nostradumass

the end

2006-04-08T14:41:00.000-06:00

thanks for reading. i'll make a new, better blog when time permits.

ETA:

2006-03-27T02:55:00.000-07:00

er, the 1976 flu pandemic in the post below actually never came to fruition; it was predicted, but kinda fizzled.

my bad, i either misheard or was misinformed.

but still, ka-boom...

yikes! media overload

2006-03-23T02:44:00.000-07:00

so i've been hearing a lot about this "bird flu" possible soon-to-be pandemic and have been kind of flippant about my response to the hype. you know, "if it happens, it happens" and so forth. besides, i'm thirty, in arguably the best health i'll ever be in... then i read this.

for my lazier readers, here's the deal: H5N1, the avian flu that's freaking world health officials out, is very similar to H1N1, the flu that smacked the world around in 1918. the yearly seasonal flu that we're used to is brutal to the very old and very young, but conventional wisdom says that people of my age and health background should be cool. but, In 1918, the vast majority of the people who died were healthy young people, 20 to 40 years of age. And that was in large part because they had the strongest immune systems. the reason? because these strains of influenza don't kill due to inadequate immune responses; they are killer because the body fights so hard that the immune system kills us in the process of fighting the flu. people's lungs fill with fluid and they drown.

as a side note, and to assist in you not crapping your drawers, H1N1 had a mortality rate of about 5%. the bird to human H5N1 is working about a 50% mortality rate. if it does mutate into a (several?) human to human strain(s), the mortality rate will very likely drop. evolution in action, folks: the virus requires a living host to replicate and spread.

but still...

urban survival has been leaving me kind of on edge about it, too, but i take his stuff with a grain of salt. very smart and insightful, but a bit too alarmist for me to care too much--leaves me thinking that if it happens, i have no recourse so why bother worrying...

then i watched charlie rose. he had a panel on last night that concurred with the "if you're 20-40, you're screwed" crowd. here's my summary of some of that part of the show:

remember SARS? when that was the next big pandemic the asians quarantined SARS patients with AIDS patients. apparently, none of the AIDS patients contracted SARS. why? because SARS, like H1N1 and H5N1, kills with immuno-response, not on its own. so it pays to have a weakened immune system.

shit.

maybe if i start smoking again i can weaken my lungs enough to survive this pandemic...

by the way, ya'll, the bird flu may not be the pandemic, but something will be... apparently there've been 10 pandemics in the past 300 years (roughly one every 30 years), and i guess we're about due. apparently, according to one of rose's guests, the last pandemic was in 1976. i'll let you do the math.

eesh.

that's more like it

2006-03-22T15:26:00.000-07:00

also from "freewillastrology", but i'm to lazy to html another link. anyway, check it:

Leo...
Even if you don't literally take a journey to a distant place in the coming weeks, you will nevertheless be like a stranger in a strange land. I suggest that you adopt an attitude similar to that of an explorer. Here's a list of traveling instructions from Patrick Harpur, author of The Philosophers' Secret Fire: A History of the Imagination. "Don't believe everything you have been told, either for good or ill. Observe local customs; respect local gods. Talk less than you listen. Don't expect the inhabitants to speak your language; rather, try and speak theirs. Try to see as well as sightsee. Be polite but firm; take advice but do not be gullible. If in doubt, smile. Do not laugh at the natives, but do not be afraid to laugh. Do not be superior or aloof, but don't try to dress like a native. Don't join in the dancing unless you have learned the steps."

cool. i already do most of that. this is one of them diamond in the rough horoscopes that keep me coming back for more, even though they usually pertain to me about as much as estrogen supplements (which, to nip the smart-assery in the bud, pertains to me not at all).

huzzah!

2006-03-20T15:58:00.000-07:00

what the hell is that supposed to mean:

from free will astrology

Leo (July 23-August 22)

What's the best way to defeat a dragon? Some fairy tales propose the use of brute force, while others suggest that the protection of a magical amulet is preferable. Still other myths say the optimum strategy is to use stealth to avoid the dragon completely, though that usually means living in constant fear of the beast. From what I can tell, Leo, your future happiness will be best served if you use none of the above, but instead employ one of the two little-known methods of dragon-taming: either ask it sly riddles to confuse it or else pacify it through the entertaining power of your songs and dances.

it's a riddle that's left me cornfused--please don't give me no songs and dances...

get on the bus, gus

2006-03-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

This is part two to part one of who knows how many parts of whatever this is to be...

The loud diesel engine of the bus announces its arrival blocks ahead of time. It pulls up to the stop, creaking and rumbling, and the doors open allowing the cool air-conditioned air to combine with the hot air of the outside. Three steps up, the driver seems impatient. A baby is crying. I drop one quarter into the fare box.

Clink...

I look around and see that the bus is mostly full, and see a mother trying desperately to rock her crying baby to comfort. A man with a scrape on his forehead looks up from a seat at the front of the bus. I drop a second quarter into the fare box.

Clink-click/whirr...

The man with the scraped forhead proceeds to do a farmer's blow, snotting all over the floor next to me. The driver tells him to get the fuck off the bus. He grunts. I look around, sniff the putrid cool air, and give up, turn to leave. I save my last dollar and decide to walk to the river. I light another cigarette and start my walk. I'm interrupted by the snot-nosed scruffy man from the bus asking me for a smoke. I hand him one and realize that my last dollar is as good as spent: I'm going to need to get a pouch of rolling tobacco, and soon.

I'm watching Blair Witch 2, and I couldn't be more disappointed...

2006-03-19T02:51:00.000-07:00

but don't take my word for it. here's how it was panned by the professionals:

"A tedious experience."
--William Arnold, SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER

"Like legislation and sausage-making Book of Shadows is not something you want to watch."
--Duane Dudek, MILWAUKEE JOURNAL SENTINEL

i couldn't agree more...

p.s. in an attempt to save face, i'm not actively watching it, nor would i be watching it if i had a better cable plan.

morality v immorality, by mencken

2006-03-19T01:55:00.000-07:00

props to ish for inspiring me to investigate that h.l. mencken guy

Morality
The theory that every human act must either be right or wrong, and that 99% of them are wrong.

Immorality
The morality of those who are having a better time.

musings...

2006-03-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

comfort is such a powerful muse. allow me to demonstrate:

um.

see?

church fire ponderings

2006-03-10T15:21:00.000-07:00

9 alabama churches were set ablaze by 3 college students who claim it started out as a prank. stupid, stupid, stupid!

i can't help but rant about this.

look, i'm admittedly an atheist, and religion isn't my bag, but this isn't about religion. it's about respect and arrogant ignorance.

much like when the US bombs a mosque in falujah(sp), or sunnis bomb shiite mosques, setting fire to someone's house of worship is just plain wrong and disrespectful. i may disagree with someone's religion, but there's a line that will not be crossed--i may verbally assault your ideas, engage you in discussion or what have you, but you have every right to practice your religion, and your church is off-limits to my assaults. simply out of respect, not reverence.

hope those kids get what's coming to them. come to find out one was a pre-med student--like i needed another reason to doubt the intelligence of doctors...

k, just had to get that off my chest. more cool stuff to come.

bus stop still life

2006-03-07T14:44:00.000-07:00

It was the bus stop next to the strip club on Morrison. In my backpack was a bottle of whiskey from the government-run liquor store, in my nose was the exhaust being belched into the sky by the cars and trucks going this way and that. The sun was weighing heavily on my shoulders. I couldn't see without squinting. Last night's fun was dripping from my pores.

My car broke down in the parking lot where I was interviewing for a job. It got me there, but refused to take me anywhere else. The interview was less-than-stellar. Nothing like trying to sell yourself when you haven't had a good meal in weeks and the creditors are breathing down your neck. God, I hate looking for work.

McDonalds' wrappers and used condoms and cigarette butts litter the ground. The street is filthy; hasn't been a good rain in weeks. Occasionally the door to the strip club will open with a loud creak and then slam shut, allowing a draft of stale cigarette smoke to float out and co-mingle with the smells of the city. The breeze will eventually take it away. The sounds of flirtation on the clock hum in the background, ever present when there's a break in the traffic.

Bums and businessmen ebb and flow, like ripples from a rock thrown in the ocean.

A guy with a bushy mustache bums a cigarette from me. Says his name is Joe something. He just got into town on a bus ride from St. Louis. He's looking for his ex and their little girl.

A breeze picks up and pins a Big Mac wrapper to my leg. I kick it off and Joe continues.

"Last I heard they come up here. See, my ex, her granma lives here, and seems I don't have what it takes to hole on." He drags from his cig. "I just want another chance, you know?"

He smokes his cigarette to the butt while he looks out over the street. I join him. A cloud passes over the sun in the sky giving us a brief reprieve from the heat. A small gust of wind blows from my left to right.

"Well, thanks for the smoke, man."

I nod. As he takes his leave, I sit on the dirty bench, take the half-pint out of my backpack and pull heavily from it. The sensation gives me a shake, but I start to feel a little better.

The bus pulls up, I return my bottle to my bag and get on. I spend my last $1.50 to get to the river. I'm starting to hate this town...

where I been

2006-03-04T20:07:00.000-07:00

create your own visited states map

dream into french into german into english

2006-03-03T01:04:00.000-07:00

thank you babelfish.

[I was riding] a bicycle with my friend Jason arranged (of non CO ouvrier Jasons) and a certain girl on... I think that she was there with Jason... Thus we put the length up on the sidewalk, if our way were blocked by slow a pair of older humans with sticks... Jason and the girl convey the rights, I make from the left side. The sidewalk by rock framed... We go setting it over and on our revolution away. We climb down approximately a quarter block, if the steering bars set themselves free my bicycle in of that my hands... That takes me one second, in order to be conscious that I cannot put a bicycle up without steering bars. It is to this point that I cannot in such a way put more my bicycle up without steering bars we turn again to the repair my bicycle. As we turn over... KUVO wakes me, hour, to begin the day...

Crocodile Balls has left the building

2006-03-01T15:40:00.000-07:00

It was a good three weeks of poker, booze and Americana, but we all knew the time would come, and it has... Safe travels Crocodile Balls! See you in the next one, have a good time.

... and a partridge in a pear tree

2006-03-01T15:29:00.000-07:00

Who could this be referring to?

... two stolen elections, a secret energy task force, Enron and assorted other corporate scandals, massive tax cuts for the rich, the largest federal debts and trade deficits in world history, blowing up the ABM treaty, killing stem cell research, laughing off global warming, allowing 9-11 to happen, stonewalling its (and every other) investigation, failing to catch Osama bin Laden, the PATRIOT Act, still-unsolved anthrax attacks, launching a secret prison system, denying due process to both foreigners and Americans, engaging in torture, monitoring Americans' phone calls, e-mails, and faxes without a warrant, launching unprecedented foreign and domestic propaganda campaigns, blurring the line between church and state, trying to overthrow Hugo Chavez, using lies to launch an illegal invasion of Iraq, badly mishandling both the occupation of Iraq and the resulting insurgency, outing Valerie Wilson (and lying about it), grandstanding on Terri Schiavo, pushing through a miserable Medicare prescription drug law, privatizing public lands, trying to privatize Social Security, securing CAFTA, appointing two reactionaries to the U.S. Supreme Court, the Abramoff scandals, and botching Katrina's aftermath as well as its rebuilding...

excerpted from Geov Parrish

that's actually a very funny ziggy

2006-02-23T14:53:00.000-07:00

I never thought I'd be saying that...

THE APOCALYPSE IS NIGH!

so preoccupied by a dream that my blog gets a new post

2006-02-17T20:27:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last night...

I was riding a bike with my friend Jason (of the non-co-worker Jasons) and some girl... I think she was there with Jason...

So we're riding along on the sidewalk when our path was blocked by a couple of slow-moving old people with canes...

Jason and the girl pass on the right, I do on the left. The sidewalk is framed by rocks...

We pass them and continue on our ride. We get about a quarter of a block down when the handlebars come off my bike in my hands...

It takes me a second to realize that I can't ride a bike without handlebars. It's at that point that I can no longer ride my bike without handlebars, so we turn back to repair my bike. As we turn around...

KUVO wakes me up, time to start the day...

Look out, here comes spider man

2006-01-27T14:48:00.000-07:00

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man		65%
Hulk		65%
Catwoman		55%
Supergirl		53%
Superman		45%
Batman		45%
The Flash		45%
Green Lantern		45%
Wonder Woman		43%
Robin		42%
Iron Man		35%

You are intelligent, witty,
a bit geeky and have great
power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

looks like i'm not the only one...

2006-01-21T15:08:00.000-07:00

Name That Smell

2006-01-08T03:24:00.000-07:00

Not sure if I've been smelling things from my next door neighbor, or my downstairs neighbor, or if I'm just experiencing some olifactory schizophrenic break, but whatever it is, the nose has been sensing some oddness today.

Earlier it was the smell of fire--no worries, my building has fireplaces.

After that was the smell of incense. I imagine my neighbor was, er, putting on a catholic sermon or something, because why else would anyone burn incense?

But I gotta say that the weirdest smell isn't weird for the smell, but for the time. Some delicious foodstuff, I'm thinking a curry, at three in the fucking morning!!! You know, more power to 'em, but that type of meal at this time of night?!?! That's some commitment to your curry, if you ask me...

Gotta admit, that's pretty cool and I'm kinda jealous (or at least vaguely hungry in a pavlovian sorta way)... and if it is the downstairs neighbor, hopefully it helps him/her get rid of that brutal cough he/she has been experiencing for the past couple days.

One hour left of "work" and I got tagged--25 Good Things About 2005

2005-12-30T16:43:00.000-07:00

1. i survived
2. i have less debt now than when it started
3. i now have all 6 of elliott smith's studio albums
4. the plant i got at thanksgiving is still alive
5. i have a blog
6. i blog on my blog
7. my blog is pretty bloggy
8. i can see that my creativity works best when focused on the bad instead of the good
9. 3 short years left of dubya
10. i still don't have any children
11. i smoked less cigarettes this year than any year since 1990
12. though my grandfather died, it seems that my grandmother's resilient and will be fine
13. Chicago trip in April (and the visit with the grandparents when grandpa was well)
14. guess it deserves its own--the visit with the grandparents when grandpa was well
15. getting connected with family i haven't seen in years and meeting my first cousins-once removed (3.5 of them as of october)
16. turning 30, because the reality is actually better than the anticipation
17. i still have dreams, and one or two are looking really close to becoming reality
18. i've still never tried heroin, and still have no desire to
19. the broncos are the 2nd seed in the afc, and seattle are rocking the nfc--that's the superbowl i want to see
20. only 5 more to go and i can go back to being morose about the year
21. as much of a fuck-up as i think bush is, iraq did have some of those, whachoo call 'em, elections... baby-steps, ya know
22. friends, old and new
23. more healthy than not (but i am 30, so it takes a bit longer to bounce back... i'm only kidding (or am i???))
24. music... playing it and listening to it and discovering it
25. it's almost over and i'm optimistic about 2006!

either you're tagged or you aren't, but it was kinda fun so i'm recommending that you follow suit.

Gather round boys and girls, it's Stupid Internet Quiz time!!!

2005-12-29T15:54:00.000-07:00

Here are my results--how bout you??? (I guess it's probably fairly accurate, but compared to whom?)

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	High
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	Very High
Pride:	Medium

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

Vonnegut's always good for a quote

2005-12-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

"I am, incidentally, Honorary President of the American Humanist Association, having succeeded the late, great science fiction writer Isaac Asimov in that totally functionless capacity. We had a memorial service for Isaac a few years back, and I spoke and said at one point, 'Isaac is up in heaven now.' It was the funniest thing I could have said to an audience of humanists. I rolled them in the aisles. It was several minutes before order could be restored. And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, 'Kurt is up in heaven now.' That's my favorite joke."

--Kurt Vonnegut Jr., from his new book, A Man Without a Country

Imagine

2005-12-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

There's so much to say, that so many have already said... 25 years gone by... he was more than a musician, more than a dreamer, more than just a man. Generations will pass, but his memory will live on. Rest in Peace.

Damn, nailed it...

2005-12-08T17:18:00.000-07:00

Low--Alan, Mimi and Zak's replacement...

2005-12-07T21:02:00.000-07:00

There's an interview with Alan Sparhawk of Low in this week's Onion (AV Blog thing). I've been a fan since they opened for Soul Coughing way back in the day (bout 10 years ago). It's an interesting read if you're a fan, or just curious... The Zak interview from a while back was more interesting to me, but this one has its own tidbits to share. For instance:

But if you were around me earlier this year, I think it would have been really easy to look at me and go, “Wow, that guy needs to get off drugs.” [Laughs.]

I, for one, did see him earlier this year and that's pretty much verbatum my thoughts. I talked to him for a minute after the Denver show and something wasn't quite right. He seemed very nervous, sweaty, and glassy-eyed. Glad he's doing better.

Looks like they'll be playing some Christmas shows in Duluth, focusing heavily on their Christmas Album. I like that idea since that's the only Christmas album I listen to regularly (sometimes in the middle of summer even). Apparently they're trying to flesh the songs out more, even adding a choir to some of them!?!?!?!?

...going to kind of this bigger sound. It’s kind of like a Low Kathie Lee Gifford Christmas show.

Hmm...

Man, I totally fucking hate cigarettes

2005-12-05T03:01:00.000-07:00

I suppose the more I say it, the more I remember that I believe it.

Don't believe him, kids. I know, "but he looks so cool!" But for the reals.

by popular demand (careful what you wish for)

2005-12-02T19:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, so my fan base has expanded beyond one and I've received at least (exactly) one angry e-mail asking me to "blog again already!" I wish I could convince you that it's been because I've been busy, but I've never been a very good liar--for the very same reason it's been so long since I last blogged--because I'm a lazy, lazy man. I think I've touched on this subject before, so in keeping with the theme, that's all I have to say on the subject of laziness.

Anyhoo, getting on with this post, I haven't just been doing nothing. I've been quite busy doing just slightly more than nothing... I'm not a big horoscope/astrology-type of person, but I enjoy reading this guy because sometimes he's thinking the same things about my sign that I'm coincidentally thinking about myself, and it's eerie and cool and it gives me more food for thought. Of course sometimes his horoscopes seem like total horseshit, but that's why I don't put much faith in astrology in general. However, the day after I started wondering why my goals weren't even theoretically fulfilling me, like in the possible foreseeable future, he felt like blowing my mind with a week to think about this:

Leo (July 23-August 22)
Of course I want to do everything I can to help you make your dreams come true. But right now there's a more pressing concern. You've got to dream bigger and hotter and wilder. You need to demand more from your imagination and conjure up more daring fantasies. Here, then, is a prescription from your soul doctor: In the coming week, spend at least ten minutes a day brainstorming at the outskirts of your understanding.

So I'm not goaling myself with my full potential? I'm not dreaming as hard as I should?

Well, there's another person with a really cool blog that I stumbled upon who does monthly horoscopes, and it's kind of related to the one above:

I broke out the thesaurus just for you. I found something in your size.... Fearless: Courageous, brave, unafraid, bold, undaunted, unflinching, daring, valorous, stout-hearted, bodacious, gutsy, confident, heroic, intrepid, spunky, ballsy. Yeah, try that on and see how you like it. What? Doesn't fit? Oh, you'd rather wear afraid, frightened, spineless, mousy and cowardly? Whatever. Then hear this one: Choice: option, free-will, pick, determination and desire. This is not easy. I can't tell you that choices are going to leave you feeling particularly ballsy, but you sure will know where your spine is. And it's a very nice spine, so pretty! We likey.

Am I ballsy or mousy? And couldn't I be both?

Ah well, fuck it... there's a bit of what I've been thinking about lately.

Cool freaking music site that hasn't yet asked me for money

2005-11-16T18:15:00.000-07:00

click now and thank me later!

on a related note, looks like i like death cab for cutie. who woulda thunk it (other than the many people who've suggested them to me).

goddammit

2005-10-28T14:49:00.000-06:00

yup, we're dumb.

check it: in 2003 U.S. students placed 24th in an international test that measured the mathematical literacy of 15-year-olds, below many European and Asian countries.

now if only we can figure out a way to further undermine our education system... hmm, let's see... what could we do? ooh, i know, evolution is just a theory! god created man 10,000 years ago, as well as the earth, the finite universe, and cherry fucking coke! and darwin was way off. we don't even remotely look like monkeys.
[/rant]

On Being Called Racist by a Crackhead

2005-10-21T19:48:00.000-06:00

Walked up to Colfax today as an alternate bus route to get to work. Figured on some excitement, and Colfax aims to please. Buses and crackheads and hos, oh my...

Dude walks across the street and catches my eye. He sees this and b-lines to me, and holds his hand out (real friendly-like) to shake my hand. I just look him in his bloodshot eyes, look at his hand, and shake my head to say "no."

"What, you won't shake the hand of a black man?!?!"

Oh really? The subtext was clearly, "you cracker-ass cracker," and he was clearly projecting his racism on me. Now, while I expected excitement, I must admit that this caught me off-guard.

"No, uh, sorry," I stammer back. He continues to berate me, like shaking the hands of random people on Colfax is the norm, and therefore I'm the crazy one, and I'm just like, "ooookay." I'm a bit afraid, but I know it's unlikely he's going to do anything on this busy-ass street in the middle of the day (had it been the middle of the night, that would've been a different story and I'd need to buy a new pair of boxers, perhaps a new spleen). He walks off with an air of dejectedness and as my heartrate returns to normal I realize the logical flaw in his argument that I'm a racist cracker-ass cracker:

I just make it a point not to touch anything on Colfax--black, white, or green, color's unimportant when it comes to this rule.

He coulda been white and I'd've refused his hand (in fact, I've done just that on occasion). I don't owe anybody a handshake, especially someone I don't know when I'm just minding my own business.

Asshole was just trying to bring a little sunshine into my gloomy day, I suppose. I'll have to thank him next time I see him...

As for the bus ride, mostly uneventful, save the worst b.o. I've smelled since... well, since the last time I took the 15.

the trial of the m--f--ing century

2005-10-21T19:05:00.000-06:00

Screw the Michael Jackson trial; all these little snippets I hear about Saddam's trial are making that circus seem like a side-show. Sort of an appetizer for the main course.

It's making me re-think my anti-war position. If all wars end with the deposed leaders carrying on like they're not in a world of shit, I'm all for armchair quarterbacking many, many more illegal wars.

Saddam, with his amazing gall, is keeping me grinning ear to ear. It may not be intentional, but he's one funny mo-fo. He should do the talk show circuit before his ass gets executed. I'm thinking he'd do well on Leno.

And there are so many other world leaders we can go after next. I'm talking bigger and badder! Take, for instance, the "illegal regime" of Vladdy-boy Putin. I'm sure he isn't blameless in the whole Chechnya affair! Then he can be all, "but I'm rightfully president," and "blah blah blah," and so on, and someone, say the French, will send assassins in to take out his defense attorney, and we can get all gitmo on his sorry ass. It'll be awesome.

Speaking of the French, when are we gonna take that Chirac sumvabitch down a notch. His ass is begging for it. And whoever's in charge of Canada--yeah, screw that guy! Let's see your universal healthcare save you now!!!

Speaking of Canada, they seem to have their sights on our guy. Even though it's basically symbolic, it's still pretty funny!

But you know what really does it for me in the trial at hand? Saddam is actually out-swaggering our own idiot-in-chief! Don't that beat all... Were it not for all the torturing and raping and stuff, he woulda made a killer stand-up! Such a shame, all that wasted potential.

Voltaire on the rocks w/ a twist & some lyrics

2005-10-06T01:59:00.000-06:00

I may disagree with what you have to say, but I shall defend, to the death, your right to say it.
--Voltaire
...unless you're being a douchebag.
--Nostradumass

Pet by A Perfect Circle

Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the window
Go back to sleep

Lay your head down child
I won't let the boogeyman come
Counting bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind to the rabble
Pay no mind to the rabble
Head down, go to sleep
To the rhythm of the war drums

Pay no mind what other voices say
They don't care about you, like I do, like I do
Safe from pain, and truth and choice and other poison devils,
See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.

Just stay with me, safe and ignorant,
Go back to sleep
Go back to sleep

Lay your head down child
I won't let the boogeyman come
Counting bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind to the rabble
Pay no mind to the rabble
Head down, go to sleep
To the rhythm of the war drums

I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and all your demons
I'll be the one to protect you from
A will to survive and a voice of reason
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and your choices son
They're one and the same
I must isolate you
Isolate and save you from yourself

Swayin' to the rhythm of the new world order and
Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums
The boogeymen are coming
The boogeymen are coming
Keep your head down, go to sleep
To the rhythm of the war drums

Stay with me
Safe and ignorant
Just stay with me
Hold you and protect you from the other ones
The evil ones
Don't love you son,
Go back to sleep

donkey, homer, and meh...

2005-09-28T02:13:00.000-06:00

Interview about art, life, and other assorted gems

2005-09-23T21:29:00.000-06:00

Zak Sally of Low.

When you’re trying to explain something you’re not sure about, you can over-explain something and kill it. I love it when people come up to me and say, “Well, that straightens out this.” That used to make me feel awful. “Oh, I miscommunicated something. I spent a year and a half on this dumb comic, and I screwed it up! Nobody gets it!” But now it’s like, “Really? I hadn’t even thought of that.” And it’s like, well maybe it is about that, and I didn’t even [see that]. It’s no less valid than if you look at something you wrote 10 years ago, and you read it now and it’s like, “Wow, this is about something completely different than I thought it was.” That’s as valid, if you see it in your own stuff, as when anybody else does it. Like, with Low, I’ve been getting more comfortable with [the idea] that you can’t, you shouldn’t, control what people think of what you’re doing.

I don't know--there's some synchronicity involved in me reading this when I did. The conversation I had last night with Cornjoelio touched on some of the topics in this interview about art and audience... plus, I'm a big fan of Low, and Zak has so many more projects going on than I have that I realize I'm a lazy, lazy person who needs to stop relying on external sources for inspiration. So far, I've been a junkyard full of false starts. Hopefully the time has come for me to finish some things I've started; or maybe start some things I can finish.

And a tidbit for those of you who don't read the article, or don't make it to the end: Zak Sally has a cameo in the upcoming Steve Martin film, Shopgirl, and a Low t-shirt can be spotted on Kristen Dunst in the upcoming Cameron Crowe movie, Elizabethtown. Something tells me Low t-shirts look better on Kristen Dunst than they ever did on me. Damn...

Jon Stewart Interview in Wired

2005-09-23T14:54:00.000-06:00

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart is the most compelling reason to get cable that I know of (and lack of money is the most compelling reason not to get cable, but...). Here are a couple of highlights from an interview with Jon Stewart:

The Internet is just a world passing around notes in a classroom. That's all it is. All those media companies say, "We're going to make a killing here." You won't because it's still only as good as the content.

...

[H]ow much do you need TV to be available in convenient form? It already is convenient - we have the DVR. Do you need TV on your watch as you walk from your cell phone to your BlackBerry? At what point do we get saturated enough to say, "OK, I get it! We can get anything we want at any time! Let's go sit around a large table and eat a meal in silence"? Sometimes this shit's just overkill.

To read the full article (which I recommend), click here.

Thanks to Helskel for the heads-up!

Of Course Bush Cares by Ed Quillen

2005-09-19T18:13:00.000-06:00

Happy Monday peeps--cut and paste time since I lack creativity today and Ed Quillen of the Denver Post, as usual, says what I'm thinking better than I ever could.

The images from New Orleans, of people waiting for days on rooftops and freeway overpasses, inspired a benefit concert on national television on Sept. 2. There, rapper Kanye West went off-script on the live broadcast to observe that "George Bush doesn't care about black people."

West was roundly denounced for that, and many have hastened to point out that George W. Bush is no racist. Others have stepped up to say that the slow response was based not on racial factors but economic status. That is, the federal government would have acted much more quickly to rescue wealthy people of any color; poverty, not race, determined the speed and scale of the response.

And they conclude that President Bush doesn't care about the poor. To buttress that assertion, they note that the president's first public statement of sympathy went to Sen. Trent Lott of Mississippi, who lost one of his houses in Hurricane Katrina, not to some working family who lost everything.

But that's a superficial assessment. Further analysis shows that it's terribly unfair to President Bush. He cares about America, and America needs poor people.

We can start with a statement often attributed to Abraham Lincoln, the first Republican president: "Common looking people are the best in the world: that is the reason the Lord makes so many of them."

The Bush variant would be, "Poor people are the best in the world: that is why we're making so many of them."

According to U.S. Census Bureau report on poverty, 37 million people were in poverty (12.7 percent) in 2004, up from 35.9 million (12.5 percent) in 2003. In 2004, there were 7.9 million families in poverty, up from 7.6 million in 2003.

In 2000, the year before Bush took office, there were 6.4 million families in poverty. The family poverty rate was 8.7 percent then; it's 10.2 percent now.

Why is an increase in poverty good for America?

Consider the Social Security system, which could be in financial jeopardy at some date in the not-so-distant future. The working poor pay into the system through a regressive tax - the rate is the same whether you make $12,000 a year or $90,000 a year, and the percentage actually drops after that.

If you're poor, your life expectancy is shorter. You don't live as long to collect the benefits. Thus the more poor people to pay in and die early without collecting anything, the more solvent the system. And a solvent Social Security system must be a good thing for America; why else would Social Security reform have gotten so much attention from our president?

There are, of course, many other benefits from poverty. It helps fight inflation because poor people are willing to work for less, thereby nipping the wage-price spiral in the bud. Earlier this month, the U.S. Department of Labor issued its annual National Compensation Survey. As a headline in the Wall Street Journal last Tuesday put it, "Most paychecks fell in 2004."

Thus inflation is being held in check despite the increases in energy prices. Low inflation means that bonds hold their value, and thus the coupon-clipper class stays comfortable - and we know how important that is to our country.

Nor should we forget that the lower American wages are, the less attractive our country is to illegal immigrants, and you don't have to be Tom Tancredo to agree that we've got some problems there. And poverty can help solve them.

New Orleans demonstrated that poor people tend to congregate in areas close to work with good transportation (they can't afford cars, and thus they pollute less while not contributing to urban sprawl). These areas often make good industrial sites (for, say, toxic-waste incinerators). Because the occupants are poor, their real-estate is worth less, and thus land-acquisition costs are lower for American corporations. And who could be against reducing corporate costs?

Add all these considerations together, and you can see that it's a gross libel even to imply that George Bush doesn't care about poverty. He cares about America, and America needs poor people.

Ed Quillen of Salida is a former newspaper editor whose column appears Tuesday and Sunday.

wisdom and attitude

2005-09-17T02:28:00.000-06:00

wow... i mean, wow: angryblackbitch. check it.

the forgotten middle

2005-09-14T14:49:00.000-06:00

i guess the title isn't entirely accurate. sigur ros, a damn fine group from iceland, makers of such past masterpieces as "agaetis byrjun" and "( )" (album covers depicted below) recorded a new album and are touring in the fall.

but if you happen to live in the middle of the country, you better hope you're in chicago or minnesota, otherwise it may be a long drive to get anywhere they are playing during their brief tour in the states. here's the north american tour, conspicuously missing a denver date (but i guess i should be used to that):

Sep 15 2005 8:00P
Opera House Boston, MA
Sep 16 2005 8:00P
Théâtre Maisonneuve Montreal,
Sep 18 2005 8:00P
Bronson Centre Ottawa,
Sep 19 2005 8:00P
Massey Hall Toronto,
Sep 20 2005 8:00P
The Michigan Theatre Ann Arbor, MI
Sep 21 2005 8:00P
Chicago Theatre Chicago, IL
Sep 23 2005 8:00P
Orpheum Theatre Madison, WI
Sep 24 2005 8:00P
State Theatre Minneapolis, MN
Sep 27 2005 8:00P
Orpheum Vancouver,
Sep 28 2005 8:00P
Paramount Theatre Seattle, WA
Sep 29 2005 8:00P
Roseland Theatre Portland, OR
Oct 1 2005 8:00P
Paramount Theatre Oakland, CA
Oct 3 2005 8:00P
Copley Symphony Hall San Diego, CA
Oct 5 2005 8:00P
Hollywood Bowl Los Angeles, CA
Oct 6 2005 8:00P
The Joint Las Vegas, NV

you can preview their new album, "takk," on their myspace site (i'm guessin' i'm gonna have to get me one a them--a my space registration dealie and the new album). after listening to it twice last night, i have to say that i'm impressed with where they're going... they seem to be reaching out more into their rock sensibilities while holding onto the ambiant style that makes them so unique and interesting.

and in case you don't believe my take on takk, here's a review from the onion.

FOOTBALL!!!

2005-09-11T16:29:00.000-06:00

In case you missed it, the Broncos really sucked today. Losing 34-10 is not a good way to start the season. Ugh.

Update: But at least we're only trailing one team in our division.

The One-Trick Pony Strikes Again

2005-09-10T16:33:00.000-06:00

Jesus, where to begin? GW Bush is at it again, blurring the line between Church and State.

"US President George W Bush has declared Friday 16 September a national day of prayer and remembrance for the victims of Hurricane Katrina."--BBC News.

With the exception of W, New Orleans, et al., have been in the thoughts and/or prayers of the American Public since the day that bitch slammed into the gulf coast. They've been in my thoughts, though I wouldn't go so far as to say my prayers. See, I'm not a Christian, nor is this a Christian country, so I do have some issues with the terminology that our great Christian President chose to use in reference to this day--a "day of remembrance", fine, but a "day of prayer" further messes with my sensibilities. Granted, I think there's something to be said for Flying Spaghetti Monsterism, but I'm still not convinced completely.

Religion aside, this may come as a surprise to all of you, but Bush has the gall to invoke 9-11, even after the miserable response given to this disaster (admittedly from all levels of Gov't, but we're talking about Crawford's village idiot here, so bear with me).

W said: "Four years later, Americans remember the fears and uncertainty and confusion of that terrible morning.
"But above all, we remember the resolve of our nation to defend our freedom, rebuild a wounded city, and care for our neighbours in need."--BBC News.

You can only milk that for so long Mr. Bush! You were at the right place at the right time then, but this is in no way the same. You were able to take 9-11 and give the illusion of authority four years ago, but your tepid and inadequate response has shown your weakness. And really, would you stop exploiting the deaths of all of those people for your agenda? I know that this country has a way of not paying attention, but more people are looking now than ever before, and you just happen to be naked with that cute (but not authoritative) deer in the headlights look. Congratulations. I, for one, am filled with confidence.

Not to be outdone in insensitivity, VP Cheney had this to say:

"I think we are in fact on our way to getting on top of the whole Katrina exercise," Mr Cheney said.--BBC News

Jesus F--ing Christ on a M--F--ing crutch, an "exercise"??? Perhaps you haven't noticed, but this is not a dress rehearsal! 1,000s of people have died, countless others are homeless and unemployed, and the environmental damage to Pontchartrain and the Gulf are going to take some time to be apparent--but I won't be eating Crawfish from there any time soon. What gall and insensitivity. YOU BASTARDS!

Sorry bout the rant, but who the f-- installed these a$$hole$ to head the once (though not forever) most powerful country on the planet? And why do we have to listen to their inane babble for three more years???

Apparently when they said they needed to reinforce the dikes the President thought they meant giving lesbians the right to marry. So no money for that sinful city under the sea! (Imagine what an ounce of prevention could've done for the easy! It boggles the mind.)

Part ? of Jake's Fate

2005-09-09T02:52:00.000-06:00

Jake Fate is of noble lineage—fantastic, god-like, noble lineage. Before the human mind was conned into believing that there could only be one true god (a god with a capitol “g”), there were many gods and goddesses in the collective unconscious. Jake’s father was one of the true gods, and his mother was a mortal woman who really dug the power of Jake’s god-father. Granted, mythology texts quite consistently assert that the fates were women, but those women were mere mortals who, for some reason, wanted to be with a man of power, even if they had to share him with several others—kinda like mormons that way. There was great a procreation, and then an even greater explosion. The children were scattered about the earth. Jake took the western portion of what is now the United States and Canada, while his brother Tate took the eastern half. This was several thousand years ago, when the area’s humans were tree-hugging reds who could be content with the planet as it was: kind, cruel, and beautiful. He was taken off-guard when the first white men crossed the Mississippi. They showed a cruelty that the elements had only dreamed of. They were a plague, allowed into this area, unbeknownst to Jake, by his own damned brother.

Tate’s will overpowered Jake, which wasn't unusual. Tate was a master in industry, while Jake loved the arts. Several hundred years later, with the inevitable combination of their talents, the arts in the Americas had become an industry all its own. Tate’s major art reserves were based in New York and Chicago, while Jake had an experiment gone awry in Hollywood… cursed Hollywood.

something something

2005-09-09T02:38:00.000-06:00

In a smoke-filled apartment two young boys slept, one in a crib and the other in the lower bunk of what would become both of their beds. Their parents looked in at their progeny and smiled. The mother turned off the light in the bedroom, took the father by the hand and led him to the living room. The flash of the television illuminated the room with its flicker, chattering about the news of the day: Vietnam was winding down, save the troops who were finishing up the evacuation; the Christmas shopping season was underway; the weather was turning dark.

The father popped some corn on the stove, his bare chest occasionally spattered with hot oil, and he had a cigarette hanging from his lips. His beer was getting warm next to the stove but he didn’t care. His family was good, even the usually ornery younger boy. His band didn’t have any gigs for a while but his wife was taking care of the slack financially until he could get his break. All in all, he couldn’t complain. Life was good.

The popcorn was done, salted and buttered, and Dad joined Mom on the couch. They looked into each other’s eyes and shared a kiss. Ah, the American Dream realized…

Sometimes I like the company I work for...

2005-09-02T16:34:00.000-06:00

e-mail from yesterday:

We have had many requests asking if we could help with relief for those affected by Hurricane Katrina, and we have decided to have a "jeans day" firmwide. The cost to you will be a minimum donation of $5 to wear jeans Tuesday, September 6. Checks should be written to the American Red Cross or, if you prefer, Salvation Army (mark checks "Hurricane Relief"); checks and other donations will be sent to the Accounting Department in the Omaha office, so we can send the donation off as one. K**** R*** will match donations up to $2,500. Thank you in advance for your consideration.

e-mail from today:

In light of the magnitude of the devastation by Hurricane Katrina, today we decided to increase the firm's donation to the hurricane relief funds from $2,500 to $10,000. In addition, so far fundraising from just a few floors of the Omaha office has already raised more than $2,500. We very much appreciate the response so far and encourage everyone to be generous.

I hope all of you have a healthy and relaxing holiday weekend.

David

Sometimes "The Man" ain't so bad. Nice to see my money doubled and some people being taken care of.

Photo stolen from the onion due to constructive criticism via Helskel of the Rubber Blog.

Neither Here Nor There, But A Thought-Provoking Quote To Be Sure

2005-09-02T03:00:00.000-06:00

I don’t understand why anyone would marry if, deep in their hearts, they didn’t appreciate what the other person has to offer. It couldn’t be for the sex, as marriage, that toxic combination of increasing age and familiarity, is the absolute libido crusher. So why? Conversation? Companionship? Or is it for the reassurance that for every terrible choice they make, and every misfortune that besets them, they’ll always have someone else to blame?

From the Lippy Imp

Oh for the love of...

2005-08-30T18:45:00.000-06:00

Must be something in the stars, but the Google image search for this post was less than fruitful. Summer cold! That was supposed to be the theme, and I even had a witty title for it. But no such luck. I did, however, find out that even with a moderate-safe search on Google, "Suzanne Sommers" yields nudity. Yeah, I was working the punny route, too, but couldn't get a good representation of "cold". M--f-- Google.

So yeah, it's the end of the summer and all I got was this lousy cold. Shivers, shakes, Nyquil, fever dreams... yep, all that. Feel pretty good right now, but it's just the symptoms that have been cured (gotta love the pills every once in awhile).

Course, guess I should count my blessings. I may be ill, but at least I'm currently a mile above sea level and nowhere near that bitch Katrina. High and dry... and alive.

Anyway, back to my self-pity... ah, never mind. Maybe I'll work on a less crappy post later on, but for now, this is what you get (when you mess with us).

Sleepy says it all

2005-08-26T15:09:00.000-06:00

Sleepybomb of the wreckroom imparted some serious knowledge with today's post. I was thinking I'd have to copy and paste the post, but decided that if you haven't been to the wroom, it's time to go... his encyclopedic knowledge of music combined with his dry wit makes for an entertaining read... and he posts much more regularly than I.

Get ye to the Wroom!

Drained by Anon E. Muss

2005-08-25T15:27:00.000-06:00

Drained...
painted into a corner,
poked and caged,
and like a beaten dog
I snapped.

My eyes were red
with frustration
and confusion,
and my heart was heavy,
lungs weakly, desperately, painfully
gasping for air.
Choked by tears,
engulfed in smoke,
though I know I said
I'd never do this again.

Guess I'll never say that
again.

By the time I knew
the sources of your attacks
it was too late.

I had been beaten too long,
and it didn't strike me as real...
The reasons had altered too much,
too quickly;
turned on a dime
too many times.

Your anger snowballed
along with my lack
of understanding.
Your anger was justified
and had you focused and
fought with sincerity
and integrity
I would've had empathy;
had you yourself
understood
before you went on the attack
I would've tried harder
to make it better,
but instead I fought back.

We're both too hurt
and have said too much
and have had too much said
to us...
Guess it's over
too soon
whatever it was.
But I hope someday
to look back on this
as a lesson learned;
it could be something,
you could be someone,
worth knowing;
maybe someday
I'll be able to
let go
of the pain...
But unfortunately,
for now
I'm drained.

Thoughts on the Poem below

2005-08-18T14:45:00.000-06:00

How very autumnal. Especially for an August birthday from a friend whose birthday is in May. I'll have to ask why he shared it with me.

Course, he's fond of James Joyce and other heady writers from an era that I consider... too purple, too obtuse, too...

But the imagery is a lot clearer now that I'm not trying to carry on a conversation and read at the same time (not to mention the couple-few beer influence upon my reading comprehension). And I do see how it's an appropriate poem, both because of its quiet, perhaps serene, reflection and hopeful foresight... or something like that.

I'm thinking that I'm entering the summer of my life, but back in the day (not sure when Thomas was alive, but I'm thinking "back in the day" will suffice) thirty may have been the beginning of autumn. God knows I'm not as invincible as I was (or thought I was) in my twenties. Hell, last night's grocery trip may have inflamed my shoulder's tendonitis...

Random ramble... thanks to the raggamuffin... I'm old (heh).

Poem in October by Dylan Thomas

2005-08-18T03:55:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Joel who thought of it for my thirty

It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.

My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In a rainy autumn
And walked abroad in shower of all my days
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.

It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sunlight
And the legends of the green chapels

And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and the sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singing birds.

And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.

Updatey thingy

2005-08-15T15:59:00.000-06:00

Yep, Ludwig Van has been put on the backburner for now. Turning 30 and poverty and homeostasis and etc., have fully consumed my attention, and musical learning has progressed (or should I say regressed?) to more putzing around... but the Ludwig Van did inspire me to putz around in Am, which has a melancholic, but to me hopeful, sound. And I'll work on page 2 when I have more time... it's just gonna take a while.

People are whack, but we already knew that didn't we? Optimistic I am, but hopefully not foolishly... new friends, old friends, new friends who feel like old friends. And the potential for... potential.

Thank god for paychecks coming at just the right time...

Guess I'll try to find a picture to extend this post past the 1000 word mark. Happy Monday yous guys.

UPDATE:
Ahh, here it is--enjoy (not exactly what I was looking for, but pretty cool anyway):

NOT LUDWIG VAN!!!

2005-07-29T15:59:00.000-06:00

It's official, I think I've bitten off more than I can chew.

I'm a self-taught rhythm guitar player who has taken a mere 2 semesters of fairly remedial music theory. Combining playing and why it makes sense logically/theoretically provides me with hours upon hours of brain damage. There's just so much disconnect between those halves of my brain. But I can usually just ignore that fact, play my three chord songs and be happy... I mean, music is for fun, right? Usually I just feel and do it, without too much analysis...

But that all changed last night. See, I put new strings on my classical over the weekend and I've had a book of classical guitar tunes (with tab, of course--can't read to save my life) just sitting on the shelf collecting dust for years. So last night I finally felt the urge to make use of the two according to their designs; and of course I happily ignored the fact that I'm a rock musician if I'm a musician at all... which brings us to Ludwig Van Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. You can download a decent, if not a little quiet, piano mp3 from here if you're not familiar with the song by name.

It's a beautiful song, and I think a good place for me to start. See, it's pretty much all triplets and the rhythm is on the slow side (the book says 53 for the time, but my metronome only has 52 or 54--yep, finally getting use out of the metronome too!). But the song is over five minutes, translated to five pages, and after over an hour last night I'm still on page 1. Yeah, I rock on the classical/tab tip.

I have provided a circle of fifths below. This song is in the key of Am (relative minor to C major) if I'm not mistaken, meaning (barring the melodic minors... I think that's what they are, but if not then excuse my theory ignorance) there are no sharps or flats... well, I've seen at least one A flat but that's what I was talking about melodic minors--still think that's the wrong word. This means to me that this song would probably be easier to play on the piano with so few forays into the black keys. But I don't own a piano? And I don't have much of a clue what to do when I get around them, anyway... Hopefully this weekend I'll make it to page two... I've listened to the tune about ten times today, so that may just be the help I need.

And of course, the mind being an associative beast, this song makes me think of:

Gotta share some McSweeneys with ya

2005-07-22T18:39:00.000-06:00

From: ALTHOUGH I LIKE A GOOD GEORGE W. BUSH JOKE AS MUCH AS THE NEXT GUY, SOME OF THEM SEEM GRATUITOUS AND MEAN-SPIRITED.
BY MATT ALEXANDER

A doctor, a lawyer, and an accountant all die and go to heaven on the same day. When they get to the Pearly Gates, they are greeted by St. Peter. St. Peter says, "Scott McClellan is a lying sack of shit and I'd tell him so myself if he weren't going straight to hell when he dies."

and

Did you hear that Bill Clinton hired a new intern? It turns out that his old intern had to go home and spend time with her family after her brother was killed in Iraq.

More can be found here.

haw haw haw

dinosaur jr. is back together????

2005-07-20T03:47:00.000-06:00

believe it bub. haven't had a chance to read the article, but the onion says it's so... so it must be true.

Santorum for President '08

2005-07-14T17:36:00.000-06:00

Friends, you may think I write this in jest, but hear me out and you will see the logic in my thinking. Senator Rick Santorum (Santorum being the word for the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the result of anal sex--you can thank Dan Savage for that one, not me (I'm just the messenger)) is considering a presidential bid in 2008, and I, for one, endorse him whole-heartedly as the republican nominee. Here's an example of how in touch with the pulse of the nation the Pennsylvania Senator is:

Earlier this week, Santorum stood by comments he made on a Catholic website in 2002 when he said, "It is no surprise that Boston, a seat of academic, political, and cultural liberalism in America, lies at the center of the storm" of the clergy sexual abuse scandal. In a brief interview with the [Boston] Globe on Tuesday, Santorum reiterated his view that the "basic liberal attitude" in Boston fostered an environment where sexual abuse of children could occur.

It's simple logic like that that... even the most mentally deficient amoeba wouldn't have trouble understanding. It's like how the terrorists hate us because the liberals have all of the control over Amer... i... oh, right, never mind.

If he throws his hat into the ring, there's only one thing I can do: change my party affiliation to republican so I can help him become the GOP nominee in 2008. Then the democrats can nominate anyone from Hillary Clinton to an inanimate carbon rod and still take back the whitehouse.

God, that guy is such an idiot.

oh for god's sake, i'll post, i'll post (last night's carnage)

2005-07-13T15:30:00.000-06:00

picture this: one block before my bus stop last night, a totalled car from idaho and a police car are blocking the street. i get off the bus early and notice a couple of dreadlocked fellows are on a cell phone ordering a cab or a tow truck or something. i walk down my street, and for the three blocks from the bus stop to my house i note that all of the "for rent" and "for sale" signs were beaten and/or ripped from the ground.

hostility.

i keep walking, checking out the carnage along the way, when i come upon some damn punk kids rolling four deep (nice use of the lingo, no?). one is rapping, if that's what you want to call it--he wasn't very creative, but he said "motherfucker" about 100 times somewhat rhythmically over a period of about a minute... i cringed as i walked by, and laughed at their silly faux-ghetto demeanors... i was also happy there wasn't a confrontation because i was feeling more hostility that usual, but not hostile enough to take four wannabe ghetto punk kids... i think i internalized the carnage along the way and the energy permeated my and "m--f--" kid's psyches.

kept going. swell.

then i received two drunk dials, passed out some whiskey and beers later, and woke up with a hangover.

i promise i'll post more later. i hope it was worth the wait.

Dapper Dan, the stank-ass bus man

2005-05-20T19:39:00.000-06:00

Dude, Dapper Dan, I'm not saying this to be a dick. You are by far the best dressed man on this bus, there's no denying that. I can't believe the suits you wear, matching the trench coats, hats and shoes--it's really quite amazing. But you're taking too much care of them, and it's killing me and all the passengers around you.

The first time I saw you, one crisp winter night, heading east on the #10, do you remember? I looked up, shocked at your amazing (and old-school) fashion sense. I swear I should be so lucky to be as dapper when I reach my 60s or 70s. You must've been the equivalent of a metrosexual back in the 1950s.

But it seems that as we age we lose some of the faculties we once took for granted. Hell, I wear glasses now and I'm only 29... but that's beside the point.

The point is that I have a question. On that winter night several months ago I was shocked that someone as well dressed as you would be getting on the bus at such a late hour. And you sat in front of me and I was like, 'how cute' and 'you old devil you' and so forth... I was really impressed. But with you, like a brick wall of foul, came such an intense smell that I was caught off guard. If it were B.O. that'd be one thing... that's expected, and I've done my time on the 15--some of those people have brought tears to my eyes. You didn't have the signature pit-stink that can be found on buses, light rails and subways from coast to coast; what you had was a smell I remember from my childhood (and a couple fever dreams I'm sure). You, sir, reek of mothballs.

Now, I understand that it's probably a generational thing, and that you're just trying to protect the fine wool suits that you wear so well. But can you even smell it? I've seen you many times since that first night, mostly going west in the afternoon, bearing your signature awesome duds, and the foul, retched mothball musk. But when I see you now, I know better than to park my ass anywhere near you. I sat five rows behind you today and could still smell mothballs, though, admittedly, fainter than usual. Of course, it was hot and the vent window above you was open.

So, I must ask you, Dan, can you smell it? Or has your life rendered you so olifactorily challenged that you must torture your fellow passengers? Is there a chance you can tone the smell down a bit? I'm thinking that after all of these years the moths stay away from your house instinctively anyway.

C'mon Dapper Dan, I'm asking nicely here: throw this old dog a bone...

This made me laugh

2005-05-20T14:12:00.000-06:00

Did you hear about the guy in Tennessee or Kentucky (or some southern state) who decided not to run "Monster in Law" in his movie theaters because Jane Fonda was in it and was against the Vietnam war thirty-plus years ago? Am I the only one who thinks this is hilarious? It was the number one movie last weekend, but because of his Patriotism^TM, he missed out on all that moola...

Don't get me wrong, I don't question his right to air what he sees fit in his theaters. It's his business and he can do what he wants to with it. I also hear that the movie is pretty shitty, but give the public what it wants I suppose (that's how business works, right?). What makes me laugh, though, is that over thirty years ago an actress publicly spoke out against a heinous war and the atrocities committed therein. And this True Patriot^TM decided that, well, "THAT JANE FONDA MUST BE STOPPED!!!!" Yep, she's pure evil. And he seems like a total jackass.

But that's just my opinion, and one of millions.

Goodbye Cruel Blogosphere

2005-05-19T14:37:00.000-06:00

Thanks for all the memories.

The Purge of the Hooker Stories, Pt. 2--Hook Interrupted

2005-05-13T17:10:00.000-06:00

Colfax and Elm Rite Aid, if I ever need a hooker, I know where to find you!

I'm waiting for the 15 on a sunny winter day, shades blocking my eyes from the damaging rays of the sun, headphones blocking my ears from the damaging noises of Colfax, but nothing to save me from the stink-eye of Hook Interrupted and her Pimp.

Hook b-lines across Colfax when I notice her: tight jeans that must be painted on, cleavage-creating shirt, and a face that also seems painted on. A five-foot-two hispanic woman who has lived a hard 40 years, with lips blown up like two very glossy pink bike-tire tubes.

But she isn't b-lining towards me, so why don't I mind my own stoopid bizness, huh? Moving on then (holy shit, three more minutes till my bus is scheduled to arrive!!!), I pace and do everything I can to avert my eyes from the black Lexus in the parking lot about 25 feet away from me. Nothing to see there, I'm just whistling to my headphones, humdedum-dedum... But come on, this is a bloody train wreck and I'll be damned because it's too funny. If I just nonchalantly look over, then avert my eyes, and use my peripheral vision, no one will be the wiser.

What the...

The car's pulling away, and Hook is now walking with determination in my direction. There's about three feet between me and the bus stop bench and she decides to thread the needle. Being the gentleman I am, I shift to give her more room, when I notice she's headed to a guy who's about 10 feet behind me. They have an animated talk, her arms are flailing, and I start to feel a bit uncomfortable. I turn my music down and realize it's all spanish and way too fast for me to know what the fuck they're saying, but she's stink-eying me like a motherfucker and he seems to be calming her down, telling her to relax... shit, I don't need this.

After what seems like an eternity, he crosses the parking lot in one direction, and she does in another direction. Do I dare breathe... it may be my last chance.

Fear, shock, and impatience. I see the bus barrelling down Colfax on the horizon. Never before has the 15 seemed like the cavalry... and hopefully, never again.

Bus stop

2005-05-12T21:13:00.000-06:00

I used to live by Colfax and Elm. That was where my bus stop was anyway. Colfax tends to be pretty interesting, especially at 1:00 in the afternoon (or morning for that matter) when most people are at work (or sleeping in the case of the morning). And East Colfax is by no means an exception to that rule--in fact, I think that rule was made up specifically for East Colfax.

Picture this, 1:00 on a winter afternoon, and I'm at my bus stop facing Colfax, behind which is a Rite Aid with a huge parking lot and a drive up prescription kiosk (much like the drive up tellers at a bank). Hookers to the left of me, druggies to the right, there I am... uh, waiting to go to work. I'm in my black wool trench coat, being that it's winter and all, and wearing "business casual" attire... looking all dapper and stuff. I look to my left to keep an eye out for my bus, my headphones drowning out the sounds, my cigarette keeping me company and my demeanor conveying happy isolation from whatever's going on around me; but I'm also smart enough to keep aware of my surroundings and I keep an eye on the wheelings and dealings of this microcosmic freak show.

Two girls are walking towards me, kind of homely and fully clothed, decked out in thick coats to beat the weather. They don't seem like anything special. One is wearing a lot of silver eye makeup, which I find odd, while the other seems to be sporting the natural look. But I'm not one to judge women's makeup choices... they're young and can grow out of their bad habits; besides, what business is it of mine. Anyway, for simplicity's sake, they will be called Silver and Natural from here on out.

So Silver and Natural walk by me with a slight smile and sit behind me at the bus stop bench. I finish my cigarette and stamp it out. I pace, because that's what I do when I'm waiting for my bus. Then I notice a crappy little car zoom into a parking spot directly behind the bus stop. O.k. The bus is coming (holy crap it's about time!), and I see Silver move to the car out of the corner of my eye. She bends at the waist and puts her head to the window, a la GTA or Cops or any number of cliche hooker scenes or what have you, and begins talking to the driver.

The bus pulls up as Natural sits nonchalantly on the bench, and Silver continues having a word with crappy car guy. I get on the bus and show the bus driver my pass... he's looking over my shoulder and just slowly shakes his head with a slightly disgusted but somewhat amused smile on his lips. I take my seat and the curiosity takes over: I look at the bus stop as we pull away and see that Natural is casually (act natural, nothing to see here!) walking away from the bench, while the car and Silver are nowhere to be seen. I must have laughed out loud despite my efforts to take it in stride, but I'm pretty sure the bus driver would silently concur if he heard me...

Anyway, I finally figured out why this Rite Aid has a drive-thru prescription kiosk. It's all about the convenience of one stop shopping. You can get a hooker and your penicillin without ever having to leave your car... what a country! God I miss the Colfax bus (sigh).

Sick of the 2-party system; consider the alternative

2005-05-04T20:18:00.000-06:00

Careful what you wish for.

Update... England may not take the fall

2005-05-04T14:32:00.000-06:00

Interesting news. The judge threw out her guilty plea because that Graner guy took the leash picture as "training" material. His testimony contradicted hers, leading the judge to conclude that she didn't know that what she was doing was illegal.

How bout that?

Pvt. England Pleads Guilty; Taking the Fall for the Man

2005-05-02T19:49:00.000-06:00

When the pictures made it to the American press, I was disgusted by what I saw. I couldn't believe it, I knew there would be retribution (ie, beheadings), and I knew that the girl in the pictures was screwed. And she returned to the states, pregnant with her superior's child, and I realized that she already had been, but it wasn't going to end there.

A couple of points of interest from the article in YahooNews (that I tried to link, but had issues with):

"Graner [the purported ringleader and father of England's child] was convicted in January on a range of abuse charges and sentenced to 10 years in prison. Last month, he married former Spc. Megan Ambuhl, an Abu Ghraib defendant who was discharged from the Army without serving prison time. Graner had another man stand in for him in the marriage-by-proxy April 12 near Fort Hood."

and

"England's lawyer Rick Hernandez said last week that the defense will present evidence during the sentencing that England has severe learning disabilities and mental problems. He said there had been no decision on whether she will testify."

What... the... fuck???

All of the sudden I lost sight of my scorn and felt severe sympathy for this girl. This backwoods hick is taking the fall. She did some attrocious things, there's no denying that, but I believe the orders came from higher up than the prosecution is willing to go. And the ones at the top are rubber when it comes to blame. The buck stops with Private England. And who knows what else is going on at Gitmo...

This 21-year old (or was she 20) was manipulated by her superiors and friends, and she succumbed to peer pressure, and now she's likely going to prison for a few years; meanwhile she's a single mother, and that Graner guy gets slimier with every new fact I learn about him. And the abuses continue, and top military brass and Alberto Gonzales (who defined "torture" for Bushco) are absolved of any wrongdoing. And wasn't it Rummy who compared it to Fraternity hazing... I don't think Brother Vomit-chops of Sigma-Delta-Fuckall is going to prison for years over some pranks he did a couple years ago. But this poor girl is. She deserves punishment, I admit, but she really looks like a scapegoat to me... where's the justice?

Jesus, I guess I need to look away from this train wreck before I start to take it personally.

Oh joy, look: there's that "Runaway Bride" story... Jesus Christ if that isn't the stupidest fucking thing in the world... But I'm sure that saga's more important to the mindless masses. Much more entertainment value!

Deep breaths... breathe...

Ok, I'm done.

Does this burrito make me look fat?

2005-04-29T18:16:00.000-06:00

God, that Chipotle veggie burrito was good. God, that Chipotle veggie burrito was bigger than my head. God, that Chipotle veggie burrito has put me into a burrito coma. I think I'm going to have to take a nap...

Distraction is a powerful weapon

2005-04-25T17:50:00.000-06:00

X.O.

2005-04-23T22:38:00.000-06:00

4 down, 2 to go

2005-04-23T22:26:00.000-06:00

I just bought Elliott Smith's album "x.o." today, and goddamn that guy for killing himself a year and a half ago. I knew this album was going to be infectious... I'm into my second listen two hours after purchase. I don't think I'll be able to go out tonight with this CD to listen to. Looks like I've found my songlist for the next two or three months. And of course you can't find any of his CDs used.

A Week Lag, But Here's the Final Leg of the Trip

2005-04-22T18:40:00.000-06:00

Well, the cold is finally mostly gone.

Chicago was a blast, but I hadn't noticed how long it had been since I've been to Ohio to see my family until I was there and had to fit 48 hours into each 24-hour period. Celina, Ohio has a way of not changing very much. It does progress, but very slowly. Everyone and everything looks the same, but now they have an Italian restaurant. And a new Super-Wal-Mart's being built, so the Bob Evans is moving from its current location on the lakeshore out to the Wal-Mart, which is just nuts (that's what everyone says anyway, and who am I to argue?). Then there's the two High School kid's that drowned in the lake--so tragic, so young. Everyone I talked to had these same talking points. After 2 days there I could pretty much mouth the conversation before it happened. Not to say it was boring, or that the people were... it's just that people tend to pay attention to local happenings. And when the locale is Celina, there are only a handful of local events at any given time. And I thought Denver seemed small compared to Chicago (which, admittedly it does).

The drive back to Chicago was kind of crazy. I was making wicked good time... so good, in fact, that I stopped speeding toward the end because I didn't want to have too much down time in Chicago (if there is such a thing).

Ahh, Indiana. I can't tell you how many magnetic yellow ribbons there were. Upwards of millions. I didn't see the magnetic-yellow-ribbon-mobile, but if there's such a thing, you can probably find it in Indiana. I actually saw a truck that didn't have license plates yet, but it did have a yellow ribbon. I imagined the guy on the lot with the dealer:
"Does it have a magnetic yellow ribbon that shows my patriotism and support of the troops?"
"Yes, but it doesn't have brakes."
"But it comes with a ribbon?"
"Yes. Oh, and the engine block will need replaced before you can take it home... that'll be an extra $2,000."
"Brother, you drive a hard bargain. Can I drive it home tonight?"
"No, but here's a complimentary magnetic yellow ribbon."
"Yee-haw. Sold!"
Just to be clear, I have a cousin in Iraq and I want no harm done to him. I hope the troops make it home in one piece. I just don't see how supporting the troops, and lining the pockets of some fat cat with a stupid idea and too much money, are one and the same... I don't see the connection... I'm just saying is all. Maybe I'm just jealous. I do wish I could become rich off the jingoistic fervor that's sweeping the nation, or rich off of anything at this point, but those ribbons give me knee-jerk contempt for these frightened yokels. I don't mean I necessarily think you're stupid if you have one. I just need strong evidence to believe that you aren't.

Gary, Indiana is quite disgusting. I can't believe how much I paid in tolls, but it was worth it to get out of Gary. Plumes of industrial smoke choked me, and probably had something to do with the cold I brought back with me. So much foulness in such a small area. I figure Gary contains the industry that keeps Chicago going. On one side of the highway were smokestacks, on the other were relatively nice looking homes... it made me shudder to think about living there... Must be some high rates of infant mortality, leukemia, mental retardation. I thank God the highway was moving pretty fast through Gary... then I got into Chicago... and rush hour; car exhaust isn't good, but it's something I'm used to.

Found the disco station, rolling through the burbs. The disco lasted a song and a half before I got sick of it... plus, I reached the south side, and disco no longer seemed appropriate. 89.3 had some hip hop--hell motherfuckin' yeah, I thought. And traffic... came... to... a..... stop.........

It's ok, I've got two hours to get to the north side. No problem, right? Right. Except that my calf cramped up after a while of "lift foot off the brake, brake, lift, brake, lift, brake, etc, etc, brake, brake, lift, lift (can you feel it?), brake, lift, scratch ass, 'that asshole cut me off,' 'I just cut that asshole off,' lift, lift, drink some water, check her out, 'hey look, it's chicago,' brake, brake, almost there, where ever there is, brake... li--, brake 'you sunova--,' 'oh sweet jesus, make it stop!'" Ah, the Kennedy expressway at rush hour... FUCK.

My exit... only 4 more miserable miles! And so on.

Drinking, Golden Tee (third time ever, shot a plus-something-teen--yep, I rule). More drinking, sleeping, hangovering, breakfast (at 2:30pm), walking through the city. Hangover's going away, but this headache is... and my body is... achy. And what's this? My throat hurts... shit.

I know, whiskey's the answer! ... but, for some reason I'm not feeling better.

Aaron scored us some tickets to Second City, and it's my last night in Chicago. I'm gonna get some meds, and will myself well. Waiting for Second City to start their performance, there were three chairs that weren't in use. I think I need to lay down... Oh, that's much better... fuck, I'm definitely getting sick. Second City starts and it's hilarious. At intermission I take my place on the three chairs again. This is lots of fun, but for the love of God I need to go to bed. The show ends and we find out that usually they follow it up with improv, but not on Fridays... normally I'd be bummed, but tonight, well, that's fine with me. Good night, and good bye Chicago. I'm going to go home tomorrow, and I'm not going to do anything until work on Monday (and I mean nothing, unless you count laying down and taking medicine, eating, sleeping, aching, expelling, etc.). Welcome home.

What a Difference a Week Makes

2005-04-18T21:27:00.000-06:00

Well, back to the grind. And with a pesky cold to boot.

A week ago today, I woke up in Chicago with a full day ahead of me, while those I left behind in Denver woke up to a bunch of snow. I went to Lou Mitchell's for breakfast and made my way to Wrigley Field for a Cubs game. They lost, but it was still fun. Cubs fans are really into the game. And after walking around for a while I came to a conclusion: Chicago likes to smoke. Everywhere you turn someone is lighting up or taking a drag... all I wanted was a hot dog. Kind of nuts considering the little 10 foot by 10 foot "smoking sections" at Coors Field... a far cry from home to say the least. And even though the home team lost, the crowd was more into it than any I've ever seen. I think if I grew up in Chicago I'd have been a baseball fan...

Then we walked to Aaron's for decompression and a nip of whiskey, followed by a walk through Lincoln Park to the lake. Twas a windy day, and kind of chilly, but still quite beautiful... the view of downtown was spectacular. Plus, I kind of like water, to tell you the truth.

Ate some Thai food and went to the Green Mill on Broadway and Lawrence. The place used to be a speakeasy, and the Patricia Barber Quartet were playing on that particular Monday... They made two requests that I thought were pretty outlandish (especially in Chicago, but what do I know), and I decided Patricia Barber must have had some clout: no smoking, and no talking during the performance. No smoking in Chicago??? Guess it happens, but at a Jazz club? Ok. But the kicker was the no talking during the show rule. Granted, I've been to shows where I wished that were the case, but it seemed like an impossibility; people like to talk, even if they have nothing to say! But the audience complied and I was able to see why she had such clout--they were really quite amazing. They played some old standards and I'm thinking some originals (judging from some of the lyrics she was singing). And all four of them were so into it and so solid. I realized something. Self-consciousness has a way of draining the life out of music. Look at all these self-obsessed pop bands, out there looking good while putting out crappy music. Then you have these amazing musicians, eyes closed and oblivious to how they look--only paying attention to the sound, goddamn what they looked like! Patricia let out some odd groans, while the bassist hummed along with himself, and I couldn't care less... they rocked (as much as Jazz players are allowed to rock). The drummer played so many solos, and kept the rhythm so well in the process, that I about lost control of my... uh, toe tapping. This is not to say the guitar player was bad--he too was amazing--but his brilliance was eclipsed by the whole... of course, I went home before Patricia let the trio have their own set, so maybe he shined after I left. But I had to sleep before my roadtrip to Ohio...

Took a cab back to Billy's and passed out with a tune in my head. And woke up to a rainy day and a long road ahead...

Chicago, my kind of town

2005-04-11T01:52:00.000-06:00

Random thoughts 1,000 miles from home

Airplane, jetlag, drank too much...

Melvin Taylor's kid was sick
As was his replacement.
If you don't like the blues, there's something wrong with you;
You must got a hole in your soul...

Country western band at Carol's... Carol's stays open til 4, but for some reason I didn't make it to last call. Had pork rinds for dinner, though (fuckin' Aaron, dude). But on the plus side, I woke up with a hangover...

So far, the best Mexican food in Chi-town is served at Billy's. Damn lucky Billy's is my home.

Guess it's snowing like a bitch back at home. Pretty fucking chill here. Upper-70s, something like that. Good luck getting a day off Denver; I think the heat will override the blizzard this time, though... suckers...

Hear blues, drink booze, talk loud. Chico Banks plays a mean guitar; facial strangulation aside, his Hendrix-influenced blues, mang, wrecked my shit... he can go somewhere if he wants to... if he wants to.

Motherfucking Cubs game tomorrow. I can tell it's gonna be a party... Northside's team! This has to be the first baseball game I've actually been excited for. Opening day weekend in Chicago... the town pulsates. It's electric.

Well, good night nurse.

The midwest is a-calling, I guess I'll answer...

2005-04-08T20:50:00.000-06:00

Excerpt from "The Long Emergency" by James Howard Kunstler

2005-04-08T18:24:00.000-06:00

This article is rather dystopic, but unfortunately it seems we're headed this in this direction. Hopefully we change course in time, if there is time.

You can read the rest of the article at: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/_/id/7203633?rnd=1112812001433&has-player=true&version=6.0.12.872

The term "global oil-production peak" means that a turning point will come when the world produces the most oil it will ever produce in a given year and, after that, yearly production will inexorably decline. It is usually represented graphically in a bell curve. The peak is the top of the curve, the halfway point of the world's all-time total endowment, meaning half the world's oil will be left. That seems like a lot of oil, and it is, but there's a big catch: It's the half that is much more difficult to extract, far more costly to get, of much poorer quality and located mostly in places where the people hate us. A substantial amount of it will never be extracted.

The United States passed its own oil peak -- about 11 million barrels a day -- in 1970, and since then production has dropped steadily. In 2004 it ran just above 5 million barrels a day (we get a tad more from natural-gas condensates). Yet we consume roughly 20 million barrels a day now. That means we have to import about two-thirds of our oil, and the ratio will continue to worsen.

The U.S. peak in 1970 brought on a portentous change in geoeconomic power. Within a few years, foreign producers, chiefly OPEC, were setting the price of oil, and this in turn led to the oil crises of the 1970s. In response, frantic development of non-OPEC oil, especially the North Sea fields of England and Norway, essentially saved the West's ass for about two decades. Since 1999, these fields have entered depletion. Meanwhile, worldwide discovery of new oil has steadily declined to insignificant levels in 2003 and 2004.

…

No combination of alternative fuels will allow us to run American life the way we have been used to running it, or even a substantial fraction of it. The wonders of steady technological progress achieved through the reign of cheap oil have lulled us into a kind of Jiminy Cricket syndrome, leading many Americans to believe that anything we wish for hard enough will come true. These days, even people who ought to know better are wishing ardently for a seamless transition from fossil fuels to their putative replacements.

The widely touted "hydrogen economy" is a particularly cruel hoax. We are not going to replace the U.S. automobile and truck fleet with vehicles run on fuel cells. For one thing, the current generation of fuel cells is largely designed to run on hydrogen obtained from natural gas. The other way to get hydrogen in the quantities wished for would be electrolysis of water using power from hundreds of nuclear plants. Apart from the dim prospect of our building that many nuclear plants soon enough, there are also numerous severe problems with hydrogen's nature as an element that present forbidding obstacles to its use as a replacement for oil and gas, especially in storage and transport.

…

We know that our national leaders are hardly uninformed about this predicament. President George W. Bush has been briefed on the dangers of the oil-peak situation as long ago as before the 2000 election and repeatedly since then. In March, the Department of Energy released a report that officially acknowledges for the first time that peak oil is for real and states plainly that "the world has never faced a problem like this. Without massive mitigation more than a decade before the fact, the problem will be pervasive and will not be temporary."

Most of all, the Long Emergency will require us to make other arrangements for the way we live in the United States. America is in a special predicament due to a set of unfortunate choices we made as a society in the twentieth century. Perhaps the worst was to let our towns and cities rot away and to replace them with suburbia, which had the additional side effect of trashing a lot of the best farmland in America. Suburbia will come to be regarded as the greatest misallocation of resources in the history of the world. It has a tragic destiny. The psychology of previous investment suggests that we will defend our drive-in utopia long after it has become a terrible liability.

Before long, the suburbs will fail us in practical terms. We made the ongoing development of housing subdivisions, highway strips, fried-food shacks and shopping malls the basis of our economy, and when we have to stop making more of those things, the bottom will fall out.

The circumstances of the Long Emergency will require us to downscale and re-scale virtually everything we do and how we do it, from the kind of communities we physically inhabit to the way we grow our food to the way we work and trade the products of our work. Our lives will become profoundly and intensely local. Daily life will be far less about mobility and much more about staying where you are. Anything organized on the large scale, whether it is government or a corporate business enterprise such as Wal-Mart, will wither as the cheap energy props that support bigness fall away. The turbulence of the Long Emergency will produce a lot of economic losers, and many of these will be members of an angry and aggrieved former middle class.

Food production is going to be an enormous problem in the Long Emergency. As industrial agriculture fails due to a scarcity of oil- and gas-based inputs, we will certainly have to grow more of our food closer to where we live, and do it on a smaller scale. The American economy of the mid-twenty-first century may actually center on agriculture, not information, not high tech, not "services" like real estate sales or hawking cheeseburgers to tourists. Farming.

Cure for Pain (Almost Better Than Morphine)

2005-04-07T20:51:00.000-06:00

comics drool

2005-04-04T21:40:00.000-06:00

The Tale of the Transitory Trout, Chapters 5 & 6

2005-03-31T08:46:00.002-07:00

The chapter designation is somewhat arbitrary and only meant to indicate that the book began before this post and more is to be written... I think. But probably not by me.
ALTERNATE TITLE: "Mr. Rosewater's Cradle of Champions, Chapters 5 & 6"

Chapter 5
I flew to Seattle for a vacation and to visit my mom. Ben, who had been in Vancouver, BC for a Radiohead show, picked me up on his way back to Portland.
While in Portland, I stopped at Powell's on Burnside and got Ben "The Cheese Monkeys" by Chip Kidd, and also a copy of "Timequake" for my friend Lea. While in the Vonnegut stacks, I noticed a used hardback edition of "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater/Cat's Cradle/Breakfast of Champions" for roughly the same price as a normal used novel. What a deal!
I picked up the omnibus book for myself, even though I had already read the first two novels. It was a good deal for "Breakfast of Champions" alone, I thought, and I'll re-read the other two stories at some point anyway. And so on.
The book nearly doubled the weight of my carry-on bag, but did give me something to read while returning to Seattle by train. His pictures in the book were hilarious. The asterisk to indicate "asshole," both figurative and literal, and the self-portrait (see below) of, I believe, his alter-ego, a Mr. Kilgore Trout, and the picture of the undies, which, if I'm not mistaken, represent undies. I don't read many novels with pictures. Not because I'm a literary snob, per se, but because they tend to be hard to find in my size (at my reading level).
But asides aside, I finished "Breakfast of Champions" on the plane back to Denver. I put it in my bookcase, enjoying the anticipation of re-reading the stories at a later date. So it goes.
Chapter 6
I met Jenny at a friend's housewarming. I always seem the most charming when I'm in that professor stage between sobriety and drunkenness. "Goddam that Bush guy," I would rage, and so on. I seemed smart, and was dressed in my work duds; impressive... or, at least, I made an impression.
I could have sworn that Jenny was with *, the guy that she was hanging out with. Hmm. First impressions...
Imagine my shock when she asked me to "coffee... or something" at the end of the evening. I guess she realized the impression she and * had given off, and that I wasn't going to ask her out under such circumstances. Imagine that.
And we had a whirlwind 3-month relationship wherein I found out * was her "soon-to-be ex-Husband"!?!? I found out quite a bit more about her, too. More than I really needed to know to be quite honest. But like a heartworm, she burrowed a place in my heart, laid her eggs, and lived for a brief parasitic spell off of my kindness. That last statement was mean, and only partially true, but sometimes it's hard to separate the true from the fabrication... so it goes.
So, being several years older, four years more educated, and so forth, I thought she would benefit from reading some Vonnegut. I loaned her the big book of Vonnegut, only for us to break up before she finished the first novel she started in it. In my farewell, I requested that she keep the book. Perhaps it would aid in her growth as a person, I reasoned. Besides, I had already read all of the stories.
Talk about your clean breaks!
I haven't missed Jenny in quite some time. But sometimes, late at night when the light is just right, I imagine that I see the book in its old place on the shelf. I do a double-take and realize it was just a dream, or some sort of flashback hallucination. And I cry a single tear for the book I once had.

Vonnegut Self-Portrait from Breakfast of Champions

2005-03-30T13:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter Every-bunny

2005-03-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

Who wants to be a billionare?

2005-03-24T02:44:00.000-07:00

warbushmill
Originally uploaded by nostradumass.

God I Wish

2005-03-24T00:40:00.000-07:00

This is pretty sappy, and I don't claim to be a poet. But I started writing, inspired by something I read on the internet, and it started getting all rhythmic and rhyming. So, without further ado:

"god i wish you could look past my insecurities and see what i can mean to you. and god i wish i could see past your own, and not hold them against you. i wish our esteem for ourselves and each other were higher. that i could listen to your words, and not assume you're a liar.

i give you my bruised heart, and hope you'll handle it with care. god i wish i could say that i'll always be there. god i wish you'd look at me with love, tenderness, and lust, and that i could inflame your passions and rekindle your trust.

i know i seem nervous now, but i'm a little gun shy. god i wish you won't think i'm like the last guy.

but in the end, and when all is said and done, god i wish that we could be one.

hoping to be yours until we die, always, faithfully, and lovingly,
some guy"

A wise man once said:

2005-03-23T01:33:00.000-07:00

"Don't get me wrong, thinking is important, but not half as important as living."

That wise man was me, about 2 minutes ago.

why men need women

2005-03-21T17:03:00.000-07:00

i originally posted this on friday, 3/18/05, anonymously on another site, but it bears repeating. the original title was, "Gawd, i'm the biggest bachelor!"

so I just moved into my place at the beginning of this month. tonight is my inaugural run with my oven. haven't used the stove either. all microwavables/sandwiches/cereal/eating out. So what am I whipping up tonight you may be wondering. well if tv's taught me anything, it's that "it's not delivery, it's..."
fuck, if they had microwave instructions it could be another 3 weeks before I used my oven. i can't imagine i'm treating my body all that well, and the recent posts (referring to the forum I originally posted to—ed.) make me think, "what the hell, maybe i'll pick up smoking again!"
allow me to elaborate; here's the contents of my fridge in full:
1 quart of milk
bag of coffee
5 beers
2/3 of a loaf of bread
6 bagels
butter
almost done lettuce (romaine)
about 1 more slice of tomato
brita water
orange juice
parmesan
mayo
mustard
pickles
salad dressing

yep, that's it.
the freezer is down to just ice since i made the bold move of "cooking." my cabinets are in a bit better shape, but that's just because i bought some things that require stove-top preparation... i wish i had a pasta pot and caulander (was informed by a response that the correct spelling is “collender” (come to find out it’s actually “colander” via spell check)—ed.) so i could wow someone with my spaghetti prowess. maybe someday... a boy can dream!

svartifoss_iceland

2005-03-21T15:31:00.000-07:00

svartifoss_iceland
Originally uploaded by nostradumass.

Ain't that purdy!

Last Night's Dream Interpreted

2005-03-21T14:17:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last night that wasn't exceptional, but it was vivid. Not sure what happened before, but I noticed that two of my teeth were twisting and shifting and doing that suction thing that happens when you're losing your baby teeth; two middle molars on the left side of my mouth (not sure if placement means anything, but there it is). Then they fell out.
After they fell out, though, I checked with my tongue and they were still there. I had to get it interpreted. The reappearance of the teeth wasn't interpreted by my source, nor was the placement, but I figure I was just too close to awake so the real sensation to my tongue became my dream sensation, and it just happened to be those two teeth (could the hidden nature of molars have something to do with it?)...
Without further ado, dreammoods.com's interpretation:

Two
Two stands for diversity, partnership, soul, or receptivity. It can also symbolize double weakness or double strength. There is a duality as in male and female, mother and father, yin and yang, etc.
Teeth
Dreams that your teeth are falling out are the most common dreams we here at Dream Moods receive. Common dream scenarios include having your teeth crumbling in your hands or your teeth falling out one by one with just a light tap. Such dreams are not only horrifying and shocking, but often leaves the dreamer with a lasting image of the dream. So what does it mean?
One theory is that dreams about your teeth reflect your anxiety about your appearance and how others perceive you. Sadly, we live in a world where good looks are valued highly and your teeth play an important role in conveying that image. Teeth are used in the game of flirtations, whether it be a dazzling and gleaming smile or affectionate necking. These dreams may stem from a fear of your sexual impotence or the consequences of getting old. Teeth are an important feature of our attractiveness and presentation to others. Everybody worries about how they appear to others. Caring about our appearance is natural and healthy.
Another rationalization for these falling teeth dream may be rooted in your fear of being embarrassed or making a fool of yourself in some specific situation. These dreams are an over-exaggeration of your worries and anxiety.
Teeth are used to bite, tear, chew and gnaw. In this regard, teeth represent power. And the loss of teeth in your dream may be from a sense of powerlessness. Are you lacking power in some current situation? Perhaps you are having difficulties expressing yourself or getting your point across. You feel frustrated when your voice is not being heard. You may be experiencing feelings of inferiority and a lack of self-confidence in some situation or relationship in your life. This dream is an indication that you need to be more assertive and believe in the value of your own opinion.
In the latest research, it has been shown that women in menopause have frequent dreams about teeth. This may be related to getting older and/or feeling unattractive and less feminine.
Traditionally, it was thought that dreaming that you did not have teeth, represent malnutrition which may be applicable to some dreamers.
Other Perspectives
Well, I'll just say that the three other perspectives don't pertain--biblical, greek, and some girl's grandmother's--going against god, family or friends dying (I hope not), and a windfall of money (quite the opposite really), respectively.
Anyway, I know what it's about and what it means. Now to find a way to use that knowledge. Damn menopause!

Quote of Today--from Blazing Saddles

2005-03-18T19:07:00.000-07:00

Jim, The Waco Kid: Where you headed, cowboy?
Sheriff Bart: Nowhere special.
Jim, The Waco Kid: "Nowhere special." I always wanted to go there.

And of course, I can't just leave it at that:

Howard Johnson: You know, Nietzsche says, "Out of chaos comes order."
Olson Johnson: Oh, blow it out your ass, Howard.

And finally (I couldn't have said it better myself):

Bart (to himself): Oh, baby, you are so talented... And they are so dumb.

Quote of the Day (from "Say Anything")

2005-03-17T19:37:00.000-07:00

" A career? I've thought about this quite a bit sir and I would have to say considering what's waiting out there for me, I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed or buy anything sold or processed or repair anything sold, bought or processed as a career. I don't want to do that. My father's in the army. He wants me to join, but I can't work for that corporation, so what I've been doing lately is kick-boxing, which is a new sport...as far as career longevity, I don't really know. I can't figure it all out tonight, sir, so I'm just gonna hang with your daughter."
---LLOYD

What Do You Think? From The Onion

2005-03-15T18:59:00.000-07:00

TOUGHER BANKRUPTCY LAWS

Last week, the Senate made moves toward approving pro-business legislation that will make it harder for individuals to file for bankruptcy. What do you think?

"This is a victory for good, hard-working, God-fearing credit-card companies everywhere. Dry your eyes, Citibank, help is on the way!"

"Well, there goes my foolproof get-bankrupt-quick scheme."

"If this doesn't teach Americans not to have medical emergencies or get laid off, I don't know what will."

and my personal favorite:

"Look! I caught another middle-class guy! Here, hold his arms behind his back while I gut-punch him!"

Nostradumass World Headquarters

2005-03-14T20:08:00.000-07:00

Nostradumass World Headquarters
Originally uploaded by nostradumass.

git outta my yard ya ingrates!

One Last Kick at the Liberal Dog

2005-03-14T17:40:00.000-07:00

(exerpted from a Joe Bageant article posted at http://www.counterpunch.org/bageant03122005.html )

Just like the Republican junta's biggest potential enemy is their own hubris, thus is ours (the "Lefists'"). Let's be honest. The liberal elite is not entirely a Republican myth. This generation of white liberals is not involved in class issues, and have become more about trendiness. To the average working American, "Friends" and "Sex and the City" is the face of modern liberal culture. They are not wrong. The very fact that most elite celebrities call themselves "liberal" and don't receive any heat tells you something is very wrong. A real class warrior would spit on the celebrities and materialistic, narcissistic celebrity itself.

American liberals define themselves and the issues within the same consumer culture machinery as the red state tire-biters---perception of class status (elitism.) This IS the main difference between educated liberals and less educated working folks. Neither are citizens of the United States or anything else. The United States no longer has citizens. It has consumers.
(...)
Most liberals are not in a much higher income bracket (as the working class), but their consumer choices---paid for on credit---allow them to mimic the ruling class. Starbucks vs Sanka, Mother Jones vs George Jones. Mark Twain vs Shania Twain.... There is little hope for us until we realize these ultimately meaningless consumer choices are not representative of any competing or compelling values, but merely distractions that stimulate and keep alive class divisions and hatreds.

For the time being at least, American liberalism has George Bush to blame for everything. And much the same as a zoo ape enjoys even negative attention, George Bush, peeling his lips back and mocking the crowd, is having the time of his life. But one of these days we will have to deal with the real reason middle class white American liberals hate Bush. Liberals hate Bush because he is a traitor to the white classes. Bush revealed the true face of American power and exposed it as the corrupt hoax it really is. He is a "cowboy" imperialist as opposed to the more acceptable kind---the Kennedy, Carter, Clinton type who conducted their dark little murders at the edge of the empire in secrecy while Americans wasted most of the world's resources. The Anybody But Bush crowd would have approved the use of force against Iraq if it had been presented by a senator from a Blue State with a bullshit UN resolution, as opposed to a simple 'Yeeee-ha' from a retard frat-boy from Texas and overwhelming international revulsion. Either way, the ruling political and corporate elites still maintain their privileges and status. The ABB movement was not about stripping anyone of those; it was simply about keeping self-serving appearances to preserve our Jabba the Hutt worldview and lifestyle.

This is a short quote from a rather lengthy piece entitled, "It Ain't Easy Being White" that I'm not saying I agree with 100%. It did, however, give me a chance to do some mental pushups. Use the link at the top at your own risk. If you don't like what he says, don't come crying to me; if I agreed with everything he said, though, that would probably make you stfu pretty goddam quick. Stuff in italics was added by me for clarity, etc.

Ok, so he had me up until the last three paragraphs or so--commentary on the Chomsky post below

2005-03-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

Actually, let me start with what I agree with: both (major) candidates stood for basically the same thing, i.e., the status quo. They both took pro-war stances, said what they (or their corporate backers, more to the point) felt would get people riled up. Bush appealed to the ultra-conservatives while Kerry tried to appeal to the middle-of-the-road conservatives (while taking his "base" for granted)--Bush was more convincing in his role, as I don't feel it was much of a stretch for him. I was amazed at how Bush "flip-flopped" (see, compassionate conservative minus the compassion, the uniter that took the unifying 9-11 attacks and drove a wedge into the country that left left-leaning people willing to vote for Kerry despite his words, and I could go on--and will), and was able to make that label stick to Kerry. I mean, the ultimate flip-flop by Bush seems to be his (handlers') semantic game in labelling bills the opposite of what they stand for, No Child Left Behind and the Clear Sky Initiative to name a couple.

Okay! So here's where I part company with the good professor. Google the PIPA report from before the election and it's clear that more people voting for Bush had glaring misconceptions about their candidate's views--they were also much more likely to believe in an Osama/Saddam tie, that WMD were found in Iraq, and that Bush wouldn't have gone into Iraq if he knew that no WMD would be found, all false and based on assumptions that their candidate agreed with them on national security issues. Kerry supporters, by and large, knew where he stood on issues ranging from health care to the war, and though his feelings about Iraq were more in-tune with Bush's than their own, they were willing to engage in the lesser-of-two-evilism in order to rid us of Bush. So I disagree with Chomsky's assertion (or was it just an implication?) that both sides were equally ignorant.
Also, I can't help but disagree that the election results, and the allegations of fraud, were only of concern to a handful of intellectuals. Of course, maybe that's because I don't consider myself that much of an intellectual but felt really bothered by the mainstream (lefty!!!!) media's lack of coverage of the debaucle in Ohio... until, of course, it was too late. But I may be splitting hairs here.
Chomsky says, "Why don’t people care if the election is stolen? The reason is that they don’t take the election seriously in the first place." If that were truly the case then why did so many more people register and vote in this election than in 2000. I'm sure they weren't the small group of intellectuals angry about Florida's fraud in 2000, or the so-called "values voters." I'm sure there were some dumb left-wingers and intelligent right-wingers that voted for the first time in this last election. They care. Voting may be the least they could do, especially when it's pretty much for what they consider the lesser of two evils, and even though the war would still be going on even if Kerry had invigorated the left-wing base of the Democrats and actually eeked out a victory.
I guess it's pointless to care, but I do care. And I understand that we have 4 more years of Bush, like it or not. I would be critical of a Kerry administration, too, so please don't give me the "Kerry lost, get over it" shpeel. I'm over the election, but I still care about what comes next.

alright, I'm done here. comment away, stupid!

Who me, quote Chomsky? Perish the thought!

2005-03-11T15:19:00.000-07:00

How George W. Bush Won Second-Term U.S. Presidency in 2004
Elections Run by Same Guys Who Sell Toothpaste
by Noam Chomsky

Of the people who voted for candidate George Bush, the major categories were people who were concerned about terror and about national security. It’s claimed that people who were concerned about values voted for Bush, but that’s mostly a statistical artifact. When you asked the further question, “What values do you have in mind?” it turned out that the major values were things like, “I don’t like this society because it’s too materialistic,” and “There’s too much oppression.” Those are the values. Is that what Bush stands for? Getting rid of that? As far as terrorism is concerned, the administration very consciously chose actions that it was expected would increase the threat of terror and, in fact, did. It’s not because they want terror, it’s just not much of a priority for them.

People who voted for Bush tended to assume that he was in favor of their views, even if the Republican Party platform was diametrically opposed to them. The same was largely true of Kerry voters.

The reason for this is that the parties try to exclude the population from participation. So they don’t present issues, policies, agendas, and so on. They project imagery, and people either don’t bother or they vote for the image. The Gallup Poll regularly asks, “Why are you voting?” One of the choices is, “I’m voting for the candidate’s stand on issues.” That was 6% for Bush, and 13% for Kerry—and most of those voters were deluded about the positions of the candidates. So what you have is essentially flipping a coin. Each candidate got approximately 30% of the electorate. Bush got 31%, Kerry got 29%.

The party managers know where the public stands on a whole list of issues. Their funders just don’t support them; the interests they represent don’t support them. So they project a different kind of image.

If you listen to the presidential debates, you can’t figure out what they’re saying, and that’s on purpose. The last debate was supposed to be about domestic issues. The New York Times commented that Kerry didn’t make any hint about possible government involvement in health care programs because that position has, in their words, “no political support.” Well, according to the most recent polls, 80% of the population thinks that the government ought to guarantee health care for everyone, and furthermore regard it as a moral obligation. That tells you something about people’s values. But there’s “no political support.”

Why? Because the pharmaceutical industry is opposed, the financial institutions are opposed, the insurance industry is opposed, so there’s “no political support.” It doesn’t matter if 80% of the population regard it as a moral obligation: That doesn’t count as political support. It tells you something about the elite conception. You’re supposed to vote for the image they’re projecting. That’s not surprising really. Just ask yourself, “Who runs the elections?”

The elections are run by the same guys who sell toothpaste. They show you an image of a sports hero, or a sexy model, or a car going up a sheer cliff or something, which has nothing to do with the commodity, but it’s intended to delude you into picking this one rather than another one. Same when they run elections. But they’re assigned that task in order to marginalize the public, and furthermore, people are pretty well aware of it.

For many years, election campaigns here have been run by the public relations industry and each time it’s with increasing sophistication. Quite naturally, the industry uses the same technique to sell candidates that it uses to sell toothpaste or lifestyle drugs. The point is to undermine markets by projecting imagery to delude and suppressing information—and similarly, to undermine democracy by the same method.

In the year 2000, there was a huge fuss afterwards about the stolen election, with the Florida chads and the Supreme Court. But ask yourself who was exorcised about it? It was all among a small group of intellectuals. They were the ones who were upset about it. There was never any public resonance for this. In the current election it’s being reiterated. There’s a big fuss among intellectuals about the vote in Ohio, how the voting machines didn’t work, and other things. But the interesting thing is that nobody cares.

Why don’t people care if the election is stolen? The reason is that they don’t take the election seriously in the first place. They reacted about the way that people react to television ads. It’s a mode of delusion. If the Democrats want to succeed in that game, they’re just going to have to figure out better ways of delusion.

There is an alternative, and that is to try to run a program that’s committed to developing a democratic society in which people’s opinions matter.

These are remarks Noam Chomsky made on Jan. 25 at events in Santa Fe, NM, celebrating the 25th anniversary of the International Relations Center (IRC), online at www.irc-online.org. Chomsky is a member of the IRC’s board of directors. Noam Chomsky is the author of Hegemony or Survival. Noam has been an IRC board member for fifteen years and a steadfast supporter of IRC’s mission and programs.

I have to admit that I don't agree 100% with this, but it's worth pondering in my opinion, so ponder at your leisure. I'll post with more specific thoughts later on if I feel so inclined (it's my blog and I can cry if I want to).

The Good Old Days--We're Enduring Them Now

2005-03-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

By Ben Tripp (copied and pasted from Counterpunch.org)

Nostalgia is a fond yearning for times you didn't really live through, or you wouldn't have a fond yearning for them. Perhaps the most seductive and dangerous myth of our times, besides Chupacabra, is the notion of "the good old days". There never were any good old days, and there never will be. Is this a bad thing? No. It's just a reminder that there is only Now, and there was only ever Now, and Now is all there ever will be. Make the most of it while it's here. Americans have forgotten how to Be Here Now, and it's half the reason we're in so much trouble today. We have divided into camps based upon which decade we wish to be living in: on the right, the 1950's seem to be pretty popular (and the 1850's, south of the Mason-Dixon Line). On the left, the decade between 1964 and 1974 is a favorite. For myself, there's a ten-year period in the early Holocene Epoch that's calling my name.
It's a mugs' game, deciding when things were better compared to now. It all comes down to what period your favorite TV show takes place in. There's a very nice young lady down my block that loves 'Little House on the Prairie'. She's seen every episode twenty times. She also lives in a group home, and her ladder does not reach all the way to the roof, if you follow my meaning. To this young lady, the Reconstruction Period is entirely described by the television show. If she could set the clock back to that time, she'd do it in a heartbeat (as would Michael Landon). And within a week of arriving in 1870, my neighbor would be tossed into a mental hospital, endure a hysterectomy, and thereafter would spend the rest of her life sitting by a window wishing she'd been a fan of 'Happy Days'.
I don't mean to suggest our ideals are formed entirely by television, although they are. What I mean is that society is always recasting its earlier iterations into deliberately nostalgic forms in order to perpetuate itself. Look at the Church and the Garden of Eden. Those were the days! Innovative, forward-looking ideas require change, which is embraced only by children and weirdos. In the conformist 1950's it was all about libertarian cowboys and Indians. Oh, those golden years before modern dentistry! Now that libertines are in control, we gaze yearningly upon those conformist days of the halcyon 1950's. If only we knew then what we know now, it would be now, then. Which of course it was, at the time. The pendulum swings.
One would think (if one bothered to think at all) that nostalgia was the most harmless of vices, like smoking toasted banana skins. But it is this longing for better, simpler times that has us rattling down the Primrose Path to Perdition. There were never better, simpler times. Life has always been messy, and things change faster than we imagine. Pick a time you'd rather live in: quite aside from the fact that things were far worse than you imagine during that time, also remember the period you're thinking of was bracketed by other, more horrible times. Say your nostalgia is for the Roaring Twenties (let's pretend you're one of the few thousand rich people for whom the Twenties were actually roaring). Before the Twenties we have WWI and the influenza pandemic. After the Twenties we have the Great Depression. We're always on the way back from something ghastly, or on our way toward something worse. At the moment we're experiencing the latter condition. This makes nostalgia especially seductive.
Nostalgia is dangerous. Nostalgia is the illusion of better times. People have struggled and fought and died every minute of every day since we first became human, or took a different path and became Republicans. There have been moments of relative peace and security, but explosive change has always been on the way (usually in the form of explosions). Better times have to be created Now. It's a struggle that never ends. We spend our lives striving for free public education, or equal rights for all humans, or better cell phone reception in mountainous areas. For a brief, shining moment, we achieve our goals. Better times are ahead. Then other people struggle to reverse these achievements. Why? Because the way things were before was working for them. They're nostalgic for the good old days. It's the curse of mankind: if we had the chance to do it all over again, we would.
Ben Tripp can be reached at credel@earthlink.net.
His book, 'Square In The Nuts', has been held up at the printers by thugs but will be released as soon as hostage negotiations conclude.

You just knew it would come to this--A Political Rant

2005-03-07T19:56:00.000-07:00

I tried to read a column by that transgendered republican dish Ann Coulter, but was suckerpunched by her complete lack of logic and coherence. Therefore, I thought I'd spend a few moments slandering her the way she does her opponents. Please be aware that this is by no means a definitive list of her short-comings, but it's a start. I mean, there are books and books of websites and websites that go deeper into the subject than I would ever attempt. I think I'd have an aneurysm if I tried... but for now, my illogical attack at an illogical person--my open letter to Ann Coulter,

My dearest Love Chunks,
So we meet again o' nemesis to end all nemesi--how I've longed for a chance to kiss your hairy lips again; to listen to that sweet harpy's voice; to bask in the glow of your 60-watt moon.
How long has it been? 50, 60 years, and you still look the same as the day I left--barefoot, pregnant with satan's lovechild, and of african-american descent. It explains your clear grasp of facts and logic--qualities that permeate your very well thought-out, not at all filled with lies or anger or venom, columns.
I remember that time you bent over in my presence and let out the most lady-like of moist poofs, expelling a delectable scent of bacon, oats and clam chowder; manhattan-style chowder, of course, red and spicy and flowery like a dutch flower shop on a 90-degree winter day. Was it the lilac scent or your shrill voice that drew me in? Oh what does it matter, so long as I was drawn--and drawn was I.
As I plunged my head deep into the murky depths of your fish taco, and tongued the depths of your sea (dig the metaphors), I met someone I thought I'd never see: spongebob in the flesh. Obviously his gay agenda had instilled the queer into you, and lo, I thought I could fight it, but I had no idea he'd bring along his friends tinky-winky, ariel (that slutty mermaid from the isle of lesbos), and ernie, but not bert (sthpoiled sthport). It was more than one man could handle, coupled with your shrill siren song: the "it's raining men/rocketman/do you think I'm sexy" medley... and that voice!
So where was I? Ah yes, I remember like it was yesterday! The sights, the sounds, the gay. You act so coy, so unconcerned with the plight of the gay man and woman, but all it takes is one look at the enormous package under your mumu, and at all the sea creatures that inhabit your trouser cobra to know that you're fighting yourself when you criticize your kind... and I wish you wouldn't.
please Ann, accept yourself-- you are a beautiful big black woman. scream to the heavens: "I love myself, I love Jesus and I love you! But most of all, I want muslim spunk! It's too late for me to be a virgin waiting in heaven--give me that spunk while we're still on earth Kareem Abu Mohammed! Oh geez, I just want to lick you like O'Reilly's falafel!"
And only then, when you accept yourself, will you truly be happy. It's been awhile since I've been wrapped in your serpentine arms, or had you from behind, ripping and pulling at your medusine locks, and I only await a sign from you saying you no longer are repulsed by who you are. Can you do that? Can you accept yourself for who you are, Ann(abama)? Can we sit on the porch drinking sweet-tea and reminiscing about lynchings back in a simpler time--the good old days when women, minorities and other unmentionables knew their places (in their own damn countries, unless we stole their land, which means "under the sea-cha cha cha-under the sea!)? I sit here awaiting your response with baited breath. Please be mine... again. singe the hair from my eyebrows with sweet citrus flatulence, like back when we were in love.
signed,
your one true love,
nostradumass
ps. call me ;-l()>, or take a lick from my sword l;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;> (please note the serrated edge, ribbed for her pleasure--meowwww).

My plea for attention

2005-03-03T20:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, Helskel, proprietor of the therubberwall.blogspot.com, has comments all over his interweb net page log. I know that this one is less interesting, what with the lack of time to post, technology to add sounds and pictures, and what not, but if this doesn't give me 15 minutes of fame (give or take) I may have to go all gonzo on your sorry asses! Let me make this clear, this is not a plea for help; merely a plea for attention.

So in interweb screaming speech,

"LOOK AT ME, RESPOND TO ME, MY BLOG IS SOOO LONELY!!!"

and thank you for your support.

--Nostradumass, proprietor, president and CEO of nostradumass.blogspot.com (tm)

I highly recommend mcsweeneys.net!!!

2005-03-01T19:30:00.000-07:00

RejectedYork Peppermint Pattie Commercial Blurbs.
BY DON PIZARRO
- - - -
When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the cool sensation of flying down Sunset Boulevard on a windy day at 120 miles an hour, narrowly avoiding pedestrians and jumping over a construction roadblock that would make them Duke boys very, very jealous!

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of having the life of a normal person and not someone who got her innocence stolen in the back of a '72 Chevrolet Vega and left as a single mother, trying to wring a child-support check from the worthless bastard of a father so the kid can have a fucking Christmas this year.

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of the life draining out of a man's body as I crush his windpipe, screaming, "So, I'm a bitch, huh? I'm the bitch? Who's the bitch now? Who's the fucking bitch now, bitch!"

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I don't get any sensation. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. Please ... just leave me alone.

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I feel the sensation of the Lord's righteous anger as he reveals his plan to use me as his holy instrument of judgment! It's all right there between the lines of the ingredients list!

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie— Whoa! Holy crap, check out these colors. Dude, your leg just turned into a chicken. Dude, it's fuckin' singing to me! Dude!

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of being curled in a ball inside a cold, dark cave filled with my darkest, most paralyzing fears. Maybe if I stay really, really still, the clowns won't find me when they come out of the mirror. Shh!

Get the sensation.
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I learned of this Web site last week, and it has been really fun to explore... READ IT!!!

www.mcsweeneys.net

Heroin Junkie Better Off Than Poppy Farmers

2005-03-01T18:07:00.000-07:00

from the Onion:

NEW YORK—In spite of his debilitating addiction, junkie David Spellman is safer, warmer, healthier, and happier than nearly every poppy farmer in Afghanistan, sources reported Monday. "Mr. Spellman shoots up three times a day and squats in a filthy Bronx apartment, but at least he isn't slaving away in the Kabul poppy fields 18 hours a day before coming home to a meal of moldy bread in the tiny shack he shares with 14 relatives," said Dr. Terrence Arven, professor of sociology at NYU. "When Spellman finally decides to get clean, he'll have many options for counseling. The only support network available to a poppy farmer is the 'protection' of local warlords." When asked for a comment, Spellman curled up and vomited.

I will throw down when I get Internet access at my new place, but for now the blogging will be intermittent at best. To all my fans, please bear with us in our time of technical difficulties.

Yeah, this learning curve is going to be a bitch

2005-02-24T01:27:00.000-07:00

So I had quite the diatribe going when I made the mistake of trying to save it, and, in the process, erased it. It's a little habit I formed back in college, but with repetition back then I was able to minimize my rookie mistakes... well, here I am, a rookie again, in a slightly different field (but computer-oriented nonetheless), and I'm going to have to learn the hard way again I suppose. A friend helped me set up this account, and he already has a link to this blog on his... he can even post pictures (showoff), but I'll keep at it until I'm competent... but bear with me in the mean time folks.
anyway, I'm going to bed, but if you stumble upon this blog and wish to see another work in progress that's likely to progress more rapidly, check out http://therubberwall.blogspot.com
I'll put more work into this when I can, though this is the weekend of the big move and I have yet to get my internet connection figured out at my new place (and I don't, and won't, have a land line), so I'll do what I can from work in the mean time, but I can't make any promises about how much time I'll have. For more information, and my horoscope for this week, please feel free to check out the previous entry that I accidently deleted. I'm sure it's out there somewhere.

I'll be an Awful Link of the Day in no time (and if you don't know what that means, I pity and/or envy you!).

peace

1st entry

2005-02-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

hey, i'm on the internets