They All Look the Same, Right?

This is actually a few days old now, but in the wee hours of Monday morning I happened across a link on Google that led me to this:



I thought, "Those poor people. And they just got hit with another tsunami, AND an earthquake." But then I started reading the article and realized that all the names of people interviewed sounded very Filipino, and it referenced the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology, which seemed very odd for an article about Indonesia.

Turns out, of course, that they had put the wrong country in the headline. And even though it had an Associated Press byline, it didn't say who had authored the article - probably because they also made apparent alterations to the original wire story, which was published on several other online news sources (with the correct country in the headline) along with the reporter's name and AP's standard copyright disclaimer stating that the story was not to be altered in any form.

It is Fox News, though, so I suppose for their readers it only matters that they were brown people on an island somewhere. Actually, their readers probably never even bothered to look at it at all. Just for the record, they did manage to correct the headline within 24 hours, but it's still found under the "Australia, New Zealand and Indonesia" section of their World News.

Bachelor Life

I'm on my own until next week, as David's off at this trade show in Salt Lake City. All the big boys and girls are there - Woolrich, Patagonia, Columbia. How much you wanna bet Gert Boyle spikes the punch bowl?

Actually, I'm just kind of worried I'll call and David will be off somewhere slamming down shots with Jimmy Osmond (Is it just me, or was Jimmy really going for the Rosie-O'Donnell-on-Star-Search look in this 1985 TV appearance?). So far, though, he claims he hasn't seen any Mormons. I'd say they only come out at night, but I've been to Salt Lake City and seen them, in the daytime - families with 7 or 8 kids, all blond-haired and blue-eyed. I have to say, though, that it is the most desolate city I've ever been in - avenues 6 or 8 lanes wide with no traffic in the middle of the day. It's like they built it and then forgot to fill it with people (Maybe that's why they're having 7 or 8 kids).

We apparently managed to find him a room in the seediest motel in Salt Lake City, a Super 8 only 4 blocks from the Convention Center and Temple Square. When he arrived Tuesday night, he called and said, "It's a shithole." The elevator is apparently held together with blue masking tape, and he couldn't bring himself to use the stairs because the stairwell smelled ungodly. And after he turned down the sheets on the bed, he called me back to tell me that he'd found a pill in the bed, which of course makes one wonder if they actually bothered to clean the sheets between guests. I was able to look said pill up in the PDR here at work and it's a generic version of Ativan. Maybe they put it there so he wouldn't worry about sleeping in a shithole motel on dirty sheets.

On the Knitting Front

Work progresses on the practice sock. I've figured out why hand-knit socks so often have such a short band of ribbing at the cuff. I prefer more ribbing on my socks, so I started about 1.5 inches above the heel and things immediately slowed. way. down. Of course, it didn't help that my hands were complaining for a couple days, meaning I'd manage two or three rounds and have to set it down. It looks as though there are at least a few novice knitters signed up for Sock Wars, though, so I might have a chance in hell. With my luck, I'll probably be felled in short order by some badass sock slinger.