What do we do while engaged in a War on Terror (TM) and learn that the new leader of a significant country is a terrorist who held and abused U.S. Government employees?

Bush suggested these questions are not his primary concern since Ahmadinejad was elected. Instead, he said, he wants to ensure that Britain, France and Germany, who have been negotiating with Iran to stop its alleged nuclear ambitions, make absolutely clear to Ahmadinejad that a nuclear-armed Iran will not be tolerated.

“We’ve got a got a new man who’s assumed power and he must hear a focused message,” the president said. “That’s where my attention is focused right now.”

So, one can be a terrorist, hold and abuse U.S. Government employees as hostages for over one year, but because that person gets “elected,” his background isn’t really a primary concern. I expect this kind of hypocritical action from Bush on his friends the Saudis, but this is Iran. What level of elected office gets one immunity from prosecution? If Osama becomes mayor of some little town will Bush concentrate on the “focussed message” of no-nukes for him too? Certainly glad I’m not working for the government overseas anymore.

Despite my best efforts and the shiny new software on the PC, the day ended up being entirely too productive. Cube business involving an unnaturally long mediation and lunch with defense counsel at San Diego’s new House of Blues highlighted the agenda. Two more days until the holiday weekend, but it won’t be much fun since the cubedwellers have me on the electronic tether this weekend. At least I should get some more pictures up, and maybe take what I learned through the failure of my night photography experiments in Las Vegas and get some passable shots of the local fireworks.

So much for productivity today. Google Earth. [S.F. Gate article here]

Watched two things tonight.

Our lame duck president talked on most of the channels and I fell asleep in the La-Z-Boy.

Then I lay down on the floor and watched Pongo’s eyes do the REM-sleep thing as his face stuck out from under his blanket.

I’ve given up on trying to figure out what makes Bush tick, but I’m still very curious about Pongo’s dreams.

Less than twenty four hours left until I’m due back in the cube. I’ll deal, somehow.

In the meantime, banana pancakes and good coffee are hitting the spot while I do some private billing and tweak the law firm website. Nothing major, just a chance in mailing address. The suite I’ve been using since 2001 decided to bump their rates by 150% (greedy corporate @#$@%s). Not happy with the solution, but given the amount of moonlighting I’ve been doing, it looks like I’m working out of a P.O. Box for the indefinite future. Still working on the new phone line since that was run through the suite too, Overhead and fixed costs for even a part-time practice are killers. Of course, the savings of jumping to a P.O. Box are more than eaten up in the short term by the costs of new cards and notifying everyone of the new arrangement.

I guess this is the way to ease out of vacation mode. A little bit of coding and accounting while sipping coffee in the boxers, to be followed by an attempt to find shoes later in the day. Maybe it won’t feel so harsh tomorrow.

Despite all the hoopla and anguish at other sites over the new 2257 regulations, we’re still happily promoting artistic nudity when we find it. Thus, we are happy to quote the Washington Post on the return of bare (metallic) skin at the Department of Justice:

WASHINGTON — With barely a word about it, workers at the Justice Department Friday removed the blue drapes that have famously covered two scantily clad statues for the past 3 1/2 years.

Spirit of Justice, with her one breast exposed and her arms raised, and the bare-chested male Majesty of Law basked in the late afternoon light of Justice’s ceremonial Great Hall.

We note both statues were made in the 1930s, but have no information on the ages of the models when the artistic works were created.

CNN is reporting on some new goggles for swimmer with electronic display capabilities. [via Aquablather] Since I don’t swim competively I don’t really share his feelings about becoming dependent on something I couldn’t legally use in a race. I see it more as a cool gizmo that with some good programming could improve my workouts. As long as they get it cheap enough that I can throw it in a gym bag and not worry about it.

Some things just really shouldn’t need to be said:

This sign was at a view point overlooking Lake Mead in Nevada.

We’re back from the roadtrip, alive and well. Both legs of the trip were fun in their own ways.

Days One and Two: Las Vegas.

The drive up I-15 was marred by only two incidents of idiots wrecking their cars in traffic and we made the 320-mile drive in about 5 1/2 to 6 hours. Roadtrips go faster when fast food restaurants don’t provide parking with shade. As much as I like crispy but greasy fries and chicken between bread slices, baked Pongo doesn’t do it for me, so I brownbag it.

On Tuesday morning I noticed an article in the Review-Journal reporting that a dealer at the Treasure Island Casino had been fired for calling a tip line when he thought he saw that runaway bride from Georgia last month. While most people think those tourism commercials promoting the idea that in Las Vegas “What happens here, stays here,” apparantly they back it up. Since I’ve seen all three Godfather movies, I know better than to offend the powers that be. I’ll play along. Nothing about what happened there.

That does leave the other question words though, so let’s hit them in sequence -

Who? Me, Pongo, others (self-identification/confession can be made in the comments).
What? [Redacted on advice of the consiglieri]
When? From afternoon on Monday 6/20 until late morning on Wednesday 6/22.
Where? Treasure Island, the Venetian, the Mirage, the Wynn, the Paris, the Bellagio, the Rio, the Blue Moon, the California Pizza Kitchen and a Denny’s. There may be others not immediately recalled.
Why? Because (in no particular order) I wanted to, I could, I was there, it was there, it was a full moon, it was too hot, it was too cold, it was just right, the timing was right and last but not least, because that’s the way I am.
How? With cash, on plastic and the best I could.

I’ll play lawyer a bit and also state that the gambling fund expanded then contracted, and about ten dollars ended up emigrating to Nevada.

Outside of Las Vegas we went out to Lake Mead on Tuesday. Wanted to see the sights and keep Pongo separated from the housekeeping staff. We made a couple of stops for sniffing and photos then I went to get more water from the ice chest in the back of the truck. Whoops. Looks like someone tried to break into the truck. The lock on the camper shell is all twisted, but apparantly kept someone from stealing my bottled water and old tire chains. It did cut the side trip short though, since I wasn’t wild about running out of drinking water in 104 degree heat. We did eventually get the back of the truck open, but right now I can’t re-lock it. If anyone wants some 8-year-old chains for a 94 pickup truck, never used and only slightly rusted, come on down.

Day Three: Las Vegas to Blythe

Loaded up the truck and headed out of town.

Went south to the Hoover Dam for the first of our three law enforcement stops on this trip. Someone, I think Homeland Security themselves, runs checkpoints screening all the vehicles crossing the dam. Fortunately there was no chance in hell the guy was going to step out of his spot of shade to actually check the truck. An alert guard might have noticed the slight nasal tinge to Pongo’s bark (a byproduct of his puppyhood in francophone Africa) and concluded he was one of those French enemies of freedom. But we were lucky, and Guantanamo’s loss is your gain.

Zig-zaged south a bit, taking US93 toward Kingman, then the 68 back toward California. Passed some mountains, some river, some wild fires and through an intense thunderstorm. Also saw some of the worst out-of-control growth I’ve seen in years. Trashy strip malls and and tiny houses all along the river for miles south of Bullhead City. We did see a nice bank temperature sign there; 119 degrees at 1:30 in the afternoon.

We reentered the Golden State at Needles. This was our second encounter with the forces of law and order: The California Fruit Police. Agricultural inspection to insure we have no dangerous insects or parasites. Pongo spoke for us and we never even came to a complete stop. I think it must have had to do with the flea collar; would anyone that diligent bring in contraband weevils?

South, south, south. US95 through some mountains and some desert eventually ending in Blythe. It was hot, and there was a Day’s Inn with a pool right where the highway pulls into town. We called it a day, and Pongo watched TV while I monopolized the pool’s sole floating mattress.

Day Four: Blythe to San Diego

Breakfast at a very cool little diner in Blythe, and we were on the road by 8:00 to try and avoid the heat. Pongo got a little anxious as I loaded the truck, but if he really thinks I’m going to abandon him after ten years, maybe that will inspire him to behave a little better, won’t it?

We drove I-10 east back to Arizona, then rejoined US95 south through the Chocolate Mountains. Several parks and the Yuma Proving Grounds keep the area pretty undeveloped except for some power lines that paralleled the highway and ruined several good views. We did get offroad a few times though a got a few good pictures.

I’d tried to actually hike in for a few shots, but in his fourth day of temperatures at over 100 degrees, Pongo was having none of that. For the first time in years I saw him, the dog born just five degrees north of the equator, actually reluctant to leave the A/C of the truck. Terrain was just sitting there for the marking, and was left unmarked by Pongo. I think he’s abandoned his African heritage.

We had more fun at the Gila River. I think the presence of flowing water helped reassure him that we wouldn’t end up a desiccated skeletons if I lost my keys. Maybe his need to pee just finally prevailed over his survival instinct. Whatever, we sniffed a bit and stretched our legs.

From there it was a straight shot back to San Diego on I-8. Interesting scenery, with barren desert sand dunes more like Tatooine then the cactus-and-boulder-strewn deserts of Road Runner lore, but no place to stop and take pictures. Fences everywhere and no parking. Law Enforcement stop three took place about an hour outside of San Diego when a Border Patrol random checkpoint had traffic backed up for miles. We smiled and were waved through uneventfully.

Overall a good roadtrip. No permanent injuries. No arrests and no convictions despite three encounters with The Man. Good pics and good memories.

We’re home. A trip post will be forthcoming. In the meantime, as we wait for the aloe gel to sooth my sunburned fingers to a point where they can type without pain and my dinner to arrive and me to finish going through the pics and laundry, go read this [via Kottke].