The Los Angeles Class attack submarine USS San Francisco ran aground approximately 350 miles south of Guam on January 8, 2005. The vessel was traveling at approximately 25 knots at a depth of 500 feet when it hit a previously uncharted seamount. Several sailors were injured in the collision, including one who died two days later from his injuries. The boat is now in dry dock. News emerged this past weekend that the Commander of the boat has been relieved of duty. The photo (right) shows some of the damage sustained.

[See additional photos]
[Read a letter from a sailor aboard San Francisco]
[Read the Situation Report (PDF)]
[Read the history of USS San Francisco]

Yes, it’s true that when we turn into (or, actually, even pass) a Starbucks, the kids will say, “Are you getting coffee, Daddy?” But I hadn’t fully realized just how common this was. Or maybe it isn’t that common and my kids are just brilliant.

Either way, last night I was giving Lily and Jack a bath and they were pretending to make me coffee. Fill a cup with water, say something like “Here you go, sir”, or “Here’s your coffee, sir.” I’d pretend to drink it; they’d make another. Then Lily said, “I’m going to make your favorite, Dad: a Coffee Alexandra with a little bit of room.”

When I go to Starbucks, I almost always order a Cafe Americano with a little bit of room (so I don’t end up wearing it instead of drinking it.)

Just one more indication to be very, very careful what you say around little ears. They are always listening.

I have no idea if this is true or not. I’ve done some digging and can’t find anything to either verify or deny it. Regardless, I think it’s funny.

A group of Americans, retired teachers, recently went to France on a tour. Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane. At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on. “You have been to France before, monsieur?” the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

“Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.”

The American said, “The last time I was here, I didn’t have to show it.”

“Impossible. Americans always have to show your passports on arrival in France!”

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained. “Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in ’44 to help liberate this country, I couldn’t find any Frenchmen to show it to.”

There are many people who have a special place just waiting for them in Hell. Here are a few:

Dona and Ivan, the sick, twisted common-law couple who have abused a 6-month old baby almost beyond comprehension. These two need to fry. [Read the story]

The bastards who strapped a bomb on a child with Down Syndrome and blew him up on election day in Iraq. [Read the story]

The brother-sister pair that killed their grandparents and then their mother because she wouldn’t go along with their plan. [Read the story]

The pathetic thugs that abducted and then killed a ten-year-old girl because she saw them making meth near her home in a small Indiana town. [Read the story]

Ah, hell. I could go on, but why? What I’d like to know – and what I’d like you to share with me – are stories of good things happening to people. These can be stories you tell or links, I don’t care. I could just really use some good news…

I suppose it was bound to happen. Couple the power of the Internet with the wrath of a woman (or man) scorned, and you get Bitter Waitress. This site provides the disgruntled waiter in your life with the ability to bitch and moan about you – and if that wasn’t enough – post your name in their appropriately named “Shitty Tipper Database“. Most of the entries regale in tales of famous people treating others badly, but it also includes a hefty amount of normal people acting like asses. Including Raymond Brown of New York who “…never tips more than a dollar regardless of the amount of the bill. Tonight he got in an argument with the bartender and left a quarter on the bar.” The bill was $24.75.

I couldn’t help but be reminded of a guy we used to work with who told us at lunch one day, “Yeah, I consider myself a big tipper.” He then went on to leave exactly twenty-five cents for the waiter. Of course, I called him on it, but the trouble with Brent was that I’m not sure he was capable of doing the math. Perchance we need a “Shitty Mathematician Database”?