I hate misinformation. I hate presumptions based on loose "facts" that prove to be wrong. I don't mind an opinion here and there, or even an original idea or two, but geez people.. Get things straight.
Contrary to what many seem to believe:
1) Blacks in the United States of America account for approximately 12% of the population. Not 25% or 40% or even, as some have suggested, 60%. Just 12%.
2) Hispanics have recently surpassed blacks in number in the United States of America - approximately 13% now - as reported by the U.S. Census Bureau.
3) There are 5 great lakes - 6 if you count Lake Champlain - and they are: Superior, Huron, Michigan, Ontario, and Eerie.
4) The United States of America is almost identical in size of land mass to that of Canada (approximately 96% if you count water).
I wish I liked baseball more.
It's a relaxing form of entertainment. It doesn't call for intense eye-bleeding attention but if you blink, you could miss the biggest play of the game. There is a soft roll to the announcers voice and the quiet ping of the foul balls striking off the bat that make me want to go to sleep - in a good way. There is also long periods of dry boredom punctuated by quick flashes of speed and action - sort of like life itself. And sometimes, going back, way back, there is the anticipation, the anxiety, the hopefulness, and of course the let down when the center fielder pulls it in off the wall.
Two of the most enjoyable webwriters I have read were both baseball fanatics. They were both guys too. I'm not sure what that means. I'll get back to you on that one.
This is a little late (by a week and a half) but then again, Slasdot and the NYTimes doesn't always get it right either. While over at LittleBigMind
(Where Little Minds Get Bigger) I saw mention of a hack on Google's frontpage. I was pointed to Oblivio
for the full story and a screenshot.
Satchel just wants a lawn.
I was sitting today in my living room in my underwear watching the seagulls glide around on the morning breeze. It was overcast and grey but you could still see a good distance and the hill leading down to the ocean was a khaki brown. The grass hasn't quite figured out this whole spring thing yet. We're only 8 days in so I'll give it a little bit.. but I'm desperate for the daylight savings switch. Desperate for a little sunlight in the evening and 40s on the stoop and cigars on the porch roof. These are a few of my favourite things.
As I looked out through the crooked and knarled branches of the front lawn's tree I could see far off a little man walking across the field. He was coming from the west and heading out towards the point in a easterly direction. He wore a bright red overcoat and a tan cap and walked with a little slouch. I first saw him out of the corner of my eye as he came out from behind the congress monument and made his way along the paved walkway that cuts across the bluff. He walked at a pretty good clip with his head up and his hands stuffed in his pockets.
After he had made his way about 30 yards he stopped and turned around. He paused there and then, as a small black form on all fours came waddling out from behind the monument too, he continued on his way. I watched the little black form, seemingly the size of a full grown cat, as it waddled along. It didn't gallop but it didn't walk either. It sort of trotted in a gimply way - not as if wounded but rather as if this creature was just not made for the trot. I could picture it bounding ahead, front feet landing in the grass with hind up and in the air - hind feet landing and springing forth bringing the front end up like a motorcycle wheelie. I could picture it walking slowly, sniffing everything and looking around. I could not, however, picture it trotting. Even though it was happening in front of my very eyes.
The small black thing moved along, always keeping a 30 yard distance between it and the man. He stopped a few times to look around and the (lets call it a dog from now on) black dog would pick up it's pace just the slightest to show that, yes, he really was trying. Then the man would turn and continue on his way.
When the dog reached the bench in the center of the hill he stopped and sniffed and wandered off the path into the brown grass and stopped to do his duty. He was quick about it, turning once at the end to inspect his contribution, and then standing proudly with nose up, chest out, kicking dirt at his pile. By now the man was a good distance away and the small black dog sprung into a gallop to catch up.
As the two forms slowly disappeared over the other side of the hill the sun poked out from the top of the clouds and a golden light covered the tired brown field.
Then I scratched my ass and went to work.
IE6 crapped out on me today. No explaination. No note.
So I fired up Phoenix
, since it was on here and wow.. not so shabby. I tried it before just to see how it was doing on the speed issue but since IE worked I never spent much time with it and now.. wow.. would yah look at that cow. IE seems bloated and slow in comparison. Maybe I'm just crazy cause IE has always seemed to be a bit of a speed demon ... or maybe my computer is using IE to send every bit of information it possibly can to Microsoft now that I have the latest update - and that's slowing down things a tad.
Regardless, Phoenix is proving a decent alternative.
I cracked my wrist again. It hurts like a mofo and makes weird noises. I thought, again, it would be a good idea to be familiar with my bike. It would be a good idea to be able to *know* if I had the brawn to heft that beast up off the ground if she ever fell over. So I laid her down gently and, on the way back up the wrist cracked out an alarming cry and now I'm back to square one. Som'bitch. At least I was able to lift the bike back up.. that would be a little embarrassing having to call someone to come to my work and help me. 425 lbs. of italian goodness and she has to go and hurt me like that.
It hurts to pick up a coffee cup.
It hurts to spread my fingers out as if I were trying to palm a basketball - as if I could even palm a basketball.
It hurts to spin the mouse wheel a little bit so you can imagine what else is gonna suffer... the ladies will not be pleased.
But hey, at least I can trype... I mean type.
In England the say tyre, it seems. Tyre and Neighbour and Labour. I like that. In Canada I bucked the trend a bit because I hated how the said Zed
for the letter Z in that snotty up crust way.
Now take X and Y and multiple it by a co-efficient of friction Zed.
I write colour all the time now, though. And I say grey. I like it cause it freaks the word processors out. Even OpenOffice.
I like that OpenOffice.org's acronym is OOo. Cute. Wish I'd thought of it.
I wanted to talk to you today. I wanted to say something that would make sense and sort of spark a fire in your belly and a light in your heart and a little bulb would blink on in your mind and you'd say Thanks Mike, I never thought of that
or maybe That's a great suggestion, I will give it an honest try
. But alas I am bone dry. Bone dry and dead in the water and i got nothing for you, world.
Bush is bad. I don't think you can really make an arguement for the guy. Since when does decisiveness along get you any points? I can be decisive too.. just the other day I was at Wendy's, in line, and like, I totally got to the front of the line and the guy behind the counter said, like, what do I want to order? And I totally hadn't thought about what I wanted ... but you know what I did? I stepped up. I was decisive. I secured a moral victory over that sprawling 99 cent menu with all it's options trying to entice me to spend more than I really want or need - I order two things and two things only. I was decisive.
No one is throwing me a fucking party.
But at least Canada doesn't hate me.
Or the French.
They might actually hate me, but it's probably because I repeat jokes like How do you separate the men from the boy's in France? With a crowbar!
. I don't even really mean it but it's funny.
Humor works because it's true... or at least partly. There is a sliver of truth in every joke and if you don't believe me you're wrong.
Show me a joke that isn't offensive to someone and I probably won't laugh too hard.
Give me a one-liner that isn't at anyone's expense and I'll show you a sentence.
Russia and me get along though. We don't agree on a lot of the hard-line politics but there are some things we agree on. We agree on making liquor from potatoes and that alone is enough for us to let the rest of our differences go.
Do you know how Lebanon has managed to stay out of the news, despite it being a terrorist haven back in the heyday of Carter and Regan? Shish-taouk. The world, as a whole, can agree on Shish-taouk. That's some damn good shit.. I mean shish. We can let the rest slide.
I know the world is not at peace today. My country is at war for a week and already it is covering up mistakes and follies. This infant war, this newborn... it has shit it's pants and it stinks.
Still though, all is not lost.
Here in Maine, last night, as the sun was setting over the ridges of the Applachian mountains and the air, slow baked at 55 degrees all day, was begin to cool to a just right temperature, I rode my motorcycle. At first she didn't want to start. The engine cranked and cranked and cranked and the little fuel pump gurgled away in the depths of it's metalic home. The engine sizzled and coughed and all at once made a gruff remark about her long winter's nap -unwilling, it seemed, to get out of bed. But the sun was too bright and the air too fresh for her to refuse too long and like a horse that loves to run she fired up in due time. White steam floated off the exhaust and as the protective WD-40 burnt off and the two cylinders pumped youthfully.
I pulled out onto the I-95 and settled into a long ride home with a smile across my face and the air and earth and sky smiled happily back.
The bottom of my coffee cup is thick with syrupy sugar. The sidewall is caked with brown residue and the occasional splotch of darkness from instant hot cocoa. Near the bottom, about half an inch up, rings and rings of pure white circle around like a midnight photograph left with it's shutters open. The spoon leaves trails of pearl in the thick thick sludge. My coffee cup is Boston and my spoon is the traffic at night, the masses of metal and glass and reflector plastic leaving trails of red glows, as it races down I-93. Except it's white... so maybe they're all driving backwards.
Marvin the Martian decorates the outside of the mug with... a Mug shot.
it reads, Attempted Destruction of the Planet, Exceeding Speed Limit, Possession of Laser Gun
What?! Since when has it been illegal to possess a laser gun? Those liberal antigun zealots have even managed to infiltrate the merchandizing department of Warner Brothers'! .. Planting little seeds.. on my coffee cup... on my television.
If the only thing I am ever charged with in my life is possession of a laser gun.. well... that wouldn't be half bad. I'm already a thief and a lier and a not-very-good omelet artist.. possession of a laser gun wouldn't be half bad. L
mplification by the S
mission of R
Yo, I'm going to write to you, because I'm high.
I must communicate the thoughts I have been having. Really so I can let them go, even if they are stupid, so that I can enjoy the rest of the night. Wow. The word night was about as much working memory as I could muster there, buddy boy. Hot damn.
Go right ahead. Be my guest.
What the fuck is the matter with me?
Discussion for another time, my friend.. move along.
Okay, three things
I'm all ears.
1) self estem issue, the ideal vs. percieved self. How this relates to domain specific Self esteem, and social comparison being analogous to other comparison.
2) Color constancy and other visual program become unlinked when high. You can see things differently than you do otherwise, and this is related to my previous perception that you can feel like you're in diffferent places
Okay.. I sorta buy that one. But do you have a theme here? An underlying point to make?
3) idealized self doesn't exist, except in one's own mind. That this should be your driving force in life seems ironic, for it is the same drive that spoils all your fun.
Are you saying your not having any fun? Or perhaps you don't idealize yourself? Perhaps you just gotta smoke some more weed dude.
is a pretty rockin' time. Makes me want to run run run... even though I won't.
I'm finding a few things. One, there is tons of good writing out there. Good writing about Europe, about the war, about picking up chicks, and about being gay. There is good writing from Baghdaddy to the Virgin Islands. There is, however, only 24 hours in the day. 60 minutes to each, and then again only 60 seconds to each of them. 86,400 seconds sounds like a lot but it isn't really. Think.. only 60 of them per minute and a mere 1440 minutes a day. More people die of cancer in the United States every day then minutes elapse. I don't mean to harp on the cancer thing but it puts things in relative perspective. My uncle had cancer.. now that's relative perspective.
3600 seconds an hour. Hardly seems worth mentioning at all, it's such a tiny figure. The average American, they say, walks 18,000 steps in a day. That's 1 step every 5 seconds..
A ten-miler in the mud is no Gatorade commercial
In other news...
I paid about 1/2 of Lisa's student loan debt in taxes this year alone. Only problem is - here in the U.S... somewhere.. there probably _is_ a student getting free fucking money. MY free fucking money. I'm not entirely sure, but that student's name may be Alexander FUCKING schwartz.. and he may be spending MY FREE FUCKING
MONEY on $2 bottles of wine with which to woo the ladies. FREE FUCKING LADIES my friends... free ladies. Meanwhile his venezualan drug-smuggling oil baron parents roll in the dough that I am paying at the pump - and in the back alley. Where is the justice? His parents make money on my bad habits (burning fossil fuels) and my
needs (drugs) and he is drinking $2 bottles of wine for FREE on MY FREE FUCKING MONEY? Where is the justice?
Money for Nothing and Your Chicks for Free
Sam, is in fact, not on the trail. He thought he could convince us all with his rambling emails and talk of "the trail" and sore feet.. but he isn't fooling anyone. Okay, you're right. He had me fooled for a long time... until I ran into him. The stinking bastard was, in fact, at the anti-war protest outside the Oscars last night. He was ordering sushi on his cellphone and raising his board to the roof. Impeach Bush!
He yelled... And a few California Rolls too, please
. Yeah, he's looking a little clean cut - all shaved and his chops primped up just right.. but I know it's him. He ain't fooling this doggy. He thinks he can hind but it ain't gonna work... Not if he keeps wearing a mesh hat like this
Hey, go waste your time: Insaniquarium
I've refrained from talking about the war because it really just pisses me off a whole heck of a lot that the powers that be do these things - forcing the rest of us to take sides. I hate taking sides.
I used to take sides all the time. Drugs. Abortion. Death Penalty.. anything for a good arguement I say!
But lately.. in the last few years.. I've become soft. Why can't everybody just get along? I don't want to judge people for their weaknesses, I don't want to hold arrogance and ignorance against people. I do, but I don't really want to. Again, I'm forced into it.
What I have found, though, is that despite all the hippy-wannabe protests down on Main and despite all the warmonger... despite it all.. It seems like the American people sound decently thoughtful about this war. Everyone I have talked to about it has stepped back and pondered and come back with deep colored ideas. These things, they are not black and white.. and that's what we, perhaps, need to accept. Is Saddam bad? Sure. Should we bomb the fuck out of him? Perhaps. Is Bush bad? No. Is Bush a numbass? Perhaps. It's just not so simple.
There is a bigger picture. A historical picture that is very hard to see from the perspective we're at. It's a picture of history _not_ repeating itself, and I think that is what is confusing everyone. Sure, we're repeating the gulf war in some ways, but I'm talking about the larger picture. The huge picture. The Rome vs. The British Empire vs. The United States of America picture.
I stumbled upon this wonderful article: The Arrogant Empire
. It's close. It is relevant and good to think about. As with anything, it's just information. Some right, some wrong, and some a matter of judgement.. but if half of Americans read half as much more than they do already.. then half of this wouldn't be so half-baked. Maybe.
Cancer kills about 1,500 people a day in the United States alone. That's the equivalent of about one 9/11 tragedy every other day.
Every day, about 130 people in the United States dies of Colon Cancer alone - about the same number of U.S. battle casualties in the entire Desert Storm Operation (148).
In the time it took you to read this another person has died from colon cancer. In the time it took you to read this another 10 people have died from some form of cancer.
I am not British. There is nothing British here
. I may have the slightest Welsh or British ancestry... but I'm a Mainer. That is all.
I'm having a glass of water... right after a glass of cranberry juice and the water is a lovely shade of pink.. just the slightest hue. and it's lovely. lovely... because it was free... lovely because the tiny hint of pink did not come from half way around the globe. It came from right here.. from the light I breath and the air I see. and it's lovely.
It disturbs me slightly that the casual gap t-shirt I'm wearing with Klotz oil stains on it cost me $4.95 on the cheap rack - a full $4 *less* than a quart of Klotz oil. It seems unlikely that there is $4.95 worth of stain on my shirt since I didn't dive into a pool of the stuff or anything, but it disturbs me nonetheless that the oil was more than the shirt.
Other things that, when viewed from a different perspective, seem ridiculusly overpriced:
1. Poland Spring Water - case of 24 16.9oz. bottles - $6.99
That's $2.11 per gallon.
2. Gatorade - case of 24 20oz. bottles - $25.13
That's $6.70 per gallon.
side note: Gatorade was first invented by a team of researchers at the University of Florida to help the Florida Gators football team. In the extreme heat of the southern state the team would often find themselves tired, dehydrated, and low on electrolytes mid way through their games so Gatorade proved to be the perfect potion.
3. Red Bull Energy Drink - case of 24 250ml cans - $39
That's $29.54 per gallon.
side note: Red Bull Energy Drink was originally sold in bottles - little tiny 4-sided glass bottles. They still sell them that way through the European distributor. On them, they have a label on one side in english with 4 active ingredients listed: Taurine, Glucuronolactone, Caffeine, and another one I can't think of right now. On the opposite side they have a label in Thai with... that's right.. 8 active ingredients listed. I'm no expert... and I don't speak Thai... but it still makes me wonder a little bit. And to add to the mystery: ThinkGeek.com reports it as Red Bull - the Austrian Energy Drink... last time I checked, Austrians didn't speak Thai.
4. Vicks Nyquil Multi-Symptom Cold & Flu Relief - 10oz. - $5.99
That's $76.79 per gallon.
5. Vicks Vaporub - case of 6 1.76oz. - $15.95
That's $193.33 per gallon.
Makes $2.00 for a gallon of gas sound pretty damn good to me.
Consider this. Petrol can come from as far as half way around the world, hundreds of feet in the ground. It's pumped up by huge machinery and shipped across the globe in gi-normous tankers driven by highly paid professional drinkers. It's then unloaded on our shores into holding tanks and refined in humungous factories into various grades with various additives for various uses. After that it is loaded into more tankers - this time they have wheels - and it is shipped to the farthest reaches of the land - to Ashland, ME and Fargo, ND, and Kissimee, FL. It's pumped into more tanks - these are in the ground - costly to install, costly to maintain, and costly to remove when they are rusting and posing an environmental hazard. ALL of this ... all of it... and it doesn't cost us more than $2 a gallon... but I should pay $2.11 a gallon for WATER? $6.70 for SUGAR AND WATER?
Balls. BALLS I say.
So today was t-shirt and jeans day at work. Not because anyone said so or because anyone else is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.. only because I decided that I was too lazy to change out of the clothing I fell asleep in.. okay, that's a little lie.. I changed t-shirts. Then I put on a baseball cap to cover my greasy little haircut and ran out the door. It was warm and sunny and there was moistness in the air from last nights rain. The roads were wet even though the sun had been shining for hours already. I drove to work as if I were on a motorcycle - eyes darting about for patches of sand and debris. I'm not convinced it's safe enough yet to bring the beast from it's cave. I'm anxious, but I think I'll wait for a good heavy rain to clear the roads.
When I got to the office I immediately removed the fleece since it's actually quite hot. I ran for the coffee machine, tripping up at the table of donuts, and finished off with a bagel and cream cheese. Then, as I headed back to my desk, I noticed it - Oil. To be a little more specific, Klotz motorcycle oil - on my t-shirt. The remains of it, anyway. Fuckers.
In an attempt to improve my overall filth appeal I washed my hair in the bathroom sink. Luckily the "boys" bathroom here at work is outfitted with a large tub-sink and I was able to shed all my clothing and climb into the thing, naked, and wash myself like a monkey under a waterfall. The watermelon anti-bacterial soap served as wonderful shampoo and I freshened my nether parts with a splash of listerine.
Good thing someone left their toothbrush in there cause I was able to get all the jam out from between the toes.
This one speaks for itself: TROGDOR!!!
Hey Alex, how is it going?
I wish I had no identity, and that the government had spent 30 million dollars training me to be a super-human assassin.
Hmm.. That sounds like a lot of work
Would be better than being a super-asinine human.
You have a point there.
So, I have been mourning the fact lately that I will never be a professional assassin, and trying to drown my sorrows in drugs and alcohol.
How is that working out for you?
Though these things markedly improve my quality of life on a semi-regular basis, I feel that I especially do not have adecuate commitment to the drugs. It seems funny to me that I am contemplating culturing a lifestyle that jives with the stereotype of california, because it is so un-ironic.
It's sort of ironic... isn't it?
There is absolutely no irony connected with it. Funny, and interesting. No irony.
Just wanted to make that clear.
Clear as a whistle.
Anyway. The worst part of being an assassin is that the kind of drugs they do don't make them high, only give them headaches. So, instead of bemoaning the fact that I am NOT an assassin, I am making the best of the life that I have, given that the government has not trained me as an instrument of death. This is particularly un-funny, in light of Bush's speech of death today.
It's always good to try and make the best of things... speeches of death be damned.
What can you do? Besides hope and pray every minute that the government will choose me to be an deadly assassin.
Your hopes and dreams are in my prayers, old buddy.
What's the deal with girl's jeans
these days? What's with the way the waist pulls out in the back pulling away from the body like it's too tight, even when it's not? What's with the belt looking like it's above the jeans and the jeans are trying to fall out underneath it? Maybe it's just so we can see their underwear more? I guess that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world but jeezz.. can't someone build a pair of dungarees that fit?
I went to Rhode Island this weekend and rode they did. Bikes. Lots of them. Weekend of March 15th and there were sport bikes and cruisers and standards all over the place. Lucky bastards down there. I looked for salt on the roads and sand in the corners and black ice and pot holes... but I saw none. Just clean smooth roads and fences. Lucky bastards down there. I looked at the thermometer for the sub-freezing temperatures that would mean extra effort to get the tires warmed up but it was in the 50's. Lucky bastards down there. We drove around the back roads and visited the mansions on the water and saw the big houses up on the hills and the little ones by the sea trying to out do eachother - all empty and silent at 50 degrees in march. We passed a stop light with a girl on her honda, skull-cap sitting atop her mass of long straight hair and a wide grin on her face as the big twin rumbled beneath her. The light turned green.
Saturday evening we went out to eat. We drove for an hour - maybe two - in search of a fine establishment to serve our hunger. We passed an Applebee's and then a Chili's and an Olive Garden and another Olive Garden. We passed a 99 and an outback and a Longhorn's steak grill. We almost stepped into a Macoroni Grill but slipped on by instead, puttering past a McDonal'ds, a Wendy's, and about thirteen Dunkin' Donuts. Then there was the Ground Round and TGI Friday's and not a single original local restaurant was to be found. We finally found a pub and restaurant named Carey's or something irsh and we settled for it as it wasn't franchise and it was great food. There was live music. The tv's played NBA. The prices were fair and the service was great and the lighting nice and subdued. It's a good thing too, cause all those franchises had lounges and waiting areas stacked five deep with a 500 million hour wait.
i want a nice sweet girl to date for a long long time and then get engaged to for a long time and then marry and live with and love for a long long time.. and then, when we're 50 and sitting around with friends I want her to say something like "Yah... the first time we went out I was totally attracted to him cause he had a motorcycle"... and I'll think yah.. that's right.... it was worth it
pepper or salt
salt, all the way
salt makes the world go round
I'm a pepper
I think I like seeing the spots more than I enjoy the flavor
it's like *poof, I'm a chef with herbs*
Dogs Are Lucky
Dogs run and play and don't worry too much about the stress and anxiety of that TPS report they have to get in by Friday. Something as simple as leftovers can make any dog's day. Even bad leftovers.
It's a Hot Dog!
Dogs Are Lucky
Dogs don't care if they're ugly or not. They still get to do it. Plus, they're so good at life they manage to cram seven years worth of livin' into one!
Dogs in Cars
The Maine Quarter comes out soon. It's the 23rd to be released - appropriately so since Maine was the 23rd state. I have to say I'm not too impressed. It's a lighthouse and schooner and the art is sort of.. drab. Not like Connecticut's Charter Oak.. man that thing rocks. I'm a big fan of Ohio with it's Wright Flyer and a Spaceman. Sure, the Wright brothers were only born in Ohio - they flew at Kitty Hawk - so that's a stretch on the claim but a fucking Spaceman! How cool is that? And then North Carolina goes ahead and uses the Wright Flyer as their
claim to fame, too. Indiana with it's Indy Car is sort of neat and Vermont with it's Maple tree tapping is some good art. Then there are the just plain assy ones.. Like South Carolina, Arkansas, and Alabama - I mean Helen Keller? In a rocking chair? On a coin? Sheeesh.
Live Free Or Die
Ever notice you can't go to a sit down restuarant anymore and order a garden salad for less then around $5? And that is here in Maine. I can only imagine the exorbitant prices in a more urban area. It's obnoxious.
I've looked. I've done my research. In most of the joints now you're lucky if you can even find a normal green salad on the menu. It's usually squished, in tiny tiny print, inbetween the Ceasar Chicken salads and the Mexican Enchilada Super Extra Bean salads and the Philly Cheesesteak salads. There is almost no such thing as a normal salad anymore.
I am a big salad fan because sometimes you want to go out with friends cause they are going out to eat and you want to be social but you just ate or you aren't hungry so you go - thinking i'll just have a salad
- and the fucking salads are as expensive as a hamburger and fries with
Coke - so you thinkwell, if I'm paying that much.. might as well have a burger and fries
- and then america over eats and no one buys the salad and we all get FAT and OBESE - except anorexic bitches who only eat three forkfuls anyway.
And then.. before you know it you've spent almost $10 on food/tax/tip and you weren't even hungry
! It's the restuarants way of saying "Fuck you, give us all your money". This fortifies my theory that it is impossible to come out of a normal restuarant without spending less than $10 (approximately). Try .. I dare you. You will lose.
So why do you care, Mike? You make money.
Just cause I make money doesn't legitimize an exorbitant price for LETTUCE. Where's the demand? Where's the kink in the suppxly chain? Peter Rabbit can only do so much damage!
And people wonder why American's eat at the fast food joints... When every restuarant you find is raising it's prices there is McDonald's, Burger King, and Wendy's coming out with 99 cent menus. **99** cents. How can someone argue a $6 dollar salad over a 99 cent box of fries?
Wendy's, in fact, has it's own garden salad. They have a "mini" version at 99 cents and it's carefully rationed out: 2 cherry tomatos, two rings of onion, a few slices of cucumber, and a predefined amount of lettuce. Now, it isn't the largest salad in the world but at 99 cents.. Minus the perils of mass-produced produce in a fast food setting you can't really beat it with a stick.
12 percent of the population lives below the poverty line
International Poke Your Neighbour in the Eye and Do a Little Dance Month
I've been swearing a lot lately, I noticed. I feel a little bad about it, but not too badly - so fuck you too. Also, fuck tony for beating me to the punch. I had a great post about the new big bomb and all it's shiny orange goodness but he beat me to it. It's what I get for being a slacker.
So I heard it's National... or heck, even International Women's Month. It makes me wonder if there is an International Men's Month. Once, when I was little, I flipped through an entire wall calendar looking at every single event marked on it from New Year's Bank Holiday (Scotland) to full moons to Boxing Day (Canada) because I thought it was just outrageous there might be a Mother's Day and Father's Day with no Kid's Day. NO KID DAY? I screamed. What the Fuck? (I probably didn't say what the fuck, but since I'm on the kick..) Then, somewhere - maybe in late August, I'm not really sure - I found Kid's Day. No kidding.
Kids day is August 3rd! It has it's own website
! International Men's Month is June!
Who doesn't want to read about the inanity of sorority girl life in the mid-west? Who doesn't want to visit a blog with lots of co-ed pictures and fucking good writitng? Who doesn't want to get to know the girl... AND her little sister? Who doesn't want to find out that there *are* cool chicks in Oklahoma! Where the..
oi.. nevermind. Just go enjoy Madpony
. I don't visit much, but when I do it's always a good time.
You know what's irritating as fuck? People who think they are weird. Or different. Or insanely crrraaaaazzzy... (unless they really are crazy). If you find yourself saying things like "Yah, I'm just weird like that" in conversations with strangers - stop. If you respond to quizical looks with "I know I'm soooo different, aren't I?" - stop.
We know you're weird and different and ugly and we've already gotten over it. _Everyone_ is an oddball so you're not
original when you tell us about how odd you are. We don't care if you eat peanut butter and cheese sandwichs. Well, yeah, we care.. cause that's interesting.. feel free to have the "What sorts of odd sandwichs do you eat?" conversation with us but don't expect us to give you points for the vile concoctions you put in your mouth. People drink grain alcohol. People slurp drano smoothies in times of depression. Somewhere out there, right now, someone is eating a bull's testicles. PB/Cheese is *not* weird.
Guess what? I'm not going to be your friend just because you save bottle caps and sleep in a batcave. I'll be your friend because you make witty and interesting conversation. I'll be your friend because your dad has a bodyshop and my car is in need of repair. I'll be your friend cause your sister is H A A A T (that's hot, with an emphasis on hot). But I WON'T be your friend just cause you insist how weird you are. It's old and boring so get over it.
Footnote: Yes, I'd like to know your SAT score.. cause fuck, I'm curious.. but no I'm not going to ask you because I don't want you to think I'm getting into a pissing match - cause I'm not, I'm just curious. So if you want to know *my* fucking SAT score you better get real chummy with my parents or bring it up in a non-competitive way.. cause there ain't nothing more embarrassing than a mother fucker beaming with superiority asking you "so what did you score on the MCAT?" and then looking sad and confused while you modestly admit that it was astronomically higher than theirs. Your standardized test scores don't entitle you to a date with that hot guy serving drinks or that bimbo at the corner table, so get over it. Your high school GPA doesn't entitle you to a lower mortgage rate and..
YOUR I.Q. NEVER MEANT ANYTHING IN THE FIRST PLACE
More fun with site meter. Firstly, wow - people really do search for themselves on the internet. Or other people search for them. It's sort of a weird concept, if you ask me.. but all of a sudden I am getting referrals from people searching google for names on my BIG List. Are they the people themselves? Are they other people searching for secrets and dirt? Are they private dicks?? In the parlance of Wooderson - It would be a cooler if they were
. Private dicks are an odd sort.
Last week my friend - let's stay anonymous and call him.. oh... KC - had to go talk to a private dick. He has been attempting (albeit very casually attempting) to join that most sacred of unions.. uhh right - the U.S. Military. The Air Force to be exact. The Force of the Air (I'll refrain from potty humor). Somewhere, sometime ago, in high school, a "doctor" said he might have "ADD" and perhaps a "Sleeping Disorder". Perhaps. He wasn't even sure. These were in the doctor's notes. I mean heck, he might not even have been a doctor. Yet this was cause for enough alarm that he was poked and prodded and his medical records were sent off to the Surgeon General's office and he was "discharged". This despite the fact that he had never really been _in_ in the Air Force yet. Then, they called him back. They told him it was just a formality and that he was welcome to come back. Then they discharged him again. Like a cat playing with a little mouse. Bastards. Then... again
they called him back. "Ha ha, we were just joking.. come on back
". More testing. X-Rays. But now his recruiter refuses to return his calls and a Private Dick called him at his home.
Is this Kenneth Carlson?
Uhh.. sure. Who is this?
That's not important right now. Do you smoke pot?
I'm a Private Dick and I'd like to set up a date with you
Uhh.. are you asking me out?
Uhh.. maybe. No.. no.. I'm not. I mean, could we meet somewhere.. like the Brunswick Naval Air Station?
Um.. I guess so. Where?
At the officers club? Over drinks? Uh. Ahem. I mean meet me at building #1452 at 2:30 on Feb 27th
Righhhtttt... Yeah, I'll be there.
So despite all warning signs - despite the fact that his recruiter won't return his phone calls - despite the fact that a Private Dick wants a piece of him - despite the fact that he is being lured onto a Military base - he goes. The guy asks him some questions. Questions about pot. KC is not a pot smoker. KC does not, as they say, partake in the cheeba. EVERY OTHER PERSON I EVER KNEW who went in the military smoked pot. NO ONE ever EVER questioned them about it. Then he let's him go.
His recruiter is still not returning his calls.
Fun fact #2 about our beloved site meter... through it I found out that I am, yes, no kidding, on someone's readership list. That fun little side bar on people's blogs where they list the other blogs they've been reading recently in a sort of popularity contest. I'm not saying I'm completely above that so, yippee for me. I mean, tony put me on his jan. links, but that didn't seem like an outright "i read you everyday" comment. I'm just glad someone has fun here. You do have fun, don't you? I hope so.
Fun fact #3 - someone got to this page via google through a search for the phrase "can people implode?".
Fun fact #4 - When you post your URL link in various profiles and odd spots - well - odd people are bound to find your webpage. People you didn't expect to and people you didn't really plan on. This is interesting because there have been a lot of blogs lately that are sort of shutting down, or at least cutting back because of this very reason. There is the fear of work finding someone's personal site. The fear of friends or family members or enemies or your cat finding your site - and then you're screwed cause your cat will see that post about how you feed him the cheapo brand and he'll see that time you made fun of his hairballs and.. well. You can see where this is going. My own personal opinion? Fuck it. I got little to hide and even less to talk about anyway. I once got FIRED
from a job for pretty much calling the company stupid shmucks on my website. Bad move? Sure. Sorry I did it? Umm... a little. Do it again? Nah. Every turn out hunky dory? Yes. A resounding yes. I mean, the parents were none too pleased and I had to put up with their wrath for a few weeks but I was soon out in air painting a house in the wonderful august sun. It turned out fine and I'm happy it turned out the way it did so, like I said. Fuck it.
My old ex already tells everyone she thinks I'm gay. I already told my friend I fooled around with his ex. They already gave me my college degree - can't take that back anymore. And as far as the work goes? I work for a rockin' company and they're cool beans so I don't have to worry about it. Plus, I do good work. Good work can get you a lotta places. Like security and options and movement and freedom. Worth mentioning.
And one more thing, from aardvarkdj
- I know we are all a little sick of the snow and the cold and the darkness - but why not go cut yourself out one more fun little paper snowflake
, just cause..
If I got 37 cents per post from my large and loyal readership ( okay, I know.. it's never going to happen but bear with me ) then I would be looking at around $35.00 a month. And heck, if I was getting paid I'd probably post a lot more. $35.00!! I could, like, live on that and stuff. That's enoough for ramen every day and hot dogs on the weekends! That would buy you, like, 25 key copies... or enough Wendy's 99 cent salads to choke a horse. $35 would buy you not 5, not 10, but probably close to 15
wax toilet seals! And, since I'm not quite the elitist that tony is, I bet I could get a good running car after a year of saving... ohh.. look at that. $35 x 12 = $420. heheh.
These internet quiz things keep pumping out bad data for me. They just can't seem to get it right.
How evil are you?
Okay. So I ripped this off from rocketdog. But jezz.. perfect for a lazy Sunday afternoon:Parking Spots
From my trusty old OneSuite.com account I can see exactly how much I've called my old pal aschwa5
|Date & Time||Call From||Call To||Rate||Minutes||Total|
I can see the number of minutes and amount of money I've spent on him and when I've tried to contact him. I can see that in two weeks I've spent close to 75 cents on his ass. I was gonna comment on how happy I was that he was able to drag his sorry ass to a computer inbetween his gruelling schedule of fuckromps with his 34 year old grad student... but in retrospect, I'm probably paying too much for the service anyway. Two posts? Two posts for 75 cents? If I got paid 37 cents for every post. If people thought that was worth their while... and they all pooled together their assets, took out a mortgage, and auctioned their grammy's false teeth.. all the readers of this blog (yes, you two..) would barely have to spend 18 cents a piece per post. Hell, throw in a few more readers and before you know it you're talking 8, 5, even 2 cents a post. **2 cents**. You could give *YOUR* two cents for *my* two cents.
Plus.. were his two posts below *reeeallly* worth 75 cents? Come on John Q. Public. Raise your voice in protest - for my sake. It's not like I'm asking you to sign a U.N. email petition to stop the war in Iraq.
I was quite toasted last night.
A few things let me down. Life. Friends. Luck.
Luck let Matt down. His car is toast and it comes at not the bestest time.
I make no sense when I'm drunk:
It's a good thing that I'm not powerful. Late at night when I'm alone and honest with myself I realize how much I would slide from the presupposed norm of benevolence. Late at night I think I would in fact smite my enemies with a swish of the hand and not even a beat of the heart. I am evil and I know it and that, I think, makes it worse. I'm not one of those ladies who, unawares of her materials, walks among the people with a confused and vacant gaze thinking why doesn't everyone like me? I am the tiger - a hunter - the aggressive, but wait... I am the scavanger, the gatherer. I take what I can get as much as that may be what I can violently take it is the limit of myself and I am aware and ever lesser for it.
In this world we two types of people. There is the dumb and the dumber. When the dumb make mistakes the dumbers are there to make up for it, tell us it's okay, and we'll do better next time - of course.
Ben Stiller. Yes. I have seen all of those movies. I saw Zoolander the last time I was high. It was fucking amazingly funny. And amazingly well done. You still didn't leave me your number asshole. I wish I had an I-pod.
Jerk so that it Work. That should be the new single man motto from everywhere.
Man shoots computer
and is arrested on suspicion of menacing, reckless endangerment and prohibited use of weapons.
And they call this a free country?
First and foremost - props to the BOTM (blog of the moment). Metrosexual
, previously Diary of an Adulterer, is proving to be a good solid read every day. More props should be given to people who post solid and sizely amounts of material on a somewhat regular schedule so that we, the lackluster performers of the blog community, might have something to enjoy while not
posting but instead reading. She has been added to the list.
Secondly - just when I was about to post the obligatory bi-monthly My friends are fuckers
post and gripe on and on about the lack of communication, the lack of heart, the lack of effort... I come and find a post by one aschwa5 to lift my spirits. I also found another natalie letter in my inbox this morning (after days and days
of inbox starvation). You can see aschwa5's post below, so I won't paraphrase that (but I'm glad I was, in the end, rambling on to the correct voicemail). As far as Natalie goes, some choice tidbits:
I would never get rid of you Mike...I am still rereading the books you recommended in high school and now you make me laugh!!
Wow.. two exclamation points. I'm flattered.
p.s. have you learned to give people diarreah yet? fill me in.
Myself. Meditate on cleansing the problems of your great grandparents or parents and that cleanses your body too. I got an inflammed colon and thought that I had appendicitis...I have to yell at my accupuncturist.
Last night I talked with a girl. Friendly and without pretext I had a drink and we talked and the drink was done and we sat, alone, in the empty bar and talked some more and laughed and nodded with sidelong glances and agreed and motivated each other to be better at the things we know would make us happy if we did them. We walked through the empty streets and left off at a corner with a nod of the head and a smile and heads-down we braved the chill of the late winter breeze blowing dust and garbage down Congress St. mere feet from the spot where the Olympia Sports man got stabbed to death over a pair of $30 - nay, $29.95 - windpants. I drove home with windows down and fingers aching in the cold and the lights of the city blinking and shining in my windshield. Home to my apartment in an old building with a nice view and big huge windows and a porch and a finicky doorknob. Home where my heart, satiated from a fine evening with a good friend, is. I laid down in bed with the iPod next to me - Creedance tinkling softly out of the tiny earbuds - volume set so low the meter looked to be zero. The cord curled across my chest as it heaved up and sunk down with each long breath. My mind wandered at Susie Q
and back with Have You Ever Seen The Rain
. I lay there, as The Dude lays on his rug - which really ties the room together - listening to my soundtrack of life - the hum of my bowling ball as it rolls down the pine lane of life.
If life is a String it's been awhile since I've bowled a strike
I'm sort of embarassed to even mention that I read this article
at CNN about a giant Chee-to. Yes. A cheeto.
Dude. You leave the funniest messages in the fucking world. If I wasn't so ass-fuck tired right now, I would transcribe them right now. I was sitting in the toilet, with nothing to do but listen to your messages from last week, saved on my phone, and frankly, the chuckling was interfering with my business. Ross quotes are fantastic. I switched phones, your's was one of the lucky numbers that was deleted. So please send them, again. work & home.
You know what, there is no question in my mind that life is as slippery a concept as one can encounter. Conciousness, anyway. Awareness. These things are essentially meaningless, because they cannot be experienced apart from one's own brain, and one's own brain is constantly in a state of flux.
People don't put half the salt or sugar they should into food. FUCK. If I had a dollar for every dish that could have been saved with a pinch of salt, or a spoon of brown sugar. Damn.
Fun that sam is on the trail. Did you drink for Carnaval? St Patties is comin my way, hard.
Our old pal Kid Koala the Montreal DJ ( who was a previous tenant of the fine apartment at 3401 St. Dominic that housed, at one point, Lisa and Woz and a number of empty Colt 45s ( and every once in awhile a full Colt 45 or two, though they wouldn't remain so for long) ) is getting into comics
I once had an old game for the Apple IIe. There was a part where, as you made your way through the different problems, it would compliment you for each answer you got correctly.
it would say. Congratulations
it would exclaim.
One time, after a particularly difficult puzzle it said to me:
And I was super excited (at age 7 or something) that I had found a typo. Even super smart adults who are computer geniuses make mistakes!
I was very proud.
I showed my dad.
He informed me I was wrong.
So i had to rethink this whole no-drinking plan.
1) Sam and Devin are gonna be on the trail for a reeeaally
2) Not a single one of my friends or co-workers seem to think it's a good idea.
3) This month of March that I chose as a start is where one finds both Mardi Gras and St. Patties day!
Okay, three strikes and I'm out. I admit it - I have no will power. I am weak and not worthy to even look in the direction of the nearest AA meeting hall. The only friend who shall not judge me in this, my hour of despair, is my old pal - the pint of Guinness.
I'm still taking it easy. A beer here, a beer there. Saving the good times for St.P's and whatnot.. course, you know what they say (paraphrasing): a beer here, a beer there... soon it adds up to a lot of.. uh... beer
Should I switch to squawkbox.tv comments? They are free (for only a year, it would seem) and the server seems to be a lot faster than my little UK freebie... BUT.. I dunno.
Thoughts? 1 week. I will then switch if there is overwhelming support, though I suspect none.
I suppose I should point out that the NYTimes is reporting Laptops Win Over the Skeptics, Even in Maine
(note: no login/password required)
Sometimes there is noteworthy news that, well, I either don't have a strong opinion of, think that it speaks for itself, or I'm not quite decided on my stance of things yet. Nevertheless, it is still noteworthy.. Before, I'd forgo a posting since I had nothing to say.. From now on I'll just post it anyway if I think it might interest my reader
You should all go here
and print out the picture on nice heavy paper, and then go here
and print out the other picture.. and make yourselves a Ducati 851.
Cutting. Folding. Pasting. Ohh boy, Arts and Crafts is so much fun.
You know you want to.
They threw a rope up 'round his neck,
set the stage up for a wreck.
On the breeze came a horrid noise
the laughter of those country boys
And in that cloudless sky he saw
the black crows cackle and caw
They asked him should they tighten the noose
or would you rather us leave it loose?
For it's your choice today we give to you -
it was certainly your choice the day you flew
And now that you're caught and put to death
Are there any last words for your wife Beth?
No? Then so be it - here you will lay
Put to death on this fine day.