Thursday, December 31, 2009
Have fun tonight kids and Lemmings alike.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
1. The candles on the Menorah went from left to right instead of being set up right to left.
2. The candles were lit from left to right.
3. The prayer said on the first night ONLY was also said in addition to the traditional prayer.
4. Served was Roast Beef disguised as Brisket, with a side of hash browns formed into circles, and green beans. Also, a mazoball soup made of Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup.
5. I heard Adam Sandler's Hanukkah Song as the only music played aside from some random disco, but Adam had the honor of being the only holiday related song played.
6. The food was served cold
7. No Yamakas.
8. No Coke, Pepsi
I know us Jews LOVE to complain and this dinner gave me an abundance of things to complain about, but come on! It was almost as if they typed the "What Jews Like" into Google and based the entire evening on that. I am shocked they didn't have dishes of pennies on each table as the Hors d'œuvre .
Actually, maybe the list of complaints was their gift to us Jews? They did get 8 things. Thank you (Place not Named for Fear of Litigation)!
Monday, December 07, 2009
No seriously, which is which?
There once was a woman named Palin
Who wanted to learn how to rhyme
She spent every moment studying
And invested every nickel
She worked all day and night long on her poem
A symbol of all she stood for
And her words flew from her mind down through her pen
And she wrote until she could write no other words
She was proud of her poem as she presented it
To the members of the fine GOP
"I hope this shows I am ready to serve
And you elect me to the Highest Office."
Friday, December 04, 2009
They called and asked me for money.
"I'm so sorry, but I really cannot afford to donate this year."
"Well," they said, "some people are giving less than normal."
"I understand, but I am broke. I can barely afford my bills right now. I would love to help, but I can't at all."
"Well, how about $20?"
"I have no money. I wish I could."
"How about $15?"
"What part of 'I have no money are you missing?'"
"Now you are not even listening to me. This call is over. Have a good day" and I hung up thinking it was over.
Today, in my mailbox was a letter from the Fire Department thanking me for my $35 donation and asking for their check ASAP. WHAT? This better not reflect on my credit report because I am in no way, shape, or form paying it nor am I ever giving to any of these tele-fundraisers again. PBL, PAL, ENT, FHP, etc....you have just lost a consistent and loyal donor.
Tis the Season my ass!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Around my birthday, 2009, I decided that it was probably time to think about ending my self-imposed exile from society and think about trying to get friends and maybe even, dare I say, a girlfriend. A sign would be nice however that this is, in fact, the right course of action.
My next concert I go to will be Phish at the American Airlines Arena in Miami, Fl. This concert will be on December 30, 2009. I have tickets for December 31. I am taking my only local friend with me and will be meeting up with my Tampa friends, some of whom I have not seen since our 1995 Dead tour.
I got my sign.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Today is Friday, the 13th. I woke up to the lovely sounds of my cats fighting under my bed. A check engine light on my car that I already paid to have fixed on Monday returned. I went to the bank to find that I was $2.97 short, which added $64 in overdraft fees (it was $2.63 over and then some .34 cent bank charge) and I was officially $70 in the hole! The car place said they would have to charge me $91 to see what is wrong with my car and only if it was the same problem would they wave it.
YAY FRIDAY THE 13TH you devious bastard you! The betablockers my doctor put me on are working however, because I am almost Budda calm at the moment despite my string of set backs. I was able to get the $91 waved after all and the check engine light was something that went loose. The bank will forgive me these fees one last time (I have a history) so long as I open a savings or money market to act as overdraft protection. Done!
I think/hope/pray/beg/plead/bribe/sacrifice my kitties that my string is over. They go in threes, right?
Happy Friday and, if you suffer from paraskevidekatriaphobia (fear of Friday the 13th), stay under the bed today.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
This story is going to tell the tale of a love triangle that involves four players and one of those players could not possibly have the deck more stacked against him. His name is Johnathan McGallester. He is 16 years old and is a senior at Clicheville High School (the first time I have ever named the town all these tales takes place) due to his skipping of fourth and fifth grades. He is an outcast due to this and find himself in a most typical of outcast situations: in love with his neighbor's daughter, class President and all around great gal, Emily Schwartzenberg; daughter of Eugene Schwartzenberg, attorney to the Horror Movie Slashers.
MEANWHILE, IN HEAVEN:
G-d decides it is time to just bring another Messiah for reasons yet to be determined, and wants to do it "the old fashioned way" of miraculous conception and wishes to find the most ironic vessel to carry the Messiah that is still a virgin. Turns out G-d regularly sends "Messiahs" to Earth, but, thus far, Earth has not been open to receiving them. Maybe I can tie the "unused Messiahs" into the Dream Savior story...
Any-who, after checking all of pop culture's icons, and finding no Religious Leader's Daughters qualified, he set his sites on the legal profession and decided upon the daughter of the worst lawyer he could and only one name came up: Eugene Schwartzenberg.
To accomplish his goal and to facilitate a story, G-d transforms himself into a 17 year old amazingly good looking new student named Gary Oliver Dobbs from Berkeley who just so happens to share all of Emily's passions and desires, sparking the ire of one Johnathan McGallester.
A week later, the house on the other side of Johnathan's is sold and, although he never meets the parents of, he does meet the 9 year old daughter named Louise. Louise innocently happens upon Johnathan one day while he is doing chores outside as Emily comes home from work and comments on a connection she sensed between the two and begins urging Johnathan to go for her, despite of her obvious attraction to new student Gary.
This will involve the various ways Gary tries to take Emily out as Louise and Johnathan try their best to ruin them. Over the course of this, Gary will constantly rise above it and the actions of Louise and Johnathan will actually end up making perfect dates. ( I honestly have no clue about how to write this act. I am going to have to suffer through some teenage comedies I think to see how this is done. )
This is the tough part. I know how to end it, but not HOW to end it. Gary obviously will bow out on his own to allow Johnathan and Emily to get together. Child Services will show up at Louise's house to see why nobody every sees her parents and ends up taking her away, and Gary finds a better candidate for the new Messiah. What I cannot figure out his where to have the climax where this all works out that would allow Gary, Emily, Johnathan, and Louise to all be around the same place. A prom in a public setting with Louise spying is the obvious choice, but I am not sure. I suppose any cliche can be written off by the story being set in Clicheville.
Any advice or interest in helping me write this?
Saturday, October 17, 2009
As I remember, Where the Wild Things Are was about an unruly child named Max who gets sent to his room for being a little monster. Usually, this was where we were as children reading this book and usually the reason behind why we were there, only to us, our rooms were not dungeons we were sent to when we were bad; they were the kingdoms that our inner beasts could roam free; where we won wars, overthrew dictatorships, conquered distant planets, and ruled the monsters.
If you are anything like me and have fond memories of reading this book as a child, put them away before seeing this movie. If you want to take your child to see the movie version of a book you loved growing up- don't. This movie is dark, heavy, slow, and rather hard to sit through to be perfectly honest. It seemed to be more about childhood's end to me over the magical adventure I remember of my youth, but it has been a long time and I may misremember the book.
One aspect of the book no person can ever forget is the one part the makers of this movie got beyond right: the Wild Things. My inner child was reborn the first time I saw Max in his wolf suit and the first silhouette of the first Wild Thing you see gave me chills. From Max's crown and scepter to the pupils of the Wild Things eyes, every detail from the book was there and it was just magical to see them moving and, once you get used to the voices, talking. To be fair, the only problem with the voices was that, in my head as a child, they always sounding like monsters where here they sounded...well, normal.
It is not an easy movie to watch. When it ended, I was fairly sure I didn't like it that much. I said something like "it had everything, but a script" to the people I was with. As the day wore on, it festered in my head and made connections I missed watching it. Slowly, the plot seeped into my mind and I realized exactly what I had seen: an adult looking back on a childhood memory. I think that is what Spike Jonze was going for when he made this and he nailed it. This is not a child's movie based on a child's book, but rather an adult's movie based on a child's book.
POTENTIAL SPOILER- A vital aspect of the book seems to be missing from the movie. I don't do spoilers, but I will say I was troubled to see Max run away to where the Wild Things were instead of getting to see his room transform as it did in the book. I feel that, much as the change in I Am Legend rendered that title pointless, so too does having the story not take place in Max's bedroom defeat the purpose of Where the Wild Things Are.
POTENTIAL SPOILER OVER
I rate it 9 out of 10. I never do this for reviews, but this was kind of a dark review and it may seem like I didn't like it. I loved it, but it is not a movie that is easy to explain.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Ironically, in Washington DC, this is just called "Monday."
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Did I put down the god-damned wrong email address on the stupid somofabitch sign up sheet?
Is this a fucking conspiracy against me?
Are they handing out a fucking Quaalude with every new fucking Driver's License in South fucking Florida....again?
I know, they put a fuck-all powerful speed activated "fuck you" magnet that forces every god-damned car going 15 fucking MPH beneath the fucking speed limit into the far fucking left fucking lane and everyone going 13 in the middle, right? Fuck yeah right!
Is this happening where you are too? Have snails invaded the bodies of otherwise mobile people and forced them to drive at a rate that allows dust to collect on your hood on the Turnpike?
Monday, October 05, 2009
On my last trip to Eckard's....I mean CVS, I decided to check my blood pressure for the shit and giggles of it. My family was doing it too, so it was kind of a "oh, let me see mine" type thing that became serious out of the blue. My blood pressure was rather high and, given my family history, required me to go to a doctor for a check up.
My mother made an appointment for me (I don't know any heart doctors) and we found that, while not that high in the grand scheme of things, it is starting to rise and should be dealt with ASAP. While telling the doctor the details of my diet, I could see her face slowly morph into bewilderment as to how I have lived this long and her list of things that needed immediate changing was quite extensive: chief on the list was caffeine. Considering that my grandmother on my father's side died at 58 and his father, who lived much longer, did not enjoy the ride and died of heart problems, this was not something I had the option of ignoring and began making switches to my food shopping immediately.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am never far from a soda. This was true in High School, true in College, and true to this day. I don't leave my house without either a 20oz bottle of Diet Coke or enough change to pick one up within 3 minutes of leaving my door. If I could have a slow drip IV, I would eagerly and I hate needles, so that should tell you the depth of my Diet Coke addiction and it was hard enough to switch to Diet, but I was getting fat.
The thought of drinking soda without sugar or caffeine made no sense as it literally would be "just for the taste of it," but one must do what one must do and I did what I had to- three two liter bottles of caffeine-free Diet Coke entered my shopping cart last Thursday.
Did you know caffeine was addicting? Yeah, I didn't. I think I did, but ignored it like most addicts do by saying that standard line of "I can quit anytime I want to," but I was wrong.
The headache kicked in about midnight Thursday and I had a hard time falling to sleep. I woke up Friday feeling like Death had invaded my body, but was not in the mood to start its work yet. The day dragged on and I became convinced I had caught the illness going around. When I made it home Friday, I went to sleep immediately and slept to Saturday, where I woke up and could tell Death had started its work. My temples felt like Samson was inside and pissed as my eyeballs were the only things keeping them from crushing my brain. My throat was dry, sore, barren. I rose from my bed only to have my vision catch up a few seconds later. I was sick.
The weekend consisted of brief moments of being awake scattered between long moments of sleep from that point on. Saturday became Sunday became Monday rather quickly and each waking period was met with extreme lethargy. How could this not be sickness so Monday I woke up and called into work, waking up my sense of guilt who had been feeling under the weather too and slept all weekend as well.
The bastard sense of guilt reminded me that we were probably not sick at all, but suffering from a lack of a substance that has been in our system more than oxygen for the last 20 years. I say "bastard" because he couldn't have had that eureka moment BEFORE I called in sick today? Now I am home, still suffering from the Caffeine DTs, and also feeling guilty for not going to work today. It ain't easy being me.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
"Can it really be that simple?"
Yes my friends, it can. By simply "doing nothing," I promise you those unwanted pounds of muscle will just slowly fade into fat. And remember kids, fat weighs less than muscle.
Why spend hours in the gym and thousands of dollars to GAIN WEIGHT when losing weight is the name of the game? Simply do nothing and watch those pounds just ooze away.
Order now, and I will include the Kanrei Malnutrition Guide to help you maximize you sloth filled hours.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
"Well, I'm not really sure," Peter said. "Should my arm be doing this?"
"Are you making your arm do that," asked Patty.
"I think so."
"Then it probably should be. Let me know when it starts acting independently of you."
"Is that an option?"
"With the amount you took? No, more of a certainty, but that's ok."
"Why is that OK exactly?"
"It ain't my arm."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck,oh fuck,oh fuck oh.....did you hear that?"
"That damnit! IF I could describe it beyond "that," believe me, I woulda by now."
"I have heard many things....most of them in my head, so I may have heard it, but without knowing what 'it'"is, I can hardly give a solid answer. What did it sound like?"
"Well, it sounded quite a lot like...a sound.
"Can you get more specific? Was it a loud sound, a scary sound, a voice?"
"IT was musical in nature I would have to say. There it is again!"
"I didn't hear anything dude. Can you tell me now what you heard?"
"It was musical...rhythmic. Kind of like 'knock, knock, knock.'"
"Knock, knock, knock? Like someone at the door?"
"We ordered pizza, didn't we?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
“Do you even have the slightest beginning of an idea where you are going?”
“Why do you insist on asking questions you know you don’t want to know the answer to?”
The rear window shattered as the Honda did its best to make the sharp turn ahead. Michael and Jonas were not exactly happy at this moment and were wondering why they took the job in the first place. A second shot rang out from the following car hitting the rear-view mirror and knocking it onto Jonas’s lap.
“OK, that was cool.” he said, joint dangling from his lips as he loaded the shotgun he brought with them. “Slow down a little bit.”
“You are not firing that in my car! Get the fucking nine or something.”
“What is the difference?”
“The fucking shot is going to ruin my fucking backseat so use the fucking pistol or get the fuck out.”
“Fine” Jonas said while simultaneously unleashing both barrels of the shotgun. While the backseat did get horribly ruined, so did the driver of the following car. Now Jonas was happy, but Michael was far from that state as the Honda came to a screeching stop. The driverless following car rushed past them out of control and slammed into a nearby trash dumpster.
“What the fuck?” It was the most Michael’s rage would allow him to get out at the moment.
“So would the pistol. You ruined my car….again!”
“We really need to find this damn address already. The pizza’s getting cold.”
“Fine....ASSHOLE, but you are buying me a new backseat. What’s the fucking address again?”
The Honda drove past 35th street and into the safety of their delivery area. The street was pitch dark save for the car’s headlights and the huge yellow smiley face logo on the “Happy Face Pizza” roof sign.
The Pizza wars had gotten silly years ago; now they were deadly. Each delivery area had become a turf and each store a fiefdom. The managers were the generals who waged this war for the honor of each store’s owner. Below the manager were the cooks and the dishwashers. The cooks were the ones who had the most contact with the drivers and each driver had someone who rode “shotgun.” One had to serve as shotgun for two years before they could be a driver and then had to driver five years before they could move up to dishwasher. Very few ever made it that far.
There was only one position that was deadlier than the “shotgun rider” and that was the position of “couponer.” These were the poor souls who had to wander in neighborhoods in the light of day hanging fliers on people’s doors. This was quite possibly the most dangerous job in the world to be honest. “Shotgun Riders” from opposing companies would usually earn extra money taking bounties on other store’s coupons since they were technically employed by the driver and were not paid by the company.
Technically, the “couponer” is more of a group than a single person and the word "group" should be replaced with "street gang." The company would hire one couponer, but it was expected for that person to then hire a crew and pay them out of his earnings. There is always safety in numbers and the average couponer crew would consist of six to ten people: most days only six would return.
The average Pizza store really only employed ten people. Those ten would then hire people who worked for them and not the company. The owners both loved and hated this aspect of the business. They did not have to pay as many people which they liked, but it also meant that the loyalty of those people are to their employers and not the store. They also did not like the fact that it was common practice for drivers from opposing store to “hang out” together when not on the clock. They were usually friends and many had worked together at other stores before the war began and a few were even still roommates to this day.
The drivers saw nothing weird about being best friends for twelve hours a day and trying to kill each other for the other twelve. The only rule was that no business was ever handled when one of the people involved was off the clock. They were not fighting because they hated one another; they were fighting because it was their jobs and they would never make it personal. They actually enjoyed the concept of a “twelve hour a day war.” It was not uncommon for a funeral to be attended by the person who killed the deceased.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
On the bright side, as 40 looms off in the distance, I am not fearful, but rather excited. I feel this decade of solitude has helped me find myself a bit better and be more secure in who I am and I hope that will allow me to fully enjoy my 40's in a way I could not my 20's. When one considers the ride that was my 20's, ups and downs, well, we can only get really psyched for the 40's adventure to come.
Happy New Year
Friday, September 18, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
We were sent a certified letter last week, but it came at lunch and we missed it. They tried to deliver it two more times, but those were at lunch as well and we missed those. Finally today, at lunch, I went to the Post Office to pick up this letter. It was sent to us by an insurance company that I am not comfortable naming, but I can say the letter was hardly worthy of a regular stamp let alone a certified letter. It was, in essence, general policy news. This is the third time this particular insurance company has sent us what amounts to "SPAM" as certified mail.
How many doctors do you think were on that mailing list and how much does it cost to mail a letter certified?
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Dyslexic Atheist Dog Catcher's Association
Celibate Stalkers of Blow Up Dolls
The "Extremely Loud" Anti-Noise Pollution Shouting Society
A Jockey Club for Water Polo
A Suicide Prevention Hot-line employing only Nihilists
The Official "We Need a Thirty-Seven and one half cent piece" Petition Signer's Union
Ribbons for Ribbon Awareness
The "Are You Mad" Party
The "Quite Actually" Party
A "Vegan meets Carnivore" Dating Service
And, most importantly of all:
The Official "Organization to end the Organizing of People Officially" Organization
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
What are you talking about she wondered.
I am talking about the vast empty before me
An empty is only empty so long as you lack anything to fill it with
DO you dream
Any particular color?
No, just of the concept pf color; devoid of application.
The concept of color?
Can you explain?
Basically, it is the difference between a red toy wagon and just a toy wagon to a blind person- the difference knowing the color of the object would make is the essence of color. The emotional baggage we assign to it.
If you dream, she said, you never lack and the void is only vacant so long as you wish it to be. And, to be frank, a wish of an empty void is still a wish that fills it.
So you are saying the void is never empty?
No, just that it appears empty because we assign insignificance to what fills it at the time. To some boredom is to be avoided as a sign of sloth, while to others it is embraced as a sign of completion. Your life is nothing more than the sum of your perceptions.
What about the perceptions of others?
They should only matter to those others.
But that is selfish.
Why? Are they in your head at night, battling with your ego and conscious to help you close your eyes and sleep just one more time? Are you in their head to have access to their perceptions or are you guess as to what they are? What if yo guessed wrong? You spend your life trying to live up to the ideals of another, but you misunderstand their ideals and, as a result, waste your life and fail to them. Selfish is merely to place one self first and you should. You are the only person who is going to be there for you 24 hours a day, 365 days a year for your entire life.
I was taught it was more noble to place others first.
You were taught that by OTHERS who meant themselves. "Self-sacrifice" is the battle cry of the greedy from way behind the lines of combat.
Yeah..well, thanks for the bag. I gotta go and you should consider smoking less.
You too man, she said.
Where does this come from" I can hear you screaming at me through your monitors. "You cannot be speaking of me" and I am not. I am not even talking about the professionals whose job it is to play these games. No, I am talking about the rank and file nobody who joined a political party to help them feel some of the power they think life owes them or something. I am talking about those fools who view American politics through the prism of a sports fan- as long as my side wins so be it.
I voted for Obama! I voted for Kerry! I protested Bush. I wrote numerous articles on the subject. My feelings are more than clear for anyone to look at. They are to the right of this very piece, under the label "Blog Critics: My Page." I challenge anyone to read my complaints about Bush, and compare them to what I complain about Obama, and you tell me who is being partisan and who is being consistent here. "Wishy-washy" my ass- I am getting into more political fights under Obama than I ever did under Bush.
I said it before and I will say it again: somehow the right found the value of protest at the exact same moment the left found loyalty to the office of the President and each forgot what it was like on the other side. The only thing they have in common, besides a need to place party over country at every turn, is an overwhelming hatred for those of us in the middle- the mirror that reflects their hypocrisy back at them. They condemn the moderates because they see in us what they saw in themselves under Bush and the sight of it scares them to their core: that they actually became what they hated most.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Once Eugene was secured in his cell, the bailiffs left him alone with Stanley one final time before Stanley had to rush out and sell the rights. There were a few holes in the story however that he knew any prospective buyers would need answers to, so he took this moment to do one final interview with his client.
Now really," Stanley began, "why did you wear that George Bush mask anyway?”
“I was making a statement.”
“What was that statement?”
“It was open to interpretation.”
"And the eggbeater, spatula, and misshapen large novelty paper clip..."
"were part of that statement..."
"That was open to interpretation?"
"Exactly." Eugene smiled and leaned back in his chair.
"Are you crazy?"
"To say 'yes' is a clear sign the answer is no, but to say 'no' does not mean the answer is yes. If I am crazy, wouldn't I think of myself as sane and you as crazy? If that were the case, then an answer of 'yes' would be a clear sign of rational thought..."
"What does my confusion confirm?" Stanley asked.
Eugene thought for a moment, smiled, and said "that you were paying attention."
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Anyway, she finally gave up and decided as all mothers do that he will just cry himself out so she went about what she needed to do and the entire office stared at this adorable little kid screaming and wandering about. Then, as calmly as could be, he stopped crying, looked at me, said "hi" really calmly, turned around and started crying again. Wandered about crying and screaming, found himself at me again, stopped, looked up at me, smiled, grabbed my leg, and that was the end of the tears. He spent the next two hours on my lap hitting the space bar and playing with the "magic" of magnets as I tried to work, but instead watched him. It was only the second time in his life he as ever seen me too.
The girls in the office took this as undeniable proof that I should be a dad, and I agreed so long as, after 18 years, when the kids leaves, so does the wife.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
On a blog far away
Were two people too busy
To know the time of day
One said the left
The other said the right
Neither had any clue
Why they were compelled to fight
But fight they did nightly
And through most of the day
Each claiming victory
While the other was away
And they fought for so long
They each lost sight
Of why they believed
The things they thought was right
Instead the main goal
Of the daily war
Was to prove the other side wrong
And sadly, nothing more
Boy did I get fooled
I sat out the next two elections
And stupidity ruled
I returned not to vote for someone
But against a man
And I lost that election because
The guy I voted for had no plan
Then I voted for change
That there would be no change
I did not contemplate
Now I must decide
What action to take
Do I vote in 2012
Or just relax for the rape?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The "Charlie Story" I finally found an end to. See, he is following the advice of the Guardian Angel on what to do about his wife and his girlfriend, and the Angel tells him to kill the girlfriend to ease her suffering as she would hate living without him. As he goes off to do it, it is revealed that the Guardian Angel was never Charlie's, but rather was his wife's and was doing this to protect her from Charlie.
When KB and OZ run out the back door and leave Bob to kill the cops, they will run to the Wingnut's house, which will tie them into another already written tale. KB was Charlies's room mate in college and the Wingnut was their friend already, so it would work. All I need now is to figure out a final conflict for OZ, KB, and Bob. I will probably use my PIzza Wars idea for that. I think it will work. I just have to find all this stuff I have scattered about several hard drives.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
People like to compare Obama to Kennedy, I don't see it, but fine, I will use that. Kennedy challenged Americans to live up to what it means to be American where Obama is trying to make us feel good about being Americans again. That is the wrong approach. LEAD and we will follow; ask us what we want and we will fall apart at the seams.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
SO I asked for a single Black and Mild and the lady asked me for ID; I began cracking up. It appeared she was not in on the joke by the look she gave me. It then appeared there was no joke not be in on; she really wanted to see my ID. I suddenly had a flashback to Boulder...
I had no car when I lived in Boulder, so it was not uncommon for me to walk about without my ID. I had been asked for it a few times in Boulder, sometimes with it, and other times without, and I found that it was easier to be without ID than it was to show a Florida ID in Colorado. I certainly didn't look 18 with my long hair, goat-tee, red blood shot eyes...Anywho
One day, it was a Sunday I believe, I found myself without cigarettes and intoxicants for the day- a bad way to find one's self in Boulder, and I walked to the corner store to acquire my daily supply of both, sans ID. It being a real store, my intoxicant of choice would be a local micro-brew and my cigarettes would be the cheapest being sold, for I was just a simple poor hippie wannabe- a home away from being homeless really.
As I approached the checkout line, I realized my lack of ID and thought it may be a problem, this being a "real" store, you know, nationwide chain instead of a Ma and Pa local. I was too lazy or stoned or both or neither to bother walking all the block back to my room and then back the entire block to the store just for ID I probably won't need, so I waited in line for my turn.
"Next" was my que...I was on.
"Hi,"I said as nonchalantly as possible while placing my beer directly between the two of us, "this and a pack of cigarettes please."
"Can I see some ID please?" There wasn't even a moment's hesitation! No pause, no thought, just rote recitation.
"I, um, left it at home."
"OK then," the clerk said firmly, "that will be seven dollars, forty-eight cents."
"Um," I was confused as to what she was ringing up, "the cigarettes are seven dollars?" I took a wild guess as cigarettes had the lower age requirement for purchase.
"No," she responded, "but the beer is. You have no ID."
"What?" I was really confused now, bordering on bewilderment with the next stop total discombobulation. "Let me get this straight, you can tell I am over 21 so the beer is OK, but I may not be over 18 so I get no cigarettes?"
"No," she said calmly, rehearsed, almost as if she had been through this exact scene 100 times before, "I can tell you are over 25, the age you must look to buy beer without an ID, but I can't tell if you are over 30, the age you must be to buy cigarettes without it."
How could I argue with that? She could easily have sold me the cigarettes without problem, but I guess she was doing her part to protest what, to her, was a stupid requirement. It worked I suppose. Here I am, 15 years later, writing about it, so it made an impact on me.
I was back at the chain store in the present with a clerk waiting for my ID. I took it out and gave her the type of smile you give a child when they ask a cute, yet stupid question, and said "here, I'm almost 40."
She suddenly got the joke.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Dancing on the tip of my tongue
Basking in the richness
Creamy light drips from the sun
I wander wearily down the path
Adrift in open seize
Gripping all the twilight roses
Dancing in the breeze
And from the open window
Babbling in Babylon I go
Without a single meaning to
My rhetoric and my prose
Sunday, August 09, 2009
"Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right"
When I was twenty-four years old, my life had stalled. I had just lost my girlfriend, had dropped out of college, and really had no future in Tampa. I had two options at that time: leave Florida with my best friend who was moving to California; or accept my fate as a delivery driver. I was leaning towards the driver option, but he would not hear it. I decided to shut him up with a simple bet that the odds were in my favor of winning.
The bet was if the Grateful Dead played Promised Land at the Tampa show we were going to I would move out west. If they did not, I would stay in Tampa.
Well, that May 7th came and we went to Tampa stadium for the show. With the Black Crows opening, we were in no real hurry to get in. Besides, we were all spread out. There were about forty of us and none of us had seats in the same section. We tried to sneak in, but security was being really strict and limiting which gates you could even enter.
We heard the crowd do that "good-bye" cheer from within the stadium, so we knew it was time for us to get in. We all chose our meeting place for after the show and left for our separate gates. Before he left, he reminded me that Promised Land was the secret song.
I was completely sober and sitting by myself at the show. I had begun going to concerts sober a few years earlier. I am saying this to clarify things to come. I was completely in my senses during the entire show.
The first set was amazing and perfect. The Grateful Dead even treated me to a song I had never heard them do before (Visions of Johanna). Then came the moment I had been waiting for. I was honestly so nervous, it was hard to relax during the first set, as great as it was.
The Dead had not played Promised Land for a few shows and they were due. If they played it, my friend would hold me to my word. With Jerry having just sung, it was time for a Bob Weir song and that was one of his favorite closers. Then I heard the notes..
"Left my home in Norfolk, Va. California on my mind." Son of a bitch! I had to move.
"Inspiration, move me brightly; Light the song with sense of color; Hold away despair"I have always followed signs in my life, so I had no choice unless I could think of a good excuse. With the second set about to start, I had about three hours to come up with one.
It was not that I did not want to move, it was that I was scared of change. I had never really left Florida before for any long period of time, let along move from it.
It was at that moment, while standing in the aisles dancing that my concept of reality changed forever. I was tapped on my shoulder so naturally I turned. Standing right there was a short kid. He was about nineteen or so, short blonde hair and glasses, wearing a tanktop with a picture of a sailboat on it. He had this calming aura about him, in spite of his young age.
"It's time to go, Brad." He said, "Follow me". The then turned and walked up the aisle towards my seat. I turned to see the show and, when I turned back, he was gone.
I know what everyone reading this is thinking right now and the answer, once again, is no. I did not do drugs, I did not drink before concerts any longer, and I was not sitting with any friends. My plan was to leave Florida for California via following the Grateful Dead, only was not sure if it was right for me to go. The cryptic message from this, Guardian Angel for lack of a better term, pointed me in the right direction.
On a side note, my friend Dave saw the same kid in the parking lot after the show. He walked up to Dave, put his hand on Dave's shoulder, and said "I'm sorry Dave, I did all I could." Then he walked away. I lost touch with Dave so I never found out if that message ending up with meaning or not. We compared stories though, and it was the same kid.
But I must not get off on a tangent. So I decided to move to California. The Grateful Dead would lead me there. I sold my car, did not renew my lease, quit my job, put everything I owned in storage, and hit the road California-bound.
Just like the song "Promised Land", we were off. The Dead took us from Vegas to Seattle and back down to San Francisco with many stops along the way. We took a side trip out to Colorado to see Phish at Red Rocks. Not so much to see Phish as to see Red Rocks. It was there that I saw and fell in love with Boulder.
I ended up not moving to California, but rather being dropped off in Boulder. A move very unlike me, but I just felt at home there. I began the task of settling in and getting a job. Both were rather easy. I got a room at the hostel and a job at a restaurant down the street. Life was great. I was looking forward to seeing the Dead again in October and seeing my tour family again.
I woke up on August 9th, 1995 to my alarm radio playing China Cat Sunflower from Europe 72. That was not right. I remember telling myself, even before I opened my eyes that something was weird with that day. That song should not be on the radio. It never was before. Maybe it was going to be a great day.
I had no time to think about it however. I always woke up fifteen minutes before work, so I had to rush. I brushed, dressed, and ran out the door in a great mood. I heard the Dead on the radio. That had to be a sign of a good day, right? Wrong.
I found out the source of the weirdness when I got to the restaurant I worked at. My manager asked me if I was ok. I said "Sure." "Did you need the day off?" "No, why?" "Jerry died."
"Hearts of Summer held in trust /still tender, young and green /left on shelves collecting /dust not knowing what they mean"That summer I learned a lot about myself. I experienced so much, both great and horrible, and grew from it all. I left Tampa a loser with no future and I find myself today, eleven years later very happy with my life and my choices. I have no way of knowing if anything done differently would not have taken me to the same place, but I would not have done it any other way.
Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead was the soundtrack to my life. I have friends all over the country I met because they were already family. The Dead were more than a band, they were a travelling community. The loss of Jerry was a major blow to the so many of us, like losing your grand-uncle, but it also must be remembered that he did it to himself. He was not so much taken from us as it was his addictions that killed him. He must be remembered so that future losses can maybe be prevented.
"We will get by / We will survive"
-Touch of Grey
The Dead and related bands continue to tour today. Their influence still grows today as a new crop of "Jam Bands" continue their legacy. They have even had an influence on such artists as Metallica who, now allow thier shows to be recorded by fans. The Dead were able to reach out beyond their own genre and show the world what music can do.
I am neither an expert on Jerry Garcia, nor on Rock History. I am just a fan. Nothing more, nothing less who wanted to say:
"Thank you for the shows, the memories, and for showing me the country. You changed my life Jerry."
Friday, August 07, 2009
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
The basic truth is, the shoe has met the other foot, the pot is calling the kettle, but the kettle ain't picking up, and both sides have turned into everything they hated from 2001-2009. It would be funny if it wasn't MY country being killed in the process.
I cannot tell you how many times a day I read something from the left that I would have sworn came from the right just last year. Since Obama's election, the Democrats discovered blind loyalty to the Office of the President and the Republicans have learned the value of protest and why it is wrong to kick the minority. Too bad the Democrats so quickly forgot what it was like to be kicked.
If my prediction comes true, and Obama turns out to be another Carter, it will once again be the fault of a Democratic Congress more concerned with getting even than being right, because, like Carter, I believe Obama is smart and willing to do what needs to be done.
Friday, July 31, 2009
You still with me? I know, cliché, but here is the "Kanrei Touch." He is terrified of dating and has personified his fears into two body parts that have developed very distinct personalities as a result of his life so far: his right hand and his penis. His penis, suffering year upon year of the torment that is masturbation (to a penis, the friction alone must hurt) and has decided it wants to be abstinent and, as a result, refuses to perform, even for his hand.
Now his hand... after so many years of pleasuring a man and having no contact with women, has become gay. It is jealous of his plans to start dating as it considering it "seeing other people" and is constantly giving him grief for "cheating on himself."
As his hand puts it "what do I know about women? I have felt exactly 17 breasts compared to over 2000 hand jobs. Yes, they have all been on myself, but still..."
There is always the chance of personifying other objects to compound his mental anguish, such as his computer, which he used to use for sex he is now using to meet girls and it is offend. The idea needs work.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Some, including yourself, may say "so then play with the poor deprived little kitty. It obviously wants attention" and I would say you were right, except, for example, I have been throwing the damned purple fuzzy ball for over an hour now and the little shit is showing no signs of growing bored with it. I have been throwing it in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes; he doesn't even have to go that far to get it, and he still eagerly hops up, grabs it, places it at my feet and says "meow meow." Always two too. If I don't throw it good enough for him, he does take it away for about five minutes, but he quickly returns and so does the purple fuzzy ball.
My cat is also addicted to going outside as of late. He will sit and stare at the door, reach up and try to turn the knob, meow for a while and finally, smack my other cat, almost as if using her as a doorbell to open the door. He will smack her once and goto the door, wait five minutes, return to her, smack her again, and repeat.
Not sure why exactly I shared this, but such is my life and it is ruled by cats. Be careful what you wish for because I do remember years ago wishing to be controlled more by pus....
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Kevin Brittney"KB" Jones and Oswald "Oz" "Shwagz" Schwartz are pizza delivery drivers/ drug dealers. Actually, just KB is the pizza driver while Oz hangs around the pizza shop because the owner lets him sell pot through it in exchanged for a slice of the pie. KB and OZ are room mates and life long friends boarding on brothers.
Bob is a collection agent who uses very extreme methods to collect. His style earned him the attention of the Devil who now uses Bob to collect on souls owed. KB currently owes the Devil one soul.
Officer Nicolas Oliver P'Hune is a narcotics cop who, while friends with KB and OZ in High School and college, as decided they are his ticket to a detective shield and Perseus them constantly. His name has since been shorted to "Officer No Fun."
The Wingnut is a character we have already met, but, to catch you up, he was a chemistry student in college and an old friend of KB and Oz. One day, while working on a combination of Ecstasy and LSD he was going to call "Elestsy," he found the perfect rising high, but got too high to ever figure out how to come down and, as a result, is still peaking on his trip 6 years later.
This is basically going to be a very general outline of the story I plan on writing one day, broken down into an almost "outline" format, but with some dialog and story element. It is as informal as you can get and I will be adding to it as ideas pop up. I am trying to work in some nods to things that influence me so, if something sounds familiar, it very well may be. Let me know if I venture into plagiarism please. I want to pay homage, not steal.
1. THE BEGINNING
Story begins in KB and OZ's apartment. Oz is sitting on the couch, breaking up his latest shipment into eights, or as close as he cared to guess, while KB paces back and forth behind him, "fondling his gun the way a boy who just discovered masturbation fondles his dick." It is clear KB is worried to death about something, and it is clear that his worrying is slowly getting on Oz's nerves. A sudden knock on the door to the tune of "Shave and a Haircut" sends both KB and Oz diving behind the couch is total fear.
"I told you he was fucking coming," KB whispers as he tries to remember in his panic which end of the gun he holds and which he points at what he needs dead.
"Dude," Oz, still unconvinced anyone is coming says, "If this dude is as 'movie villain bad ass' as you say he is, do you think he would knock?"
"What?" KB responded as reality slapped him harshly across the face, but paranoia did not let go. "Then it was the cops man. IT ain't for me, it's for you! Shit man, and I'm holding a gun. Here, take it, they already hate you!"
"It isn't the cops either man," OZ said calmly, the way a mother talks to her child afraid of the "closet monster." "If it were the cops, they would probably just do three hard pounds almost knocking the door off the hinges. I highly doubt they would knock in a jovial fashion."
"Would you not call knocking in the universal friend code of 'Shave and a Haircut' a jovial fashion?"
"Well," KB stalled to try and find some way for him to save what little dignity he had left, but there wasn't any.
"Good, then I'm gonna get the door because it is probably a custie following his nose to the sweet sticky aroma of our coffee table."
Oz lets in the customer and tries to sell some pot, but the customer is distracted and slightly uncomfortable by KB's constant paranoid glances to the door and the gun, becomes convinced he is being set up, and runs out the door. As Oz yells at KB about allowing his paranoia to cost him money, the door almost fall off the hinges from three hard pounds and the fighting stops. One more knock and the house suddenly fills with 5 Narcotics officers.
"I told you the cops would just do three hard pounds," Oz said as the cops sat him and KB down on the couch before the coffee table filled with the sweet sticky digs. Oz could tell by the look on their faces that only half the evidence was going to make it to the station, but it was more than enough to seriously fuck him and KB while they were at it.
As the cops are getting ready to complete the arrest, the door flies open and a silhouette fills the frame as a quick flash sends one of the cops flying back wards, his stomach's contents on the floor for all to see. Two more flashes putting unwanted holes in police uniforms were quick to follow before anyone could even realize how fucked they all were. KB grabs his gun from the table and OZ grabs his bud from the table and both flip over behind the couch as another flash puts a large gaping hole where the two of them once sat.
"I told you he was 'movie villain bad ass'," KB said, momentarily relived his "pants pissing cowardice" was suddenly justified by Bob's carnage. "We should probably get moving. Come on you lazy bastard!"
"I'm coming dammit" Oz said as they both make a break for the back door as Bob continues he murderous rampage on the remaining cops. Being proud of his position in society as a sociopath, Bob couldn't live with himself if anyone, especially a cop, survived his rampage.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Belief in G-d is like the style of underwear worn: If it makes you feel better, great, but I don't need the details.
I am so deep sometimes, I should write for Fortune Cookies.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Did you even have a plan?
You should have stayed out of the spotlight
You should have listened to that old man
Now the GOP needs a replacement
They pinned all their hopes on you
A faulty vision, yes I know
But now the GOP stuck singing the blues
So goodbye Sarah Palin
What will the dogs of the media do now
You always gave a great punchline
You Political Circus Clown
Back to the obscurity of Wasilla
Back to plan your next day
You have finally found your future lies
In the Alaskan PTA
-OR to the tune of "Candle in the Wind"
And can't you see
You ran your race
Like a plastic bag in the wind
Blowing about randomly when the pain came in
I would have voted for you
But you are too stupid
Your relevancy running out long before
Your ego ever did
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
I cannot tell you how honored I was to see 6 comments. I can't believe you all still stopped by to check on me. It brings a tear to the eye...sincerely.
Nanc, I will not post this on DR, but here is a link to 73 of my published articles. They were done at Blogcritics, so I wasn't paid for them, but it was still flattering and an honor to see your name in print and I was even quoted in Slate more than once as a result. It was awesome! Here is the link: My writings. Hope you like it although I already know you won't agree with much, but only half my writing was political there. I also did reviews and human interest stories.
Have a great weekend to you all.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Saturday, May 09, 2009
I get frustrated by you sometimes, but that is only because it is important to me what you think, you don't believe that, but it is true. You are one of the few people on this planet who I never want to disappoint. Never doubt my love and respect for you because you gave me my best traits and the parts of me loved by others are the parts of me I got from you. Happy Mother's Day and I love you.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Happy Weekend to you all.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The cry of "no taxation without representation" was not about paying taxes and it was not over tea taxes. The cry was about being held to a governmental system that did not allow you a voice. The cry was about paying into a system that was against your freedom, not about not wanting to pay taxes. The tea was dumped because, just like today, drinking tea is pretty much an English thing and tea is a good symbol for the British Empire.
Hannity, you either have no understanding of history and therefore should keep your mouth shut, or you are purposely distorting history for political reasons and therefore should keep your mouth shut. Lesson over.
You can follow the heated debate this sparked by clicking HERE
Monday, April 06, 2009
Venting is nice. I doubt I will follow through with any of the above, but it feels damn good to say it.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
This weekend’s homework for you is to watch Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street starring Johnny Depp and tell me what you think of it. I watched it on my insane day and I just cannot decide if it was awesome or really bad and I was blinded by the style over substance. Be warned: it is a musical that is directed by Tim “Nightmare Before Christmas” Burton, so bizarre does not totally cover it, but it is a friendly kind of bizarre. More than once this movie made me think of Edward Scissorhands, which does not sound weird considering it also starred Depp and was directed by Burton, but the two of them have made some seven movies together and this is the first time I have thought of a previous collaboration between them to compare. That is either a good thing (a return to form) or a bad thing (running out of new ideas) and I go back and forth between the two. Tell me what you come up with.
Thank you and have a great weekend.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
After giving a brief update on my blog to alleviate my mother’s worry, I did not turn on my computer all day long; avoided news for the most part; and relaxed. Work did call once, so it was not a total day off, but that is par for the course and makes me feel needed although I really hated the call yesterday.
Today I feel so much better although my jaw is still killing me which I believe is the cause of the headaches. I am apparently clenching my jaw in my sleep and I have caught myself clenching during my waking hours many times. I have become slightly obsessed over touching my top canines to my lower, which I think extends my jaw in a way it is not meant to. I cannot figure out why or remember when it started, but I am relieved to have found the cause and now must make a conscious effort to STOP DOING THAT STUPID THING!
OK, back to work already in progress and hello to all those long lost friends! Scary Monster returns to blogging!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
It is not that my life is particularity bad right now or anything. In truth, things are going great. I was under tons of stress from June 08 until November 08, but had to keep a strong face because everyone I knew was under tons of stress then and if we all surrendered to the stress there would be nothing today. Once that stress left, my best friend underwent a nasty and bitter break up (are there any other kind really?) with his girlfriend of 10 years and I had to be strong for him from November 08 until just a few weeks ago when they decided to give it another try. I think the stress I refused to acknowledge since June has finally broken through and I decided I needed a weekday to myself of extreme intoxication and that day is today. I am well on my way to being inebriated and it is only 1pm. Everything will be better tomorrow. I am actually smiling right now.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Oz, sometimes known as "Schwagz" was really named Oswald Schwartz and was a twenty-seven year old pizza delivery driver for Happy Face Pizza.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
BTW, it is Friday and have a great weekend, even though this is our second Friday the 13th in as many months. Freaky, huh? I bet you all can guess what I am watching tonight? Tradition!
PS- if you hate the current template for the blog, don't worry- so do I. It will be changed soon.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
Thursday, March 05, 2009
I am working on the next edition of Stanley Schwartzenburg, Defense Attorney to the Horror Movie Slashers and hope to have it up by Saturday night, Sunday night at the latest. Tune in tomorrow for our usual "It's Friday!" See you then!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to kill someone using only an eggbeater, a spatula, and a misshapen large novelty paper clip? And not just one person, but sixteen people no less! Sixteen healthy teens, two dogs, and a pet gopher: all with an eggbeater, a spatula, and a misshapen large novelty paper clip? Does this really sound like the work of a 'psychopathic killer?' Could a 'psychopathic killer', a man so insane that he is compelled to kill; would such a man show such creativity I ask you? No, not a psychopath, but an artist, your Honor...an artist would.
“Yes your honor, this man, my client, the accused, is an artist. Sure, his medium is slightly unconventional and his presentation extreme, but he is an artist none the less and to find him guilty is to infringe on his first amendment rights to free expression, speech, and religion. Yes, religion! It may not be one you practice, or one I practice, or one anyone on Earth other than this man practices or has even heard of, but he practices it and you cannot infringe on that right either, or did we move this trial from America?
“The defense rests.”
Stanley took his seat next to his psychopathic misunderstood artist of the week. He had used this defense once before on an incredibly stupid jury in Jersey and it actually worked, but this Judge looked as if she were paying attention. That, and female judges are always harder on the serial killers with teenage victims for some reason.
Stanley glanced at his client and noticed for the first time a rather disturbing ear to ear grin the man kept on his face. He wasn't' sure if it was always there or if he was just happy with the defense, but either way he wished the guy would cut it out. It was one of the creepiest things Stanley had ever seen. It was creepy to the point of him not really needing the mask he wore to kill at all.
Stanley leaned in and whispered in his clients ear, “why did you wear that George Bush mask anyway?”
“ I was making a statement.”
“What was the statement?”
“It was open to interpretation.”
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Stanley Schwartzenburg doesn't charge his clients, but he does retain movie rights; that's where the money is. It also explains his real motives behind the "no serial killers" stance. Serial killers rarely wear unique masks and, without the mask, you can only really get one, maybe two movies out of a subject, but with a mask and a little marketing, a good killer can get four or five movies based on his work. The real honor in the business is to get Jason or Freddie sequel numbers, but you kind of have to die and come back from the dead for those deals and Stanley Schwartzenburg is scared of zombies. No serial killers and no zombies!
Monday, February 23, 2009
To read the full list of atrocities would almost be an atrocity on its own; a fact he took pride in. It was the culmination of the last few years' work and the looks on the juror's faces as the details of that life and that work were revealed made it all momentarily worth it. It isn't easy to do something like that and honestly shock people anymore. Hollywood has become so fierce competition to the honest to G-d monsters out there like him that they really have to do their homework and come up with something unique and original: something to scare the kids around a campfire over the summer. In the old days, a butcher's knife and Shatner mask was enough to make your average teen piss her pants and cling to her man for safety, but not anymore.
“...And that is the aspect no one really understood,” his lawyer lamented to the jury, “that his poor man was aiding in the sexual exploits of hundreds of hormonal teenagers everywhere. He wasn't killing for himself: no! He was killing to scare those girls right into the arms and therefore the beds of teenage boys...”
The lawyer was interrupted as his client whispered in his ear. Then he continued, “...or other teenage girls as the case maybe."
A lawyer for horror movie quality serial killers such as the above. What do you think?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
A Friday the 13th movie is basically just one set piece to the next and, if you like one, you will like them all. This one takes you back to the first three movies, when Jason was a retarded half-drowned hillbilly instead of the super-human zombie most people know and love. This Jason runs, feels pain, reacts, and shows emotion...yes, homicidal rage is an emotion.
There is an attempt by the new writers and director to add a new twist to the story involving brother searching for his lost sister who is being held by Jason because she looks like mommy, but that is really a minor point and thankfully does not come up very often until the ponderous and never-ending end. This movie should have ended 10 minutes sooner, but then we would have missed out on the :SPOILER WARNING: final jump scare that ends every Friday the 13th movie.
It has been a long time since I have seen a Friday the 13th that is worthy of the title, and as much as I hate remakes and reboots, this was one of the rare few that was great for both new fans and long time fans. We even get a "death by sleeping bag" which any fan can tell you is among the all time classic Jason kills.
Leave your brain at the door and go have a great time which is not only what Friday the 13th is really about, but is exactly what we need in this day and age.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Happy weekend and a “ch-ch-ch-ha-ha-ha” to you all!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Once again I planned on blogging this week and once again Friday comes 'round too soon, but I covered that already in the above paragraph and it is too soon in this post to start repeating myself. Actually, since I have not blogged since last Friday, I should have tons of original thoughts to put here and therefore there is even less of an excuse for me to be repeating myself so soon in the post....
Of course, it is Friday today, and that is much sooner that I anticipated, but, it being Friday, it means I owe a post, probably one overusing commas, and probably slaughtering any sense of proper grammar and spelling...OK ,just improper grammar since these damn annoying red underscores are going to force my spell check hand and that will get rid of the bad spelling.
Have you noticed how much I seem to love posts that break down the fourth wall of blogging and actually end up blogging on the process of writing a blog? The sheer amount of senseless train-of-thought ramblings I have placed here is certainly almost a waste of bandwidth. To think that Google is sponsoring all this nonsense.
Have a great weekend kiddies.
Friday, January 23, 2009
What if we already died and this is our lives flashing before our eyes in real time? Wouldn't that explain Deja Vu?
Dear members of all Faiths,
You have been fighting among each other for centuries, each claiming that G-d is on your side. It is pretty clear that G-d is either A)a myth or B) not on your side because, if He were and He was a powerful as you claim, you would have won by now.
Why is it that every culture may have different symbols for their letters, some even reading from right to left or up to down, but we all seem to agree that numbers go 1,2,3,4,5,etc,etc?
If we can agree on time zones then why not borders?
Have a great weekend.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I use candles in my house for a few reasons: I like the scent and it helps keep the lighting bill down. You can already see where this is going I bet. I had a candle burning on my coffee table and Satchel leapt up on the table for some affection, wagging her tail over the open flame. It took no time at all for me to smell the wonderful odor of enflamed hair and notice a rather large light coming from my cat’s ass. She, on the other hand, was still purring and seeking affection, unaware of the giant ember that her tail once was.
Needless to say I put out the flame and there was no damage to my really furry kitty, but I am now officially scared for her. What other stupid things does she do that I am not there to catch and save her from? She is still alive, so she has been lucky so far, but luck only lasts so long.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Have a great weekend. For those just joining us:
A US Air jet flying from New York to Charlotte crashed yesterday in the Hudson river. Nobody was hurt and the cause seems to have been two birds flew into the jets. The Bush administration, as it's final act, has decided to invade Pakistan in a pre-emptive strike due to some scattered intelligence saying that the birds may have been trained to perform this exact type of attack by Al Queda and possibly even the Mossad. More on this story as nothing more breaks, but will be repeated over and over again rather than the reporting of actual news.
Have a great weekend. For those just joining us:
A US Air jet flying from New York to Charlotte crashed yesterday in the Hudson river. Nobody was hurt and the cause seems to have been two birds flew into the jets. The Bush administration, as it's final act, has decided to invade Pakistan in a pre-emptive strike due to some scattered intelligence saying that the birds may have been trained to perform this exact type of attack by Al Queda and possibly even the Mossad. More on this story as nothing more breaks, but will be repeated over and over again rather than the reporting of actual news.
Have a great weekend. For those just joining us...