This is strange, strange, strange.
Quicktime video, Cyril Guyot | Director Reel
Not safe for work, but not porn.
Double Flee A
Tuesday
Monday
A revealing look at the opening of the Clinton library and what graceless thugs Bush and Rove are.
Guardian Unlimited | Special reports | One gulp, and Bush was gone
Guardian Unlimited | Special reports | One gulp, and Bush was gone
In Crossville, Tennessee there are a lot of churches. Property taxes being what they are, churches can't operate at a loss, so there's got to be someone to give money to these churches. Fortunately, many, many Tennesseeans love to give them money.
One of the biggest churches in Crossville, Tennessee is the United methodist church downtown. They have a gymnasium. When I was a boy we had sleepovers in that place, and we would play basketball all night in their gym. One of the sheep in that church's flock is a guy named Horace.
The lovely Joyce has a picture of she and Horace and I standing in front of something. Horace isn't famous yet, but he should be. Horace is a builder, and he built the something that was behind us in the picture. I say with complete confidence and without fear of contradiction that what he built is the biggest treehouse in the world. I can't show you the picture of us, but I can show you the treehouse, which he says he built it to glorify the lord. And if the lord is anything like that treehouse, you'd better start praying your ass off, because he's coming down any minute now, and when he does, somebody's getting hurt.
yo
Seeing the treehouse is sort of a religious experience. It's too damn big to even be real. If the smartest twelve-year old in the world (not autistic-smart, a twelve-year old with normal twelve-year old desires) had unlimited materials and help and time, he would have made this exact thing, and if the twelve-year old were a born again christian, he would have done it the same way. The stairs aren't level and are different sizes.
Inside the treehouse is a sanctuary with pews and a basketball hoop. And a tree growing up through it on which is carved JESU and half an S. Oh, did I say that tree was growing? I'm sorry, what I meant to say is it's dead. A dead tree right at the center of this thing is helping hold it up. You forget while you're shooting hoops that you're a good twenty feet off the ground. The screams of children who are running joyfully through this monstrosity add to the effect of surreality. Children should be running screaming from this deathtrap.
Of course, I went to the top, where the view out the window was this.
While up there, I was more afraid than I have been since jumping out of an airplane, and for the same reason, which was that I was doing what my body told me was the stupidest thing possible. In the case of the treehouse, I agree. My legs were shaking so badly that they went into a state of being completely locked up. There was a sense that this was so dangerous that I might actually be dying right now and not even realize it yet, so my brain checked with my body at many times its normal rate to make sure it was still there. Minutes later, about halfway through my descent from the tower I realized I was in pain. I'd given myself powerful cramps in my quadriceps from trembling in fear. You would have been trembling, too. It was very high up.
It's held up by sturdy wood.
Wood that's on a plumb line only in Alice's wonderland.
Here's the back. Not as bad looking as the front.
Because it's hard to get an idea from the other picture how big it is, here's how people look in that tower, which is a bell tower. The bells are made of cut-off oxygen tanks. People climb up and ring them.
It is the craziest thing I have ever seen. For directions to it email me.
One of the biggest churches in Crossville, Tennessee is the United methodist church downtown. They have a gymnasium. When I was a boy we had sleepovers in that place, and we would play basketball all night in their gym. One of the sheep in that church's flock is a guy named Horace.
The lovely Joyce has a picture of she and Horace and I standing in front of something. Horace isn't famous yet, but he should be. Horace is a builder, and he built the something that was behind us in the picture. I say with complete confidence and without fear of contradiction that what he built is the biggest treehouse in the world. I can't show you the picture of us, but I can show you the treehouse, which he says he built it to glorify the lord. And if the lord is anything like that treehouse, you'd better start praying your ass off, because he's coming down any minute now, and when he does, somebody's getting hurt.
yo
Seeing the treehouse is sort of a religious experience. It's too damn big to even be real. If the smartest twelve-year old in the world (not autistic-smart, a twelve-year old with normal twelve-year old desires) had unlimited materials and help and time, he would have made this exact thing, and if the twelve-year old were a born again christian, he would have done it the same way. The stairs aren't level and are different sizes.
Inside the treehouse is a sanctuary with pews and a basketball hoop. And a tree growing up through it on which is carved JESU and half an S. Oh, did I say that tree was growing? I'm sorry, what I meant to say is it's dead. A dead tree right at the center of this thing is helping hold it up. You forget while you're shooting hoops that you're a good twenty feet off the ground. The screams of children who are running joyfully through this monstrosity add to the effect of surreality. Children should be running screaming from this deathtrap.
Of course, I went to the top, where the view out the window was this.
While up there, I was more afraid than I have been since jumping out of an airplane, and for the same reason, which was that I was doing what my body told me was the stupidest thing possible. In the case of the treehouse, I agree. My legs were shaking so badly that they went into a state of being completely locked up. There was a sense that this was so dangerous that I might actually be dying right now and not even realize it yet, so my brain checked with my body at many times its normal rate to make sure it was still there. Minutes later, about halfway through my descent from the tower I realized I was in pain. I'd given myself powerful cramps in my quadriceps from trembling in fear. You would have been trembling, too. It was very high up.
It's held up by sturdy wood.
Wood that's on a plumb line only in Alice's wonderland.
Here's the back. Not as bad looking as the front.
Because it's hard to get an idea from the other picture how big it is, here's how people look in that tower, which is a bell tower. The bells are made of cut-off oxygen tanks. People climb up and ring them.
It is the craziest thing I have ever seen. For directions to it email me.
Sunday
Overqualified, a new letter every Tuesday
The Official Site Of Irwin Corey, the world's foremost authority
Wired News: Internet Porn: Worse Than Crack?: "Internet pornography is the new crack cocaine, leading to addiction, misogyny, pedophilia, boob jobs and erectile dysfunction, according to clinicians and researchers..."
Thanksgiving south was great. I went to the day-after-Thanksgiving mob scene at Wal-Mart at five AM, saw the world's biggest treehouse, and did a hell of a lot of driving. It's good to be back in cyberville where swerving won't kill anyone.
I'll post pictures of the treehouse when I've rested. For now I just want to surf aimlessly. Know the feeling?
I'll post pictures of the treehouse when I've rested. For now I just want to surf aimlessly. Know the feeling?
Thursday
Oh. My. God.
The winter storm we encountered halfway through Illinois was the wost weather since the last time Joyce and I tried to go somewhere. The snow was incredible.
We counted at least 20 cars in the ditch on the way in, as did the other people in the hot tub. They saw a police car in the ditch, too, lucky devils. The holiday inn in Normal, Ill., is so packed, there are people sleeping on couches in the lobby. The night watchman's got a sense of humor about it. It's not five A.M. yet and we're getting out of here. They can't say we didn't try to get to Thanksgiving dinner on time.
An analogy occurred to me about the weather when we checked in here yesterday. It was like getting slapped in the face with hundreds of frozen beetles.
The winter storm we encountered halfway through Illinois was the wost weather since the last time Joyce and I tried to go somewhere. The snow was incredible.
We counted at least 20 cars in the ditch on the way in, as did the other people in the hot tub. They saw a police car in the ditch, too, lucky devils. The holiday inn in Normal, Ill., is so packed, there are people sleeping on couches in the lobby. The night watchman's got a sense of humor about it. It's not five A.M. yet and we're getting out of here. They can't say we didn't try to get to Thanksgiving dinner on time.
An analogy occurred to me about the weather when we checked in here yesterday. It was like getting slapped in the face with hundreds of frozen beetles.
Tuesday
I'm headed out in the morning for Tennessee to visit family for Thanksgiving. In case I don't get to a computer between now and turkey day, gobble gobble, happy thanksgiving.
I'd like not to crash and die on the highway, but if I do, I'd like to say in all seriousness that I've decided that I had philosophy all wrong, because I was searching for meaning and there really isn't any. It's my opinion that you have to make your own meaning, whatever it is. You make your bed in this life, and you have to sleep in it. You want to make your life about world domination, fine. There's your Hitlers and Napoleons. Make it about reproducing yourself, there's most people. Make it about finding clever ways to screw over working people, there's your president Bush. And so on. That just crossed my mind today so I thought I'd, you know, blog it.
I'd like not to crash and die on the highway, but if I do, I'd like to say in all seriousness that I've decided that I had philosophy all wrong, because I was searching for meaning and there really isn't any. It's my opinion that you have to make your own meaning, whatever it is. You make your bed in this life, and you have to sleep in it. You want to make your life about world domination, fine. There's your Hitlers and Napoleons. Make it about reproducing yourself, there's most people. Make it about finding clever ways to screw over working people, there's your president Bush. And so on. That just crossed my mind today so I thought I'd, you know, blog it.
Well, here's what I think is the worst video ever. If you think there are worse ones, (not including death scenes, please), leave comments and lead each other to them.
YUCK.
Not safe for work,
Not safe for anyone.
YUCK.
Not safe for work,
Not safe for anyone.
MSNBC - Texas mom held for severing baby's arms
Abortion is a sensitive issue, but in this case it might have been a better idea. Some people are unfit to parent.
Abortion is a sensitive issue, but in this case it might have been a better idea. Some people are unfit to parent.
Don't watch this. It was sent to me by a blogger who pretty much doesn't want to link to it himself. It's a video of a guy getting kicked in the nuts. Over and over, and over. I could only watch it happen once, and then for the amount of time it took me to get my mouse to close the window button while in shock. So about three times.
NSFW = Not Safe For Work:
Mucho Sucko
NSFW = Not Safe For Work:
Mucho Sucko
Monday
The guy who went nuts hunting
CNN.com - Sixth hunter shot in deer stand dispute dies - Nov 22, 2004
was using this:
"SKS 7.62 mm semiautomatic rifle"
CNN.com - Sixth hunter shot in deer stand dispute dies - Nov 22, 2004
was using this:
"SKS 7.62 mm semiautomatic rifle"
I read this, which linked from boing boing, which said "US peso circling the drain". Just liked the expression.
Worldwide effects of sinking dollar
Worldwide effects of sinking dollar
Stories in 25 words or less.
I wish they'd find something else to call them:
Espresso Stories
In Cookeville, Tennessee, armpit of the universe, there once opened a coffeeshop "downtown", across from the "old" courthouse. The "new" courthouse is huge, and it houses the biggest asshole, JUDGE HUDSON YOU C***S****R, and the most corrupt and lucrative business in the county, the judicial business. The coffeeshop is called "poets on the square". Now don't get me wrong, it's the kind of place that will let you use the phone and all, but what an awful name. Even a true coffee lover like myself is revolted by this crime. There's something about poetry that has always put me off. I think part of it is that it consists, to a large extent, of pretense. Anybody can put some words together and make you think, though some poets tend to be better than others. I don't know that I'd ever devote much time to learning about poetry. Is poetry a thing that people talk about to impress other people? Poetry, like advertising, ruins a perfectly good language. If you were really that good at putting words together, that sure of their meanings, I think you'd make a cohesive point with them, not just use about ten of then and leave the reader to work him or herself into a lather over your tortured genius. Poems tend to be the preferred medium of zitty, hyperbolic, self-obsessed teenage girls who think no one else has ever felt like they do, those who wield the language the worst, owing in part to their feeling that they don't suck at writing poetry. Which they do. Young women: please get the hang of menstruating without writing poetry. Thank you.
Have gourmet coffee and poetry become associated in the southern mind? If so, I can guarantee that it is a negative trait they share, the unspeakable "homo" association. It's ok if women go there, but if you blindfolded Gary from the sewage plant and brought him in there he'd probably kick your ass. He'd at least want to, even if, instead, he made some tiresome pantomime of gay people drinking coffee, which I'll bet you he would. You know the one? Pinky finger extended, ridiculous lisp, lips smacking? If you've seen it once you've seen it a thousand times, and you've seen it once. That gay southern man thing is played out. It's probably one of the stupider things that it hasn't become popular to make fun of, maybe because of the paradox that it would present to a comedy audience, and the subsequent unpredictablity of an audience that realized that the other half of the audience was laughing at them. Wouldn't I like to see the contorted faces of those idiots, though, in their moment of clarity, when it became clear that their night of being a fun-loving audience member with what they thought were irreproachably tried and true prejudices had taken a horrible turn for the worse.
Anyway, my friend with the free house is getting plenty of pinball in at the local dive bar, and playing plenty of playstation 2. So don't worry about him. He's not getting a job or anything too taxing. Really. He'll be fine. Gaw.
I wish they'd find something else to call them:
Espresso Stories
In Cookeville, Tennessee, armpit of the universe, there once opened a coffeeshop "downtown", across from the "old" courthouse. The "new" courthouse is huge, and it houses the biggest asshole, JUDGE HUDSON YOU C***S****R, and the most corrupt and lucrative business in the county, the judicial business. The coffeeshop is called "poets on the square". Now don't get me wrong, it's the kind of place that will let you use the phone and all, but what an awful name. Even a true coffee lover like myself is revolted by this crime. There's something about poetry that has always put me off. I think part of it is that it consists, to a large extent, of pretense. Anybody can put some words together and make you think, though some poets tend to be better than others. I don't know that I'd ever devote much time to learning about poetry. Is poetry a thing that people talk about to impress other people? Poetry, like advertising, ruins a perfectly good language. If you were really that good at putting words together, that sure of their meanings, I think you'd make a cohesive point with them, not just use about ten of then and leave the reader to work him or herself into a lather over your tortured genius. Poems tend to be the preferred medium of zitty, hyperbolic, self-obsessed teenage girls who think no one else has ever felt like they do, those who wield the language the worst, owing in part to their feeling that they don't suck at writing poetry. Which they do. Young women: please get the hang of menstruating without writing poetry. Thank you.
Have gourmet coffee and poetry become associated in the southern mind? If so, I can guarantee that it is a negative trait they share, the unspeakable "homo" association. It's ok if women go there, but if you blindfolded Gary from the sewage plant and brought him in there he'd probably kick your ass. He'd at least want to, even if, instead, he made some tiresome pantomime of gay people drinking coffee, which I'll bet you he would. You know the one? Pinky finger extended, ridiculous lisp, lips smacking? If you've seen it once you've seen it a thousand times, and you've seen it once. That gay southern man thing is played out. It's probably one of the stupider things that it hasn't become popular to make fun of, maybe because of the paradox that it would present to a comedy audience, and the subsequent unpredictablity of an audience that realized that the other half of the audience was laughing at them. Wouldn't I like to see the contorted faces of those idiots, though, in their moment of clarity, when it became clear that their night of being a fun-loving audience member with what they thought were irreproachably tried and true prejudices had taken a horrible turn for the worse.
Anyway, my friend with the free house is getting plenty of pinball in at the local dive bar, and playing plenty of playstation 2. So don't worry about him. He's not getting a job or anything too taxing. Really. He'll be fine. Gaw.
I registered for classes today in the watchmaking program at Saint Paul College. Holy cow. After buying tools, paying tuition and paying twice my normal rent, belt-tightening will be more than a metaphor before long. Factor in an economic meltdown, and this may be the weblog of a guy who starves to death.
To delay this, I went to a supermarket with a bank in it and opened an account for the free 25$ gift certificate that came with it. Now I just have to figure out how long I have to leave the money in there without closing the account without getting fined. Shameless, I admit.
To delay this, I went to a supermarket with a bank in it and opened an account for the free 25$ gift certificate that came with it. Now I just have to figure out how long I have to leave the money in there without closing the account without getting fined. Shameless, I admit.
I had a dream that there was a "gun day", and everyone who had a gun just walked around with it once a year. I had a shotgun, and it seemed like everyone had a gun on them, too. Everybody you'd pass in the street had a gun and nothing went wrong. The feeling I got was that we were doing this thing that was normally considered really bad by exercising our right to bear arms in this way. Even though it seemed like everyone was doing it, it was still slightly taboo. Maybe that's because there is a certain entity over us that rhymes with "overnment", that we pretend doesn't hold us down and tell us what to do, because, do I even have to say it, yes, why don't we actually have a gun day? That dream beat last night's dream, wherein I got brain surgery to remedy chronic misspelling. Also, a dream I was attacked by a deer. Maybe because of all the roadside carnage. I have seen a lot of deer roadkill this year.
Sometimes women just want to show their butts to the camera. It apparently happens more than I ever would have guessed.
gallery
Not safe for work.
gallery
Not safe for work.
Sunday
I want to webcast. I want to do show after show, hour after hour, but there aren't enough hours. The phone tap I just got from a friend won't work with my phone, so I'm going to axe the planned wacky prank call segment for now.
This week, I'm headed down south of the Mason-Dixon line to my homeland, Tennessee, for a little R and R. Beer and turkey, here I come. I anticipate at least one of the best naps of the year at some point.
Down by the mega-mall in Bloomington last week I noticed that the street across from the mall, I mean, right in front of it, is now called "Ikea way". The new Ikea store is there, so Minneapolis was so excited they named a street after it. That gets under my skin. I want to fight back against this typical complacent conspiracy against decency, but the only thing I can do is fit my car with a self-destruct device should it ever touch Ikea way. Ghandi was right, boycotting is our only real choice. Machines blowing themselves up reminds me of suicide, which reminds me of another thing I was thinking about a week or two ago, but forgot to put on here, which is about sudden infant death syndrome. It might be that SIDS is just suicide. Nobody likes to think about dead babies or anything, but it crossed my mind. It's a pity we can't ask people who are already dead why they committed suicide, and that problem is made even worse because if you could ask a dead baby why it died, it couldn't tell you, because babies can't talk.
Last night I went to Buzz's bar in Durand, Wisconsin, and Murray's in Mondovi, or is it vice versa, where the drinks were so inexpensive it was like they were free. I recommend that the city dwellers bring some friends and get out to the country, where the drinkin' is dirt cheap.
This week, I'm headed down south of the Mason-Dixon line to my homeland, Tennessee, for a little R and R. Beer and turkey, here I come. I anticipate at least one of the best naps of the year at some point.
Down by the mega-mall in Bloomington last week I noticed that the street across from the mall, I mean, right in front of it, is now called "Ikea way". The new Ikea store is there, so Minneapolis was so excited they named a street after it. That gets under my skin. I want to fight back against this typical complacent conspiracy against decency, but the only thing I can do is fit my car with a self-destruct device should it ever touch Ikea way. Ghandi was right, boycotting is our only real choice. Machines blowing themselves up reminds me of suicide, which reminds me of another thing I was thinking about a week or two ago, but forgot to put on here, which is about sudden infant death syndrome. It might be that SIDS is just suicide. Nobody likes to think about dead babies or anything, but it crossed my mind. It's a pity we can't ask people who are already dead why they committed suicide, and that problem is made even worse because if you could ask a dead baby why it died, it couldn't tell you, because babies can't talk.
Last night I went to Buzz's bar in Durand, Wisconsin, and Murray's in Mondovi, or is it vice versa, where the drinks were so inexpensive it was like they were free. I recommend that the city dwellers bring some friends and get out to the country, where the drinkin' is dirt cheap.
The basics of: Quantum Astronomy: The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle
If you haven't seen this fight, you've missed a good one. A few basketball players just lost it, flipped out, and started whaling on some detroit fans. From what I saw on sportscenter, it was nuts.
ClickOnDetroit.com - Sports - Palace Brawl Was 'Ugly Scene,' Says Pistons President
ClickOnDetroit.com - Sports - Palace Brawl Was 'Ugly Scene,' Says Pistons President
JFK Reloaded:
You are about to take part in the world’s first interactive reconstruction of John F. Kennedy’s assassination."
You are about to take part in the world’s first interactive reconstruction of John F. Kennedy’s assassination."
I sometimes try to look up people's phone numbers on the net and don't find anything, but this one actually worked for me.
switchboard.com
switchboard.com
Saturday
Today's Bush-related non-shocker:
Report: Bush appointed a third of his top fundraisers:
"One-third of President Bush's top 2000 fundraisers or their spouses were appointed to positions in his first administration, from ambassadorships in Europe to seats on policy-setting boards, an Associated Press review found."
Report: Bush appointed a third of his top fundraisers:
"One-third of President Bush's top 2000 fundraisers or their spouses were appointed to positions in his first administration, from ambassadorships in Europe to seats on policy-setting boards, an Associated Press review found."
Heading over to old Wisconsin today for a little wedding. Somebody's gettin' hitched. I imagine it will go as planned, with the usual "I Do"-s. At least there will be car talk to listen to on the way.
Friday
The "world world" essay I was looking for:
Harper's Magazine: World World - Clinton-era popular politics - Humor
Harper's Magazine: World World - Clinton-era popular politics - Humor
Addiction to porn destroying lives, Senate told
"Comparing pornography to heroin, researchers on Thursday called on Congress to finance studies on "porn addiction" and launch a public health campaign about the dangers."
I can't believe how backwards that is.
"Comparing pornography to heroin, researchers on Thursday called on Congress to finance studies on "porn addiction" and launch a public health campaign about the dangers."
I can't believe how backwards that is.
Thanks bummy for the revealing photo from Iraq
Thursday
Welcome to the promised land of small, unintrusive government, home of secret law.
Yes, here in America, you now have to comply with laws that you aren't even allowed to know. Is this the freedom I keep hearing so much about?
Yes, here in America, you now have to comply with laws that you aren't even allowed to know. Is this the freedom I keep hearing so much about?
I work with a guy from Eritrea who got shot in the head in their war with Ethiopia. It went through his ear, into his head, and out the back. It missed his brain, but not by much. He's a really nice guy.
Wednesday
I've been looking for an essay that I've only heard about. It involves "world" world. About how we now live in a fake world, wherein things take on the meanings of the words they are known by. Googling it turns up nothing.
Any help in finding this will be appreciated.
Any help in finding this will be appreciated.
I love watching FRONTLINE online.
The persuaders, last week's show, is great.
Next week's is about Wal-Mart. I can hardly wait.
The persuaders, last week's show, is great.
Next week's is about Wal-Mart. I can hardly wait.
Limbaugh gets favorable ruling, sends case to state Supreme Court: South Florida Sun-Sentinel
I guess we know how Rush Limbaugh feels about the right to privacy.
I guess we know how Rush Limbaugh feels about the right to privacy.
Here's more on the superman comic where Lois Lane gets curious and turns into a black woman.
High speed dubbing saved my life.
When I was young, taping tapes was how we got music. If you wanted to save time, you hit the "high speed dub" button, and it ran through the process at, well, higher than normal speed. When I did this, I heard the same music a different way. Suddenly, the patterns were more apparent. The songs I liked were repetitive. The same noises, over and over, with different words that weren't all that good either. A truth was revealed that stays with me even to this day, like when I hear music on the radio (such as evanescence's howlingly melancholy planet rock), and I wish I could play this at high speed for everyone, so that they could see the error of their preferences.
At high speed, all pop music sounds like "shave and a haircut, two bits", which is what it really, then, sounds like.
When I was young, taping tapes was how we got music. If you wanted to save time, you hit the "high speed dub" button, and it ran through the process at, well, higher than normal speed. When I did this, I heard the same music a different way. Suddenly, the patterns were more apparent. The songs I liked were repetitive. The same noises, over and over, with different words that weren't all that good either. A truth was revealed that stays with me even to this day, like when I hear music on the radio (such as evanescence's howlingly melancholy planet rock), and I wish I could play this at high speed for everyone, so that they could see the error of their preferences.
At high speed, all pop music sounds like "shave and a haircut, two bits", which is what it really, then, sounds like.
As the Stalinist Purge continues at the NKVD,
I mean, the CIA:
The New York Times > Washington > New C.I.A. Chief Tells Workers to Back Administration Policies
I mean, the CIA:
The New York Times > Washington > New C.I.A. Chief Tells Workers to Back Administration Policies
I love Maureen Farrell
CBC News: Goodale projects $5.9B surplus this year
Damn big-government liberals deserve the budget crisis... wait, did they say surplus? Oh, they did! But the United States's economy is screwed! Can we blame Clinton? Something's wrong with this and I don't know what it is. I know, I'm going to get my news from Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh and the Fox news channel, and they'll break it down into chunks that I can swallow.
Damn big-government liberals deserve the budget crisis... wait, did they say surplus? Oh, they did! But the United States's economy is screwed! Can we blame Clinton? Something's wrong with this and I don't know what it is. I know, I'm going to get my news from Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh and the Fox news channel, and they'll break it down into chunks that I can swallow.
An email I sent to Jack Daniel's:
I once drank a fifth of your fine product in one night. It was so good that the next night I did it again. The night after that, I had to lay off the hooch. Though the memories are foggy, I'm sure that that was the most incredible two days of drinking of my life. Six years later, I still run into people who are amazed by my former drinking prowess. They gesture to their friends that this man, me, is the real thing. Do I even remember them? Fuck no!
Anyway, thanks, Jack Daniel's, for making my drinking dream come true. I am now a drinking legend, thanks to sheer endurance, serious emotional problems, and you.
I once drank a fifth of your fine product in one night. It was so good that the next night I did it again. The night after that, I had to lay off the hooch. Though the memories are foggy, I'm sure that that was the most incredible two days of drinking of my life. Six years later, I still run into people who are amazed by my former drinking prowess. They gesture to their friends that this man, me, is the real thing. Do I even remember them? Fuck no!
Anyway, thanks, Jack Daniel's, for making my drinking dream come true. I am now a drinking legend, thanks to sheer endurance, serious emotional problems, and you.
An email I sent:
Dear progresso,
I eat black beans when I make mexican food at home, and I had a can of yours tonight. They were fucking AWESOME! I just wanted to let you know that if I'm ever making anything with black beans again, I'm buying yours. Fucking goddamn hell yeah, motherfuckers! Woo-hoo! Because I'm planning to buy more, can you send me a coupon because I'm such a great guy? Thanks!
Sincerely,
Dale
Dear progresso,
I eat black beans when I make mexican food at home, and I had a can of yours tonight. They were fucking AWESOME! I just wanted to let you know that if I'm ever making anything with black beans again, I'm buying yours. Fucking goddamn hell yeah, motherfuckers! Woo-hoo! Because I'm planning to buy more, can you send me a coupon because I'm such a great guy? Thanks!
Sincerely,
Dale
Tuesday
the butt, not safe for work
TheDenverChannel.com - Food - Hardee's Newest Menu Item: 'Monster Thickburger'
"... two one-third-pound beef patties, four strips of bacon, three slices of cheese, topped with mayonnaise on a buttered sesame seed bun."
"... two one-third-pound beef patties, four strips of bacon, three slices of cheese, topped with mayonnaise on a buttered sesame seed bun."
The circle and the triangle, done up here by bigdubb (don't miss the full vector-based hotness diagram), wouldn't let me sleep. I couldn't figure it out on my own, so, a beaten man, I took to the geometry websites like surface tension takes to golden-gate bridge jumpers.
In case you missed it, the problem: for a circle with radius 4, with an equilateral triangle in it touching the circle with its points, what is the area of the triangle. Solve from scratch.
I failed to solve it from scratch, but I had different people sending me different answers, so I owed it to them to figure it out any which way I could. Turns out there's a handy little equation for triangles where the side, angle, and side are knowns, that we had all forgotten about.
area = 1/2 times a times b times sin c, where sides a and b are connected by angle with c degrees.
The triangle comes out to 20.785, which fills 41.35 per cent of the circle's area.
In a curious twist of fate, the bum who was talking nonsense (see this for details, at the end), and who I almost forgot to mention at all, was actually closer than two-thirds of the people who responded to this when he said (for no reason?) "twenty-two-seven." The world is a strange place.
In case you missed it, the problem: for a circle with radius 4, with an equilateral triangle in it touching the circle with its points, what is the area of the triangle. Solve from scratch.
I failed to solve it from scratch, but I had different people sending me different answers, so I owed it to them to figure it out any which way I could. Turns out there's a handy little equation for triangles where the side, angle, and side are knowns, that we had all forgotten about.
area = 1/2 times a times b times sin c, where sides a and b are connected by angle with c degrees.
The triangle comes out to 20.785, which fills 41.35 per cent of the circle's area.
In a curious twist of fate, the bum who was talking nonsense (see this for details, at the end), and who I almost forgot to mention at all, was actually closer than two-thirds of the people who responded to this when he said (for no reason?) "twenty-two-seven." The world is a strange place.
Thanks to everyone who made last night a memorable karaoke experience at Grumpy's.
Which reminds me, when is that anti-hangover pill coming out, anyway?
Your iron man was pretty darn good, there, goldilocks.
Which reminds me, when is that anti-hangover pill coming out, anyway?
Your iron man was pretty darn good, there, goldilocks.
Monday
The inaugural webcast went well.
This is a good read. The guy's a terrible speller, but oh well.
louisck.com - A message to all you sad people...:
"Gore, Bush, Kerry, Edwards, Cheney. They didn't have the talent to do what Bill [Clinton] did. They couldn't bring the two sides together. So they tried to get their side to file up behind them against the other side in very slightly larger numbers, hoping to be HALF the people's president at the expense of the other half. It's just not right. You don't get a real president that way. You get half a president. You get a country like today's America, where half the nation feels sick for 8 fucking years, while the other half pounds their chests."
louisck.com - A message to all you sad people...:
"Gore, Bush, Kerry, Edwards, Cheney. They didn't have the talent to do what Bill [Clinton] did. They couldn't bring the two sides together. So they tried to get their side to file up behind them against the other side in very slightly larger numbers, hoping to be HALF the people's president at the expense of the other half. It's just not right. You don't get a real president that way. You get half a president. You get a country like today's America, where half the nation feels sick for 8 fucking years, while the other half pounds their chests."
Hostettler mounting campaign to change the name of Interstate 69:
"John Hostettler, the Congressman representing the 8th district of Indiana, has been convinced by local religious groups to introduce legislation in the House that would change the name of an Interstate 69 extension to a more moral sounding number."
A more moral sounding number. That's so funny that if I laughed about it I might hurt myself.
"John Hostettler, the Congressman representing the 8th district of Indiana, has been convinced by local religious groups to introduce legislation in the House that would change the name of an Interstate 69 extension to a more moral sounding number."
A more moral sounding number. That's so funny that if I laughed about it I might hurt myself.
I went over to Saint Paul today to iron out a few details for school. On the way there, I changed buses, but my book did not. I hope that Berlin Diary, by William L. Shirer, enjoys its new owner. Fortunately, I have another copy.
As a bookmark inside, I was using a rather good original artistic rendering of unsaturated, saturated, and trans fats, which I was planning to use for tonight's webcast in aiding me to explain the differences between them. I may not have time to find notes as good as those, so my explanation might be sub par. So you know, trans fats are terrible for your body. Throw away anything you have that has partially hydrogenated oil in it, and never buy anything containing it again. Refuse to eat partially hydrogenated oil. That's an order, mister.
The 21 bus back to Minneapolis was packed with smelly vagrants. Nasty. To kill time I decided to busy myself with a geometry problem. I took a circle, drew an equilateral triangle in it with its points on the circle, and said that if the circle had a radius of 4, what is the area of the triangle? Not too tough-sounding, the kind of thing Euclid would have done while blinking, but I couldn't figure it out no matter what I tried. There I was, surrounded by mumbling stinking vagrants, about half of whom were smiling the smiles of the mentally ill, like a schizophrenic graphomaniac drawing circles and triangles. I was a retarded version of the mad scientist. Any suggestions for how to accomplish the area's calculation from scratch will be welcome.
--EDIT--
The bum across from me, when I told him what I was trying to do, said "Twenty-two seven." I said, "What?", and he said "Twenty-two seven. That's it. Twenty-two seven." I said, "That doesn't make any sense!" Then he was quiet for the rest of the trip. Which is good. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's crazy bums who pretend to be smart.
As a bookmark inside, I was using a rather good original artistic rendering of unsaturated, saturated, and trans fats, which I was planning to use for tonight's webcast in aiding me to explain the differences between them. I may not have time to find notes as good as those, so my explanation might be sub par. So you know, trans fats are terrible for your body. Throw away anything you have that has partially hydrogenated oil in it, and never buy anything containing it again. Refuse to eat partially hydrogenated oil. That's an order, mister.
The 21 bus back to Minneapolis was packed with smelly vagrants. Nasty. To kill time I decided to busy myself with a geometry problem. I took a circle, drew an equilateral triangle in it with its points on the circle, and said that if the circle had a radius of 4, what is the area of the triangle? Not too tough-sounding, the kind of thing Euclid would have done while blinking, but I couldn't figure it out no matter what I tried. There I was, surrounded by mumbling stinking vagrants, about half of whom were smiling the smiles of the mentally ill, like a schizophrenic graphomaniac drawing circles and triangles. I was a retarded version of the mad scientist. Any suggestions for how to accomplish the area's calculation from scratch will be welcome.
--EDIT--
The bum across from me, when I told him what I was trying to do, said "Twenty-two seven." I said, "What?", and he said "Twenty-two seven. That's it. Twenty-two seven." I said, "That doesn't make any sense!" Then he was quiet for the rest of the trip. Which is good. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's crazy bums who pretend to be smart.
I love RoboDump 1.0
On about September 9, 1938, someone was walking along the shore of Lake Geneva, and, looking upon the great League Secretariat, said:
A beautiful granite sepulchre! Let us admire its beauty against the green hills and the mountains. There, my friends, are buried the dead hopes of peace for our generation.
A beautiful granite sepulchre! Let us admire its beauty against the green hills and the mountains. There, my friends, are buried the dead hopes of peace for our generation.
Here's a video of American guys blowing up Fallujah.
If you were a resident of this city and some guys like this showed up and blew everything to splinters, would you try to stop them? It reminds me of Sir Walter Scott, who wrote:
"Breathes there a man with soul so dead
Who never to himself has said
This is mine own, my native land."
Who can blame the world for hating us?
If you were a resident of this city and some guys like this showed up and blew everything to splinters, would you try to stop them? It reminds me of Sir Walter Scott, who wrote:
"Breathes there a man with soul so dead
Who never to himself has said
This is mine own, my native land."
Who can blame the world for hating us?
Sunday
From Joel:
The words "alternate reality" get tossed around quite a bit in inebriated
philosophical discussions, but rarely do they have anything to do with the
more popular "actual reality".
Until now.
Welcome to the schizophrenic world of Alternate Reality Gaming (ARG).
An overview from the new york times
More disturbing info about people losing touch with reality
Pictures from when some ARG players showed up with banners at one of the presidential debates and got on CNN (the game was called "ILOVEBEES")
Here is the site by one if the architects ( or puppetmasters) of several ARG's.
A site for ARG players
Sample site from an ARG
I wish Philip K Dick had lived to see this...or did he!?
Bonus Excitement: This is the number one arab music hit "I hate israel"
I don't have any feelings for or against arab music, but this one is kind of
catchy: (realmedia)
article
song
all of his other hits
The words "alternate reality" get tossed around quite a bit in inebriated
philosophical discussions, but rarely do they have anything to do with the
more popular "actual reality".
Until now.
Welcome to the schizophrenic world of Alternate Reality Gaming (ARG).
An overview from the new york times
More disturbing info about people losing touch with reality
Pictures from when some ARG players showed up with banners at one of the presidential debates and got on CNN (the game was called "ILOVEBEES")
Here is the site by one if the architects ( or puppetmasters) of several ARG's.
A site for ARG players
Sample site from an ARG
I wish Philip K Dick had lived to see this...or did he!?
Bonus Excitement: This is the number one arab music hit "I hate israel"
I don't have any feelings for or against arab music, but this one is kind of
catchy: (realmedia)
article
song
all of his other hits
Saturday
We're Not Sorry [bush was elected]
Want to feel good about being progressive? Take a look at the competition.
Here are their photoshopped images.
Here are the regular ones.
Some real intellectual heavyweights, these guys. Terror bad! Freedom good!
Want to feel good about being progressive? Take a look at the competition.
Here are their photoshopped images.
Here are the regular ones.
Some real intellectual heavyweights, these guys. Terror bad! Freedom good!
Ulli's Roy Orbison in Cling-film site: "Hello, and welcome to my homepage. My name is Ulrich Haarb�rste and I like to write stories about Roy Orbison being wrapped up in cling-film"
Um, yeah.
Um, yeah.
I've put a new subpage up over there ---->
it says the webcast, and it's about the webcast.
I should remember to post what's on and when.
it says the webcast, and it's about the webcast.
I should remember to post what's on and when.
Friday
Look what happens when you use msn to search for more evil than god
I'm helping a friend move today. After yesteday's tetanus booster, it's going to hurt due to shoulder soreness. Fortunately, he doesn't have a hide-a-bed sofa, which are injury machines.
Speaking of injury, had a dream I got smacked in the head by a kind of forklift and it dislocated my jaw.
Speaking of jaws, it's my favorite shark movie.
Speaking of shark movies, um, my favorite one is jaws.
Speaking of injury, had a dream I got smacked in the head by a kind of forklift and it dislocated my jaw.
Speaking of jaws, it's my favorite shark movie.
Speaking of shark movies, um, my favorite one is jaws.
Thursday
wallpaper-worthy fractals
I love coffee. It's dark. It seems to brood, and tells you it's ok if you want to brood as well. Come over here, it says. Come over here and tell my what you really think of that weasel Billy from radiology. And so I do. Coffee, you make it all better. You get it. You're one of us.
When I look into my coffee I see a shimmering, contemplative me.
With a steamin' hot coffee in my mug, anything is possible.
When I look into my coffee I see a shimmering, contemplative me.
With a steamin' hot coffee in my mug, anything is possible.
Tim Ryan from Ohio tells it like it is in a quicktime video from the floor of the house.
It is now possible to rasterbate in color. Your ink cartridge surrenders.
The Sect of Homokaasu - The Rasterbator
The Sect of Homokaasu - The Rasterbator
Wednesday
Thanks, Noel, for reminding me, it's the 29th anniversarry of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald!
In case anyone needs something to which to toast.
In case anyone needs something to which to toast.
I’ve lost faith in my ability to be faithful. But do I really care?
By Lucius Allred
I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Lucius Allred is actually im-Jay oad-Gay. He alluded to this article a while back.
By Lucius Allred
I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Lucius Allred is actually im-Jay oad-Gay. He alluded to this article a while back.
AlterNet: Rights and Liberties: Taking Liberties
Ashcroft has not convicted a single person of terrorism since 9/11.
Ashcroft has not convicted a single person of terrorism since 9/11.
Masuimi Max, NSFW
Here go the activist, so-called scientists again, preaching doom. As long as George W. Bush has faith, though, global warming won't melt any ice. Faith is more powerful than reality.
Arctic Melting Fast; May Swamp U.S. Coasts by 2099
Arctic Melting Fast; May Swamp U.S. Coasts by 2099
Tuesday
I complained about the radio at my workplace earlier today.
BigDubb, jazz fan, asks: What are your acceptable genres of music?
First I must complain again. Unacceptable = light jazz. Real jazz can be great. For example, I would actually seek to listen to Miles Davis. I wouldn't choose to listen to Paul Hardcastle, lite jazz deity, but guess which one you're likelier to hear on commercial radio.
It almost makes me physically ill how backwards the world can be, how wrong it can get it. Commercial radio, by introducing money to music, has made a product out of something beautiful, sort of like prostitution did with sex. You want to have morons barfing (that's the radio industry term by the way, barfing) in your ear, tune in to big FM. My ears and mind are more sensitive than that. To reiterate, so there's no confusion, there's that which is automatically passively done, and that which is purposely done, and in the words of the band Rush, "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice."
Nobody listens to the ads on the radio on purpose, they just don't care. They are so intellectually lazy they'd rather unquestioningly absorb like a sponge. Oh well, someone's got to eat at McDonald's and watch American Idol.
My favorite band is the kinks, and I also love ween, the beach boys, and radiohead. My Bloody Valentine, Low, Negativeland, all those bands are always acceptable to me.
My musical tastes probably tell things about me that I don't understand.
I guess I couldn't resist the temptation to bitch because how we listen to music has to change before we can hear what we want, before we can listen to what is good, and it has to change pretty drastically. If people took the kind of pride in their music that they did in their clothing, shitty top 40 would die quickly. I get the feeling things are changing, that top 40 is already (unspokenly) the music of the poor. It's as if radio has been lost to the enemy.
BigDubb, jazz fan, asks: What are your acceptable genres of music?
First I must complain again. Unacceptable = light jazz. Real jazz can be great. For example, I would actually seek to listen to Miles Davis. I wouldn't choose to listen to Paul Hardcastle, lite jazz deity, but guess which one you're likelier to hear on commercial radio.
It almost makes me physically ill how backwards the world can be, how wrong it can get it. Commercial radio, by introducing money to music, has made a product out of something beautiful, sort of like prostitution did with sex. You want to have morons barfing (that's the radio industry term by the way, barfing) in your ear, tune in to big FM. My ears and mind are more sensitive than that. To reiterate, so there's no confusion, there's that which is automatically passively done, and that which is purposely done, and in the words of the band Rush, "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice."
Nobody listens to the ads on the radio on purpose, they just don't care. They are so intellectually lazy they'd rather unquestioningly absorb like a sponge. Oh well, someone's got to eat at McDonald's and watch American Idol.
My favorite band is the kinks, and I also love ween, the beach boys, and radiohead. My Bloody Valentine, Low, Negativeland, all those bands are always acceptable to me.
My musical tastes probably tell things about me that I don't understand.
I guess I couldn't resist the temptation to bitch because how we listen to music has to change before we can hear what we want, before we can listen to what is good, and it has to change pretty drastically. If people took the kind of pride in their music that they did in their clothing, shitty top 40 would die quickly. I get the feeling things are changing, that top 40 is already (unspokenly) the music of the poor. It's as if radio has been lost to the enemy.
A video of a drinking young man who is promoting something, I think.
I hate the radio.
I especially hate "lite" jazz. Even the "lite" in "lite" jazz is "lite". Why they have to play it where I work is a mystery. It mustr have something to do with how stupid my coworkers are.
Another gem is "101.3, KDWB!" It's like a dance party all the time, even at seven in the morning! Why you want a pharmacy to sound like a dance party, I don't know. Yes I do. It's because the twenty-two year old late bloomer girls on staff are trying to have fun and shaking their gross asses is the only way they know how. The gyrating bodies were bad enough, but their empty minds are what really make me nauseous. I wish they would get laid for a change so we could end this charade. They're not desirable and they love the worst music in the world. I hate working here with them.
I especially hate "lite" jazz. Even the "lite" in "lite" jazz is "lite". Why they have to play it where I work is a mystery. It mustr have something to do with how stupid my coworkers are.
Another gem is "101.3, KDWB!" It's like a dance party all the time, even at seven in the morning! Why you want a pharmacy to sound like a dance party, I don't know. Yes I do. It's because the twenty-two year old late bloomer girls on staff are trying to have fun and shaking their gross asses is the only way they know how. The gyrating bodies were bad enough, but their empty minds are what really make me nauseous. I wish they would get laid for a change so we could end this charade. They're not desirable and they love the worst music in the world. I hate working here with them.
Monday
In loving memory of my grandmother, who passed away today, I'd like to say a few words, as if she were reading.
When I was a boy I thought you were going to get sick and die because your orange juice was always spoiled. But it wasn't spoiled, it was half vodka.
You made great cheese biscuits that are probably really easy to make, but I'll try never to learn how to make them in order that my sense of awe be preserved. Nobody could make cheese biscuits like you.
You played peek-a-boo with your hound dog Hazel. That's awesome. I liked how Hazel actually enjoyed it.
You told me as we drove by it on a number of occasions the exact house in which my uncle David was conceived. You also offered to tell me things I might need to know coming into puberty. There was no way I could take you up on that, but thanks anyway.
You collected the same quarters as I did in a giant piggy bank under your bed, the bed where I would watch the Dukes of Hazzard. You were the first person I ever knew to have a TV in their bedroom, and the last not to share a bedroom with your spouse. I think someday I'll revive that tradition.
You were kind. When children told you stories that made no sense, you would act amazed and encourage them to continue. I am having trouble finding words to express how nice that is.
Maybe the best compliment I can pay you is that you had my first favorite laugh which always started with one squeaky syllable, "hee", that sounded like it bounced right up out of a hole in the ground.
Farewell, grandma, it was nice knowing you.
When I was a boy I thought you were going to get sick and die because your orange juice was always spoiled. But it wasn't spoiled, it was half vodka.
You made great cheese biscuits that are probably really easy to make, but I'll try never to learn how to make them in order that my sense of awe be preserved. Nobody could make cheese biscuits like you.
You played peek-a-boo with your hound dog Hazel. That's awesome. I liked how Hazel actually enjoyed it.
You told me as we drove by it on a number of occasions the exact house in which my uncle David was conceived. You also offered to tell me things I might need to know coming into puberty. There was no way I could take you up on that, but thanks anyway.
You collected the same quarters as I did in a giant piggy bank under your bed, the bed where I would watch the Dukes of Hazzard. You were the first person I ever knew to have a TV in their bedroom, and the last not to share a bedroom with your spouse. I think someday I'll revive that tradition.
You were kind. When children told you stories that made no sense, you would act amazed and encourage them to continue. I am having trouble finding words to express how nice that is.
Maybe the best compliment I can pay you is that you had my first favorite laugh which always started with one squeaky syllable, "hee", that sounded like it bounced right up out of a hole in the ground.
Farewell, grandma, it was nice knowing you.
I like Lucky Charms. Not safe for work.
BBC NEWS | World | South Asia | Nepal pardon for women prisoners
Nepalese women have been granted amnesty for abortions. You'll be reading this headline about American women soon, because Dubya is going to appoint one to three justices to the supreme court, which will then overturn Roe v. Wade. We're set up for a generation of father knows best politics.
Nepalese women have been granted amnesty for abortions. You'll be reading this headline about American women soon, because Dubya is going to appoint one to three justices to the supreme court, which will then overturn Roe v. Wade. We're set up for a generation of father knows best politics.
Jessica Simpson: Jessica Simpson's Dad Joe Has Sold His Soul To The Devil Say Critics
His christian friends say he sold his soul to the devil. What year is it? Oh yeah, for people like that it's always the dark ages.
His christian friends say he sold his soul to the devil. What year is it? Oh yeah, for people like that it's always the dark ages.
New spin on an old story, just aask the lovely Joyce:
WSJ.com - Analyzing Customers, Best Buy Decides Not All Are Welcome
WSJ.com - Analyzing Customers, Best Buy Decides Not All Are Welcome
This is the real headline: Reuters AlertNet - Global warming to expose Arctic to oil, gas drilling
CNN.com - Suicide suspected at WTC site - Nov 7, 2004
"A 25-year-old from Georgia who was distraught over President Bush's re-election apparently killed himself at Ground Zero."
"A 25-year-old from Georgia who was distraught over President Bush's re-election apparently killed himself at Ground Zero."
Rob at cockeyed: "I'm not a terrorist. As evidence, I offer my latest creation: The biggest flag on the Internet"
American Family Association says:
"Creationism May Explain Skeletal Remains Better Than Darwinism"
This is great. It's the evolutionists, with their so-called science, that are confused, Ken Ham, "science expert" has concluded. Ken Ham is an expert in the wicked ways of science, so don't attempt to use your brain's capacity for reason. Ken, science expert, has gotcha covered. Science expert. Ooo-wee.
Anyone with a fifth-grade education knows that the whole point of science is weeding out weak, implausible ideas to find the truth. Even mention god and you pre-empt any serious analysis of the subject at hand. There's this movie, see, called planet of the apes, where this issue is in the spotlight. It is a bad movie, but if you think god is responsible for what takes place, ever, you should have to watch it over and over.
It's not polite to tell people that god didn't make everthing, because it might hurt their feelers, and it isn't nice to make people feel bad. When a debate is compromised in this way, everything that follows is horseshit. You want to know why we have two Americas, a red and a blue? One of them lives in fantasy world, with Ken Ham, science expert. End of story.
"Creationism May Explain Skeletal Remains Better Than Darwinism"
This is great. It's the evolutionists, with their so-called science, that are confused, Ken Ham, "science expert" has concluded. Ken Ham is an expert in the wicked ways of science, so don't attempt to use your brain's capacity for reason. Ken, science expert, has gotcha covered. Science expert. Ooo-wee.
Anyone with a fifth-grade education knows that the whole point of science is weeding out weak, implausible ideas to find the truth. Even mention god and you pre-empt any serious analysis of the subject at hand. There's this movie, see, called planet of the apes, where this issue is in the spotlight. It is a bad movie, but if you think god is responsible for what takes place, ever, you should have to watch it over and over.
It's not polite to tell people that god didn't make everthing, because it might hurt their feelers, and it isn't nice to make people feel bad. When a debate is compromised in this way, everything that follows is horseshit. You want to know why we have two Americas, a red and a blue? One of them lives in fantasy world, with Ken Ham, science expert. End of story.
Sunday
Wacky fun with Babel Fish!
Original:
Is it considered bad manners at a nudist colony to have sexual intercourse in public? Do naked police take them to naked jail?
Translated to Spanish, then to French, then to Dutch, and back to English we get this:
In a bad manner in a colony of sexual nudist becomes to have predominated in publicly? The police constable carries dévêts by the naked prison?
Original:
Is it considered bad manners at a nudist colony to have sexual intercourse in public? Do naked police take them to naked jail?
Translated to Spanish, then to French, then to Dutch, and back to English we get this:
In a bad manner in a colony of sexual nudist becomes to have predominated in publicly? The police constable carries dévêts by the naked prison?
Why Americans Hate Democrats—A Dialogue
The unteachable ignorance of the red states
The obvious truth: "The election results reflect the decision of the right wing to cultivate and exploit ignorance in the citizenry."
The unteachable ignorance of the red states
The obvious truth: "The election results reflect the decision of the right wing to cultivate and exploit ignorance in the citizenry."
This is a nice story about how a bunch of people decided to get together and make an unknown band's night.
Improv Everywhere HQ
Improv Everywhere HQ
Ok, this is the coolest red and blue site I've seen so far. Check out the second one down. It's like art, because it teaches you something you didn't know you knew.
Election result maps
Election result maps
Mark Twain: Some Thoughts on the Science of Onanism
Because registration sucks, a story from AP on ohio.com:
Posted on Fri, Nov. 05, 2004
Computer error at voting machine gives Bush 3,893 extra votes
Associated Press
COLUMBUS, Ohio - A computer error with a voting machine cartridge gave President Bush 3,893 extra votes in a Gahanna precinct.
Franklin County's unofficial results gave Bush 4,258 votes to Democratic challenger John Kerry's 260 votes in Precinct 1B. Records show only 638 voters cast ballots in that precinct.
Matthew Damschroder, director of the Franklin County Board of Elections, said Bush received 365 votes there. The other 13 voters who cast ballots either voted for other candidates or did not vote for president.
Damschroder said he received some calls Thursday from people who saw the error when reading the list of poll results on the election board's Web site.
He said the error would have been discovered when the official canvass for the election is performed later this month.
Damschroder said after Precinct 1B closed, a cartridge from one of three voting machines at the polling place generated a faulty number at a computerized reading station.
The reader also recorded zero votes in a county commissioner race.
Damschroder said the cartridge was retested Thursday and there were no problems. He couldn't explain why the computer reader malfunctioned.
Workers checked the cartridge against memory banks in the voting machine Thursday and each showed that 115 people voted for Bush on that machine. With the other machines, the total for Bush in the precinct added up to 365 votes.
Posted on Fri, Nov. 05, 2004
Computer error at voting machine gives Bush 3,893 extra votes
Associated Press
COLUMBUS, Ohio - A computer error with a voting machine cartridge gave President Bush 3,893 extra votes in a Gahanna precinct.
Franklin County's unofficial results gave Bush 4,258 votes to Democratic challenger John Kerry's 260 votes in Precinct 1B. Records show only 638 voters cast ballots in that precinct.
Matthew Damschroder, director of the Franklin County Board of Elections, said Bush received 365 votes there. The other 13 voters who cast ballots either voted for other candidates or did not vote for president.
Damschroder said he received some calls Thursday from people who saw the error when reading the list of poll results on the election board's Web site.
He said the error would have been discovered when the official canvass for the election is performed later this month.
Damschroder said after Precinct 1B closed, a cartridge from one of three voting machines at the polling place generated a faulty number at a computerized reading station.
The reader also recorded zero votes in a county commissioner race.
Damschroder said the cartridge was retested Thursday and there were no problems. He couldn't explain why the computer reader malfunctioned.
Workers checked the cartridge against memory banks in the voting machine Thursday and each showed that 115 people voted for Bush on that machine. With the other machines, the total for Bush in the precinct added up to 365 votes.
I heart Luba, NSFW.
Saturday
Well, tonight was the Marilyn Manson concert. THere were lots of these on display. A friend and I had arranged to meet "Marilyn" after the show, but he got tired of hanging around with the butt rock crowd and took off early. My heart went out to the audience; they knew they were rebels but not why. I wish old Marilyn would have gotten up there and taken a stand on some issues that affects us on a daily basis. That's rock and roll to me.
There were girls making out with each other in the row in front of us. Despite their completely perfunctory performance, all the guys lapped it up. There was a lot of "woo-hoo"ing. That seems poorly punctuated. Anyway, there were some other girls tarted way up behind us. It might be said that they were tarted up to the limit; one of them bent over so far in her nonexistent skirt that her grandchildren were clearly visible. [It occurred to me that the grandchildrens' names are Kayden and Kimmory.] The guy beside me, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, detailed what it was he would do to that girl. It made me smile.
The show, for all I know, was great, which I am inclined to think it was based on its reception. I have to say, however, that the opening band was shit, and it was only cheered for because "Remi Maxwell" emceed them off the stage. Remi Maxwell is a long-haired butt rock DJ for the local heavy metal station. He is a tool.
I estimate that the concentration of meth dealers was higher at that show tonight than in the Crossville, TN jail. For those of you who don't know, that's a lot of meth dealers. That sort of kills the joke, doesn't it?
The always-awesome Paddy at Mackenzie's held on to my camera after the [word that rhymes with pike] security guard wouldn't let me bring it in the theater (chip on the shoulder, typical of the sexual orientation). I've got news for you, Thelma and Louise, everybody around me was taking pictures and making mp3s with their phones. Dear madam: get with reality, where it's ok to be a lesbian and not be an asshole to guys.
Thanks for the good show, Marilyn. Thanks for holding on to my camera next door, Paddy. Good luck Dominique, to whom I beqeathed my ticket upon exiting. I'm sorry your boyfriend was being a jerk. You can do better, I'm sure. And happy birthday to the Wisconsinites, no matter who you voted for.
There were girls making out with each other in the row in front of us. Despite their completely perfunctory performance, all the guys lapped it up. There was a lot of "woo-hoo"ing. That seems poorly punctuated. Anyway, there were some other girls tarted way up behind us. It might be said that they were tarted up to the limit; one of them bent over so far in her nonexistent skirt that her grandchildren were clearly visible. [It occurred to me that the grandchildrens' names are Kayden and Kimmory.] The guy beside me, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, detailed what it was he would do to that girl. It made me smile.
The show, for all I know, was great, which I am inclined to think it was based on its reception. I have to say, however, that the opening band was shit, and it was only cheered for because "Remi Maxwell" emceed them off the stage. Remi Maxwell is a long-haired butt rock DJ for the local heavy metal station. He is a tool.
I estimate that the concentration of meth dealers was higher at that show tonight than in the Crossville, TN jail. For those of you who don't know, that's a lot of meth dealers. That sort of kills the joke, doesn't it?
The always-awesome Paddy at Mackenzie's held on to my camera after the [word that rhymes with pike] security guard wouldn't let me bring it in the theater (chip on the shoulder, typical of the sexual orientation). I've got news for you, Thelma and Louise, everybody around me was taking pictures and making mp3s with their phones. Dear madam: get with reality, where it's ok to be a lesbian and not be an asshole to guys.
Thanks for the good show, Marilyn. Thanks for holding on to my camera next door, Paddy. Good luck Dominique, to whom I beqeathed my ticket upon exiting. I'm sorry your boyfriend was being a jerk. You can do better, I'm sure. And happy birthday to the Wisconsinites, no matter who you voted for.
A blogger I met at Elsie's last night.
BigDubb's Thoughts on Life n Stuff
It's all worth it for little things like this: "59. Sometimes I stop when I am walking and just smell."
He apparently disagrees with the lovely Joyce on the subject of auto racing, but he declined to express this in person. An auto racing fan's beliefs are not best challenged when drinking. She has suggested that I dedicate thie post to the memory of the Hendrick family, some Nascar people who died when their plane crashed.
BigDubb's Thoughts on Life n Stuff
It's all worth it for little things like this: "59. Sometimes I stop when I am walking and just smell."
He apparently disagrees with the lovely Joyce on the subject of auto racing, but he declined to express this in person. An auto racing fan's beliefs are not best challenged when drinking. She has suggested that I dedicate thie post to the memory of the Hendrick family, some Nascar people who died when their plane crashed.
Friday
Funny
Twenty-six things a perfect guy would do and other propaganda disseminated by misguided women.
Twenty-six things a perfect guy would do and other propaganda disseminated by misguided women.
Oldsmobile Toronado by Jay Leno
With a thousand horsepower "concept" engine. Sounds like the concept was "awesome".
With a thousand horsepower "concept" engine. Sounds like the concept was "awesome".
Thursday
Boing Boing: Quote of the Day: Diebold CEO promises Ohio to Bush
"In a fall 2003 fundraising letter sent to Republicans, from Diebold CEO Walden O'Dell:'I am committed to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the president.'"
"In a fall 2003 fundraising letter sent to Republicans, from Diebold CEO Walden O'Dell:'I am committed to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the president.'"
Purple haze, more nuance.
There are a whole lot of people who are with the terrorists (not with the Bush administration's war on reality).
There are a whole lot of people who are with the terrorists (not with the Bush administration's war on reality).
Right now somebody's webcasting something called "boobsville sex academy 2003", which sounds like something made up by the stupid kids in sixth grade. And if somebody's making stuff called that, it means there are five more people watching it.
Questions borne of my caffeine high at work today:
What would you do if you were the last person on earth?
I think I'd put a giant afro wig on a blow-up doll and strap it to my back and hit all the major league baseball parks, where I would have sex with it at home plate while howling original compositions about how lonely I was. I'd also have an assault rifle with which to defend myself from wild animals. I would use that to shoot stuff that reflected my image, which I would probably get tired of seeing. Lots of stuff would get set on fire. I also think it would be fun to drive cars through buildings. And the little figurines they sell at gift shops would have to die. I'd be a figurine destroyin' machine.
If you could never actually stay dead, would you kill yourself for fun?
What would you do if you were the last person on earth?
I think I'd put a giant afro wig on a blow-up doll and strap it to my back and hit all the major league baseball parks, where I would have sex with it at home plate while howling original compositions about how lonely I was. I'd also have an assault rifle with which to defend myself from wild animals. I would use that to shoot stuff that reflected my image, which I would probably get tired of seeing. Lots of stuff would get set on fire. I also think it would be fun to drive cars through buildings. And the little figurines they sell at gift shops would have to die. I'd be a figurine destroyin' machine.
If you could never actually stay dead, would you kill yourself for fun?
Wednesday
Wise man once say:
Man who run in front of car get tired.
Man who run behind car get exhausted.
Man who go to bed with itchy butt wake up with smelly finger.
Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.
Panties not best thing on earth, but next to best thing on earth.
It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.
Man who run in front of car get tired.
Man who run behind car get exhausted.
Man who go to bed with itchy butt wake up with smelly finger.
Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.
Panties not best thing on earth, but next to best thing on earth.
It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.
This is what stupid people look like:
Well, congratulations. It appears history has been made; Bush the younger has actually been elected president. A man who doesn't read. This isn't going to be four years of economic recovery. I'm flabbergasted that the propaganda machine was so effective. Karl Rove did exactly what he said he would: got the evangelical vote. Look at this chart:
Yikes. You CAN fool most of the people all of the time.
The obligatory Star Wars reference I will now employ to attempt and yet fail to lighten my mood: I, like Han Solo, don't need to be a Jedi to know when I'm too close to the death star. In reference to the next four years I echo his words: "I have a bad feeling about this." Now if only Chewy could get us out of here.
Eric Alterman has this to say:
"Slightly more than half of the citizens of this country simply do not care about what those of us in the “reality-based community” say or believe about anything.
They don’t care that Iraq is turning into murderous quicksand and a killing field for our children. They don’t care that the Bush presidency has made us less safe by creating more terrorists, inspiring more anti-American hatred and refusing to engage in the hard work that would be necessary to make a meaningful dent in our myriad vulnerabilities at home. They don’t care that he has mortgaged our children’s future to give trillions to the wealthiest among us. They don’t care that the economy continues to hemorrhage well-paying jobs and replace them with Wal-Mart; that the number without health insurance is over forty million and rising. They don’t care that Medicare premiums are rising to fund the coffers of pharmaceutical companies. They don’t care that the air they breathe and the water they drink is being slowly poisoned and though they call themselves conservatives, they even don’t care that the size of the government and its share of our national income has increased by roughly a quarter in just four years. This is not a world of rational debate and issue preference.
It’s one of “them” and “us.” He’s one of “them” and not one of “us” and that’s all they care about. True it’s an illusion. After all, Bush is a millionaire’s son who went to Yale and Harvard and sat out Vietnam, not even bothering to show up for his cushy National Guard duty, and succeeded only in trading on his father’s name and connections in adult life. But somehow, they feel he understands them. He speaks their language. Our guys don’t. And unless they learn it, we will continue to condemn this country and those parts of the world it affects to a regime of malign neglect at best—malignant and malicious assault at worse.
Given the media’s talent for pandering to their lowest common denominator, the things that have driven us crazy about their past pathetic performance are bound to get a lot worse. Most of us—readers and writers of this web log and peoplelikeus-- derive an awful lot of benefit from being Americans. We owe it to our better selves, and though it sounds horribly clichéd, to our children-- not to walk away from this battle. I will admit, however, it’s pretty damn hard to see through this fog just where to turn before we march.
Charles Pierce:
They showed up. The Republican base, that is. The people who believe that their marriages are threatened by those of gay people, the people who believe there were WMD in Iraq and that Saddam waved a hankie at Mohammed Atta, the people who believe His eye is on every embryo. They all showed up, and there are more of them than there are of us. This was a faith-based electorate and, for whatever reason, their belief was stronger than our reality. This is a country I do not recognize any more.
When gay marriage trumps dead soldiers in Iraq, how do you run a race without dissolving into fantasy?
[Ye poor duped] ...let there be no whining when your husband's National Guard obligation leaves him under fire for six extra months, or when Granny and Gramps are eating cat food, or when it become increasingly impossible to meet the economic needs of the middle-class family.
Well, congratulations. It appears history has been made; Bush the younger has actually been elected president. A man who doesn't read. This isn't going to be four years of economic recovery. I'm flabbergasted that the propaganda machine was so effective. Karl Rove did exactly what he said he would: got the evangelical vote. Look at this chart:
Yikes. You CAN fool most of the people all of the time.
The obligatory Star Wars reference I will now employ to attempt and yet fail to lighten my mood: I, like Han Solo, don't need to be a Jedi to know when I'm too close to the death star. In reference to the next four years I echo his words: "I have a bad feeling about this." Now if only Chewy could get us out of here.
Eric Alterman has this to say:
"Slightly more than half of the citizens of this country simply do not care about what those of us in the “reality-based community” say or believe about anything.
They don’t care that Iraq is turning into murderous quicksand and a killing field for our children. They don’t care that the Bush presidency has made us less safe by creating more terrorists, inspiring more anti-American hatred and refusing to engage in the hard work that would be necessary to make a meaningful dent in our myriad vulnerabilities at home. They don’t care that he has mortgaged our children’s future to give trillions to the wealthiest among us. They don’t care that the economy continues to hemorrhage well-paying jobs and replace them with Wal-Mart; that the number without health insurance is over forty million and rising. They don’t care that Medicare premiums are rising to fund the coffers of pharmaceutical companies. They don’t care that the air they breathe and the water they drink is being slowly poisoned and though they call themselves conservatives, they even don’t care that the size of the government and its share of our national income has increased by roughly a quarter in just four years. This is not a world of rational debate and issue preference.
It’s one of “them” and “us.” He’s one of “them” and not one of “us” and that’s all they care about. True it’s an illusion. After all, Bush is a millionaire’s son who went to Yale and Harvard and sat out Vietnam, not even bothering to show up for his cushy National Guard duty, and succeeded only in trading on his father’s name and connections in adult life. But somehow, they feel he understands them. He speaks their language. Our guys don’t. And unless they learn it, we will continue to condemn this country and those parts of the world it affects to a regime of malign neglect at best—malignant and malicious assault at worse.
Given the media’s talent for pandering to their lowest common denominator, the things that have driven us crazy about their past pathetic performance are bound to get a lot worse. Most of us—readers and writers of this web log and peoplelikeus-- derive an awful lot of benefit from being Americans. We owe it to our better selves, and though it sounds horribly clichéd, to our children-- not to walk away from this battle. I will admit, however, it’s pretty damn hard to see through this fog just where to turn before we march.
Charles Pierce:
They showed up. The Republican base, that is. The people who believe that their marriages are threatened by those of gay people, the people who believe there were WMD in Iraq and that Saddam waved a hankie at Mohammed Atta, the people who believe His eye is on every embryo. They all showed up, and there are more of them than there are of us. This was a faith-based electorate and, for whatever reason, their belief was stronger than our reality. This is a country I do not recognize any more.
When gay marriage trumps dead soldiers in Iraq, how do you run a race without dissolving into fantasy?
[Ye poor duped] ...let there be no whining when your husband's National Guard obligation leaves him under fire for six extra months, or when Granny and Gramps are eating cat food, or when it become increasingly impossible to meet the economic needs of the middle-class family.
Tuesday
BBC NEWS | UK | Magazine | Eton or the zoo?
"religious implications of the newly discovered tiny people", or,
"religion is stupid and we at BBC are too nice to come out and say it"
"religious implications of the newly discovered tiny people", or,
"religion is stupid and we at BBC are too nice to come out and say it"
The Spoonbender on Dan Brown's gift of love.
Hi, I'm Dale Shipley, bachelor attorney, and I hope that as you move out of the honeymoon phase with your girlfriend, you'll consider retaining my services. There's a lot that needs saying in a relationship that's best left to someone else, and I'm suggesting you make that someone else me.
For example, in the course of a new relationship between a man and a woman, the issue of three-ways is bound to crop up. There are women who think they're a good idea, and those women are known as "awesome", but alas, these heaven-sent gals are few and far between and you're not dating one. Face it, the three-way with your girlfriend and her hot roommate was your idea, and unless you take drastic action it ain't gonna happen. Meanwhile, your girlfriend's over there fantasizing about being old and having grandkids spilling things you're too damn old to clean up as you both rock in chairs on a porch. That makes you nervous, all shuddery and bothered, as it should. Why someone would spend five seconds of their sexual prime daydreaming about being a geriatric defies the imagination. It seems somehow very wrong to you, and what I'm telling you is that you're right to feel that way. That sucks. You've got to decide that things are going to change around here. You deserve a three-way. And if you retain my services, you're going to get one.
One of the most ridiculous ideas of the modern age is that different viewpoints have equal value. They don't. Just because somebody believes that the earth is flat or that Noah hauled all the animals in the world on a boat, or pretty much any explanation the church gives for reality, doesn't make that belief as credible as scientific fact. I could believe that I was David Hasselhoff, and I’d have the right to do that, but I’d still be insane and you could tell me that, and you’d be right to do so. Anyone could, say, believe that it's offensive to disagree with them, and try to make it illegal for you to say that you do, but they can't, because of the first amendment. Your speech is protected by it and their hearing isn't, so if they don't like it, they can join the Taliban and get the fuck out of America. They won't, of course, because that would mean "so long, bikini babes." Is it mere hyperbole to compare your right to do what you want to the right to free speech? No! Your rights have come under attack! There is no amendment securing the rights of your libido, and that's where I come in. You believe that you should get a hot three-way, and she believes you shouldn't, and there is a clear right and a wrong here: she's wrong and you're right. It's time for her to keep her restrictions off your body. Your desire to have the three-way far outweighs her desire not to. You're not asking too much; she's asking too much when she expects you not to want to. Your natural desire to get laid as much as possible, as vigorously as possible must not be a silent victim any longer. Together we will cast off this yoke of oppression!
The choice is yours: you can limp pathetically into your appointed rocking chair griping about how you never got a three-way, or you can get in touch with Dale Shipley, bachelor attorney, and have awesome sex with two chicks at the same time. I know what I'd do.
For example, in the course of a new relationship between a man and a woman, the issue of three-ways is bound to crop up. There are women who think they're a good idea, and those women are known as "awesome", but alas, these heaven-sent gals are few and far between and you're not dating one. Face it, the three-way with your girlfriend and her hot roommate was your idea, and unless you take drastic action it ain't gonna happen. Meanwhile, your girlfriend's over there fantasizing about being old and having grandkids spilling things you're too damn old to clean up as you both rock in chairs on a porch. That makes you nervous, all shuddery and bothered, as it should. Why someone would spend five seconds of their sexual prime daydreaming about being a geriatric defies the imagination. It seems somehow very wrong to you, and what I'm telling you is that you're right to feel that way. That sucks. You've got to decide that things are going to change around here. You deserve a three-way. And if you retain my services, you're going to get one.
One of the most ridiculous ideas of the modern age is that different viewpoints have equal value. They don't. Just because somebody believes that the earth is flat or that Noah hauled all the animals in the world on a boat, or pretty much any explanation the church gives for reality, doesn't make that belief as credible as scientific fact. I could believe that I was David Hasselhoff, and I’d have the right to do that, but I’d still be insane and you could tell me that, and you’d be right to do so. Anyone could, say, believe that it's offensive to disagree with them, and try to make it illegal for you to say that you do, but they can't, because of the first amendment. Your speech is protected by it and their hearing isn't, so if they don't like it, they can join the Taliban and get the fuck out of America. They won't, of course, because that would mean "so long, bikini babes." Is it mere hyperbole to compare your right to do what you want to the right to free speech? No! Your rights have come under attack! There is no amendment securing the rights of your libido, and that's where I come in. You believe that you should get a hot three-way, and she believes you shouldn't, and there is a clear right and a wrong here: she's wrong and you're right. It's time for her to keep her restrictions off your body. Your desire to have the three-way far outweighs her desire not to. You're not asking too much; she's asking too much when she expects you not to want to. Your natural desire to get laid as much as possible, as vigorously as possible must not be a silent victim any longer. Together we will cast off this yoke of oppression!
The choice is yours: you can limp pathetically into your appointed rocking chair griping about how you never got a three-way, or you can get in touch with Dale Shipley, bachelor attorney, and have awesome sex with two chicks at the same time. I know what I'd do.
Monday
cobra commander for president at Something Awful
I wonder, I honestly do, how it is people convince themselves that George Bush isn't just a stupid, incompetent warmonger. Doublethink?
"I believe that we will find the truth, and the truth is..." Video
"I believe that we will find the truth, and the truth is..." Video
Rapper, theologian, speaks out. World solemnly nods.
God doesn't mind jewelry, rapper says - billingsgazette.com
God doesn't mind jewelry, rapper says - billingsgazette.com
Yahoo! News - Iran Parliament OKs Nuke Enrichment Bill
It's... the future, I see... a draft. I confess, the real reason I know that is because lying shitsack Bush said it wouldn't happen.
It's... the future, I see... a draft. I confess, the real reason I know that is because lying shitsack Bush said it wouldn't happen.
NSFW Luba in the window
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