But I associate Ed Bradley with that news program. See ya, Ed. (Hopefully not for many years).

No LOST jokes — CNN already made them with their “latest news” headline: Lost, found? Ships report new South Pacific island.

The crew of the Maiken, a yacht that left the northern Tongan islands group of Vava’u in August, reported on their Web log on August 12 that they saw streaks of light, porous pumice stone floating in the water — then “sailed into a vast, many-miles-wide belt of densely packed pumice.”

They posted photos of huge “pumice rafts” that they encountered after passing Tonga’s Late island while sailing toward Fiji.

“We were so fascinated and busy taking pictures that we plowed a couple of hundred meters into this surreal floating stone field before we realized that we had to turn back,” wrote a crewman identified only as Haken.

The next day they spotted an active volcanic island, Haken wrote.

He said they could see the volcanic island clearly. “One mile in diameter and with four peaks and a central crater smoking with steam and once in a while an outburst high in the sky with lava and ashes. I think we’re the first ones out here,” he reported.

There was no official confirmation of a new island, either from Tonga’s Ministry of Lands or the Tonga Defense Service.

Cool!

I was very shocked by two things which happened last night when, after work, I stopped at the Gucci Giant in Hunt Valley for milk. I was shocked to arrive at the dairy section and discover that the fat-free milk jugs now have white caps as opposed to blue. I mean, yes, I realize its a stupid thing to be dramatic about (”WHY OH WHY?!”), the milk will taste the same (it had better!!!) but I don’t understand the change. Did Giant realize that they could save a quarter of a penny per lid by not using blue colored dye in the cap-molding process? I don’t know why I’m so bothered about this. Why change that which does not need changing?

Anyway. Whatever. They still had a few jugs of fat-free milk with blue caps left, so I — yes, yes, make fun of me for it — picked up two of ‘em (I almost always buy milk in pairs, unless it’s going to snow and I think I’m going to be snowbound for a few days, in which case I buy a dozen or so). Grabbed a jar of grape jelly and some boxes of frozen pizzas (I know, I love frozen pizza, which I shouldn’t, because pizzas should be yuk) and made my way to the checkout lanes.

I walked past all of the self-checkout lanes. I’m not always consistent about checking out with a lane that is actually staffed, but I recognized the women at the lanes and they’re usually very nice.

When I say I recognized them, let me clarify: I’m in Gucci Giant two or three times a week, and I can’t remember the last time I saw an employee I didn’t recognize. I’ve been shopping at Gucci Giant regularly since I moved to Cockeysville (five years ago), and the girl whose lane I walked to, shit, she’s always at the supermarket. Sometimes she’s running a register, sometimes she’s overseeing the automated lanes or at the customer service desk.

Anyway, I’ve got like five items in my handbasket, so I walk down the lane, plop the basket down on the conveyor belt, unload. She’s telling a story to the woman clerking the next register. No big deal, I think, and it isn’t: I’ve got no problem with clerks finishing their stories or antecdotes before greeting me. Except, she keeps going on about whatever it is she’s going on about, and as she starts scanning my milk and frozen pizzas, all she says to me is “Twelve ninety-eight.”

No “please.” No “Bonus Card?” No “paper or plastic?”

As a matter of fact, she bagged the frozen pizzas, and the grape jelly. She didn’t bag the milk, just set it aside, and without a “thank you” or “have a nice day”, she turned back and continued talking with the woman at the other register. I had to bag my own milk! Thankfully, she deigned to move away so I could access the bags, ignoring my mumbled “excuse me.”

This is what I know: I’ll be avoiding checkout lanes with her in the future. I would’ve much prefered to use an automated checkout lane where not only would I have bagged my own groceries, but the machine would’ve talked to me more than the actual living breathing clerk would.

Customer Service. Seriously. I’ve worked retail, I tend to be more forgiving than the average shitbag if a clerk doesn’t fawn over my every move, but I really can’t get over not being greeted when I walk to the register, or thanked as I complete the transaction and head out the door. Pisses me off.

I would just like to say, to whichever department, bureau or nitwit controls and programs and is in charge of traffic lights in Baltimore County, be he, she, or it a state or county employee, “You, sir/ma’am/thing, are in need of a fucking attitude adjustment.”

On my way to school, I will sometimes detour north to Old Bosley Road, which puts me directly onto Dulaney Valley Road, which is one of the major conduits into Towson for those of those living north of that fine college town and capital of Baltimore County. The light at Old Bosley is notoriously long, but today it lasted for at least nine minutes. NINE MINUTES. Seven cars in front of me, no one able to do anything. Too much traffic southbound for right-turning cars to turn right. And a red-light preventing cars from turning left (if they’d had the willingess to do so, they still would’ve been cock-blocked by the level of traffic).

Anyway, a couple cars were able to make a right-hand turn, and finally — finally!!! — I was at a point where I was able to try to make my turn. About this time, Dipwhore in a Surburban, trying to make a left, began inching forward. Apparently, she decided to make her turn against the light — I don’t blame her for that after the fucking time we’d all sat there — but in inching forward she was blocking my view of southbound traffic, making it increasingly difficult for me to judge when I would have an opportunity to go. And I do blame Dipwhore for that. Dipwhore: you’re in a Surbuban. You’ve got a lot more line-of-sight than I do in my Celica. Chill the fuck out, and let me see!

It gets better. Young dude with Nascaar-I Love Jesus!-NRA stickers all over his red-pickup truck, also trying to make a left hand turn, got tired of waiting for Dipwhore to make her turn. He didn’t have much line of sight behind Dipwhore, so I can only assume Jesus was whispering in his ear, but in a screech of tires, he pulled around Dipwhore (into the westbound lane of traffic on Old Bosley), gunned into the intersection, made a rubber-ripping hard left, and accelerated up Dulaney Valley. Much to my disappointment, no police were about. (Even with my frustration at the light, and understanding his, he put lives at risk with his foolhardy stunt).

Anyway. So, yeah. I’m never going Old Bosley again. Fuck old Bosley. Fuck traffic lights.

Okay, class is starting. Adieu!

I don’t get why Maryland isn’t more liberal about issuing CCW permits. Why shouldn’t law abiding citizens be provided the opportunity to carry firearms for defensive purposes? (Well, okay, yes I do get why they aren’t more liberal about CCW issuing, it’s because Maryland is so liberal, but, seriously … gun control got dropped as a national loser issue what, six years ago? C’mon folks, get with the times…)

Anyway, here’s a website, Maryland Shall Issue, about getting a CCW in this state. It won’t happen — if it was going to happen, it would’ve when Ehrlich was governor*, oh well — but, hey, maybe someday I can buy a holster for my little snub .38 Special. (I’ve never carried any firearms in public. Well, except once, when I had the snub in my pocket and I ran some trash out to the dumpster. ‘K? Bite me!)

*I guess he’s still governor for the next few months. I won’t hold my breath.