This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 License.                             the guys: philogynist jaime tony - the gals:raymi raspil


Michael considered fate at 17:25   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
How this for writing about tony on my blog?

The Secret Diary of

Michael considered fate at 16:01   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
fridayfive this week:

1. What do you most want to be remembered for?

That is an awfully hard question. Armstrong will undoubtably be remembered for his moonwalk. Chamberlain will be remembered for his numbers (mostly the ones off the court). Einstein for his relativity. But it's all lip service and face because who really knew them? There is very little difference, in some respects, to an amazing accomplishment and a giant object. World's largest ball of yarn - Sir Edmund Hilary.. all that different? Not really.

I think the people we really remember for people are those who made significant social changes and over entire lifetimes achieved not one giant goal, but rather permeated the very fabric of our lives through their grace on this earth.





These are the people we remember. The important thing here, perhaps, is to note the artistic significance of those I've listed. Course I'm only speaking for myself here..

All that being said I don't want to be remembered for being smart or even traditionally successful. I want to be remembered for my wit and creativity and art in the face of life.

2. What quotation best fits your outlook on life?

I never remember quotes in the first place.

3. What single achievement are you most proud of in the past year?

The desire, purchase, and follow through of motorcycling as a hobby.

4. What about the past ten years?

Graduating as Valedictorian, though not a particularly crowning achievment considering the level of academics at my school, still remains a subject of some pride.

But in general I remain a very unimpressed individual. What will make one person say "Wow!" most likely will only make me say "Eh". This is a universal response so I am oft unimpressed with myself as well as others.

5. If you were asked to give a child a single piece of advice to guide them through life, what would you say?

Get the joke.

But I also like Bunnie's advice to LIKE YOURSELF for yourself, and not based upon what other's think of you.

Michael considered fate at 11:45   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
And now for a quick geek rant, which I have undoubtably made even geekier by the mere use of the term geek rant and which I will undoubtably make even more so by the use of a faux script tag to demark said geek rant

[geek rant]

HOLY shit are those Knoppix guys cool. This time they've outdone themselves. Building with an openMosix kernel they have created a 'just add computers' cluster tool. Initially Knoppix was just a bootable CD Debian distribution which by itself is damn faacking cool. If you don't know what that means I will sum it up for you:

A Knoppix CD (which is free, by the way) can be placed in *any* x86 based computer, with or without operating system previously installed, and the computer will boot from said CD into a rich linux graphical environment - in fact will allow you to choose between which rich graphical environment you want to use - without disrupting the underlying OS. The key in coolness here, in my mind, is the hardware detection, which is seamless and automatic. Windows hasn't ever been able to get this right and they've been at it for close to 15 years.

Okay okay.. so what's so nifty about this new openMosix stuff?

Linux cluster.

To quickly sum up - you can have a pile of old computers and even if they don't have a floppy, a harddrive, or a cd drive, you can boot them from another computer over the network and then with this openMosix Knoppix, create the illusion of one single very powerful computer. All this has been done before, of course, but the amazing thing about this knoppix is that it is as simple as putting the CD in and booting your computers.

Amazing. Truly. Technology blows my mind every single day.

[/geek rant]


Michael considered fate at 12:58   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Pops got back from visiting the sister in Wisconsin and he had stories to tell of 6 foot crane birds and brat festivals. Not brat as in me the brat, brat as in bratwurst.

Every year Madison, WI holds BratFest - a gathering of thousands of people to stand in line to buy.. bratwurst. Essentially a big hotdog, right?

I was regaled with stories of a tanker-looking tractor trailer truck that flipped open like the flip-top head of oral-b commercials (the b standing for brush, by the way - the obvious answer at tuesday night's trivia - the one I mentioned but failed to record) only to reveal a giant grill inside - the largest in the world, in fact.

They keep records, too. Like the good Americans they are every year they try to sell more bratwurst than the year before. More is, after all, better - especially when you're talking bratwurst.

I mean, really.. just the word itself is a hell of a lotta fun.

bratwurst. bratwurst. bratwurst.

A heck of a lot better than dross, to be sure... even if you try to slip it into a long post about dirty sexual thoughts and think I might not notice.

Last year (and these numbers are out of my jumbled head.. which means I might be quoting my university student number instead) they sold 123,000 bratwurst. Last year it was a drizzly rainy Memorial day weekend in Madison, Wisconsin.

This year it was bright and sunny and a most beautiful weekend (we on the east coast made up for it with rain, more rain, ending with a little rain). They set a record with 148,000 bratwurst sold.


That's a lotta dog.

Pops thought it best not to try and transport a brat on the plane for my culinary enjoyment so alls I got was a grey "BRATFEST 2003" t-shirt.

All in all I can't complain.


Michael considered fate at 14:51   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
From Kristen Madpony, deep within her list of Ways To More Madpony Days, lies an interesting gem:

6. send someone you love flowers. or, better yet, buy yourself flowers. and if that makes you uncomfortable, send me flowers. i am completely comfortable with you sending me flowers.

This is interesting because I was in fact just discussing this topic with Kristen last night.

I'm doing a survey, see? Care to join in?

The Premise:
You are a female. There is a guy you barely know. You don't know his name but you perhaps have had a brief conversation with him. He frequents the same bar as you, or maybe he is in your particular line of study, or he works in the same office building as you. Bottom line - you recognize his face but you don't know him.

The Act:
The guy sends you flowers. Presumably he leaves a name and maybe number, but of course these tidbits of information mean little to you because you are probably unable to attach name with face and phone-number reverse lookup directories never work anyway. We will also say, for the sake of completeness, that he eventually runs into you and asks something along the lines of "Hey, did you get my flowers?"

The Question:
Are you creeped out by this act or are you already dressed for your first date?

This is currently a serious point of contention between a friend and I. He insists it is _not_ creepy. I, of course, suggest that it is. Well, now it's your chance to speak up. After three phone surveys, one heated discussion with a coworker, and one late night interview with Kristen... well, the data is inconclusive. We continue to hover around the 50% mark.

Time to weigh in. Rock the Vote!

It doesn't take much to make me happy. When you're realistically satisfied you realize that life ain't all nice farts and smelly roses.. so you learn to roll with the punches.

Rolls the only word that goes with bar, neck, call, and over. Go figure. How do yah think that makes roll feel?

Special? Or just all alone like?

If you set your sights really low - like down in the gutter where, if you found a candy bar all wrapped up in tin foil you'd be excited- you'd be amazed the sorta shit that will roll your way. Big fat bags 'o cash and job offers and women like you wouldn't know what to do with.

I'm not speaking entirely from experience here but I've witnessed the shit go down in the hood, so keep your ears open and your mouth shut.

If you set your sights on a nice lawn-ornament of a car and some keds on your feet and maybe a toaster oven for mom. Well.. you'll get all that, and more... and not once will you have to pause and think that maybe you could have been more. Your sights will be so low you won't know what you're missing up above.

I heard a theory tonight that to get the girl you want all you have to do is send her some flowers. Maybe there is something in that, but I'm still too shy to send 'em anyway.

I heard another theory about opportunity and resources and what makes this country tick. Or not tick as it were. I heard that motivation is the only real currency left in this wasteland we call America - because it's the only precious commodity left anymore.

Got gold in my teeth and money in the bank and oil.. gosh, oil out the ass. But what I don't have is motivation.

Do you think the Republicans are going to overthrow themselves??

I know all the non-activists like to complain that protesting doesn't do anything. I know they like to say that one man sitting in front of one gate does not a political majority make. But they aren't seeing the big picture.

They're crazy if they think the Vietnam conflict protests didn't change the country we live in forever and ever amen.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no activist. If I believed strongly enough and supported one side enough I'd be out there, maybe, if I could take a personal day. But I just don't care enough.


It's the only currency left in our culture and no one gets it.

You turn the TV on and what are we watching now, day in and day out? Is it fictional drama? No. It's reality Teevee. It's normal people who usually live out normal lives showing us that somewhere, deep down within them.. they have some motivation.

This is a thrilling concept to most Americans and we'll slop right down onto the couch to watch these amazing displays of motivation because, well gosh, it's just so darn foreign to us.

Find me one person who is motivated and I'll find you a self-made millionaire so don't come crying to me about your welfare bennies.

And I truly believe that and I'm an asshole for it, maybe, and I believe there is a place in this world for things like welfare and brown hot dogs but that doesn't mean it should be the goal.


Michael considered fate at 14:48   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
It takes a very particular sentence to work well with the word "dross" yet rarely do you find one.

Michael considered fate at 10:43   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
So despite being dead tired and having little to no motivation to do work lately I have nevertheless been in a wildly chipper mood. To the point where a number of people have commented on it.

It's strange that people think something is wrong when michael "appears in a good mood".. sounds like a bad sign to me. I don't know why people say that though because even though I may come off bit sarcastic and grumpy it's really just who I am and I'm usually in a good mood and always happy to hang out with people.

I'm not a cynic! I told someone the other day, I'm realistically satisfied.

I don't think they got it. Maybe that's just it - they don't get it.

Michael considered fate at 09:07   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Burned through this photoessay of tony's today and gee if I almost didn't cry. Learned that the bowling alley filmed in the Big Lebowski was torn down. I ain't never been there but it still brought a tear to my eye. It's shit like this that's killing America.

Found yet another franchise steak house out by the mall. The 99. Outback. Friday's. Tuesday's.. and now Long Horn's. Okay, so maybe they aren't all steak houses but they are all nasty painful franchise joints. It blows my mind how well the pack them into those places each and every night. It's shit like this that's killing America.

Talked unions with my public works friend last night. He insisted that they protected the little guy, say nothing about corruption. Wait, I said, you work for public works - Your employer is the little guy - every little guy. Yes, he told me, but we're not safe without it. Not safe to take your 15 days sick time a year, I say. Not safe to fuck off on the job and whine about being called in cause one of your co-workers called in... *gasp*... sick. It's shit like this that's killing America.

Got some bad gas in the bike and had to get it out so I went searching for some siphon tubing. Wanted to go to Mom or Pop's but couldn't find any. Where do you find a Mom+Pop siphon tubing store? Had to go to Wal-Mart to buy my $2.37 piece of rubber plastic. Would it have killed me to pay $5 at Mom's or $6.50 at Pa's? Heck no but Mom and Pop retired a long time ago and I even ran into them at Wal-Mart - the richest people in the world. (the Walton's, not Mom and Pop). Good thing Wal-Mart's got a grocery section now cause Mom and Pop, having served their community in the store 7am to 6pm every day for 40 years, well they were looking to burn through some foodstamps.

Good thing Wal-Mart takes foodstamps.


Michael considered fate at 13:02   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Never before has my current headline been more correct. Yesterday, a lazy Sunday I think, after a late breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and homefries at Big Mama's I came back to the house for an afternoon nap. I hadn't even really planned on the nap - more a slouch in front of the tv for an hour or two - but it turned into one quick enough. I was feeling the heaviness of sleep creep on me like a bad date so I gave in and stumbled up the stairs to my room. I left myself spread out on the bed at 4pm, clothes still on, and when I came back from whence I came it was much much later. I don't know exactly when it was but the darkness and the quiet whir of the box fan told me I should just settle in for the night. I managed to shed most of my clothing by morning, I think.. and I finally climbed out of bed at 11am - 19 hours later.

It's been a very long time since I've spent 19 hours in bed. In fact it is quite possible that it has never happened before. This is curious because just the other day my new roommate stumbled from his room after 22 hours of sleep. Perhaps there is a curse.. a spell. Perhaps this apartment is under the influence of something.. someone.

Or perhaps the lack of alcohol has made me into slow molasses. Maybe what I need is a good kick in the gut from a bottle of Jim or Jack. Maybe my life needs a new jump start.


Michael considered fate at 19:53   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
My street is so desolate at night. The wind sort of darts about all the time like it wants to play but there isn't even any trash or papers to toss about. When I walk home - back from whatever unfortunate evening - I see a pretty city. Even the suburbs look lush and wonderful in the moonlight. The drizzle makes things sparkle and the cool air is soft on my skin. The *chunk* *clunk* of the street lights changing red to green is music in the silence. I see the puddles shining in the lamp light and the streets broad and quiet. The constant whir of distant machinery reminds me of civilization but I might as well be in one of those movies where you find yourself the only human being on the earth. I can see the beauty this way - by myself without the ruinous people.

It sounds bitter but it's not. Everyone is always talking about how bitter and jaded and unhappy I am but really I walk around all day laughing at people. I look at the world and I see the simpsons walking by and Ray Romano cashing me out at the grocery store and Seinfeld selling me a newspaper. Life is reeeally really funny.

I'm laughing hysterically inside and everyone is missing the point.

I'm the cold one they say but I look around and everyone just seems depressed. Don't get me wrong, I get depressed too - but I usually even manage to enjoy that somehow. A bout of depression is like a good night's sleep. Everyone else, though, it just seems to wear them down. They take shit so seriously it blows my mind.

If I took things have as seriously as they do I'd probably be crazy too.. but sometimes I wonder how it's even possible - this many crazies in the world. We're a whole globe of them.

I know one or two fairly grounded people.

The rest are just crazy.

Are you crazy?


Hullo? Why aren't you saying anything?

Michael considered fate at 18:48   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
The University called for me today.

"Hullo, this is Nasim from McGill University" the message said.

I called her back, wondering the whole while what they could possibly want from me after two years.

"Hi Michael.. I am doing an audit here and I was just going over your application.."

Uhh.. okay honey, but I applied in **1996**.. You're a little late.

"And I see here that you marked down that you're American.. but you paid Canadian Tuition rates while you were here"

Yah.. well.. if you remember.. (perhaps you don't, it was **1997**) I brought in proof of Canadian citizenship mid way through my first semester.

"Can you possibly just send me a photocopy of your Canadian citizenship card?"

Yah, sure honey. I'll do that.

HA.. even if I wasn't Canadian.. do you suppose they thought they were going to collect on my ass?.. TWO years later?.. HA

Michael considered fate at 18:43   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I have a thing for Tom Jones' Sex Bomb.. but only when I close my eyes and imagine Shatner's singin' it

Sex Bomb Sex Bomb

You're my Sex Bomb

And Baby you can Turn me ON

Michael considered fate at 18:34   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment

1. What brand of toothpaste do you use?

I was giving the new PM toothpaste from Arm&Hammer a try because if there is anything I hate it's waking up in the morning with toothpaste mouth. I saw a PM commercial and for perhaps the first time in my life I succumbed to marketing pressure and bought it. It seems to work as advertised, however... My evil dentist (evil because I never seemed to have any teeth problems till he came along) is now pretty much a salesman for everything teeth oriented. Getting a 6-month cleaning is more like sitting through a time-share sales pitch.

"What kind of toothbrush do you have? ... Oh? Well we're suggesting you use the new electric toothbrushes... " (short pause) ".. Like the one's from Braun - look, I have one right here! Would you like to pay through the nose for it? I'd love you to because I get commision on it - even though I am a dentist and that sounds like conflict of interest, why not buy it anyway?"

Anyhow.. he has been pushing the prescription toothpaste on me the last few visits. I don't know if it's the Flouridex that Bunnie mentions but it sounds like the stuff. He said something about decay and wanting to combat the progression and ... long story short I've been given two prescriptions so far and I've managed to lose both so far. If I believed what he said then I guess my teeth are next.

The more questionable part of all of it is that the last time I was there the good doctor was not in the office. I suffered through the overly chipper hygienist and then when I mentioned I had lost my prescription she jumped right up and filled out a new one for me. Her and the receptionist chuckled:

"It's awful handy that he leaves a stack of pre-signed unfilled prescription papers in the closet!"

Uhh.. that sounds.. um.. legal.

2. What brand of toilet paper do you prefer?

Toilet paper?

3. What brand(s) of shoes do you wear?

Out of the office I wear almost exclusively Adidas Sambas cause they're are comfortable and don't fall apart like so many other shoes I've had.

4. What brand of soda do you drink?

I drink the MOX! (Moxie - the only softdrink that will mix half and half with any alcohol and still taste the same).

Of course I also do the dew and occasionally make a visit to the Dr.

But if you've been paying attention you're aware that I'm trying to stay away from the soda for the time being.

5. What brand of gum do you chew?

I don't, really. Seems whenever someone gives me a piece it's Trident... and my mom is a Trident fan.. but my old roommate swears by Orbitz.

Michael considered fate at 12:13   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Holy snarkys!

Thems are some tiny computer chips..

Looks like the EU is thinking about embedded RFID chips in their bills. money... networked money. weird.

WEIRD shit.


Michael considered fate at 16:44   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
cause i'z biz-ored at wizork cause they tizook away my aimz

by way of those girls from mass:

From Quizilla

You a Sulley: the best scarer there is. You have a good heart even when it comes to things that you've heard otherwise about.


Michael considered fate at 20:52   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
and you wouldn't expect some goofball who has an open wireless connection to know you're sucking his bandwidth to smithereens.

Yah, I know.. that's the best part!

Cause really, what's pr0n at 500k or 2.5MB/sec?  it all loads faster than i can unload.

Michael considered fate at 18:59   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Tried to eat decadently but I mostly failed.

Gourmet pizza buffet? Not decadent, I suppose, but really - how can you say no?

Pesto pizza
Sausage and Spinach pizza
Five Cheese pizza
Apple Crisp pizza

I did my best.

I am looking forward to the 31st, when I so unceromoniously get completely trashed, like you would not believe. Even you!

More tonight from under the covers - cause I got me some free wireless broadband, oh yah.

Michael considered fate at 10:17   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
From the bunnster:

The Personality Disorder Test Results -

Disorder Rating Information

From the descriptions:

Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by self-centeredness... They tend to make good first impressions, yet have difficulty maintaining long-lasting relationships. They are generally uninterested in the feelings of others and may take advantage of them.

I find this to be interesting, for sure. From my perspective I feel like I make weak first impressions (come across as an arrogant bastard) and over time people understand me a little more and realize that I'm more just a sarcastic bastard.. This seems to suggest the opposite.

Also, I feel like I'm interested in other's feelings.

Then again, I could just be blind to my own faults.

Michael considered fate at 10:01   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Went to siphon gas last night and oops, got some in a california emissions canister. Don't ask - I don't know what that means either. All i know was that it was a little canister about the size of a PBR pounder and when gas got inside of it - it started to get very warm. When I went to move it by hand it almost burnt me. Oops.

Screw it. Went and picked up a siphone tube cause gas in the mouth is more fun anway. Got it flowing and drained most of the tank cause it was makin the bike run ragged and backfire like hell.

As much as it's fun to ride around the neighbourhood scaring the bejeesus out of the little old ladies with every BANG of a backfire..

bad gas sucks.

It was not all for naught, however, because I dumped it into the car - I told you I'm a thrifty dude. The cars a little more lenient when it comes to bad gas so why not.. it was only 2 gallons.

such bad gas that I was worried the needle jets were fouled. I was worried the fuel filter was clogged. I was worried.

Did I mention I get worried an awful lot? Too much sometimes. Too much because I really don't have anything to worry about. Life is alright.

Tried to explain siphoning to a high school girl last night and it was a difficult task - that makes me worry. Makes me worry about where we're going in this society. I broke out everything I had - comparisons to a can of coke and a straw - natural springs - artesian wells.. Not much made it through and back even if she did understand any of it.

That's the thing with teaching - it's more a network than a radio broadcast. You want ACKnowledgment packets and you want Negative ACKs so you know what made it. You need a bit of a sound board. Otherwise it's like talking into a black hole.

Learned more about the dry clutch - racing clutch. Open. Not immersed in a liquid bath like a wet clutch.. Rougher, perhaps.. not as smooth.. but no inertia or energy lost in the movement of the liquid... so less power loss from engine to wheel. From what I gather.

Today I will eat decadently.


Michael considered fate at 09:50   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment


Michael considered fate at 17:16   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
I've been waiting to post this on the off chance that some fine related topic of conversation pops up in my head but all I get lately upstairs is a bunch of static.

So to be short: Last week I went home from work after burning the Mac OS X Developer tools to a CD in order to load the package onto my cutsy-whootsy little iBook (you'd think i were a girl, huh?). I proceeded to do just that, flipping the screen up and pushing the start button. I had the CD in the drive before it fully booted so I wasn't surprised when, as the desktop came up, the Software Updater popped up. It said it found some updates. Oh cool.. go right ahead, I said.

Then it dawned on me... albeit slowly.. that I was updating software that should not be and is not in the developer package. This caused some head scratching and then I figured it out:

My laptop, being the cutsy-whootsy little thing that it is, made it's way out into the world via it's airport card and cuddled up to a wireless access point in the area. Apparently a neighbours access point. It must have used it's feminine wiles to woe the wap into submission because without even a burp I was surfing and chatting and just grinning from ear to ear (as I am want to do).

And they said computers were difficult unruly beasts! I've been lied to!

So thus endeth the rein of paid-for broadband internet... at least for the time being. Between work and home I have more bandwidth then I rightfully know what to do with. It's a good thing, too, cause that whole "real life" thing was becoming a serious pain in the ass.

Michael considered fate at 11:51   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Sometimes I worry too much. My answering machine once said "If you're calling for Matthew Higgins He DOESN'T FUCKING LIVE HERE ANYMORE" but I quickly changed it because maybe the president will call someday.

Shu' up. It could happen.

I put on "Hey, I guess I'm not around so leave a message" and it's stayed there for a long time but I still get 1-800 reference calls for the dude above. I figure this way - not leaving my name or number - I'm leaving things open for mistakes. Like someone dialing the wrong number and leaving me a lengthy message about how I'm just not doing it for her anymore and last night's sex marathon only happened cause she was high and couldn't say no and that she was moving to her mother's place because she needed to get the hell out of this god foresaken city. Uhh.. yah, whatever.

Mistakes are fun. Funny even.

But worrying is just a pain in my ass. I worried last night about my problems with money - my obsession if you will. I worried that I was missing out on parts of life that somehow were hidden to me. I worried that working 50 hour weeks just because might not work out the way I want it to.

Why is it that I work for, crave, save money only to see the bottom line grow - but never spend it? What's the point of a chocolate cream pie if no one eats it? Maybe I'm the mistake, who knows.

"So I'm going to go spend today" I tell myself.. but even now, I can tell without even thinking about it, I won't be able to come up with anything I really want. Even though there are CDs to buy of my favourite bands and there are movies to buy of my favourite actresses and there is food to buy from my favourite chefs. I won't buy any of it because I know, deep down inside, it ain't gonna solve nothing baby.

Material wealth is a like a doppelganger - providing sympathetic company yet casting no reflection in a mirror. It's like an outfit - you are still yourself under your clothes.

Ach! The horror. I am naked... hmm, I should get that mole removed.

So what should I buy? Pray tell. I noticed you're scared of the truth as I've received not even a single question. Perhaps that is why Tony is so popular? He never tells the truth. The truth is boring.. or hurtful.. or just plain a pain in the ass. Is that it?

Run along. tony is waiting. but tell me what to buy first.


Michael considered fate at 19:04   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Was thinking about copyright law today and if a sample is a legal slice up to a point then does that work for quotes and at what point does a quote cross the line? Even if you give credit where credit is due?

If I quoted an entire paragraph here from a book, in italics, with proper credit.. would it be illegal?

If I quoted an entire page here from a book, in italics, with proper credit.. would it be illegal?

If I quoted an entire chapter here from a book, in italics, with proper credit.. would it be illegal?

If I quoted an entire book here, that I wrote, would the publisher sue me?

Somewhere I read about copyrights and about laws and about how what keeps this world running is a little slack here and there. Exceptions. Like when the waitress fills your coffee half way through breakfast but doesn't charge you for an extra cup. Like how, when you are going maybe a little too fast because you're trying to get to the hospital to get a doctor to look at your bleeding head wound, the cop doesn't issue a ticket.. See nothing in this life is really black and white (even though I read the newspaper) and that's just it - these asshole acronyms - the RIAA, the DMCA, the DOJ - well christ, they're royally fucking this shit up.

I can't remember where I was reading about this so I can't properly give credit where credit is due. I can't even link to it. But somehow I don't think the dude will mind. That was the point of his article. I think.

If I came home from a long hike in the woods and turned my laptop on to write to you people and if my computer just happened to sniff out a wireless access point somewhere in the neighbourhood, would that be illegal? Should I feel guilty that I am now getting free broadband internet from someone? Should I be concerned that some unsuspecting sap out there might wake up in the middle of the night to see their access point blinky-blinking away happily despite the fact that their computer is off?

I'm not. So maybe that makes me wrong. Illegal even. But maybe that neighbour just doesn't care. Maybe they don't know or don't care and it's not hurting anyone at all so bend the rules and step around them and to no harm will we all prosper in this fine land.

Step out of your house today, walk around, jaywalk.. Bend the rules just a little bit and smile about it because rules were made to be broken.


Michael considered fate at 12:20   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Making Change

I've been off the link kick of late, but this is cool.. Some guy did some math and figured out that with the current set of coins in the states (1,5,10,and 25 cents):on average, a change-maker must return 4.70 coins with every transaction. and that we could reduce that to 3.89 coins per transaction if we went to a system with 1, 5, 18, and 25. The Canadians could do good with an 83 cent coin, too.

How nifty is that?

They say the 1 cent coin will be dead soon enough, and the dollar bill.. hell, money in general but I still think it will take a lot of time. Alongside the death of the penny will be the death of fiscal privacy and easy tax evasion.

Resist the urge to charge, I say - spend more cash.

I also read a recent article talking about how horrible the proliferation of "gift cards" are. You know those pre-paid Visa cards or Gap cards? Easy for the retailer but bad for the consumer - when you charge $24.14 to your card and have 76 cents left on it you never end up using it up and estimations put as much as TWO BILLION dollars tied up in gift cards in total a year. That's a lot of cash the consumer is letting go. Even if it's only 76 cents to you, don't let the corporates fuck the collective us like that.

Spend cash.

I'm this | | close to keeping my savings under my bed in a cardboard shoe box.

Michael considered fate at 11:07   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
I come here every day expecting to see something I haven't before .. but I don't.

I go to a bar and look up and down the rows of picnic tables and wonder how they got through the door but they're still the same picnic tables.

I tip-tap-tip-tap on the window to get the dirty chefs to look up from their work at the resto*bar and I raise my middle finger, bending over, and gesture towards my rear end. They smile and chuckle and once threw food and I keep walking, ankles rolling, down the cobblestone.

I look into each open door and past the filth in the corners and still it's the same people and the same town and I wonder if I ever might catch that midnight rendevous between two strangers - film canister exchanged by a slight of the hand.

It could happen. So I keep watching the familiar strangers going about their daily business. If you watch closely, which I am not famous for but will sometimes put my mind to, you can see their lives moving slowly through time. You need to keep adding up each encounter like a compost pile - rotate it and let it fester and soon you'll see the slow turn of their lives. If you're careful you can see the fat drip as it rolls over. A chicken in the roaster of life.

A Turkey.

they're all turkeys so it's a good thing we've figured out how to deep fat fry a turkey, s'alls I'm saying.

It's mid May and the BoSox are powering through the front 9 of the season with power hitting like we've never known yet still behind the dreaded yanks. Give them time, I say.. they'll be 5 back and no chance in hell by late August because the more things change the more they stay the same and no one in Boston likes anything more than a good reason to drink.

And I need a good reason to drink too because it's getting late. It's been over a month now and I have 14 days left on my card before time runs out and then there ain't no going back. I'm thinking heroin and crack cocaine too, because if you're going to go out you might as well do it up right.. huh? No? Okay. Just the drink then.. cause you're right.

Neil always told us it was better to burn out than to fade away but it's fucking fooling himself if he doesn't think a burn out is a fade out. It's better just to live your life and not get worked up about the bullshit.

Does anyone know where we'd be if we all just chilled the fuck out? No, absolutely not because it's about the most difficult thing for us to do. Programmed to fight we are and climb on each other - we're worse than a barrel of snakes. SNAKES!

Those monkeys that just fuck all the time with those stupid grins on their face.. they got things figured out. Bananas and blow. What more do you really need?

But we can't sit still.. we need to act out the play that our forefathers already wrote and performed before we were even born cause things just stay the same.

If your dad wore the fake beard and played Jesus in Act 3 then by god you better go get yourself a fake beard or you're going to be caught looking to fool.

If you think this great state ain't a'falling just like the good Romans and English and every other empire then you're high as a kite and you probably think Martha Washington was an alien. You've seen a normal distribution plotted on graph paper. You know what a sin curve looks like. Get over it.

If you think old Georgie ain't as crazy as Nero and Clinton wasn't as depraved as Caligula.. well then you're missing the picture because the more it changes the more it stays the same.

Microsoft is the new Standard Oil and the Internet is steamboat travel. Space exploration is Magellan in his ship and if you don't think it's about money money money then you're as nuts as they come.

Purple is the new Pink is the new Orange is the new Blue is the new Green is the new Purple.

You're the crazy and depraved and so am I and thank god for self-restraint or I'da buggered you in the cornhole already. Get over it already.

Pass the peanuts.

Michael considered fate at 10:16   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
the friday five

1. What drinking water do you prefer -- tap, bottle, purifier, etc.?
tap.. i hate water snobs

2. What are your favourite flavor of chips?
sour cream & onion

3. Of all the things you can cook, what dish do you like the most?
stir fry? hard to say

4. How do you have your eggs?
over easy to over medium, light on the salt, yolks unbroken and left after all the whites have been eaten around them - placed on a piece of toast, or a fork if you can balance, and down the shoot in one bite.

5. Who was the last person who cooked you a meal? How did it turn out?
my pal karl, the chef, cooked me stuffed haddock with rice and it was most delicious. probably because used twenty pounds of butter


Michael considered fate at 17:11   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
'net was down all day, mostly, so I had to stare blankly at my code and pretend to work. I paced back and forth a lot and made sure to visit all the people at work who I knew would keep me with their little stories and questions about my hike. Finally, by three, I was so antsy I just got the hell out of the office and went for a drive.

Learned today that pregnancy is a legal form of disability. Whoot? I won't even touch that one with a ten foot pole.

All else failed so I returned to my desk to get some work done.. only to find the 'net back up and working fine.


close call.

Michael considered fate at 10:35   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
I come in late and still no one has updated and I wonder because yesterday night was Wednesday.

Who goes out on a Wednesday?

I mean, I do sometimes.. but only because I'm as strong as an ox. I've calculated the amount of pain the average human can take while experiencing a hangover and it's about 1 to 1.5 days of work. That makes Thursday night the perfect go out night, but not Wednesday.

But like I said, I'm strong as an ox and I can take that kind of shit.

Not that I drank last night. Because I'm a non-drinking prostar... Yet even I have my limits and my limits are being stretched. I'm looking at two weeks of sweat and tears and then it's all I can drink, baby.

Someone told me I look thinner the other day. Whoa - back up. Just wait till I'm off this wagon train honey.

I'll ballon like a ballon.

shut it. it's early


Michael considered fate at 18:29   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
I'm sorry. I write an awful lot of bullshit and I don't even check my grammer or spelling. It's all a lot of bunk.. like that white stuff you squeeze out of a zit that's been festering just a little too long. You're not sure what it's for but man, it's there, so it must have a purpose.

Sometimes I do sit down and I have a lot on my mind and so I just write. Stream of thought sorta stuff. The only problem with it is it usually involves seething anger directed at a particular product, group of people, or area. And once I am seething mad it just keeps coming, jumping all over the place to different topics. I'm no good at staying on topic.

Case in point: Great practical joke - you know you can buy crickets to feed to ..uhh.. pet snakes or bugs or something? Right.. go order up a batch and dump them allll over your parents bedroom. I had one persnickety sucker get in my house last summer .. *just one*.. and it kept me up two nights in a row even though it was on the other side of the house and one floor down.

Think what 500 of them would do.

I think it's a good test of friendship. Do you really want to hang out with someone who didn't see the humour in having that joke played on them?

I like telling people the liquid on the top of your yogurt is bacteria feces. I like the fact that it never phases people as much as you'd think but if come out of the bathroom with wet hands and wipe it on your face and say "peed on my hands, peed on my hands!" in the most childish voice you can muster.. well gosh.

people get mad.

But I gotta say, Tony, I live on the ocean and I look at it everyday. I see the little bouys bobbing on the waves and the ferry chugging out across the water and it makes me happy. Everyday.

except when it rains. you're right about that tony. the only rain i can stand is the rain mid-way through the first week of summer vacation when you can run around in a wet tshirt and go inside and get dry and not care. but since i don't get those anymore.. those summer vacations.. well.

Someone wrote me today and said I read your blog mike, and I feel like a stalker. Worse than driving by my house eight times a day she said... but I don't know, I've never had someone so enamoured that they had to drive by my house 8 times a day.

I would say at this point I'd take the drama. A story is better than none and I thrive in social situations through the telling of bad anecdotal stories because I don't actually have anything interesting to say. If someone stalked me.. well.. I'd have something to say, now wouldn't I?

But all of this comes at an interesting time when our bunnie is feeling antsy and questioning how long she can maintain her anonymous status. I feel for her cause she is working on an experiment, a piece of art as it were, that relies very heavily on that anonymity (which I'm sure I just mispelled). Also, though, I don't feel like I need the anonymity. It would make me someone I'm not, make me say things I don't mean.. more so. Like the incredible hulk my brain would triple in size, popping my eyeballs out of their sockets and cracking my skull open and we'd just have a nasty mess, now wouldn't we?

And in all honesty, as much as I sometimes cringe to think of certain people stumbling upon my site.. as much as I think twice about posting certain things because I know certain people do read the site, 95% of this...what you. That's what you get. I like the wide open truth here, and I don't have a lot of regrets.

I'm an ass.. I have things to apologize for.. I'm a tool sometimes - one of those blunt metal working ones that you hammer with - and I can admit it but that's part of who I am.

what you see is what you get.

they have an acronym for that in computer interface design


people actually pronounce it out to make themselves seem cool.

they pronounce GUI gooey

they pronounce SCSI scuzzy

Makes me wonder what pipe they're smokin from cause I must be on some different shit.

Did I mention I smoke occasionally? Oohhhh. That makes me.. uh.. I dunno, Canadian? Ha. What a bad bad boy. You wait though.. I laugh now.. but in a few short years - 2 maybe - they'll be knocking my door down and arresting me for what I say here today. They'll probably be wearing black uniforms too.

For now though I can say it's all fun and games. I will leave the tears for the cell.

So if anyone wants dirt on the Great Batcheldini, read it here first. All the shit that's not fit for any other medium.. this is where you get it.

I think.. for sake of science, sociological science maybe (a dirty pleasure of mine, i must admit), I will open this place up for questions of truth. I don't mean to make a big thing of it.. but.. if anyone out there finds themselves with a burning question - I will answer it with 100% complete truthfulness (to the best of my ability, which means, if you read the small print, 40~50% truth once federal, state, and local truth has been accessed).

I really like the idea of that.

Michael considered fate at 15:20   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
self liberating unapologetic truth

.. was gonna dance with a girl last night. bouncin to some horns and lookin sly that way and cunning in that 'i am bunnie and i'm my own so get it while you can' way but then i realised it was a sneaky game. she wasn't her own and it made me sad.

more people should be their own.

someone started talking sociology to me the other day about marriages and the fall of the american family. started saying how popular divorce is, how it's growing and accepted.

.. and i said it's changing the face of this planet we walk .. we should be careful - this isn't your mother's planet anymore. it's new and different and we're taking that awfully big gun out of the unlocked cabinet and shooting our very young little selves in the foot. if you ask me. which you didn't so go away.

one hundred years ago there was a good chance you'd be popping babies out by 20 and dad would be paying 20 sheep to the hubby to even take your sorry ass. divorce was unheard of and people, being the resilient creatures that we are, could live in the most vile of situations. people would live in horrible marriages - beaten, abused, belittled, or just (*gasp*) unhappy. and it was just the way it is(tm) and people accepted it.

now we know we don't have to - fuck, we don't even need to work. we can live off everyone else and if the shit stinks get a new one. recycle-reuse-reduce my ass.


now we divorce, and we do it before the smoke has even settled from the church lot peel out. we break family's apart like watermelons 'neath a hammer - decent structural integrity on the outside but just guts and water on the inside and you know that ain't gonna last without the rind to adhere. wrong? no, different.

sad? yes. shit happens and pigs fly. or at least they will eventually that's progress and we're all blind as bats to think the world won't change and we'll all be old and staring in wonderment at our kids changing the perfect world we thought we built.

no sex before marriage!

order girls gone wild please.

unwed mothers are a sin!

have sex have sex have sex.

it's no wonder our sons and daughters are a fucked up lot. we're desperate to follow and learn but it's shit they teach us because it's hypocrisy at it's very finest. fault? no one's but our own, collectively, and if you wanna blame the kids go ahead but your wrong. every last one of you.

it's trying to mix the water of the old and the oil of the new and if you've got a mean pipe for an arm you know you can spin that spoon fast enough to make it look like one but when the lactic acid burns you gotta stop and the shit just splits apart again cause it's too different.

if i had the answers I'd be on the street corner - you know i would.

scraggly-bearded and extolling upon the virtues of a simple life.

but i don't have the answers i have the questions, all of them, here in a little box. they scream at night so you have to close the box up and lock it with a yale and even then it trembles a little bit.

big black thing in your room late at night makes you feel uncomfortable but you don't know what it is. open yours eyes and nothings there but you can still sense it cause we're all clairvoyant motherfuckers and that thing is there and it's real don't deny it. nuclear winter or just being alone - either way it's a scary motherfucking world out there and you're not ready for it and neither am i but you have to get up, go out, and be a fucking slut.

63% slut.

that's the new here and now - bethrothals are for the old world and i'm for a new world where slut means self liberating unapologetic truth.

i'm no reformer, i do the old dew and code red is for the kiddies but to deny the circling of the moon and the stars is to deny change and time and to resist,

as jean luc so said

is futile.

or at the very least will fuck everything up. which is where we're at. so don't be surprised if mom has a kid at 60 and starts leeching off you and demanding her own car. don't be surprised when you have to take her down to family planning and say mom, get a gripe.

don't be surprised when you find yourself thinking divorce papers are the easy route because we've rebuilt this society with plastic, replaceable parts.

it's the easy way.

people laughed when the sci-fis talked about the fat blobs with short stubby little arms in front of the tv we'd be.

they still laugh cause they're too fat to turn their head are and look.
look and see what's out there.

i'm not bitter. i just have a stomach ache.

i just ate wendy's


Michael considered fate at 12:38   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
hello all!!!!

Uhh. hi?

so sorry to send a mass email.

No you aren't.

i always hate getting them

Yes, don't we all. Thanks for thinking of me.

but at the same time, i understand that everyone is busy.

No... in fact I'm not busy at all. I'm sitting here reading a fucking mass email so *clearly* I have nothing important to be doing.

korean kids are sooooooooo cute!

That doesn't change the fact that this is a mass email you insensitive clod.

so i am sure that you are wondering what is up with the subject line

No, I wasn't. People always use the subject line as a marketing tool. A trick. Let's say something weird and off the wall so that *maybe* people will be tricked into actually reading my mass email. You didn't get this one past me... I just have nothing else at all to do at all but read mass emails.. at all.

i do admit it is a little odd.

Odd that I'm still reading your stupid mass email after the first paragraph? I agree.

anyway, i am sure i have put many of you to sleep by now, so i will end this email, but i would love to hear from all of you

Well.. here yah go. We all got together... sorta co-op like.. and wrote you a letter. What's better than sending a mass email? Getting one.

No go fuck yourself.


Michael considered fate at 14:53   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
And they want to reconstruct Iraq. Give the contracts to Hally Ber-ton. Whatev. Just a trick on words to do what I want them to do.

Piscataquis County.

In the great state of Maine - the only single syllable state of the union so when you are breathing your last breath you can still say bye to Maine.

And the longest coast of the union stretching thousands of miles even though no one believes it like no one believes canada and the states are about the same size.

And Vacationland.. where the triphappy family wagons come to park in the lots while the kiddies kick up the sand and slap and the bugs and wonder why they left their air conditioned hell somewhere down the east - down south from the variety is the spice of life climate that is Maine weather.

Shit. It's raining.

No, it's done now.

Piscataquis County. It's 17,000 people and the size of Connecticut and only 6 dentists to go around. That's over 22 people a day for each of them. Hope they don't need vacation. afterall, they are living in vacationland so they shouldn't have to go nowhere, right?

Good thing too cause their per capita is $14,374. Median Household at $28,250 and 15% in poverty.

Ain't going nowhere real fast.

Michael considered fate at 13:26   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
It's really a mini mullet and only because I am lazy which we've covered before and I haven't nailed a friend down and forced the clippers into their hands because godforbid i pay $20 for a haircut in this town I've never seen such a price inflation for a product or service over such a short distance as the nearly double price of a hair stylin down here versus up the river at home which is less than 60 miles away but godforbid you can get a cut and the barber will give you a 50 cent piece from your ten and you can go home happy and with a 50 cent piece in your pocket yah cause I don't think there ain't nothin happier than walkin down the street lookin at everyone else draggin their sorry asses around and you lookin and thinking shit yah i got 50 cent in my pocket and these suckers they got none they don't got shit no 50 cent in theirs and i do and thats all.

Michael considered fate at 13:14   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
If I were not lazy, if I were unemployed, if I had the sort of motivation that gets mountains moved..

I would regal you with pictures of my mighty mullet. I would have a digital camera and I would have a webhost with gads of bandwidth even though I would barely be able to cover rent. I would take pictures of my home town - ones you would actually want to see even though you've never heard of the place and couldn't care less - and I would post them up every day in a sorted collection. They would be presented to you in a format you've never seen before but it would be instantly accessible and intuitive. You would move from one picture to the next, and back, and then jump forward three and the interface would be so smooth you wouldn't even notice it.

Like Rum and Moxie.

I would write more too - and about things you want to read about. I would tell you what it is like to careen through the ether with a monkey as your copilot and Wagner blasting over the loud speakers.

Reading this web page would be like watching master piece theatre while listening to the latest William Gibson on audio book tapes.

And cookie monster would be there. Alistair Cookie. If anyone ever got that joke *please* let me know.


But I'm not that person, I am lazy. I am employed which means I have to spend a good amount of time procrastinating over that work as well as over this work and other work too - like hanging out with friends who aren't worth it sometimes and picking my nose in public with no one noticing (that's hard work!).

You get this instead. Crap about what was - could be - might be once you're gone. I really don't know why you keep coming back. Some day you will shuffle off your mortal coil. You will die and your friends will gather and get drunk (because a funeral is a great excuse) and you will be burnt to a crisp or lowered six feet under or even eaten by the fish if you were really naughty... and that day.. that very hour.. this site - morphed into a barely recognizable house of content and extravaganza - will actually be good. You will miss it.

I will too.

People wonder why it's so hard to stick to the original. Everyone complains... and I mean *everyone* complains about movies not following the original. We complain that it was true to the true story - which is blasphemous since that little boy really *did* die of cancer even if he got better in the movie - and we complain that in the book it was explained more concisely. But everyone does it. You think Homer told a good story? Homer didn't tell nothing - he just learned how to write his name on a piece of papyrus - the rest is history.

My senior year of high school - so many years ago - I published a newspaper. I called it a newsletter - the Didactic Reporter. I was cool because I could use big words. If you asked me back then I would have told you I was cool because I could use a dictionary, which at the time seemed like quite a feat if you took my classmates as a barometric. In this letter, which I published three or four times, I derided the administration for poor execution of policy, poor policy development, and even lack of educational standards. I shat on my classmates - calling them sheep and telling them they were a headless mob, destined to flop about in the mud like a mud worm cut for bait.

The first issue was a leap for me and I grimaced as I handed it out to random people. I had a theory that people wanted a voice, that they wanted to expose and express and generally shit on everyone else. They wouldn't care that they themselves got shat on, I guessed, since it was essentially all in good fun.

And I turned out to be mostly right. The kids took it as decent social commentary. They read it and it was discussed in the halls and the ideas were passed around - inflated - deflated - agreed upon - and disapproved of. But it got people thinking and moving and looking sideways instead of always frontways and backways. Some of the teachers got a good chuckle and so I kept it up. I wrote one major diatribe every issue and filled the rest with pseudo-political cartoons and cheap tricks on how to scam the soda machines.

A brief run in with the Principal and her henchmen and things were chopped down to size. My First Amendment right was challenged and the word Slander was thrown about (improperly) and in the end I took the high road even though I didn't want to. They couldn't understand that what I had done was a far cry from illegal. They couldn't understand why I would want to question the decision making process in an effort to improve. It wasn't to improve, in their minds, but to stir up trouble and make enemies. That's all kids want anyway, right? Make a mess of things.

Should these people have been running my school?

In the end I handed the keys over to an underclassman. "I want to take over the paper" he said, promising to maintain it's radical edge and to always question the status quo - to always try for a better result.

I read one issue from that year and it was more bland than a british dinner. He'd compromised what I did. My closer friends heartily agreed that he had failed but no one, not a one, stepped forward to lift the desecrated flag back to it's lofty position. They all continued to march to the same step and from their spots within the ranks the gave sidelong glances at me and winks of knowledge before snapping their heads straight forward, back to attention.

It is hard to stick to the original.. to maintain.. to produce the same level of quality and integrity. Maybe things are getting better or maybe they are getting worse.. but things never stay the same. It's all part of the process.

Bunk. asshole shoulda kept up the Didactic.

Michael considered fate at 11:14   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Having read Bunine's diatribe on slow drivers in the fast lane (aka the left lane.. the one that is closer/closest to the lanes carrying traffic in the other direction.. the one where, if you fucking morons hold up the correct hand and make a 90 degree angle with your thumb and fore finger it will make an 'L', the lane will be on that side of the road that your hand is) I feel it completely necessary to whole-heartedly agree and tell you all to GET OUT OF THE LEFT LANE if you aren't passing someone.

Here in the state of Maine it seems like most people grasp this concept. It is only when the flatlanders (m)assholes or other southerners wander into our vacationland that I find myself cursing the heavens and bumper-riding like a 5 year old at a theme park. Cars were *not* meant to travel in train-like rollercoaster units - which is to say, if I am ON YOUR ASS you should GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY.

Bunnie's little spouting was in response to a bit of a road trip, I'm presuming, as is mine. Hiking in Virginia involved, in my case, driving to Virginia. Unfortunately 1/3rd of us travelers were not versed in the ways of manual transmissions - shortening the list of healthy drivers to 2. Nevertheless we made it down to Damascus on the Tennessee border in a mere 15 hours, stopping only three times for gas and snacks. I did 9. Somehow I was conned into about 9 of the return trip as well, but I'm not bitter at all.

D.C. traffic on the Beltway was not our friend and the old accord did some pretty damage to a little Mirage Coupe - smashing up it's rear corner and probably $2000 worth of damage. They don't make them like they used to - the wagon took it like a champ, it's blinker light assembly cracking into many pieces but the bulb underneath remaining intact. The insurance companies will say it was my fault and I'll leave it at that because I don't feel like swearing anymore today.

We also did some pretty miles on the trail. Having hiked a little over half the days we had planned everyone got antsy and we cranked out 30 miles our last day out just to get into town earlier in the week. 30 miles. I'm no Kitty, running marathons and showing off blisters, but I do have an awfully bloody sock and some rank underwear to show off if anyone is interested.

Also, despite the relatively easy hiking of the Virginia hills and the obnoxious heat (I'm glad I was there in early May and not mid July) they had wild ponies. Worth checking out Grayson Highlands State Park.

Ohh.. and did I mention the hippy hiker chicks in town with their freshly washed hair all frazzled in the sun and their flip-flops clicking and .. no bras? mmm. Sometimes no bra *is* a good thing. ... sometimes.


Michael considered fate at 14:02   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
People missed me while I was gone and that is sweet and nice to think about but I didn't so much miss some people and that sort of gets under my skin. No no.. not you. Nothing personal. I'm just saying there aren't so many people I know here in the port city .. so less people to miss, yah see?

Tony said I should talk about the port city. He said enough with the sex, drugs, and rock and roll mike - tell us about your town. Okay, he actually said that since i have no sex, drugs, and rock and roll to extoll that I should babble on about my city since I would at least then have some content, quality or not.

It made me question if someone out there is interested in my town. It made me ask if anyone is thinking, right now, Gee I wish I could move to Portland. No, not that Portland. The other one. The one on the other side of the continent. On the other pond. The small and oft overlooked city of Portland, Maine. Population 65,000 and the largest burg of our fair state.

I went hiking in Virginia and if anything makes you think about your own town it's leaving it. I saw rolling hills and meadows and wild pony and heard the wild elk bellowing through the woods of southern VA and saw lots of dirty hikers all strapped and attached and secured to their packs.. and I thought how different Maine is from a lot of places. How different a lot of places are from a lot of other places.

I like my town. If you were from a tiny place called buckwheat pass or east bumfuck then you might think ptown was a thriving metropolis. You might uoohhhh and ahh at the many restuarants and night places to go to. They say we have one of the highest restuarant saturations in the nation.. If you were from a big place called Chicago or New York you might feel stifled by the smallness but you also might enjoy the air and the freedom to drive where you want to without having to replace your clutch from stop-n-go or you might enjoy the quiet solitude just minutes away from downtown. You might get a woody bumping along the cobblestones and poking into the little boutiques and you might even like that you could see the same faces all about town over and over.

But the weird thing is (and this may be partly due to the few years I have been here) I don't get a sense of the history. I have no doubt that Portland has a long and colorful history of ..well.. of things that happened, people who've lived here.. It seems like a town that would be rich with heritage. However, I know so much more about the tiny towns in Maine instead.. Like the one I spent much of my life in - Gardiner. I know about it's involvment in the logging industry and the shoe factories. I know about it's old covered bridges and the international ice trade. I know about Benedict Arnold's trip up the Kennebec to Gardiner where he purchased row boats and supplies for his men and marched up and over the mountains of the Applachians to attack the dastardly british in the port of Quebec City. I know about the families - about Sylvester Gardiner and the trading post at Fort Western in Augusta Maine.

But I don't know so much about Portland. Perhaps with time and a little curiousity and interest. I'll be sure to keep you posted, of course. And let me know if you find something spicy.

Michael considered fate at 12:53   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Pete Townshend... purveyor of kiddie porn?. Fuck I never liked that guy in the first place. Air hammer be damned (or whatever you call that cheese-ass move).

Michael considered fate at 12:33   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
i thought i might try to get off caffeine too... along with this no soda - no alcohol thing. two giant cups a day to cut out of the diet along with the occasional breakfast sugar and cream ritual. only in the diner's though because i don't make the java in the home. that's for dad and mom's that get up early and make pancakes for their kids before school...

who does that?

i know i can't do it...

gotta have my vices though, so i drink at work. cup after cup.

yeah, you gotta take it slow

Mark Twain once said to a dying old lady in the hospital:

"Well... do you curse?"
"Nope," she said
"Well... do you drink? Smoke?"
"How about gambling?"
"Well then," he said, "I'm afraid I can't help you... you're like a sinking ship with no cargo to throw overboard!"

mark twain is good
mark was/is probably the best american writer to date

in my very very humble-pie opinion

Michael considered fate at 10:48   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
This might have already been blogged to death but it is seriously funny stuff. A one Colin Fahey (a 30 something male) attempted to achieve the lowest possible score on the SAT test. He ultimately failed to fail. But god it's funny stuff:

If you are a high school student, please, for love of "The Man" and his "System", DON'T do anything described in this article! Over the years you will discover that meaning in life is derived from being very employed and consuming as much as you can on weekends and your ten paid holidays. Doing poorly on the SAT jeopardizes your proper placement as a cog in the machine. The Man has many glorious gifts stored up for you in the System, and he desperately wants to give them to you, but when you stop conforming, The Man feels great sorrow, and may even have to punish you... I shouldn't even be telling you these things, young Consumer. Just... No, that's all I'm saying. Okay, that's... Just, okay?, just leave. I don't want any trouble. I love the System! All hail the System! (Breaking in to song:) Work, work, work, work, work, consume, consume! Work, work, work, work, work, consume, consume! (Repeat phrase 50 more times, and the System song begins again.)

p.s. welcome back mike


Michael considered fate at 14:50   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Okay people. Mark your calendars.

I'm going hiking in the hills of Virginia - hunting for some banjo if you will - and I won't be back till Monday, May 12th.


No, I'm kidding.

I know you're all sad and teary eyed but remember that good things come to those who wait and that patience is a virtue.

It occurred to me last night, while I was packing, that there was no real good reason not to hike the trail in a suit. No real good reason either, but really why not? I have a black pin-stripe bunched up in the corner of my room (having been stripped off and thrown in the trunk after the best wedding reception I've ever been to - mmm, spiked watermelon) and it's already dirty so why the hell not?

no, i'm not going to do it cause really i'm just lazy and it doesn't seem practical and afterall if you aren't practical you're practically nothing, right? i like being practical. sometimes i practice being practical and it gives me a little smile - a sneaky grin - to know that i'm sneaking one past the weirdo upstairs - cause he certainly isn't practical. frogs and locusts and boils and burning bushes seems none to practical to me for sure.

anti pointed out that las vegas is the vegas in english and it made me wonder again about cities referred to as improper nouns.. or whatever grammatical construction that is. The Hague. what the fuck is that? i have an unhealthy obsession with that sort of stuff.

i like legos, though, and there isn't anything wrong with that. if denmark ever did us a service it was inventing legos. when i was younger, 2nd grade maybe, i had a babysitter every evening since my mother worked 2nd shift in the baby making department down at eastern maine medical center. she was a nice girl - friend of the family - and even then i knew she was a cutie (not that i knew what the hell that meant). she was in 8th grade.. 7th maybe.. and she used to talk on the phone sometimes and i thought she was pretty fucking old to be in 7th grade. cripes, that was like five or six years more - almost my whole life over again.

but she made a mean pot of mac & cheese. i'm not sure if she liked it or if it was just easy but i remember eating a heck of a lot of mac & cheese back then. they tell me canadians eat the most mac & cheese per capita in the world. the whole world. but not the solar system cause i'm pretty sure marvin the martian lives off the stuff.

went hiking before in the maine woods and liked it but it was hot so i stopped and i'm hoping i don't stop this time cause of the hot cause i'd like to do the whole thing - the whole of what i've planned, i mean. it's frickkin hot down there, though. 80's. cripes, it was in the 80's here in maine a few days ago. i can only imagine.

there are a lot of things i can only imagine. like glaciers the temperature of bath water and a warrant come back tour. but what i can imagine is my old tired body gimping along in the wilds of south virginia with inflammed lymphs and a runny nose and a cramped up charlie horse of a thigh. that's my lot in life i suppose and i shouldn't complain. i shouldn't complain because no one would listen anyway, is what grandpops would say and he is probably right which is why you should relay all complaints in the form of a story or anecdote. people won't mind that as much. everyone likes a good story - even if it's a bitter one. no one likes a whiner. whiner.

put that in your pipe and smoke it. smokeo


I think if the everyone had a morning commute with the batman theme song as it's soundtrack the world would probably be a better place. I know the Port City would be better off with a mansion on the hill and a batphone in the mayor's office. Would give chitwood a rest.

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Check out heroecs, the robotics team competition website of my old supervisor's daughter. Fun stuff!
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