After this post,
where I wondered if server logs showing a constant stream of visits from the "Unknown
Country" might be visitors from beyond the grave, I got a flood of
emails from people certain that they themselves were writing from the
Unknown Country.  I’m not sure this speaks well of one’s civic pride, but I appreciate the tips nonetheless.

So far, this claim has been made by people who live
in Ireland, Northern Ireland, South Africa, China, Ireland yet again,
and Canada, although I think this last one was kidding.

To all of you kind writers, thanks — but I don’t think it’s you.  And Ireland must be pretty damn depressing this time of year, since the island accounts for fully half of emailers who consider their own
land as a better candidate for the Unknown Country than death itself.

Even more puzzling, however, is this newer graphic, creating a new, even more delightfully ambiguous category of visitors:

Hello, visitors from the land of Miscellany!

You guys were nine
percent of our traffic for a while.  And yet you’re from places
apparently even more miscellaneous than Cyprus, Denmark, the United
Arab Emirates, and (of course) Ireland and the Unknown Country.

I greet you with miscellaneous body gestures, and welcome you with
miscellaneous words!  I hope someday to learn your miscellaneous
customs, eat your miscellaneous food, and do miscellaneous things in a
most miscellaneous way.

That all said, I am highly disturbed by news of your growing border
tensions with the Nondescript.  And I frankly question your treatment
of the Higgledy-Piggledy among you.

We all know that terror strikes are Random events.  It is unfair to slur the Higgledy-Piggledy and Nondescript by association.

Unless peace initiatives work, this could lead to many of you having to log in from the Unknown Country.

So weird it has to be true.

The Carlyle Group is the Bush family’s favorite international oil, defense, and media investment cartel.  Even better-connected
than Halliburton, Carlyle’s payroll over the years has included both George H.W. and George W.
Bush, family consigliere James Baker, Colin Powell, Frank Carlucci,
and former British PM John Major.

They’re not quite as shadowy as a lot of people make them out to be; in fact, just by checking their website, you can find a list of their many investments in things that go pump, boom, and yak. 
(And I personally find their growing ownership of media companies as
least as creepy as all the military and oil stuff.  Obvious reasons.)

Poke around, and pretty soon you might get the feeling that Carlyle’s
ad slogan, if they ever bothered talking with mere civilians, would be
a riff on the old BASF campaign: "At Carlyle, we don’t make the wars…
we make the people who make the wars wealthier."

Now comes news that Carlyle is trying to augment their portfolio of 400
explody-kaboom companies by buying — of all things — the Togo’s,
Dunkin
Donuts, and Baskin-Robbins food chains.

I dunno.  Maybe they just heard Togo’s makes submarines, and got all excited.

It’s sandwiches, guys.  Just sandwiches.

I still adore Sydney, it’s still one of my favorite places on Earth,
and I’m still excited to be headed back late next week.  But the race riots in Cronulla have been truly depressing to see. 

To my limited knowledge, this Aussie blog entry seems to get things about right.  Sigh.

Still, Oz does have pademelons.

When you’re sick, it’s always there.  Unlike baseball and football and such, rugby union simply never ends.

Between Super 14, Six Nations, Tri-Nations, NPC, Currie Cup,
Celtic League, Guinness Premiership, IRB
Sevens (returning to L.A. in February!), and a
gazillion other competitions, not to mention test tours and the quadrennial World Cup, somebody is playing.  Always.

(It helps to get Setanta, which will also flood you with images of Irish people kicking things, throwing things, and whacking each other with sticks.)

Since I have to be on my back today, I have the Heineken Cup going while trying to work and rest at the same time. 
(And you wonder why I never get better…)  Ronan O’Gara, the fine Irish fly-half (pictured), is leading Munster against a
struggling Dragons side from Wales.  Later on, if I’m still awake,
I’m looking forward to seeing how Jonah Lomu does in his return for
the Cardiff Blues.  (I got to walk around the Blues’ field last year, so I enjoy their games particularly.)

I know this is total gibberish to most of you (although more visitors from rugby-speaking and cricket-fluent bits of the planet seem
to be wandering in).  Precisely my point. 
If you love sport and enjoy international competition,
cultivate rugby love.  You will never lack diversion again.

You’ve probably noticed that blogging has slowed again.  That infection
I’ve been fighting for the last five weeks has re-emerged, and I’m
under doctor’s orders to be as flat and unconscious as possible for a
while.  No worries; I’ll be fine.  I have a guy I trust working on it, and it really should be all done soon.  Just don’t think I’ve abandoned the
blog if it just sits here for a while.

Incidentally, I’m on some shiny new meds with even more interesting possible — and (thank the FSM) unlikely — side effects than the last batch:

Well.  This could be interesting.  Bottoms up!  We’ll hope for the best.

In addition, I am to avoid aspirin, antacids, and (weirdly enough) licorice.  How odd.

I originally picked up this case of cooties, mind you, in a doctor’s office,
when I went in for a routine guy-in-his-40s health-maintenance thing. 
This is called "iatrogenic" (doctor-induced) disease, and if memory
serves, the are studies which say about 25% of all medical problems in
the United States are iatrogenic.

I’d look up the exact stat, but you have Google if you’re curious. 
Meanwhile, I have a pudu to post, some paying work I need to finish,
and then I need to be in bed.

See you in a few days with the usual litany of complaining and goofing around.