Category: State of the Site Report

I’ll never use AI here. This is MY blog. Please hate it accordingly. Thank you.

Hey, I wonder if the Ruby tag works in this here word (some) processor (gizmo).

Edit: Ha ha! Furigana (weeb crap) in English!

I’ve added an SSL certificate to my site just to see how easy it is. Pretty easy, as it turns out.

First my site, then the world. Bang *hiss* the worrrld.

I’m trying something braaaand new called Project Gutenberg, which is a new WordPress plugin designed to replace the old editor. I don’t really have anything amazing to say this time around.

Unlike every other post, of course, which are edge-of-seaters.

My father died when I was an infant, and I have no children of my own, so Father’s Day has always been a kind of black box to me. I’d usually end up celebrating it with my mother as a sort of secondary Mother’s Day, with less candy and more tools and garden implements.

Growing up without a dad is, I suppose, less traumatic than growing up without a mother. Dads were the breadwinners when I was growing up, so they were naturally less involved in their kids’ upkeep. My life just took that to an extreme. I never knew what I was missing so I never really missed it. Nobody ever made fun of me or anything. It was just a fact of life.

I guess what I’m wandering around to say is that Father’s Day is about the only secular holiday I’ve never celebrated. Much like Father-Son Day or Take Your Father to School Day, I was on the outside looking in.

If you have a father, or if you are a father, Father’s Day is most likely a real thing for you. If you’ve ever once had a good day with your father or children, cherish it. There are people who will never get to.

Anyone who’s been to my site recently (all three of you) will note that a couple of posts mysteriously vanished. That’s ’cause I had to restore to a less-than-recent backup, because apparently I got hacked by someone who really likes French porn.

At least it got me to update my site and change all my passwords. So thanks for that, French porn enthusiast hacker!

In light of the #PizzaGate scandal, we here at CCXP (The Only News Source You’ll Ever Really Need™) have compiled this handy list of secret code words. Now you too can bulk-search email leaks and discover the hidden truth about the world being flaunted right under your nose!

I know it’s not really news that interests anyone but me, but our 15-year-old puppy Gretchen passed away last week and I’m really bummed about it.

She was a gorgeous black-and-tan German shepherd mix (mixed with a terrier, I think, or some other digging dog, based on the number of ankle-snapper divots she put in the back yard). We had one big health issue with her six years ago which ended when a surgeon removed a mass the size of a softball from her liver. She was fine after that (besides some arthritis) until about two months ago when she decided to stop eating. We changed foods, which helped for a while, but two weeks ago she had gone so obviously downhill that we took her to the vet. That’s where we learned she was suffering from severe kidney failure.

We tried a few things still, in hopes it would perk her back up. The vet gave her an infusion which didn’t really do much except make her pee uncontrollably. She continued to decline to the point where she wouldn’t stand up on her own accord. Donna in particular saw that Gretchen was miserable, and tired, and probably in pain. So we talked with the vet and decided it was time to put her to sleep.

Neither Donna nor I ever had to make that decision before. It’s something I’ve been dreading since Donna brought this little black puppy with too-big paws home from school 15 years ago. I’ve had dogs before, much earlier in my life, and when they died it hurt so much I semi-convinced myself that I wouldn’t put myself through all that again. But here she was, and she was too cute to say no. I fell in love right then and it only grew over the subsequent years. Oh sure, she barked under the bedroom window until 5 a.m. a few times, and dug up Donna’s garden, and broke a few things, and chewed up a few more things, and had a tendency to jump all over people (especially with muddy paws). But we loved her, and we loved her so much that in the end we let her go rather than let her continue downhill in pain and confusion and malaise.

It hurts. I can’t lie. I know some day it’ll be better, but right now it’s a spike through my mind.

Good night, pup. Good girl.