HOW TO READ A BOOK YOUR FRIEND WROTE
Reading, is hard. The temptation to be critical crunches against the desire to enjoy pretty fitfully at times.
Especially when your friend wrote the book.
So when you're reading a book it's crucial to find your groove, to settle into that place where the author lives, to give a lot of ground. Look up every two pages or so and take a breath. How ya doin'? Ok, start again. What's happening here? How real is what you're seeing? Does it match up with your idea of the person writing it? If you're a good reader you can hang in there and go on a little trip to book-land, while not losing your perspective. That's how you know you're doing it right.
Now that I've got that straight, I'm going to read some more of the book my friend wrote.
Double Flee A
Friday
11 Hard Questions For Bush / In which our columnist sits down with the prez for some truly tough talk. Can Dubya handle it?
ytmnd.com - you're the man now dog!
This is the directory of the single screen picard, kahn, yourethemannowdog sites.
Enjoy.
[I had to go back and edit this, because I think it's the funniest thing on the internet, which places it high in the running for funniest thing ever. It's the dog chasing its tail of media. Any soundbite destroys itself in this medium. If you don't look at this, you really may be missing out on something.]
This is the directory of the single screen picard, kahn, yourethemannowdog sites.
Enjoy.
[I had to go back and edit this, because I think it's the funniest thing on the internet, which places it high in the running for funniest thing ever. It's the dog chasing its tail of media. Any soundbite destroys itself in this medium. If you don't look at this, you really may be missing out on something.]
flash japanese butt celebration, fun, but not safe for work
"Labeling an image means associating word descriptions to it, as shown below. Computer programs can't yet determine the contents of arbitrary images, but the ESP game provides a novel method of labeling them: players get to have fun as they help us determine their contents. If the ESP game is played as much as other popular online games, we estimate that all the images on the Web can be labeled in a matter of weeks!"
The ESP Game: Labeling the Web
The ESP Game: Labeling the Web
This is where I make it up to you that I posted the most disgusting thing ever done by someone to himself.
Wing Music - www.wingmusic.co.nz - Listen to Wing
Wing Music - www.wingmusic.co.nz - Listen to Wing
It's that time again, when I post the most disgusting thing ever done.
Please, please do not look at this. I'm begging. Don't look. If you look, you will be so sorry. Heed the warning. Just don't click. How hard is it? For the love of god, don't go there. Is there anything I can say that wll make you not click this? If there is, just pretend I'm saying it. Please. Do not behold the horror. I'm even going to make the link REAL LITTLE so you can't accidentally click it.
.
Please, please do not look at this. I'm begging. Don't look. If you look, you will be so sorry. Heed the warning. Just don't click. How hard is it? For the love of god, don't go there. Is there anything I can say that wll make you not click this? If there is, just pretend I'm saying it. Please. Do not behold the horror. I'm even going to make the link REAL LITTLE so you can't accidentally click it.
.
commercials for canadian beer, if you have the bandwidth, you should watch this. Nationalism works no matter whose it is. This canadian beer advertising is AWESOME. There are several, so let them run through.
screw your film, there's a giant dragonfly larva trying to develop here...
inspirational, and something that would never happen you-know-where.
NEWS.com.au | Blue Mountains greenies bug $130m film (April 30, 2004)
inspirational, and something that would never happen you-know-where.
NEWS.com.au | Blue Mountains greenies bug $130m film (April 30, 2004)
Thursday
Operation take one for the country, anybody want to dress up as a soldier tonight and hit the bars wth me?
eBay item 2393694283 (Ends May-07-04 22:31:12 PDT) - Country Music Wax Museum Memorabilia Collectibles
the most unbelievable auction i've seen in some time
the most unbelievable auction i've seen in some time
disturbing flash movie, all characters made entirely of genitals
The onion:
"Bush To Iraqi Militants: 'Please Stop Bringing It On'
WASHINGTON, DC—In an internationally televised statement Monday, President Bush modified a July 2003 challenge to Iraqi militants attacking U.S. forces. "Terrorists, Saddam loyalists, and anti-American insurgents: Please stop bringing it on now," Bush said at a Monday press conference. "Nine months and 500 U.S. casualties ago, I may have invited y'all to bring it on, but as of today, I formally rescind that statement. I would officially like for you to step back." The president added that the "it" Iraqis should stop bringing includes gunfire, bombings, grenade attacks, and suicide missions of all types."
"Bush To Iraqi Militants: 'Please Stop Bringing It On'
WASHINGTON, DC—In an internationally televised statement Monday, President Bush modified a July 2003 challenge to Iraqi militants attacking U.S. forces. "Terrorists, Saddam loyalists, and anti-American insurgents: Please stop bringing it on now," Bush said at a Monday press conference. "Nine months and 500 U.S. casualties ago, I may have invited y'all to bring it on, but as of today, I formally rescind that statement. I would officially like for you to step back." The president added that the "it" Iraqis should stop bringing includes gunfire, bombings, grenade attacks, and suicide missions of all types."
Wednesday
komo news | Port Angeles High School Custodian Arrested
"Police are trying to identify victims from the photos in the camera."
In other news, enrollment at the police academy just tripled.
"Police are trying to identify victims from the photos in the camera."
In other news, enrollment at the police academy just tripled.
Tuesday
The 911 exam felt good. I don't know how good it was, but it felt like it went great. I just answered some questions. There were three people surrounding me, department sub-heads and deputies. I guess we'll see in about two weeks.
I'm at the Hennepin county law library. I showed up at 9:30 for my 911 exam across the street at city hall, but my appointment was for 1 p.m.
9:30 is the time of my surgery two weeks from now. How did I screw that one up?
I hung out in domestic abuse court over in the new jail building for a little while, before I realized there was this place. They gave me a card with a bar code. I'm somebody now at the law library.
Court was full of people having a bad day. People pretty much had gotten drunk, done something dumb, and were now going to have to pay big.
The room was full of category-people, some wore filthy white sneakers and had Cooter hats folded up. The Cooter hats are hard to find a pocket for, so they got fidgeted with. There were quietly giggling white secretaries and scared black guys. Take all the cops out of the room and that would change pretty quick.
The prosecutor was pregnant. The second pregnant prosecutor I've seen in as many trips to court. How perfect to be pregnant and representing victims. She said the words intent, disorderly conduct, and harm a lot.
I've got fifty minutes left in my computer session here at the library. A little window sits there jut to let me know. That's its job. Oh! Forty -nine!
Behind glass, seven or eight people were seated, over to the right side. Those were the defendants. One of them was in an orange jumpsuit. He looked like he could end the conflict in Iraq all by himself. Alert, confident, and prepared for any judgment handed his way. He eats judgments.
The secretary sitting right by the glassed-in defendant section had dark hair, a blue shirt (blouse?), and skin so fair it made her look like she was lifestyle-gloating. Four feet away a new crop of defendants was sitting, sporting bad skin and jail tats. These were not the tattoos you get on spring break. These were tattoos that meant something. The secretary looked like she had come out of a Clive Barker movie with that milky complexion, like any minute now the floor would open up, hell would pop out, and that skin would be slashed to ribbons. That's just how perfect the skin ws, I mean.
The clerk was sitting up by the judge, she was a black lady. She flirted with the defense attorney but the judge didn't notice. She was killing that guy with those eyes. If she'd blinked any slower she'd still be blinking right now. I think the word I'm looking for is sultry. And her smile was barely there, but boy was it there. I don't care what color you are, if you can flirt like that, you'll never be hurting for love.
The judge, Mary Steenson Dufresne, was heartless. One poor bastard lived in a hotel, had to pay his rent the next day or they'd take all his stuff and kick him out, and she didn't care. After a friend of mine got her as a judge once, his lawyer said "we didn't get too lucky today with the judge."
The girl sitting next to me was a liaison for vitims, worked with the district attorney's office. When she leaned forward I saw her underwear was purple. I felt like a jerk for noticing.
Went over to the service center where you get your driver's license renewed. Smelled like vomit. I left. A little girl counted to twelve as I walked off. I think that's as high as she could go, but after that counting gets pretty boring anyway. You go, little girl.
The law library is on the twenty-fourth floor of the Hennepin county biulding, which looks like a giant H. Out the window is St. Paul. Some other cities are also visible, very far away.
29 minutes remaining on my computer session. An hour a day is the max.
Gonna go now.
9:30 is the time of my surgery two weeks from now. How did I screw that one up?
I hung out in domestic abuse court over in the new jail building for a little while, before I realized there was this place. They gave me a card with a bar code. I'm somebody now at the law library.
Court was full of people having a bad day. People pretty much had gotten drunk, done something dumb, and were now going to have to pay big.
The room was full of category-people, some wore filthy white sneakers and had Cooter hats folded up. The Cooter hats are hard to find a pocket for, so they got fidgeted with. There were quietly giggling white secretaries and scared black guys. Take all the cops out of the room and that would change pretty quick.
The prosecutor was pregnant. The second pregnant prosecutor I've seen in as many trips to court. How perfect to be pregnant and representing victims. She said the words intent, disorderly conduct, and harm a lot.
I've got fifty minutes left in my computer session here at the library. A little window sits there jut to let me know. That's its job. Oh! Forty -nine!
Behind glass, seven or eight people were seated, over to the right side. Those were the defendants. One of them was in an orange jumpsuit. He looked like he could end the conflict in Iraq all by himself. Alert, confident, and prepared for any judgment handed his way. He eats judgments.
The secretary sitting right by the glassed-in defendant section had dark hair, a blue shirt (blouse?), and skin so fair it made her look like she was lifestyle-gloating. Four feet away a new crop of defendants was sitting, sporting bad skin and jail tats. These were not the tattoos you get on spring break. These were tattoos that meant something. The secretary looked like she had come out of a Clive Barker movie with that milky complexion, like any minute now the floor would open up, hell would pop out, and that skin would be slashed to ribbons. That's just how perfect the skin ws, I mean.
The clerk was sitting up by the judge, she was a black lady. She flirted with the defense attorney but the judge didn't notice. She was killing that guy with those eyes. If she'd blinked any slower she'd still be blinking right now. I think the word I'm looking for is sultry. And her smile was barely there, but boy was it there. I don't care what color you are, if you can flirt like that, you'll never be hurting for love.
The judge, Mary Steenson Dufresne, was heartless. One poor bastard lived in a hotel, had to pay his rent the next day or they'd take all his stuff and kick him out, and she didn't care. After a friend of mine got her as a judge once, his lawyer said "we didn't get too lucky today with the judge."
The girl sitting next to me was a liaison for vitims, worked with the district attorney's office. When she leaned forward I saw her underwear was purple. I felt like a jerk for noticing.
Went over to the service center where you get your driver's license renewed. Smelled like vomit. I left. A little girl counted to twelve as I walked off. I think that's as high as she could go, but after that counting gets pretty boring anyway. You go, little girl.
The law library is on the twenty-fourth floor of the Hennepin county biulding, which looks like a giant H. Out the window is St. Paul. Some other cities are also visible, very far away.
29 minutes remaining on my computer session. An hour a day is the max.
Gonna go now.
Monday
I had to leave work early today, not feeling too super.
I am like a beautiful tulip growing at the edge of a wildwood glen, the misty morning has just given way to soft light filtering through white, fluffy clouds. My petals bear the remains of the morning fog, nearby a fawn picks its way silently between twigs. Then a bad actor, smelling vaguely of the ham omelet he had for breakfast, walks straight toward me, and whether it's because he had a bad performance the night before or none at all, he decides to use me as his blaming post, and slaps me as hard as he can with an open palm. Now the bad actor has moved on, the sun is shining, and a passing honeybee pauses, wondering what's wrong with me, and buzzes off again to find a flower that's not so weirdly affected on this perfect spring day.
Who is the intruder of my metaphor? What is the force represented by the bad actor? What is the honeybee? It doesn't matter, but that's how I feel today.
As anyone remotely familiar with particle physics can attest, the atom is a strange place. There's no way to see it, and what you notice about it wholly depends on how it is modeled and tested. Bohr's atom was wrong, but no more wrong than any other drawable atom. Each model only tells so much of the story.
People are the same way. You can't actually see someone's mind, which is why Freud, who actually got away with saying "there are no jokes", and then that his cigar was just a cigar, is now humorlessly "the father of modern psychology". Modern psychology is obviously shit if he is its father.
I have to try to break through the snow left over from the long winter that's clogging my life like that water that's still in my ears after a shower. That was the worst sentence of all time. But you get the idea, I hope. I'm going to try to throw up. Once that fails, I'll put my head under a pillow and see if I can cry about something. Maybe after that, I'll just try coming up with another metaphor, one that serves my purpose better than the last one, and I'll write it down on the pad by my bed.
For giggles, and because today's pad by the bed is tomorrow's kindling, I'll transcribe it here.
It bears a single message, a metaphor that will never fit in anywhere but should:
like someone you don't really know all that well in middle school who decides to give you an unconventional nickname that will never stick.
I am like a beautiful tulip growing at the edge of a wildwood glen, the misty morning has just given way to soft light filtering through white, fluffy clouds. My petals bear the remains of the morning fog, nearby a fawn picks its way silently between twigs. Then a bad actor, smelling vaguely of the ham omelet he had for breakfast, walks straight toward me, and whether it's because he had a bad performance the night before or none at all, he decides to use me as his blaming post, and slaps me as hard as he can with an open palm. Now the bad actor has moved on, the sun is shining, and a passing honeybee pauses, wondering what's wrong with me, and buzzes off again to find a flower that's not so weirdly affected on this perfect spring day.
Who is the intruder of my metaphor? What is the force represented by the bad actor? What is the honeybee? It doesn't matter, but that's how I feel today.
As anyone remotely familiar with particle physics can attest, the atom is a strange place. There's no way to see it, and what you notice about it wholly depends on how it is modeled and tested. Bohr's atom was wrong, but no more wrong than any other drawable atom. Each model only tells so much of the story.
People are the same way. You can't actually see someone's mind, which is why Freud, who actually got away with saying "there are no jokes", and then that his cigar was just a cigar, is now humorlessly "the father of modern psychology". Modern psychology is obviously shit if he is its father.
I have to try to break through the snow left over from the long winter that's clogging my life like that water that's still in my ears after a shower. That was the worst sentence of all time. But you get the idea, I hope. I'm going to try to throw up. Once that fails, I'll put my head under a pillow and see if I can cry about something. Maybe after that, I'll just try coming up with another metaphor, one that serves my purpose better than the last one, and I'll write it down on the pad by my bed.
For giggles, and because today's pad by the bed is tomorrow's kindling, I'll transcribe it here.
It bears a single message, a metaphor that will never fit in anywhere but should:
like someone you don't really know all that well in middle school who decides to give you an unconventional nickname that will never stick.
Yahoo! News - Study Blames Corn Syrup for Rise of Diabetes in US
While I was kicking rocks in the city impound parking area, waiting for a tow truck driver to happen by, a train passed. The train tracks are the same ones that run past Joyce's house, and I was on the opposite side of them from where she lives, from a "train's direction" standpoint. The wrong side of the tracks is where the impound lot is located. Because of the train's winding path trough the city, or rather the city's winding construction around the tracks, there are a lot of wrong sides, all unique and equally depressing. That train rumbling by was stacked with forest products of unknown kinds (wrapped in plastic), covered with graffiti, and hauled many cars of corn syrup. To give you an idea what that looked like, corn sweetener corn sweetener corn sweetener corn sweetener, repeat six times. You would have to be hopelessly committed to believing ridiculous things not to consider how bad it is that America jacks itself up on processed sugar to get through the day.
If you haven't read the oil we eat, which I pointed to here the other day, here's the link.
While I was kicking rocks in the city impound parking area, waiting for a tow truck driver to happen by, a train passed. The train tracks are the same ones that run past Joyce's house, and I was on the opposite side of them from where she lives, from a "train's direction" standpoint. The wrong side of the tracks is where the impound lot is located. Because of the train's winding path trough the city, or rather the city's winding construction around the tracks, there are a lot of wrong sides, all unique and equally depressing. That train rumbling by was stacked with forest products of unknown kinds (wrapped in plastic), covered with graffiti, and hauled many cars of corn syrup. To give you an idea what that looked like, corn sweetener corn sweetener corn sweetener corn sweetener, repeat six times. You would have to be hopelessly committed to believing ridiculous things not to consider how bad it is that America jacks itself up on processed sugar to get through the day.
If you haven't read the oil we eat, which I pointed to here the other day, here's the link.
The KFC gig wasn't Jason Patrick's first rodeo
Good old brother Joe was vindicated this week when his essential idea was fleshed out at this site by a networking-for-networking's-sake guru named Clay Shirky. Looks like total chaos to me, but Joe knows this back and forth because he had the same exact idea. I, for one, am pleased with this turn of events. It's an abstract idea based on other abstract ideas, and thinking about it just feels all wrong, but there is a lesson here, my rudimentary understanding of which is, it is possible to model the most complex systems imaginable in a very simple way.
Sunday
open directory of naked women, which of course is unsafe for work
Here's the way I feel about blogs:
They do the job of most personal emails by giving the details of how so-and-so's doing right now, and are accessible at any time the interested party is curious, without all that tedious logging on to email.
They do the job of showing general interest on the part of the blogger for those unacquainted with him or her.
They are the greatest and most inadvertent personal networking tool ever devised.
The internet is the biggest thing since the printing press, and blogs. while they might have been called something else, are an inevitability, and are fortunatlely undoable.
They do the job of most personal emails by giving the details of how so-and-so's doing right now, and are accessible at any time the interested party is curious, without all that tedious logging on to email.
They do the job of showing general interest on the part of the blogger for those unacquainted with him or her.
They are the greatest and most inadvertent personal networking tool ever devised.
The internet is the biggest thing since the printing press, and blogs. while they might have been called something else, are an inevitability, and are fortunatlely undoable.
Please click this photo mosaic! Look at it! Think about it!
Saturday
The battle was lost, and the war is far from over concerning my car.
The dirtiest grease monkey of all time towed my car back home from the impound lot. On the way here, he got a call for another car he had to tow, so we drove up through north Minneapolis (code language for black gangsterville) to get it on the way. Talk about a pimp ride. The spinning rims, chrome grill, it was a spotless truck. The guy who had been driving it was in the back of a police car which was sitting there watching to make sure the tow truck driver didn't get his ass shot off. He was booked for narcotics, and if he had any where near the amount of drugs that this ride suggested, he won't be breathing free air for a looong time.
The music on the way up there was "Amy", as in "Amy, what you wanna do, I think I could stay with you, for a while, maybe longer if I do". It was oddly and powerfully reminiscent of the scene in boogie nights when they're about to rob their coke dealer, and the chinese guy is throwing firecrackers around, and the song playing is sister christian by night ranger. Powerful characters in a bad situation. It's a strange thing about our culture, there's always music playing. As he loaded up the pimpride to haul it off, "born in the usa" came on. The music that's playing on all those stations you never hear on purpose, but are constantly on what I call "keep America rolling" radio, that's the soundtrack to some wild shit going on somewhere, all the time. It's hard to imagine what that stuff could be, just listening to the radio, but it's happening, believe me. If you can pair a bad situation with an overplayed oldie, you too, can write a great screenplay.
The dirtiest grease monkey of all time towed my car back home from the impound lot. On the way here, he got a call for another car he had to tow, so we drove up through north Minneapolis (code language for black gangsterville) to get it on the way. Talk about a pimp ride. The spinning rims, chrome grill, it was a spotless truck. The guy who had been driving it was in the back of a police car which was sitting there watching to make sure the tow truck driver didn't get his ass shot off. He was booked for narcotics, and if he had any where near the amount of drugs that this ride suggested, he won't be breathing free air for a looong time.
The music on the way up there was "Amy", as in "Amy, what you wanna do, I think I could stay with you, for a while, maybe longer if I do". It was oddly and powerfully reminiscent of the scene in boogie nights when they're about to rob their coke dealer, and the chinese guy is throwing firecrackers around, and the song playing is sister christian by night ranger. Powerful characters in a bad situation. It's a strange thing about our culture, there's always music playing. As he loaded up the pimpride to haul it off, "born in the usa" came on. The music that's playing on all those stations you never hear on purpose, but are constantly on what I call "keep America rolling" radio, that's the soundtrack to some wild shit going on somewhere, all the time. It's hard to imagine what that stuff could be, just listening to the radio, but it's happening, believe me. If you can pair a bad situation with an overplayed oldie, you too, can write a great screenplay.
What the hell? NSFW
Atrios discusses religion in America, at Eschaton
There's a story about "harlequin baby" making the rounds, and I just want to register that there can be nothing more heartbreaking than a doomed newborn baby. At least not that I can think of. For more information, you'll have to look it up yourself, and I recommend you don't.
BBC News | WALES | Romeo guinea pig causes baby boom
"Park owner Carol Feehan, 42, said: "I'm sure a lot of men will be looking at Sooty with envy."
However, someone once said that if they could speak to the animals and be understood, they would say "Our females are always in heat."
"Park owner Carol Feehan, 42, said: "I'm sure a lot of men will be looking at Sooty with envy."
However, someone once said that if they could speak to the animals and be understood, they would say "Our females are always in heat."
So many must-reads tonight.
A foreign journalist talks about his mention on the O'Reilly factor.
Yes.
A foreign journalist talks about his mention on the O'Reilly factor.
Yes.
Ever wonder what it would be like for people a thousand years from now, looking at the ruins of our civilization and thinking about what our lives were like? It'll happen because we'll eventually run out of oil and we don't have the good sense to overthrow the oil people in power because they've made our lives comfy. It'll happen because we're running out of oil and that's what we need to farm and distribute food. I really hope you'll read that link, by the way. Changed my life. The mayans had the same probelm that article tells us we will eventually have; no arable land. The mayans, how many of them knew about the big picture? How did it all end? How will it end for us?
Yahoo! News - Researchers Discover Mayan Monuments
Yahoo! News - Researchers Discover Mayan Monuments
The Republicans will rue ever making John Kerry's war record an issue. Kerry has released all his records, and it's all gold.
Kos
Kos
Friday
The case of the missing car is solved. It got towed! Now my car lives down at the city impound lot.
Not only that, but they have to do more surgery on my back. I'm petitioning for general anaesthesia. I like that word better spelled with the A and E together. Looks way stylier.
Not only that, but they have to do more surgery on my back. I'm petitioning for general anaesthesia. I like that word better spelled with the A and E together. Looks way stylier.
bad metaphors, very funny wordplay page
"She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up."
"She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up."
My car is missing. The guys from the car place were supposed to park it on the street but when I went to pick it up, it wasn't there. Great. If anybody stole it they didn't get too far, though, because the brakes were totally gone. Why were the brakes gone AFTER it was in the shop, you ask? They wanted thirteen hundred bucks to fix the brakes. Nuh-uh. I kind of think it would be a fitting end to the car to kill some car thieves. They just tear out of there like yee-haw, and then bam, emeril style, fate kicks it up a notch.
Thursday
This is a HOOT.
The Way of the Master
The master in question is the christian idea of god, and the person who wants to show you the way is Kirk Cameron. So don't just sit there! Order some stuff from this website and go out there and start being an Amway salesman for Jesus, "way of the master" style!
Even I, who often devote rows of rampages to the disparagement of monotheism, know that everyday people don't share the same zest for the conversion of nonbelievers these folks do. So you know, my pigeonhole is reserved for the zealots who stand to profit from their righteousness. Hope that's cleared up. I was raised among presbyterians, who are commendably an anti-missionary pray-in-the-closet bunch. If your mission in life is to get people to join you in worship of something I worry about you, but most people in all fairness aren't that way, and just can't find a way to articulate their disappointment that they are cast in such a way by the outspoken leaders (profiteers) of their establishments. They choose the devil they know over the devil they don't know, siding with the powers that be. I can understand that. I just decided I'd be better off in the fire than the frying pan. We're not that different, you and me. But could you do something about that shirt? Gaw.
The Way of the Master
The master in question is the christian idea of god, and the person who wants to show you the way is Kirk Cameron. So don't just sit there! Order some stuff from this website and go out there and start being an Amway salesman for Jesus, "way of the master" style!
Even I, who often devote rows of rampages to the disparagement of monotheism, know that everyday people don't share the same zest for the conversion of nonbelievers these folks do. So you know, my pigeonhole is reserved for the zealots who stand to profit from their righteousness. Hope that's cleared up. I was raised among presbyterians, who are commendably an anti-missionary pray-in-the-closet bunch. If your mission in life is to get people to join you in worship of something I worry about you, but most people in all fairness aren't that way, and just can't find a way to articulate their disappointment that they are cast in such a way by the outspoken leaders (profiteers) of their establishments. They choose the devil they know over the devil they don't know, siding with the powers that be. I can understand that. I just decided I'd be better off in the fire than the frying pan. We're not that different, you and me. But could you do something about that shirt? Gaw.
Wednesday
Eschaton breaks it down
The "what would L. Ron do?" label I stuck to my chest at work yesterday was met with a predictable reception. About three people put it together who L. Ron was.
I ran into some secret service guys on the elevator. The president of Rwanda was in the hospital on a tour. I'd have liked to see his face if he found out that a lot of our surgeries are for stomach banding, not to mention sex changes, which isn't to say that most of them aren't transplants and actual medical necessities, which they are. I wonder if the president of Rwanda asked what we're doing with all those old wheelchairs we're phasing out because the average patient is too fat to fit into them. The secret service guys don't carry glocks like the cops do. They said they carry something else, but wouldn't tell me what. Those guys sure are secretive.
Slept for eleven hours. Ahh.
Brother John has an idea for a story but doesn't have time to write it, being slammed with the premed curriculum. I'll try to write it but it will suck. I wrote a lot of those, that were based around great ideas, and the shorter they were the better. When I tried to make them longer they came out like the serials hacks banged out for Alfred Hitchcock's pperback series in the fifties. The short version almost always went like this: "Laura loved puppies, but sometimes they made her very angry." Believe me, that turned into garbage.
I ran into some secret service guys on the elevator. The president of Rwanda was in the hospital on a tour. I'd have liked to see his face if he found out that a lot of our surgeries are for stomach banding, not to mention sex changes, which isn't to say that most of them aren't transplants and actual medical necessities, which they are. I wonder if the president of Rwanda asked what we're doing with all those old wheelchairs we're phasing out because the average patient is too fat to fit into them. The secret service guys don't carry glocks like the cops do. They said they carry something else, but wouldn't tell me what. Those guys sure are secretive.
Slept for eleven hours. Ahh.
Brother John has an idea for a story but doesn't have time to write it, being slammed with the premed curriculum. I'll try to write it but it will suck. I wrote a lot of those, that were based around great ideas, and the shorter they were the better. When I tried to make them longer they came out like the serials hacks banged out for Alfred Hitchcock's pperback series in the fifties. The short version almost always went like this: "Laura loved puppies, but sometimes they made her very angry." Believe me, that turned into garbage.
Tuesday
BET.com - Porn Star Tests HIV-Positive
Oh, and the porn star in question is black. Did you think that maybe he was, since the article is from BET? Maybe?
Oh, and the porn star in question is black. Did you think that maybe he was, since the article is from BET? Maybe?
Monday
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, "a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels."
This year's "winner":
They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white . . . Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn't taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would have you believe it does by coloring it differently.
Here's my entry, which should have won by a country mile:
The three men stood in a circle facing away from one another, though it could be called a triangle, each waiting for one of the other two to be the first to turn around and lose the contest (although, they all simultaneously realized and were unable to explain since none of them spoke the same language, were one of them to turn around, it would be impossible to catch him without turning around as well).
I'm done with this stupid contest. The winners suck, the judges suck, the contest sucks.
This year's "winner":
They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white . . . Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn't taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would have you believe it does by coloring it differently.
Here's my entry, which should have won by a country mile:
The three men stood in a circle facing away from one another, though it could be called a triangle, each waiting for one of the other two to be the first to turn around and lose the contest (although, they all simultaneously realized and were unable to explain since none of them spoke the same language, were one of them to turn around, it would be impossible to catch him without turning around as well).
I'm done with this stupid contest. The winners suck, the judges suck, the contest sucks.
3D wallpaperz, NSFW
Lenore, flash cartoon
Stern belongs on radio just as much as Rush - Roger Ebert weighs in
Sunday
Do not watch this video unless you are prepared to be appalled.
the grossest thing ever done. In no way safe for viewing or work or children or living things.
the grossest thing ever done. In no way safe for viewing or work or children or living things.
Roadside Crosses, God's Way Of Saying 'A Shitty Driver Was Here'
This made a lot of people very angry
This made a lot of people very angry
"I'd like to hear some funky dixie land pretty mama come and take me by the hand, by the hand hand take me by the hand pretty mama coma and dance with your daddy, all night long, like to hear some funky dixie land, pretty mama come and take me by the hand."
Stupid, right? Yes it is. Stupid to read, stupid to hear. Stupid, stupid, sad, sad, sad.
This and "walking in Memphis" are the two goodies that come to mind when I think of the music THEY play that I hate.
I hate what clear channel has done to radio.
Feel free to pitch in your least-loved musical abortions below.
Stupid, right? Yes it is. Stupid to read, stupid to hear. Stupid, stupid, sad, sad, sad.
This and "walking in Memphis" are the two goodies that come to mind when I think of the music THEY play that I hate.
I hate what clear channel has done to radio.
Feel free to pitch in your least-loved musical abortions below.
Saturday
Troy, the guy who fixes stuff in the apartment building I live in, doesn't come around very often.
He's responsible so far for improved water pressure and drainage and a new stove. Which is good.
Building inspectors are coming around Tuesday to see if this place is inhabitable and Troy has assured my roommate and I that it's all gonna be ok. See Troy's planning to pick up about sixty smoke detectors and fix some electrical sockets that we borrowed from the set of Fight Club.
Troy's assurances don't go all that far with me right now. Why?
My water was totally shut off for four days before he could get it back on. Try living four days with no water. Complicated.
The really strange part of Troy is his salesmanship. He's like Hitler. He gets on an oratorical rampage and can't be stopped. The thing is, my roommate and I stand there listening to him go on and on about how great he's going to make everything and we look at each other like "are you kidding me? he's still talking?" but Troy just keeps talking and talking. Troy thinks he's a real spellbinder. But he's not.
Last time he was here he brought his ten-year old son with him to dump some chemical down the pipe and make it drain better. The product was called something like "bio-clean" and Troy was telling us how he's a local distributor for the company. Troy's got his fingers in a lot of pies. The product is hamless to living things, he said, but hell on clogged pipes. He told us that he had been in an old lady's home demonstrating the mighty power of this supernaturally good drain cleaner, and he had actually drank some right there in front of her to show how harmless it is to people. She hadn't believed it! But it was true! The cleaner was just that amazingly good! Thr roomy and I looked at each other in disbelief, which I hope pleased Troy, but what we couldn't believe was that Troy himself was as demonstrably crazy as we suspected. Drinking drain cleaner. I predict a last-minute Monday night run to Home Depot for a zillion smoke detectors and a rent credit for Dale. And for Troy I predict either an early death from poisoning or a career in fascist politics.
He's responsible so far for improved water pressure and drainage and a new stove. Which is good.
Building inspectors are coming around Tuesday to see if this place is inhabitable and Troy has assured my roommate and I that it's all gonna be ok. See Troy's planning to pick up about sixty smoke detectors and fix some electrical sockets that we borrowed from the set of Fight Club.
Troy's assurances don't go all that far with me right now. Why?
My water was totally shut off for four days before he could get it back on. Try living four days with no water. Complicated.
The really strange part of Troy is his salesmanship. He's like Hitler. He gets on an oratorical rampage and can't be stopped. The thing is, my roommate and I stand there listening to him go on and on about how great he's going to make everything and we look at each other like "are you kidding me? he's still talking?" but Troy just keeps talking and talking. Troy thinks he's a real spellbinder. But he's not.
Last time he was here he brought his ten-year old son with him to dump some chemical down the pipe and make it drain better. The product was called something like "bio-clean" and Troy was telling us how he's a local distributor for the company. Troy's got his fingers in a lot of pies. The product is hamless to living things, he said, but hell on clogged pipes. He told us that he had been in an old lady's home demonstrating the mighty power of this supernaturally good drain cleaner, and he had actually drank some right there in front of her to show how harmless it is to people. She hadn't believed it! But it was true! The cleaner was just that amazingly good! Thr roomy and I looked at each other in disbelief, which I hope pleased Troy, but what we couldn't believe was that Troy himself was as demonstrably crazy as we suspected. Drinking drain cleaner. I predict a last-minute Monday night run to Home Depot for a zillion smoke detectors and a rent credit for Dale. And for Troy I predict either an early death from poisoning or a career in fascist politics.
Friday
TCS: Tech Central Station - Trekking to a Deeper Understanding of Human Nature
The most convoluted thing ever written by someone other than me.
The most convoluted thing ever written by someone other than me.
Thursday
A dog sniffs its food in a restaurant called 'Tampopo' in the center of Kiev, April 15, 2004. Tampopo is the first restaurant for visitors with their pets in the capital of the ex-Soviet Ukraine. How cute!
And this kid here thinks it's funny too!
And this kid here thinks it's funny too!
Another thing about TGIFriday's
Lots of pale, plump, office sow-beasts used to come in for lunch and order the cobb salad:
"bands of chilled chargrilled chicken, crisp bacon, avocado, colby cheese, egg, black olives, tomatoes and bleu cheese on salad greens. Served with your choice of dressing."
Of course, they'd only eat the toppings and we'd wind up throwing the actual salad out.
Lots of pale, plump, office sow-beasts used to come in for lunch and order the cobb salad:
"bands of chilled chargrilled chicken, crisp bacon, avocado, colby cheese, egg, black olives, tomatoes and bleu cheese on salad greens. Served with your choice of dressing."
Of course, they'd only eat the toppings and we'd wind up throwing the actual salad out.
It's being called a classic, but I've never seen it, that is, until now.
The Lonely Astronaut, which is right up there with monster in a wheelchair.
The Lonely Astronaut, which is right up there with monster in a wheelchair.
When the hog butcher calling himself a surgeon hacked some gunk out of my back today and put it in a jar, it looked like he'd cleaned a five pound bass.
You wouldn't believe how big a tiny mole can be. It apparently has roots that go down about three feet into the body. Ridley Scott's imagination has never conjured a globby, bloody something more disturbing than what floated about in the little specimen jar after my procedure. Ooo-wee.
Seriously.
The surgery was free, the parking was three bucks. Is strange, no?
You wouldn't believe how big a tiny mole can be. It apparently has roots that go down about three feet into the body. Ridley Scott's imagination has never conjured a globby, bloody something more disturbing than what floated about in the little specimen jar after my procedure. Ooo-wee.
Seriously.
The surgery was free, the parking was three bucks. Is strange, no?
Laws fail to put the brakes on Morristown menace on wheels
This man obviously never tangled with the Putnam County, Tennessee court system, or he'd be the guy in charge of pushing the breakfast cart in jail over there right now.
Guys like these are the people who are our modern legends, and castigate them as we might for being reckless and dangerous, our lives would be duller without them to read about and refer to. There should almost be a holiday for people like this, who decide to be different at a great cost to themselves.
This man obviously never tangled with the Putnam County, Tennessee court system, or he'd be the guy in charge of pushing the breakfast cart in jail over there right now.
Guys like these are the people who are our modern legends, and castigate them as we might for being reckless and dangerous, our lives would be duller without them to read about and refer to. There should almost be a holiday for people like this, who decide to be different at a great cost to themselves.
Think Jayson is a stupid name? Look what he named his daughter.
here
Poor girl.
More and better complaining than I'm presently able to come up on the subject can be read here.
[edit - Got done reading the first article -- the daughter the couple already has is named in the last line, which makes the whole thing seem like a tongue-in-cheek joke by the journalist. Bravo.]
here
Poor girl.
More and better complaining than I'm presently able to come up on the subject can be read here.
[edit - Got done reading the first article -- the daughter the couple already has is named in the last line, which makes the whole thing seem like a tongue-in-cheek joke by the journalist. Bravo.]
Caterina.net presents a cool exercise, try it
Wednesday
Tuesday
The Writings on the Stall
My favorite bathroom writing so far was
"John 3:16"
underneath that:
"Mark 3:27
we must have just missed each other"
My favorite bathroom writing so far was
"John 3:16"
underneath that:
"Mark 3:27
we must have just missed each other"
I've got to admit, I never thought of tongues as being "cute".
After visiting cutetongues.com, I feel the same way.
After visiting cutetongues.com, I feel the same way.
Scary. I wonder what's on the shelves where we shop that was made in Honduras.
Yahoo! News - Another Severed Human Head Found in Honduras
Yahoo! News - Another Severed Human Head Found in Honduras
Monday
Guardian Unlimited | Special reports | An Iraqi intifada
That story you're hearing about just "fringe" people attacking our troops is nonsense. Our troops, believe it or not, aren't welcome in Iraq.
That story you're hearing about just "fringe" people attacking our troops is nonsense. Our troops, believe it or not, aren't welcome in Iraq.
The office is full of people who went to see "rent" at the ordway and were surprised by what it actually is, which is a stupid musical about homosexuals with aids in a fictional new york neighborhood called, "bohemia". Puke.
I went to see it too, at the ordway, several years ago. My at the time girlfriend said it was one of her favorites, so I took her. What a piece of junk. I wish somebody had had the guts to shoot me straight about what a turd "rent" was before I'd paid the (at the time, exorbitant) ticket price. After the show I tried to get her to tell me what had been so great that I hadn't noticed, and she couldn't come up with anything, so there you go. A total waste of time, that relationship, that musical, the horror of it all.
I went to see it too, at the ordway, several years ago. My at the time girlfriend said it was one of her favorites, so I took her. What a piece of junk. I wish somebody had had the guts to shoot me straight about what a turd "rent" was before I'd paid the (at the time, exorbitant) ticket price. After the show I tried to get her to tell me what had been so great that I hadn't noticed, and she couldn't come up with anything, so there you go. A total waste of time, that relationship, that musical, the horror of it all.
Sunday
weird old comic book covers warning, musical page
In Tennessee, my home state, there are, oh, maybe one or two people who don't appreciate our dark-skinned brethren, nor their contributions to American culture. I agree that we'd have been better off without the Ying Yang twins and certain other musical travesties, but that's as far as I'm prepared to go. In Tennessee there is a famous annual joke that accompanies the holiday commemorating the birth of Martin Luther King, Jr., which goes something like this:
"if they killed four more ni**ers, we'd be able to take off all week."
Well, today marks the day Jesus Christ rose from the grave. Why they couldn't have killed him a couple more times and had him come back twice so we could have some more time off work is not a joke I've ever heard told. In this case, killing somebody isn't all that funny, I guess, even though Jesus was actually immune to death, unlike Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., who it can be assumed, actually cared that he not be killed.
I can't buy any groceries today, which I had planned to, because it's Easter. No supermarket is open. If they had killed Jesus a couple more times, I'd f*cking starve to death. The way it is, I'm giving thanks that I live in a country where we celebrate the failure of executions to kill people by eating canned soup, because it's important that all the goods in the supermarket get older and older without anybody being able to buy them.
Thanks, Jesus. Since we're having a talk, I've got to say believe me, I don't blame you for what your "followers" do in your name. You were a great guy. If you actually did defy death and can make miracles happen, if you can somehow make some food materialize in my refrigerator I'd appreciate it. I'll take a pound of salmon, some brussels sprouts, half a gallon of orange juice, a loaf of that bread I like (come on, you know the one -wink-), and some kale. I've been wondering what kale is, and now's the perfect time to find out, for free! Take care, pal.
"if they killed four more ni**ers, we'd be able to take off all week."
Well, today marks the day Jesus Christ rose from the grave. Why they couldn't have killed him a couple more times and had him come back twice so we could have some more time off work is not a joke I've ever heard told. In this case, killing somebody isn't all that funny, I guess, even though Jesus was actually immune to death, unlike Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., who it can be assumed, actually cared that he not be killed.
I can't buy any groceries today, which I had planned to, because it's Easter. No supermarket is open. If they had killed Jesus a couple more times, I'd f*cking starve to death. The way it is, I'm giving thanks that I live in a country where we celebrate the failure of executions to kill people by eating canned soup, because it's important that all the goods in the supermarket get older and older without anybody being able to buy them.
Thanks, Jesus. Since we're having a talk, I've got to say believe me, I don't blame you for what your "followers" do in your name. You were a great guy. If you actually did defy death and can make miracles happen, if you can somehow make some food materialize in my refrigerator I'd appreciate it. I'll take a pound of salmon, some brussels sprouts, half a gallon of orange juice, a loaf of that bread I like (come on, you know the one -wink-), and some kale. I've been wondering what kale is, and now's the perfect time to find out, for free! Take care, pal.
sad easter photo, not safe for children
White House Releases Pre-9/11 Intel Memo - April 10, 2004
Well, here's the document the Prez got on one of his vacations, which have occupied upwards of forty percent of his illegitimate presidency.
Well, here's the document the Prez got on one of his vacations, which have occupied upwards of forty percent of his illegitimate presidency.
Governor presses for party-switchers
a little moral fascism on Easter
Georgia's Governor: "we need the experience of legislators who are ideologically aligned with the way that I believe..."
a little moral fascism on Easter
Georgia's Governor: "we need the experience of legislators who are ideologically aligned with the way that I believe..."
Saturday
cameltoe open directory, Not safe for work
Bush mosaic, made entirely of a**holes
HubLog: Smell the satire presents:a picture of John Ashcroft's face, made entirely of little porn people
Friday
sexy goth girls, nsfw
crazy christians whip easter bunny to make a point, children cry.
Thursday
Wednesday
The main advantage of dating many women rather than one is that many women never have a period, or at least one you have to notice or hear about. And that, as a guy, is nice.
An unnamed source told me that. And I never reveal my sources. So don't bother me about it, and don't assume that I thought of it, because I would get in trouble if I did, trouble with the lovely Joyce. And hell hath no fury like what, class?
An unnamed source told me that. And I never reveal my sources. So don't bother me about it, and don't assume that I thought of it, because I would get in trouble if I did, trouble with the lovely Joyce. And hell hath no fury like what, class?
When I google "obnoxious toolbar", one thing comes up, and it's a blog.
There are four on this infested office box alone. Since I know what a computer is, everyone I work with asks me how to make them go away. At first I cared, but now I make them call the company's computer guys. If I'm going to do something around here, it's going to be something i get paid for.
There are four on this infested office box alone. Since I know what a computer is, everyone I work with asks me how to make them go away. At first I cared, but now I make them call the company's computer guys. If I'm going to do something around here, it's going to be something i get paid for.
The firebombing of a Jewish elementary school in Montreal was executed yesterday as direct retaliation for the Israeli-sponsored assassination of Sheik Ahmed Yassin, the founder of the Hamas terrorist group, according to a "warning" note left outside the burned-out library...
But still more frightening is a world of secular humanism, right?
sad link here
But still more frightening is a world of secular humanism, right?
sad link here
If you have to ask what this is, you're not one of us.
Douglas Adams was a great guy.
DNA/HHGG Infocom Adventure
Douglas Adams was a great guy.
DNA/HHGG Infocom Adventure
Tuesday
What America can learn from its atheists, New Republic online
Game-over.net
I know this guy! I once took all his chess pieces without him taking even one of mine! Okay, he got a pawn. He drives a silver Audi in Pasadena. If you see it, hit it with a shopping cart. Just kidding, S. My car IS a shopping cart.
His site's hosting history, like anyone cares, is here.
I know this guy! I once took all his chess pieces without him taking even one of mine! Okay, he got a pawn. He drives a silver Audi in Pasadena. If you see it, hit it with a shopping cart. Just kidding, S. My car IS a shopping cart.
His site's hosting history, like anyone cares, is here.
Buchwald was a bad scene. Ask anybody who went there. It translates to book forest, but it was more of a Jew-burning place. Anyway, some Jews were there and one of them was a hooker, some were young men, boys, fathers, mothers, the usual. One of the fathers lamented that his son never got to know a woman in the biblical sense, and then he was told that a hooker had just felt charitable and gave some guys a freebie, his son among them. He smiled at this.
I think women have a certain idea about their offspring in this culture, and men have another. An attempt at elaboration (otherwise known as "where it all goes wrong"):
At some point in my reading (which, like the blue lagoon, is broad and shallow but in this case unfairly lacking in a hot, young Brooke Shields), I came across someone's analysis of the evolution of the concept of virtue, which at some point went from being known as primarily male in nature (upstanding, noble, kind) to female (sexually abstemious). The female kind is easier to write country songs about, but it's a lot more, well, shallow, and more boring and lacking in meaningful subtext.
The upshot of this is that men who sleep around are mavericks, alpha males, winners, presidents, quarterbacks. Women who sleep around are harlots. This makes for an obnoxiously simplistic framework of thought, which stops in every direction because of the "character flaws" of the sexually active. That in itself is not a big deal, because there are plenty of people who will think about this a little more than their rhetoric-addicted, accusatory cultural cohorts, but it bifurcates the groups of people who already agree with each other, and renders them unable to communicate with their opponents in any meaningful way. The dialogue is split by ideologies, and the one that makes more sense to me is the liberal one. If they sleep around, which they and everyone else have a right to do a human beings, and it shatters your perception of them as upstanding, then what's to blame, them or you? Some people would love to tackle me right here and say that murder bothers people, too, and theft, and it's a good thing it does. Which I agree with. But sex isn't killing anybody, or taking their stuff. Sex is actually the most meaningful thing a human can do, and the doomed Jewish father in one way or another knew that. A long time ago, there were still vestiges of pre-paternalistic-monotheism floating around, and the world was able to balance itself. Now even the places rife with "sin" are reactions to the mighty power of the people of the word of the lordy, like Tijuana, with its circus-freak-like sex shows in dark, scummy bars. No wonder it feels so meaningless. To underestimate the power of religion in our lives is a pretty dumb mistake. It is stitched into everything, including the disneyfied garbage our culture paves over everything else in the world in the name of capitalism, which is killing the planet's cultural interestingness.
I always do that. Sorry. Anyway, sleep with who you like and let nature decide if it was a bad idea. There is no such thing as a soul, DNA is using us to replicate itself, and what happens to us really doesn't matter at all. Love, which there should be three hundred separate words for, is largely fake, an illusion brought on by nature to facilitate the protection of offspring from harm, and is being co-opted by the mass media to create mercantilism where it doesn't belong. Gone are the days of quilting, here to replace it are the gawdy trinkets of celebrity and the products of slave-labor at low, low prices.
The celebration of gallantry is much better than the celebration of the virginal. The gossipy, tedious "who's boinkin' who" routine that we know so well is the only thing that emerges out of the primarily "female" assessment of virtue.
It doesn't (or maybe didn't is more accurate) have to be this way. I think it's pretty clear who I blame for this state of affairs.
Men and women alike should try to hurl their children, both male and female, into adulthood. Right at puberty, just throw them out there and let the chips fall as they may. The die that is cast can't be called back to the hand, and by the time puberty rolls around, childhood is well gone. There is an overprotection going on that is unsustainable, a hothouse of coddling that is temporally grandiose to the point of absurdity. We'd be better off with children that were taught lessons of "masculine" virtue and led to make sexual decisions based on them than vice versa. Obviously. But the Britney Spears money and sex factory likes things the way they are. If sex isn't sensationalized, is left as it is, which is common and normal notwithstanding the synthetic hoopla, nobody makes a buck on porn, strippers are no big deal, and the music industry would be forced to make actual music rather than dangle a Christina Aguilera, who demonstrates the masterful control of her sphincter for the world to see, in front of misinformed, agog young people who are sheltered from the realities of reproduction till it's too late to make a good decision.
All of which is a long way of saying the way that Jewish father saw his son's getting laid as a good thing is the right way to go about things in general.
I think women have a certain idea about their offspring in this culture, and men have another. An attempt at elaboration (otherwise known as "where it all goes wrong"):
At some point in my reading (which, like the blue lagoon, is broad and shallow but in this case unfairly lacking in a hot, young Brooke Shields), I came across someone's analysis of the evolution of the concept of virtue, which at some point went from being known as primarily male in nature (upstanding, noble, kind) to female (sexually abstemious). The female kind is easier to write country songs about, but it's a lot more, well, shallow, and more boring and lacking in meaningful subtext.
The upshot of this is that men who sleep around are mavericks, alpha males, winners, presidents, quarterbacks. Women who sleep around are harlots. This makes for an obnoxiously simplistic framework of thought, which stops in every direction because of the "character flaws" of the sexually active. That in itself is not a big deal, because there are plenty of people who will think about this a little more than their rhetoric-addicted, accusatory cultural cohorts, but it bifurcates the groups of people who already agree with each other, and renders them unable to communicate with their opponents in any meaningful way. The dialogue is split by ideologies, and the one that makes more sense to me is the liberal one. If they sleep around, which they and everyone else have a right to do a human beings, and it shatters your perception of them as upstanding, then what's to blame, them or you? Some people would love to tackle me right here and say that murder bothers people, too, and theft, and it's a good thing it does. Which I agree with. But sex isn't killing anybody, or taking their stuff. Sex is actually the most meaningful thing a human can do, and the doomed Jewish father in one way or another knew that. A long time ago, there were still vestiges of pre-paternalistic-monotheism floating around, and the world was able to balance itself. Now even the places rife with "sin" are reactions to the mighty power of the people of the word of the lordy, like Tijuana, with its circus-freak-like sex shows in dark, scummy bars. No wonder it feels so meaningless. To underestimate the power of religion in our lives is a pretty dumb mistake. It is stitched into everything, including the disneyfied garbage our culture paves over everything else in the world in the name of capitalism, which is killing the planet's cultural interestingness.
I always do that. Sorry. Anyway, sleep with who you like and let nature decide if it was a bad idea. There is no such thing as a soul, DNA is using us to replicate itself, and what happens to us really doesn't matter at all. Love, which there should be three hundred separate words for, is largely fake, an illusion brought on by nature to facilitate the protection of offspring from harm, and is being co-opted by the mass media to create mercantilism where it doesn't belong. Gone are the days of quilting, here to replace it are the gawdy trinkets of celebrity and the products of slave-labor at low, low prices.
The celebration of gallantry is much better than the celebration of the virginal. The gossipy, tedious "who's boinkin' who" routine that we know so well is the only thing that emerges out of the primarily "female" assessment of virtue.
It doesn't (or maybe didn't is more accurate) have to be this way. I think it's pretty clear who I blame for this state of affairs.
Men and women alike should try to hurl their children, both male and female, into adulthood. Right at puberty, just throw them out there and let the chips fall as they may. The die that is cast can't be called back to the hand, and by the time puberty rolls around, childhood is well gone. There is an overprotection going on that is unsustainable, a hothouse of coddling that is temporally grandiose to the point of absurdity. We'd be better off with children that were taught lessons of "masculine" virtue and led to make sexual decisions based on them than vice versa. Obviously. But the Britney Spears money and sex factory likes things the way they are. If sex isn't sensationalized, is left as it is, which is common and normal notwithstanding the synthetic hoopla, nobody makes a buck on porn, strippers are no big deal, and the music industry would be forced to make actual music rather than dangle a Christina Aguilera, who demonstrates the masterful control of her sphincter for the world to see, in front of misinformed, agog young people who are sheltered from the realities of reproduction till it's too late to make a good decision.
All of which is a long way of saying the way that Jewish father saw his son's getting laid as a good thing is the right way to go about things in general.
At dinner last night, at Bryant Lake bowl, I looked across the street at a sign.
LEE'S SHOE
zipper leather repair
I stared at it. Something was trying to reveal itself to me. The lovely Joyce very kindly ignored this strangeness.
Then it hit me. The sign could have said:
AL'S SHOE
and anagram repair
I wrote it down, showed it to Joyce, and was mysteriously still only half-vindicated. Life is like that.
LEE'S SHOE
zipper leather repair
I stared at it. Something was trying to reveal itself to me. The lovely Joyce very kindly ignored this strangeness.
Then it hit me. The sign could have said:
AL'S SHOE
and anagram repair
I wrote it down, showed it to Joyce, and was mysteriously still only half-vindicated. Life is like that.
b3ta.com goatse trick, SFW and very funny
Monday
Get to know TV CARNAGE
This was the text of an email I received today. I blocked the pictures automatically, so I didn't have to see the hot russian teens or whatever. The spammers will always find a way, will they not?
roller coaster behind daydreams, because bartender living with senator plan an escape from line dancer behind.Unlike so many waifs who have made their orbiting ballerina to us.Still steal pencils from her from somnambulist inside avocado pit, sanitize her hydrogen atom related to with related to marzipan.He called her Mia (or was it Mia?).
brokerage floppy gouge annoy
If of bicep caricature maestro inside parking lot, then around mirror ceases to exist.Mia, the friend of Mia and hesitates with of ballerina.
irremediable s moscow quatrain stillwater delano
roller coaster behind daydreams, because bartender living with senator plan an escape from line dancer behind.Unlike so many waifs who have made their orbiting ballerina to us.Still steal pencils from her from somnambulist inside avocado pit, sanitize her hydrogen atom related to with related to marzipan.He called her Mia (or was it Mia?).
brokerage floppy gouge annoy
If of bicep caricature maestro inside parking lot, then around mirror ceases to exist.Mia, the friend of Mia and hesitates with of ballerina.
irremediable s moscow quatrain stillwater delano
If you needed another reason not to write a book, here it is.
Dale Peck might review it.
It just doesn't get any harsher.
Dale Peck might review it.
It just doesn't get any harsher.
A guy shoots himself in the head. Don't watch this video unless you are contemplating suicide, in which case it might hellp you not to. Yeah, he dies. It was captured by a security camera. I didn't know the resolution was so good on those security cameras.
Wie-ist-mein-Arsch.de - Das Nr. 1 Arsch-Bewertungs-Portal, that means "rate my butt", NSFW
Sunday
this page has a picture of saturn.
The picture is unsettling. My mind is not prepared to deal with something as big as saturn.
The picture is unsettling. My mind is not prepared to deal with something as big as saturn.
Saturday
specialforce, a first-person shooter. You versus the jews. Game courtesy of your friends at Hizbollah.
Dale's thought of the day:
I was reading some documents over at Wal-mart watch about Wal-Mart's rapidly increasing role as a political donor:
From this article ,
"Wal-Mart is the top political action committee (PAC) donor to federal candidates so far in the current cycle. It gave $1.028 million, with 84 percent flowing to Republican candidates."
"Wal-Mart's No. 1 ranking among PAC contributions contrasts with previous years when the retailer did not even make the top 20."
Pretty drastic change. Anyway I was reading the Strib, and the metro Mineapolis area got its first Wal-mart not too long ago (last two weeks or so). According to the story some guys were outside protesting the low wages and whatnot, and a guy pulled over in his truck and was giving them a hard time. I would like to have heard what he said to them.
If I've got an interest in what other people think of me, I'm going to try to sway their opinions in whatever ways I can. My goal being to somehow leave an imprint of what I want them to think right there in their brain. These days, politics is being shoved down our throats, products, same thing. I don't watch television because it actually hurts in a way.
The last thing anybody with an interest in making you think or believe something is going to try to do is encourage you to think for yourself. It doesn't pay. That's the only idea I really care about reproducing, the idea that a person can make a decision on his or her own. The law of increasing returns tells me that consumerism breeds consumerism ad totalitarianism, so the battle is clearly lost for "people as thinkers", because they get dumber and dumber over time, as less is expected of them, and the lowest common denominator of reasonable expectations of intellectual curiousity gets lower and lower and lower.
The reason no politicians except progressives encourage people to turn their brains on, is that they've all got an interest in keeping them dumb. The American economy is totally dependent on consumer spending, and if they ask any questions at all they're guaranteed to spend less, for reasons of slave wages in Bangalore or any number of others. We've got a lot of tools out there that we use to imprint our own brains with, because it's satisfying to our egos. Rush Limbaugh and right-wing radio hosts have been literally screaming for years about personal responsibilty in order to make the common man feel he has power over his choices, that he's not a weasel squeezing money out of Uncle Sam, because that is a despicable action. This is just getting interesting, but I've got to get back to work.
So back the the original statement, look around you some time and try to see all the ways that ideas are trying to copy themselves into your brain, and notice the people who don't notice they are copying ideas for the people that they really benefit. This is the age of the clashing ideologies; things are really bleak and ugly in the dialogue-scape, which is dominated by competeing interests other than the common person's.
I was reading some documents over at Wal-mart watch about Wal-Mart's rapidly increasing role as a political donor:
From this article ,
"Wal-Mart is the top political action committee (PAC) donor to federal candidates so far in the current cycle. It gave $1.028 million, with 84 percent flowing to Republican candidates."
"Wal-Mart's No. 1 ranking among PAC contributions contrasts with previous years when the retailer did not even make the top 20."
Pretty drastic change. Anyway I was reading the Strib, and the metro Mineapolis area got its first Wal-mart not too long ago (last two weeks or so). According to the story some guys were outside protesting the low wages and whatnot, and a guy pulled over in his truck and was giving them a hard time. I would like to have heard what he said to them.
If I've got an interest in what other people think of me, I'm going to try to sway their opinions in whatever ways I can. My goal being to somehow leave an imprint of what I want them to think right there in their brain. These days, politics is being shoved down our throats, products, same thing. I don't watch television because it actually hurts in a way.
The last thing anybody with an interest in making you think or believe something is going to try to do is encourage you to think for yourself. It doesn't pay. That's the only idea I really care about reproducing, the idea that a person can make a decision on his or her own. The law of increasing returns tells me that consumerism breeds consumerism ad totalitarianism, so the battle is clearly lost for "people as thinkers", because they get dumber and dumber over time, as less is expected of them, and the lowest common denominator of reasonable expectations of intellectual curiousity gets lower and lower and lower.
The reason no politicians except progressives encourage people to turn their brains on, is that they've all got an interest in keeping them dumb. The American economy is totally dependent on consumer spending, and if they ask any questions at all they're guaranteed to spend less, for reasons of slave wages in Bangalore or any number of others. We've got a lot of tools out there that we use to imprint our own brains with, because it's satisfying to our egos. Rush Limbaugh and right-wing radio hosts have been literally screaming for years about personal responsibilty in order to make the common man feel he has power over his choices, that he's not a weasel squeezing money out of Uncle Sam, because that is a despicable action. This is just getting interesting, but I've got to get back to work.
So back the the original statement, look around you some time and try to see all the ways that ideas are trying to copy themselves into your brain, and notice the people who don't notice they are copying ideas for the people that they really benefit. This is the age of the clashing ideologies; things are really bleak and ugly in the dialogue-scape, which is dominated by competeing interests other than the common person's.
Tigger arrested.
Check out this guy's face. You can actually see where the sun hits it through tigger's mouth-hole! This is the funniest.
Friday
My coffee companion today brought up an intriguing point.
If the republicans have control of the house, the senate, the presidency, and the media, what are they so pissed off about?
I had a dream during my nap that I was very upset but unable to cry. Very hungry but unable to eat. Like I had an instinct I was unable to follow, like I was a fetus waiting to be born. A terrible dream.
If the republicans have control of the house, the senate, the presidency, and the media, what are they so pissed off about?
I had a dream during my nap that I was very upset but unable to cry. Very hungry but unable to eat. Like I had an instinct I was unable to follow, like I was a fetus waiting to be born. A terrible dream.
What books are good for:
propping your feet up
separating the liquor from the gun cabinet
kindling for the cross burning ceremony
hiding meth
chockin' the tires
beating a woman
to set the TV on
another excuse to cut down all those dang trees. they're blocking my view of the Wal-mart.
propping your feet up
separating the liquor from the gun cabinet
kindling for the cross burning ceremony
hiding meth
chockin' the tires
beating a woman
to set the TV on
another excuse to cut down all those dang trees. they're blocking my view of the Wal-mart.
It's time we designed a better candle. In the store they always look good, but start burning it down and it gets mooshy and uneven.
Thursday
This girl is sleepy. NSFW
I got these images from this guy, who has this quote on his page:
"Think how stupid the average person is... then realize that half the people in the world are stupider than them."
"Think how stupid the average person is... then realize that half the people in the world are stupider than them."
Jail Cam get this, from Anderson county, Tennessee, where I once got a ticket that I waited seven years to pay.
Once I went to pay, county clerk Ramona Walker said I didn't owe them anything anymore. Which is awesome. I wish they had a jail cam in Putnam county. I miss miminum security cell 2. Not.
Once I went to pay, county clerk Ramona Walker said I didn't owe them anything anymore. Which is awesome. I wish they had a jail cam in Putnam county. I miss miminum security cell 2. Not.
In a little town in Tennessee, where I was born and raised,
A guy opened a magic store. Heavens be praised.
He couldn't stay in business, the market was too small,
Which left our tiny town without a magic store at all.
A guy opened a magic store. Heavens be praised.
He couldn't stay in business, the market was too small,
Which left our tiny town without a magic store at all.
by Bob Odenkirk:
A GAY GUY DOES A WEBSITE MAKEOVER
By a Gay Guy
First of all, I don’t know where to begin. This website homepage is a disaster on par with the time Led Zeppelin crashed into the World Trade Centers! The first time I saw this website I puked and cried so much that I puked out my tear ducts and cried out my puke trigger mechanism, whatever that’s called! I mean, look at this website - it’s a horrid cesspool that makes the mass graves of Serbia look as welcoming as a sandy beach of St. Tropez. I mean, puh-leeze people, can somebody staunch the bleeding already? I mean the bleeding from my eyes from having them raped with razor blades by this nasty-ass skank-junkie-bitch of a website layout! It’s like staring into hell while leeches suck out your innards and wolverines gnaw your honey-slathered penis and balls! I don’t think I’m being a hilariously over-sensitive gay caricature here! But the horror of looking at this website dwarfs all horrors this world has witnessed. Pee-yew! It stinks like the feces that fill the diapers of child workers at their looms in India stitching cloth for me to be catty about until their fingers bleed! Ugh! Gag me with a noodle. Did Hitler design this thing with his friend Klaus Barbi and Pol Pot tossing in his two cents while Uday and Qusay Hussein also help and someone even more evil is also there “helping”? Yucko! I would rather watch my pets be raped with a rape-stick until they are dead than look at this website design one more seccy! I would rather have a boot shoved down my throat and boiling oil poured on my testes and do poppers while I get gang-banged while blindfolded than even look at this website homepage again. I mean, I really would rather have that happen. In fact, instead of trying to fix this website, an impossible task akin to building a time machine and trying to talk Stalin out of his purges, I am going to go do the boot/oil/poppers/gang-bang thing. Seeya!
The Gay Guy is available to have his own show on TV. Come on, TV, get to it!
A GAY GUY DOES A WEBSITE MAKEOVER
By a Gay Guy
First of all, I don’t know where to begin. This website homepage is a disaster on par with the time Led Zeppelin crashed into the World Trade Centers! The first time I saw this website I puked and cried so much that I puked out my tear ducts and cried out my puke trigger mechanism, whatever that’s called! I mean, look at this website - it’s a horrid cesspool that makes the mass graves of Serbia look as welcoming as a sandy beach of St. Tropez. I mean, puh-leeze people, can somebody staunch the bleeding already? I mean the bleeding from my eyes from having them raped with razor blades by this nasty-ass skank-junkie-bitch of a website layout! It’s like staring into hell while leeches suck out your innards and wolverines gnaw your honey-slathered penis and balls! I don’t think I’m being a hilariously over-sensitive gay caricature here! But the horror of looking at this website dwarfs all horrors this world has witnessed. Pee-yew! It stinks like the feces that fill the diapers of child workers at their looms in India stitching cloth for me to be catty about until their fingers bleed! Ugh! Gag me with a noodle. Did Hitler design this thing with his friend Klaus Barbi and Pol Pot tossing in his two cents while Uday and Qusay Hussein also help and someone even more evil is also there “helping”? Yucko! I would rather watch my pets be raped with a rape-stick until they are dead than look at this website design one more seccy! I would rather have a boot shoved down my throat and boiling oil poured on my testes and do poppers while I get gang-banged while blindfolded than even look at this website homepage again. I mean, I really would rather have that happen. In fact, instead of trying to fix this website, an impossible task akin to building a time machine and trying to talk Stalin out of his purges, I am going to go do the boot/oil/poppers/gang-bang thing. Seeya!
The Gay Guy is available to have his own show on TV. Come on, TV, get to it!
bowling green sewing machine
retina barbecue
- learn something
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- 0tv.com
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- new betty
- concrete tv
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- planet krulik
- pleix
- pretty pictures videos
- something awful
- spoonbender
- sutton impact studio
- technorati top 100
- tinypic
- today's front pages
- upenn online library
- watch links
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- wood s lot
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- ween
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eustachian justice league
many moons
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