I expect that like last year, most will come for half a week. However, I can’t count on that, so I can’t pro-rate the cost. Like last year, any extra money I get will go towards beer, bait, gasoline and groceries.

Don-Lee alumni should note that I expect this year to be at least as popular as last, probably more so. That means that if you all wish to make part of this trip a Don-Lee reunion, then you need to either send me a check or PayPal me the money as soon as possible. I’m assuming you’ll want to do the same as last year, and make the first part of the trip the reunion. We can, at a pinch, get 13 people in the house at once, but I’m going to tell anyone who tries to book a spot after we reach that limit that they are S.O.L. If they possess a bed of thier own and/or an SUV I’ll reconsider, but I’m not going to be happy about it.

Trip Senority does count here, but not for much.

I will consider booking another house, if need be, but only after this one is paid for, and I think we all prefer to stay in the same place anyway.

Let me know if you have questions, and send money! I’ve got to have the deposit in within a month, I expect.

Finally, I’m sent an email copy of this from home, so I don’t have access to all the email addresses that I have on the work computer. If someone does not appear in the TO: or CC: lines, it does not mean that they are not invited. I’ll re-send this tomorrow to a larger list.

Al Franken, Thug

So I take this to mean that Al Franken wouldn’t be upset if I took a baseball bat to his pasty fat ass to shut him up?

Peter Singer, Ethicist

Hearing the guy who champions interspecies dating, infanticide, euthenasia and killing people in comas accuse someone else of being unethical is so backwards that I don’t even have an adjective to describe it.

Another One Goes To Jail

He is being sent to jail for having sex with his 15-year old cousin. Apparently, the church that he belongs to has this thing about keeping the bloodlines pure, so they do a lot of intermarrying between cousins

El-ahrairah Finally Reads Watership Down

Interesting Clark Speech

That can be neatly paraphrased to this statement:

I’ve never acquired the skills essential to getting things done in Washington.

Yet another snow day. They’re after me, I tells ya.

Well, technically the Sainted Wife is after me. When the snow started to fall Sunday morning, there were 24 eggs in the house. Now there are 5.

It’s simple breakfast math, I keep trying to tell her. Two eggs for her, 1.5 eggs for the Ngnat, two eggs for me, with .5 of an egg left over for whomever. Multiply that by three days and egg numbers are bound to fall.

“You’re the only one eating eggs,” she tells me, icily. Appropriate, considering the weather.

Well, yes, but how am I supposed to know that when I start breakfast each morning? It would be rude not to have an egg ready if anyone else wanted one, or two–I’m only thinking of them. It’s not my fault they have donuts, turning the breakfast math into three eggs for me at nine and three more at noon. At least they’re not getting thrown out.

“Think of it as me prepping for Atkins,” I say, an excuse that gets the snort of derision it admittedly deserves in response.

Ngnat has reacted to the extended time indoors by making nests whereever she goes, piling blankets and pillows on the floor, encircling herself with toys and demanding to watch videos every waking hour of the day. We just finished watching the Grinch (animated version as opposed to the hideously crappy live action version) for the second time; I’m thinking maybe the holiday videos need to be stored in the same box as the holiday decorations, away in the attic, safely out of reach. Else I’ll be watching Grinch, Charlie Brown and Rudolph all year round.

Scotty M. has shot his sleep schedule all to hell, apparently deciding that an eyerest every other hour or so is preferable to eight hours at night and a nap or two in the daytime. He’s made it clear that if we expect a normal schedule out of him, he needs to be held the entire time. If we put him down on the mattress, no matter how deeply asleep he happens to be, it’s Princess and the Pea time within a couple of minutes.

I think it’s because he’s in the room closest to the attic, and thus more likely to feel the cold drafts from there before the furnace kicks in. I’m going to try restricting the air flow from there a bit more, see if it makes a difference tonight.

Aside from Ngnat’s nests and Scotty’s slumbers* everything is fine, although the Sainted Wife developed a stiffness in her neck yesterday, long about the 36th hour of uninterrupted family time. Funny, the longer I’m inside, the worse the pain appears to get.

*Notice the alliteration? That’s a sign of quality writing, I tell you what, and a fine sample of what you can expect from the team here at House Hraka. Come down, set a spell.