Friday



Monday

great

The worst colleges in the country

it reads the content. it does as it's told.


Death Grip: How Political Psychology Explains Bush's Ghastly Success.


“...research we conducted after 9/11 demonstrated that reminders of death or the events of 9/11 increased Americans’ support for President George W. Bush and his policies in Iraq...”


The Denial of Death and the Practice of Dying (or: "Tasting Death")

The Allure of Toxic Leaders: Why We Follow Destructive Bosses and Corrupt Politicians—and How We Can Survive Them


"The Party Directive": Faith in Action: repeating themes

Sunday

castro's dead

'Cause I said so.

Thursday


Today's home prices can best be described as a recession in the making, but are most often referred to as a bubble. Prices have grown so much in the last decade that they are now completely disconnected from the fundamentals that have historically ruled the real estate market.
link

Some basics of information theory, whatever that is.

Vermont suspends war on nudity. Psychologically wounded masturbators, people who don't like wearing clothes alike rejoice.

Class, let's review:

Wednesday

I have it from the head guy at metafilter that google's bots are scraping blogs every ten minutes now, so it might be useful to post that the number 876 393 4223 is texting people and asking them to call. A quick google search tells me "DON'T EVER DIAL AREA CODE 809, 284 AND 876. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION PROVIDED TO US BY AT&T. DON'T EVER DIAL..." and so on.

Hey, another thing. Anyone checking this gets bonus material. Christopher Hitchens ruining the day of religious people everywhere:

Hey, it's the sky! Skymap

Tuesday

My wife is playing a game called diner dash, in which the main character is a waitress. When I suggested that maybe she should cure cancer instead of playing a game where she's a waitress, she replied "Well, I like this game." I guess I relate this anecdote to give you an idea where is the point past which I consider bothering her would be more trouble than it's worth.

If I could go back in time a few years and tell myself I'd be in this location doing what I'm doing, and married at that, the other me would be pretty shocked, if I could convince him I wasn't some delirium-induced phantasm, which is probably what he would think given his penchant for booze and already tenuous grasp of reality. (Maybe I'd give him take him out and get him laid. That would be pretty easy. This wedding ring is a skank magnet. It's never been easier to say no thank you.)

But if I were to appear to myself from the future from a similar temporal interval and with as dramatic a shift in lifestyle, I'd be more bothered than I would have back then. Maybe because I like what is happening now more. A good deal of effort has gone into my current situation and then there's the emotional investment with my wife that I dryly refer to here as significant. If things changed now by the same factor as the previous change, I'd be justified in expecting there was a hell of a surprise coming up soon.

I suspect there's a theme developing; it may be more rewarding for me to create a situation whereby the future becomes more contingent upon the terms I've created in my daily life than to reduce my causality field to a cosmic blur, which is by and large what it was when I was bartending. A Johnny Walker-flavored cosmic blur. I knew a lot of waitresses then, and looking at their lives each day is part of why I'm so baffled that anyone would want to play a game where they are one. But hey, she likes it, so what are you gonna do?

One of the waitresses where I worked fucked the bassist of Hooverphonic. So you know. I'm somebody, dammit. One of my friends made out with Robyn Robinson. True story.

At the same time it seems like I've never given up so little to gain so much, I have to look back and if I can, try to think of things not to take for granted and so on. That was supposed to be the subtext of a couple of sentences in there but I don't think it came across effectively. It may not be rewarding to lock myself into a routine that resembles itself more each day, until I can't tell one day from the next and ultimately have to buy a corvette in order to cope.

Either of these scenarios may be the one that exists, but there won't be any way to know until after the foreseeable future. Fucked up, ain't it?

youtube monologue about faith and respect

Monday

Tennessee cops are tricky.

They put up a cardboard cutout of a cop with a speed gun. Once drivers started to get wise and zoomed by it, the cop stood behind it and gunned people for real! Harsh!

Sunday

music

bleep

boomkat

thoughts?


Let's say you're black and it's your move. What do you do?

Friday

Uncle Kracker

When I was in jail, the worst song I've ever heard, which happens to be by Uncle Kracker, was just at its airtime apogee. Somebody in the cell would always be listening to radio on headphones, and when the song started they'd say "It's coming on! Hey!" and point at their ears. For the next three minutes or so my half-retarded cellies, usually packed in side by side with one earbud apiece, would mumble/sing the words of what I refuse to look up but assume was titled "follow me". Ever since then I've thought of Uncle Kracker as my personal soundtrack to jail. How fitting that Uncle Kracker is IN jail. I hope he has to hear people sing a really stupid song in there, many times.

Thursday

The movie 300 was good, but it took me a while to think of what it reminded me of. Maybe it was that time a messenger came to out town and I kicked his Persian ass down into the pit yelling "This is Sparta!" Because there's a scene just like that in the movie.

Sometimes there are people on television that I like, like the supernaturally telegenic Pat Sajak, but by and large the reason I don't like it, is because I don't like the people who are on it. (Link to feed: Take a look at the best of Youtube. Now, here are some people who I like.) Another group is the magazine rack people. Why should anyone care what people like this are doing?


Late for a court date?

It's just fluff, non-information that takes the place of information. This filler, if not meant to, effectively keeps helpless, impulsive supermarket shoppers confused and in a consume cycle of pique and ennui. Imagine the urge-driven life of a person who drinks sodas, smokes cigarettes, reads tabloids, and watches television. Does it give you great hope for democracy that these fine citizens vote their conscience? Trains of thought that go on for as much as an hour are important, and this normal feat can't be accomplished under circumstances as distracting as modern life. So again, modern life can easily be cut away like fat off a steak, and seen through, but most people either can't or don't do it, OR, they DO do it, and just don't have anywhere to talk that over. OR, they just don't have anywhere to talk it over that matters or is as accessible as even the most fourth-rate tabloid that I know of. Please show me that I am wrong.

Here is the reigning queen of rack upon rack of filler, icon of person as fluff:

Want to see her go away? All she has to do is wear t-shirts that question the wisdom of the "war effort". I can't explain how it would work, but work it would.

Monday

I was looking at this weather map of the Gulf of Mexico, when I saw the Yucatan peninsula when it hit me that Nicaragua is closer to me than Wisconsin.

which one will get clicked on more?

A link to Stephen Baldwin's website, which assaults you with some Christian form of hip-hop: Here it is.

Now here's a link to a Nashville christian band called Skillet, pictured here:


Or here is a massive collection of pretty girls in the Israeli army.

exactly

An open letter to America's pharmacists

Saturday

cleaning off my desktop






sweet child of mine played on hands


audio magic:
As much as you might dislike regular porn, this is worse: porn for the blind. This, like Fergie from the black eyed peas, can't possibly help anyone close the deal.

poor hamster

John Wayne drunk off his ass

Friday

If you want to read about what's on TV and not have to watch it, that's why there's
television without pity

Things you have to do to get a conceal/carry permit in Florida:
Take/have already completed a gun safety class
Act like you won't pull a Travis Bickle
Get fingerprinted
Get something notarized
Pay money
Fill out forms
Wait

I'm not sure if I'm repeating myself, but 64squares is a great chess interface. I accidentally picked some of the site's best players to kick my butt, but that's how you get better. Chess is one of those things I've picked up and put down at least five times. It's the perfect hobby for me I guess.

Congrats to Braden for turning thirty and for me for being married two years, and my wife for the same. Congrats to my crazy neighbors for getting fired and having a no-compete that forces you to move to Madison, Wisconsin. And, congratulations to whoever wants to buy the apartment I live in which may force us to find a place we like a little more, even though it will mean moving. Moving is something I'm not sure I want to be good at or consider less of a pain. Aren't people supposed to stay in one place? They have to move a few times, I guess, but transience is for hobos. Speaking of hobo, great hobo audio post at WFMU.

If I was a praying person I'd pray for some pretty dumb stuff:
Let me win my item on ebay
Make it so I hit lots of green lights
Let the black man win on that show hell's kitchen
Make the watches work right
Way to go making Publix sell PBR
When are my cigars coming in the mail

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I was the recipient of the best anniversary present ever: cigar of the week club! Now if I can just get in the twelve-pack of the day club, I'll get to hang out with Lindsay Lohan in rehab.

Sunday

bridge collapse

Bridge search ends for day with no luck

Uh, define "luck".

Saturday

how to make "the karate kid" better

Mister Miyagi beats up the members of Cobra Kai about twenty times
Elisabeth Shue takes her shirt off at least twice
Mister Miyagi beats up the instructor of Cobra Kai a couple, maybe three times
Ralph Macchio teases the members of Cobra Kai in between Mister Miyagi beating them up
Mister Miyagi gives a sweet car to me instead of Ralph Macchio
Elisabeth Shue comes to my house and takes her shirt off; once is fine
Ralph Macchio washes and waxes my car
During the film someone gives me lots of money

Now that Eddie Murphy has admitted he is scary spice's baby daddy, the only question in my mind is, how did he have time for such things amidst a stellar career of hilarious and original filmmaking?

See if you can identify which ones were Eddie Murphy movies.

daddy day care
daddy day camp
medea's family reunion
nutty professor the klumps
big momma's house
norbit
metro
bad boys 2
48 hours
lethal weapon
beverly hills cop
ghostbusters


With material this good...

Friday

yahoo news mix-n-match



Arkansas couple welcomes 17th child AP - Fri Aug 3, 10:56 AM ET Sent 6,639 times

LITTLE ROCK, Ark. - It's a girl — again — for the Duggars. Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar welcomed their 17th child, and seventh daughter, into the world Thursday.

Everybody's favorite white trash bulwark, "cosmic cowboy", "Sonny Bono meets Sonny Barger", Jim Goad's a singer and is on tour, usually opening for Hank 3. If you can get to a show I'd recommend it for a good time. Here's a video.
Tour dates.

How much death works,
No one knows what a long
Day he puts in. The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death's laundry.
The beautiful daughters
Setting death's supper table.
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer. Death,
Meanwhile, in a strange
Part of town looking for
Someone with a bad cough,
But the address somehow wrong,
Even death can't figure it out
Among all the locked doors...
And the rain beginning to fall.
Long windy night ahead.
Death with not even a newspaper
To cover his head, not even
A dime to call the one pining away,
Undressing slowly, sleepily,
And stretching naked
On death's side of the bed.


Eyes Fastened With Pins, Charles Simic
link to his poetry, nevermind the obnoxious crap on the page

Wednesday

I've been busier (although I think the original expression revolves around "happier") than a puppy with two peckers around here lately, and I just want to drop a post here and talk it over.

I have a new second-favorite bowling alley, the Park Tavern in Saint Louis Park, MN. J's and my trip up over the weekend was a great time and we were happy to see everyone so well off. Ron Bumsfeld and his beloved now own a sweet place on Milwaukee Avenue that despite my many transgressions over the course of our friendship, he allowed us to stay in. They also got a couple of new kittens which I'm looking forward to hearing about.

Noel got married and is by now luxuriating in South (not North, you say?) Korea. I offered to take some of his stuff for him at a point when it was too late to expect he'd actually have me do it, so everybody wins, sort of. You know how that goes.

I had a dream about an orphan kid named Christopher Rotten, who snaps his fingers in my kitchen and a black hole forms, which eats the world. Lucid and very enjoyable overall, except the obvious part about the world ending. Maybe I need to stop listening to to astronomycast, but I won't, so if it costs me some weird dreams that's fine.

Found out that this thing called the Baryon Acoustic Peak tells smart science people that there was an enormous explosion at the same time the universe got kicked off 13.7 billion years ago. They see the rippling of some kind of something across millions of galaxies, which in a way, looks like this:

I also heard that there's something revealing about the polarization of the cosmic microwave background radiation, but it was unclear to me what that was. It would be nice if it was something about the shape of the universe, but the cosmic microwave background radiation has done so much for our understanding already I wouldn't be too hurt if it took the rest of the year off.

Yay: Publix started selling PBR.

Boo: Movado may have sent me the wrong gasket.

A guy from my work screwed a girl from my work a couple weeks ago. A few days later his fiancee, who is not the girl he screwed and had been out of town at the time, asked him about a strange charge to his debit card, and thus was he busted. Ouch. Oh, his fiancee worked for the company, too! (If office gossip gets any better than this, I'd like to know how.) Now the formerly engaged pair have left the company and moved back in with their respective parents, but the homewrecker remains employed. In that guy's defense, she was asking for it. She's always asking for it. The thing is, you're just supposed to talk to people about how she's asking for it, not take the complaint directly to her over dinner and drinks. Who knows, maybe he was getting himself out of a life he didn't really want anyway, so he'll get no obnoxious comments from me about it if I ever see him around.

Looks like I'm about out of stuff.