So sorry ass tony, who admittedly lies all the time, is on this honest blogger kick so.. i gotta say i only made it the 28 days of sober. 28 days with not a drop of alcohol in my system, not even beer-battered ribs or anything like that. Nothing. I was going for the full 31 but I failed, miserably... or, well, not so miserably. 28 isn't so bad, considering. It's like getting a B+. I almost got there. My only concern is the symbolic 28 days, but I'm not much of a superstitious type so whatever, you know?
And what did it? You might ask.. what else - family. Cousin's graduation party today and I felt the obligation to show up like good extended family does. I don't know why I'm good extended family - I can't even remember my own sister's birthday (and I only have one of them!).. but I went and it was just as bad as you'd think.. Saturday afternoon gig with the tent out back and the beer and the kissing aunts and and and it was enough to make you 'uke in the bathroom before
The thing with family is that they all feel like they're close enough to you to be assholes.. A guy on the street, he doesn't give you a hard time about your scrubbly beard cause who the hell is he to give a shit? Your aunt though? Shit, you'd think forgetting to shave was a crime.. and man if they aren't - every single last one of them - holier than thou. Holier than all holy hell, man, like the earth was created around them and everything else just spreads out from their delicious chocolaty center. Yah right grandma, yah right.
But that's alright cause it's family, right? It's okay to put me down, call my shots for me, insist I eat your goddamn cake, and get more riotous than a bull in a china shop when I have the balls to call you on one of your gazillion idiosyncracies.. Mmhm.
So that's all. just bein honest. broke out after the 28th day in jail and mmm did that freedom taste awfully damn good. It's been almost a month since I saw a real sunset - you know, the kind where you sorta doze off halfway through and burp up some colt 45 - and damn if I didn't miss that shit.
Damn if i didn't miss it.
Let's take it back, to the day we first met
I see you and your girls buyin purses
lookin like two Miss Universe's
make a nigga wanna curse "Shit!"
who them two bitches, let me go spit a couple of verses, see if I can
The Miss Universe pagent contestants are getting a lot of air time over on the busblog
and I'm certainly not complaining. They're hot, of course. That's the thing with beauty pagent contestants: they're hot. Or at least they are supposed to be.. and with most pagents it's about drawing out that one specific trait and giving it a blue ribbon - best strawberry jam, best Holstein.... best T&A. Since the dawn of time people have been gathering together to honour the best of things so why not hot chicks, right?
Here are all these girls prancing about trying to promote their country, their culture, but mostly just their ridiculus hotness. See, I'm usually not like this.. I usually have one of those knee-jerk reactions where ridiculus hot girls get earmarked in my brain as vacuous pods of nothingness until proven otherwise.. which is a shame cause .......never judge a book by it's cover...... Ha. Cause I'm the bad guy here for prejudgement, right? Clearly.. Anyhow, the pagents have a way of making it all okay - even if they are vacuous pods of nothingness it doesn't matter. they're inside my tv. i will never meet them. i will never anticipatorily dip into their gooey center only to find there isn't really anything there. so i can just watch them being hot, say they're hot, and enjoy it.
The best part though, in my opinion, is the sash. All these hot chicks wandering around with sashes.. in the shoe store, at restuarants.. wherever they go. "Peru" one says. "Belarus" says another. Clear cut labels. It's really great. I mean, we all have these labels for eachother bouncing around in our heads: stoner, business dude, yuppy, conservative, blue-collar, catholic, white... we should just throw on some sashes, make things easier.
Mine would say: "Maine, Fiscally Conservative, Socially Liberal" or something like that. It would be easier to interact with me this way, since you'd know my agenda right up front. You could approach me, read my sash, and then say: "Damn those anti-abortionist, huh?" and I'd jive with that. You could walk up to me and know not to say "damn those fucking gay marriages, eh?"..
But if I could design my own sash - which we could certainly not let happened, people designing their own sashes would be disasterous - mine would say "Jester".. or maybe "Fool". Cause if I'm not making everyone else laugh at me then what's the point in all this effort? Might as well someone get some enjoyment out of this thing we call life, right?
- Of what I call God,
And fools call Nature.
As long as I'm on the photohunt, WMD
kicks tony's ass on the attach-pics-of-hot-chicks-that-have-nothing-to-do-with-the-topic-of-the-post front.
In writing my last post - the quiz questions - I was thinking back to those heady days of blog-discovery.. One of my daily reads back then when I first started my job and needed break-time reading to take the edge off was www.theminister.net. It's down now. The main stint on it was a group blog seemingly formed by a close knit crew of friends. There was much postage by all and I always admired that as a good example of what blogs could be: a great interactive
conversation thing. I guess one could always say "a mailing list would do just as well" but blogs give you something more. Whether it's photos, the way things are layed out, or just the general feel of things blogs are more than a mailing list.. and one could argue that they are more conducive to viewing.. So it begs the question: who would want to eavesdrop on the discussion between a close group of friends? Aw, hell, I dunno... the same people who seem to find all this reality TV actually entertaining? Just a thought. Enuff said. Anyhow, the curator (shall we call him) of theminister.net was a dude named Ezra Fowler who got way too many Better Than Ezra
jokes thrown his way. At some point - whether due to boredom, depression, or some life change - Ezra stopped posting. Soon, he took the site down for good. He stopped cold turkey. As is often the case with strangers, I never figured out the back story. For awhile after the site was gone I would wondered what really happened..
Today I was at tony's reading kitty bukkake's quiz questions.. from the comments I surfed over to bunnie's new post and in her
comments I noticed a respondee she had named btezra
(note: better than). Funny that, I remember a dude posting on theminister.net who used that screename. Funny that I even remember it, it was so long ago. Funny that, when I checked out his whatthehellhappenedlastnight
site the post at the very tippy top of the page was from none other than:
you guessed it, ezra_fowler.
Apparently he is back and has been back since Feb, 2003. He is over at underlock
but calling himself "meadow scotch".
update: it was not kitty's site where i saw the btezra comment, it was bunnie's site
@ Tony Pierce's Busblog
it takes courage to do things like say the war on drugs is a pathetic waste of time and money.
I'm not so sure it does take courage, tony. If I'm a drug user then it is awfully damn easy to say that the war on drugs is a pathetic waste of time. If I'm a conservative republican then
maybe it takes a little courage
. But just the same, I think the war on drugs is a pathetic waste of time and money.
it takes courage to do things like say the war on iraq is a pathetic waste of time money and american lives.
Again, tony, I don't think it does take any courage. I think it's an easy knee-jerk reaction. With so many young people in this country now who were raised by 60's hippies or ex-hippies I think it's sort of ingrained, to some extent, to disagree with war. What does take courage is effort and risk. Without risk there is no reward and without effort there is no reward. Even winning the lottery takes buying a ticket. Risking a dollar may not seem like much but it is risking something. Talk is cheap. It takes action to make a man. Which is to say: every should show up at the polls this November and make sure that Bush comes NOWHERE close to capturing a popular vote.. it'll be that much easier to impeach him later should he highjack the election somehow, again. That all being said, I think the war on Iraq is a pathetic waste of time, money, and american lives.
it takes courage to say i voted for these five people as president.
If it takes courage to be honest in this country in this day and age then I'm ashamed to be here, but I suspect you are right on this one Tony. I haven't been of voting age for all five of the last presidential elections but I would have voted for Reagan, Dukakis, and Bush. I did vote for Clinton, I was out of the country but would have voted for Gore (he did invent the internet, afterall).
it takes courage to say that you dont give a flying fuck what your readers think about your beliefs, here they are, love it or git.
And now, having addressed those points, I will fill out kitty bukkake's addendum
to tony's original honest blogger's quiz
(my original quiz answers can be found here
1. Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? heck no.
2. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered? other than colour balance to improve lighting, nope.
3. Do you like it when creeps or dorks email you? heck yah.
4. Do you lie in your blog? no.
5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? no, blogs are all about rants which are really outright aggression.
6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop? no, but i complain about not getting enough comments.
7. Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? no. no.
8. Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones? no and no.
a comment is a comment, nothing less.
i've never deleted one i must confess.
i believe in the right of the first amendment.
even if some mean comments are sent.
9. Have you ever rubbed one out while reading a blog? How about after? Uhh. no. Sure, I've rubbed one out after viewing a blog, chronologically, but not because
of the blog or the person behind the blog.
10. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less? i really can't say. probably less.
11. Do you have a job? yes.
12. If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it? perhaps, but not forever. decent to some is paltry to others.
13. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life? Anti
is my hero, Jaime
seems like a chill dude up my alley, maybe bunnie
if I was drunk, bunny
surprisingly IM'd me the other day and she seemed cooler than I had given her credit for and she writes a lot - i like bloggers who write a lot, nika
because she is in montreal and I was there once and will likely be back in september and I am always fascinated with people "where I am" because I feel like nothing ever happens where I am,
14. How many bloggers have you made out with? 0
15. Do you usually act like you have more money or less money than you really have? probably less cause i live well below my means.
16. Does your family read your blog? not that i know of.
17. How old is your blog? 3 years in august, just like tony!
18. Do you get more than 1000 pageviews per day? Do you care? Heck no!! I wish. I'm lucky to get 25. And by saying "I wish" I guess I am saying I care, but I don't care that much. I would like more interaction. More comments. More feedback. Less me and more us.. whatever.
19. Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, slutty, or a liar? no.
20. Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing? before i knew what blogs were a friend of a friend had a weblog sorta thing
that has since died. I had never met her but my friend said "I think you'd like this chick, check out her site" so I did. I bought her a cd off of her amazon wishlist just for the thrill of doing something nice for a complete stranger. Then, when I started figuring out the blogging thing i came upon tony's donate-$10-for-a-car thing and so I donted $10 to tony, but it wasn't so much for his writing as much as it was for the cool idea that someone could just ask and then receive enough money to buy a car. I've often considered flowing Anti some cash just cause he seems to be scrapping by all the time.. then I remember it's probably his own fault for blowing it on such copious quantities of weed.
21. Do you report the money you earn from your blog on your taxes? what, money from my blog.. huh
22. Is blogging narcissistic? I'll quote Tony here, cause I liked his response: in theory. but careful storytelling can overcome that.
23. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time? sort of. I certainly feel like some people might not come back, which wouldn't help in my quest to develop more interaction, which I mentioned above.
24. Do you like John Mayer? I don't think so.
25. Do you have enemies? probably. jealous types, maybe. not really though. none that i could point out and list as enemies
26. Are you lonely? sometimes.
27. Why bother? cause it's a voice.
sometimes its hard to tell if the ones who smile like you or just like to smile.
I'm not one to hate
on dentists, necessarily, but after a 16 hour workday and five hours of sleep it's a bit tedious.
don't they know we hate the idle chit chat as much as they do?
when are they gonna have robot-hygienists? i mean, with those masks they wear hygienists look a little anonymous anyway so it's sorta easy to ignore them but you'd feel even better about it if they were a machine.
Heck, why robot hygienists? Why not a machine in subway stations and malls? It could be like an instant-photo booth except it has a disposable and sterile protrusion that you bite down on and it cleans, brushes, flosses, and waxes your teeth in thirty seconds for the fresh clean feeling!
And where is my flying cars, damnit? I've been seeing that dumb skycar in the news
lately, again, despite it appearing in Popular Science over 10 years ago (not sure if that was the first time). Look at this damn thing:
And that picture is from a 1990 Popular Science
. 1990! Looks more like 1950, sheesh. So if it was around 14 years ago why aren't I flying it today? Huh? HUH? Fuckers. It's almost as bad as those ecycle hybrid motorcycle
jerks who promised "to introduce [the hybrid 219cc gas/8kW electric motor, 80mph top speed, 0-60 in six seconds, 180mpg!!] motorcycle to beta testers in 2003." yet they haven't updated their website since at least 2002. Beta testers? What is this, software? At the mentioned $5,500 price tag I've been ready to snap one of these up for a long time - and that coming from a guy who swears never to buy a new-off-the-lot vehicle in his life!
@ the known universe
Brian laughed and then suddenly asked: "Would you be pissed if I joined the Hare Krishnas?"
"Ha. Yeah, right."
"Nah," I told him. "I wouldn't be mad. You'd be just another friend I lost. I'd just write your name on the growing list."
"No, man, you wouldn't lose me. We could still hang."
"Not if you tried to convert me, we couldn't."
Shit man, you speak the truth brother. I don't know what they are putting in the water up here in Maine but I feel like all my friends are turning into intense religious types and, like Jaime, I don't mind anyone being intensely religious as long as they aren't going to try and convert me. The problem with conversions is things never come out quite right. Whether it's a database conversion or a program being converted from one operating system to another or if it's a truck chassis being converted for use in an SUV - it just never works perfectly. Data types get messed up. Program controls act differently in subtle ways. SUVs tip over.
And religious converts get some weird god-twitch. The twitch is subtle - I mean, minus all the new religious babble they spew, which is of course not-so-subtle. The twitch is just something slightly.. not the same.. and that's the part that gets me. It's a leeeetle too close to that icky feeling you get when you think about brain-washing or frontal lobotomies. Frontal lobotomies really freak me out, man.
Got talking with a friend last year about Easter and Passover and the history behind it all because, well, I'm as much a casual historian as the next guy. It's interesting. My friend explained to me Jesus coming back, etc, etc, which I all knew about in a vague sort of way. Then he asked if I'd like some material about it. "Material?" Like what, this guys gonna give me a history book? Yeah right. The bible. Which is fine, there is nothing wrong with the bible. As a book. A piece of literature. But when it comes with footnotes, bookmarks, and a thinly veiled attempt at conversion in the form of a thoughtful letter
, well.. that's enough. I don't mind if you read the bible. I don't mind if I read the bible. I don't mind if we discuss the bible. I DO mind when you stop respecting my right to my own opinion (which is the disbelief in god) and I DO mind when you try, repeatedly and despite my insistence, to convert me. Let us just agree to disagree.
So my Easter friend asked me the other day,
"Have I ever shared my faith with you?"
Well, if you mean "is the only thing I ever talk to you about religion, or do I tie every conversation we have back to religion somehow?" then yes, man, YES, you have shared your faith with you. I didn't think that is what he meant, though, so I said,
"No, you haven't"
"Well I'd really like to get a chance to sit down with you and share my faith, would that be alright?"
I thought about this for a moment.. but not long enough. I'm a nice guy - or rather, outwardly so - and so my initial reactions to these sorts of things is just to humour people. So I said,
"Yah, sure, if you'd like to. I think you're barking up the wrong tree but you are welcome to."
What I meant to say was "No, you can't. I understand your faith as much as I want to and I, myself, am not a religious man so I would prefer it if you did not try to convert me to the ways of god. Thank you for the offer, though, and I hope you find someone nice to convert real soon. Have a nice day." But I didn't say that, of course. No, I didn't
So I guess what I'm saying is that no, man, you won't lose me. we can still hang. just don't try to convert me.
An Article at the Guardian claims Ten percent of the world's music market is cell phone ringtones
Apparently ringtones are generating a "staggering" $3 billion.
Yes, that is staggering. WTF people?
A reply to the Marginal Revolution post over at a little ludwig goes a long way
makes the conclusion:
- 1. People want their music mobile. Fixed location music is worth a lot less than mobile music.
- 2. People love to express themselves thru customization -- ringtones, custom engraving on ipods, faceplates, themes for blogs, etc. Never underestimate the demand for this.
To which I would reply with some amendments:
- 1. People want their music mobile, sure, but not necessarily for the most obvious reasons. I would venture that kids buying ringtones at $3.99 a pop or what have you has a lot more to do with bling bling than it does with actually listening to the music. At 30 seconds, are you really getting any entertainment out of it? But out in public 30 seconds of music coming from your back pocket goes a long way in social advertising towards your peers. Look at me, I'm cool, I like the new 50-cent song. This is the same reason half of the population of my state (Maine) drives brand new jacked-up 4x4 pickups while they live in trailers: People at work don't see your house in the woods, they see the vehicle you show up in. People at the bar don't see your house, they see the wheels you roll up in. Humans do as much social advertising as corporate america does product advertising.
- 2. People love to express themselves specifically because of point #1, it's all about the image baby.
via Marginal Revolution
I find an interesting bit
on a Sherpa who climbed Mount Everest in under thirteen hours.. holy mollllllly. For comparison, a more reasonable time frame is around four days
The Honest Bloggers-Only Quiz
1. which political party do you typically agree with? whichever is least power hungry and most logical.
2. which political party do you typically vote for? i don't vote much, but democrat, i guess.
3. list the last five presidents that you voted for? i was out of the country for the gore/bush go around, before that i think i was considering dole just to see what it would be like to have a president keel over in office but i never got around to it.
4. which party do you think is smarter about the economy? democrats love social spending, republicans love military spending.. fah, i dunno.. i guess clinton did a lot better than bush is doing with the deficit, so democrats.
5. which party do you think is smarter about domestic affairs? democrat
6. do you think we should keep our troops in Iraq or pull them out? pull 'em out, push hydrogen fuel technology, nuke the rest of the world.
7. who, or what country, do you think is most responsible for 9/11? who cares? No. really. WHO CARES.
8. do you think we will find weapons of mass destruction in iraq? WHO CARES?
9. yes or no, should the u.s. legalize marijuana? legalize marijuana or illegalize alcohol, cigarettes, and caffeine.
10. do you think the republicans stole the last presidental election? probably.
11. do you think bill clinton should have been impeached because of what he did with monica lewinski? fuck no.
12. do you think hillary clinton would make a good president? if the clinton years were top gun and bill clinton was tom cruise, hillary clinton would be iceman val kilmer. nuff said.
13. name a current democrat who would make a great president: me.
14. name a current republican who would make a great president: that alexander lamar guy? I think he was okay.
15. do you think that women should have the right to have an abortion? I don't care, ain't my business: so yes.
16. what religion are you? fuck that.
17. have you read the Bible all the way through? nope.
18. what's your favorite book? Where the Wild Things Are
19. who is your favorite band? rubber ones.
20. who do you think you'll vote for president in the next election? Kerry.
21. what website did you see this on first? that flamin liberal tony's busblog
write rant on service industry here.
Imagine, if you will, a room somewhere deep within the headquarters of a very large corporation. Down in the sublevels somewhere near the mailroom and the copy room but nowhere near the top floor. Not even close to middle-management. Imagine that in this room there is a telephone hooked up to an old tape-driven answering machine from the early 90's. Imagine that the door on this room, although unlocked, is closed and the seal between the door and the frame is enough to block any light from coming through. People walk by all the time but they are all peons, grunts, and gophers of the lowest kind and they rarely enter this room - in fact no one knows what it is for. Occasionally someone might slip into it to sneak a cigarette before their government mandated 15 minute break
but otherwise it's entirely empty.
Now Imagine me living on a far off planet somewhere out past the far reaches of the solar system, out past beetlejuice even. Imagine that I live on this planet by myself as so many space-hermits do in countless sci-fi novels. Imagine I'm a recluse.
Finally, imagine that I manage to construct a transmission device to communicate with other planets but having limited resources it only works by imprinting messages on early 90's answering machine tapes. Imagine, as well, that a malfunction in the machine's security module causes it to recognize only one specific answering machine - the machine found in the recesses of the very large corporate headquarters outlined above.
Now that you've done all this imagining it won't be much of a stretch to imagine me using this machine to leave messages on the answering machine in the deep dark sublevel of the corporate headquarters in the hope that I may make contact with some form of intelligent life. In fact, my ultimate dream would be to be able to confirm that I have indeed connected with someone, somewhere. Some peon, grunt, or gopher. Anyone at all, really.
Imagine that, on occasion, a particularly disgruntled employee of the very large corporation might waste away some hours hiding out in the room deep within the headquarters and that, becoming bored with staring at the wall, they might begin to play with the answering machine - might, in fact, actually listen to those messages imprinted onto the tape by a device located several millions of miles away.
Now this last part requires no imagination. Answering machines record messages. They are not two-way communication machines. Despite the amazing technology in the device used to send messages to this particular answering machine there is no technology to either assure the message was received or assure that the message was even listened to.
Welcome to my Commentless Blog
is kinda funny hardy har har.
update: link fixed
A SFGate article
excerpt I'd like to hang on to. It might not make any sense to any of you but it's made me think of something i'd like to do some day and in order not to forget I record it here, for that someday may come.
But regardless, I think it's something Rachel
should gander at in the wake of one of her recent post
I'd love to wake up each morning absolutely thrilled for no reason other than it's yet another day. Sure, I'm in good health, have wonderful family and friends, a roof over my head and food in my cupboards. Yet still, I complain. Where's my whirlwind romance, best-selling novel or Caribbean cruise? Why can't I make more money, lose more weight, have more fun? And is it Friday yet?
Ah, but to a dog each and every boring, monotonous, repetitive day is an absolute adventure. Just the mere appearance of their guardian is enough to elicit an unbridled joy that's the human equivalent of winning the lottery. And what about a ride in the car? A walk in the park? A scratch behind the ears? Suggest any of these simple, mundane activities and I usually have to steer clear of Elvis' tail, wagging so ferociously it practically slaps each side of his ribcage.
via Three Bed Two Bath
Here is a bit
about a married couple in Germany who, after 8 years of trying to have a child, went to a fertility clinic only to find out they had to have sex to procreate. The shock!
no, really. go read. makes you think.
Nothing worse than LIES
This is just one
article from one
newspaper that is spewing semi-truths for shock value:
...Gas prices hit an all-time high driven by record-high crude oil prices and concern that gasoline demand will continue to outstrip capacity. The average cost of a gallon of regular was $2.02 yesterday in the Mid-Atlantic region, which includes Maryland, the U.S. Energy Department reported.
Check out Google News: "all time high gas prices"
Unfortunately they did not deem a little thing called INFLATION
important enough to be invited to the discussion. As I just wrote to my pals in an email:
"Gasoline prices aren't even at an all time high. If you take inflation into account then the highest prices we've ever paid for gas was in 1982
when it topped out at (inflation adjust) $2.94!"
$2.94 People!! That's a far cry from $2.02..
This despite the fact that federal manufacturers' excise tax on gasoline per gallon in 1982 was 4 cents and today it is 18.4 cents (far more than inflation allows for).
This despite the fact that state taxes
(in Maine) are 23.5 cents per gallon - topping total taxes out to a whopping 41.9 cents per gallon, which doesn't even approach the record high of Nevada at 51.7 cents a gallon!
I should point out that in 1982 - when gas topped out at $2.94 a gallon - the national average for total gasoline taxation
was only about (adjusted for inflation) 30 cents. Almost HALF of what we pay now.
I'm not trying to be a sensationalist here. Just pointing out the facts.
You don't see people alarmed at the cost of a $3 loaf of bread but I'm willing to bet that if you asked your mother it would be an all-time high for her.
That's all I'm saying.
Just the facts.
A little update on the online music bidness, as you know I enjoy babbling on about that..
Awhile ago I wrote
about a new (new to me, but apparently a few years old) russian mp3 site called AllOfMP3.com. At the time it seemed like it was semi-legit, or pseudo-legal, or however you'd like to say it. Now, a new article
in the Register raises some new light, pointing out that the governing body in Russia (ROMS) that AllOfMP3 has acquired a license from may no longer be the governing body anymore. Regardless, a FAQ here
points out that chances are there is nothing the RIAA can do right now, legally speaking. In the future, this may change.
For now, I've burned through $20 and 2 gigs of music at 192kbps and I'm pleased as punch. The sound quality is groovy, the selection is decent, the download speeds are good enough for me (~40k on the top end) and it's cheap. 1 cent per megabyte cheap. I've used PayPal instead of entering my credit card information but it would seem nobody has had any problems using their credit card information yet - at least no claims exist anywhere on the internet that I could find.
Why not just use Kazaa? Well, I've been on an Apple iBook at home for a few years and there isn't much out there in the way of file-sharing programs for the mac. Plus, for ~3 cents per song I'm guaranteed that I'm getting the song I want, it's good quality, and I can find entire albums without having to hunt around song by song. Best of all is that "buyer's high" that you're just never going to get from downloading songs off of a gnutella network for free. Sure, I'm not getting a CD case. Sure, I'm not getting a CD Cover. Sure, I'm not getting physical media. But I am building a collection and there is cost invovled. By spending money I am giving up opportunity. Not much - I mean, crap you couldn't even buy a minute of long distance telephone service for the cost of some of these songs - but there is some opportunity cost involved.. which gives more weight to the action, gives you that glow.. that satisfied feeling of ownership.
3 cents still too much? Well, I'm ripping off my broadband internet from the neighbour's wireless network so I guess that's one less cost to consider. For me, my iBook, and my iPod this trip down the AllOfMP3
road so far has been a nice one.. let's hope it lasts.
Anything to get that last pathetic installment of Blogging 101 off the top of this page so here it goes..
Watched the movie Psychomania
the other night and holy horrible crap, batman! Originally saw a poster of this movie down at Marcy's diner where they have a healthy helping of motorcycle paraphanelia and we thought "Hey, nifty looking flick, we should certainly check it out.." I mean, the tag line is:
"Ride with the Living Dead!"
So why not, right? Plus, with masks like those who needs helmets? So we headed down to our local video store (not some craptastic blockbuster, mind you, a store with real
selection) Videoport and immediately found this gem on the "really unusual" rack. A quick look at the back cover promised some gruesome fun:
Look out! The Living Dead motorcycle gang is on the rampage, wreaking havoc in their small English town. For gang leader Tom, however, mere earthly violence is not enough: he's obsessed with the occult and is convinced that he can kill himself and then return from the dead--with the help of a frog-worshipping cult and his seance-conducting mother (Beryl Reid). Remarkably, Tom succeeds and soon joins the ranks of the walking--and riding--dead! Now if he can only persuade his girlfriend and the rest of his gang to join him, but Mother and her diabolical butler Shadwell (George Sanders) may have other plans for the Living Dead, who are dangerously trespassing on uncharted spiritual grounds. "Psychomania" is a pre-punk, British horror cult classic featuring trashy violence, suburban witchcraft and some amazing motorcycle stunt sequences. Come and ride with The Living Dead--if you dare!
Which is all great and dandy so we, of course, rented the movie. The only problem is that when they said "amazing motorcycle stunt sequences" they really meant "horrible horrible stunt sequences".. and their idea of "wreaking havoc" is riding around in circles knocking shopping bags out of pedestrians hands..
The only thing even slightly redeeming about this flick is that I later read that George Sanders, one of its stars, committed suicide shortly after making it.. maybe he, too, was convinced that he could kill himself and return from the dead.. but I imagine his mum is still waiting for a postcard.
Your Intellectual Type is DUMBASS
Ain't that the truth, baby?
My last installment of the Blogging 101 series is here. Lecture 10. I've said a few times that I will write one about female bloggers and so it is, here, and finally done.
For a number of reasons the female blogger is a VPT
(very powerful thing). When it comes to this technology thing females are often few and far between. Why is this so? It's easy enough to stretch over to our friend the evolutionarian and pose our question there where we will no doubt be reminded that males tend toward the silly such as the fix-it
gene and the don't ask directions
gene and, while these are steretypes, they work. Males like to tinker. Males dig on this technology
thing and we've been digging on it in far greater numbers than the females of our species for a very long time. Why? Whatever, I'll leave that to the psychologists (they need something to keep them employed). What I will do is use it as a basis for my arguement:
People in places unexpected wield unmeasurable power
When a female shows up in your mechanic class she is unexpected. The afront, aka the trespass, aka the invasion, is so unsettling as to prove incapacitating sometimes. Panic. Immediate exhalation of expletives. Stereotyping. Prejudgement. But somewhere in there is a little awe, a little appreciation for someone trying something out of the ordinary, and a new fan is born - even if they can't admit it.
Plus women just look good.
Female bloggers are the shine and sheen on the blogging world
. They are largely a minority, and therefore a commodity. Supply and demand. They are hot and let's face it, men are visually afflicted beings. Come on, don't blame us, we're programmed this way. In the realm of good to evil it's really not that bad. Female bloggers are, last but not least, interesting
. I say interesting because female blogs act as a large tomb of information one can tap (no pun intended) to gain powerful insight into the female mind. "Certainly one could say the same of male blogs," you point out. Well, certainly indeed but we have already discussed the power of numbers and supply and demand shows clearly where the demand lies. Plus, I suspect that males are far simpler and such a large tomb of information as the male blogosphere is mostly unnecessary for your average female. Females will of course insist otherwise but they just don't want to accept the truth about their significant others: we're simpletons.
Males are an incredible bunch, don't get me wrong. We've done some truly amazing things and we're smart motherfuckers. We've managed to rule the world for quite some time. We're tall, handsome, and good looking. We look striking in a suit and tie and, when all else fails, we serve as a great ice-cream delivery person to our pregnant wife. That all being said: we are still simpletons. In a good way. We're simple to please and even simpler to predict. We operate with fewer hormonal cycles, we act more consistently, and if we're acting really out there we're probably just a bit randy.
In short: males are dumbasses. I don't say this to be cruel, we just are.
And I'll say it again: in a good way.
Females, however, with their ups, their downs, their questionable social position in a society rooted/based/built on puritanical ethics, and their new found race for equality - they're a much more complex creature. I dare say females operate with more potential confliction on a day to day basis (from whether to get mad because their husband asked them to make dinner because he'd be home too late to whether it's appropriate to date their boss or not) than men probably deal with in a month. While male social position is certainly changing with the tide as well it is more gradual and lenient.
What does all this mean? Females are interesting. Unpredictable. Complex. Interesting
. So they, inevitably, attract far more attention than your average male blogger. Even if their day to day posts are as bland as ours there is always something to gleen. A little tidbit of information. The slightest hint of a gem of truth. Something we can take home and say "Look what I learned in school today!".
Plus, chicks are hot
. There is no denying that men win in the physical attraction game - we have way more of it for women than they do for us.
, for example. Tony is oft heard complaining about his lacluster hit counter in comparison to the slow-to-update madpony site - one with two (cute!) female bloggers. Of course. They're cute. They are sweet and funny and write well, oh - did I mention they were cute?
But mostly they are cute.
Let's not mix words. Physical attraction is a big hand to play and it works
. Two big-time bloggers of note, raymi
play that hand every day as they post numerous photos of themselves doing numerous things and, well, they are good looking girls - no doubt. The doubt is whether they would be nearly as popular if it were not for these photos. I say doubt because I honestly don't know. They are crazy and wacky and out there and write truly interesting stuff - interesting enough to stand alone without any gender attachment - but gender is attached and there isn't anything we can do about it. Gotta accept it and move on.
Move on down the road...
In this world there is a man peddling a stick of gum for $1.
Somewhere, out there,
In this world there is a man willing to pay $1 for a stick of gum.
Weekends are usually the bane of my existence. With the majority of my pals working odd-hour shifts in the "service" industry shucking oysters and cooking seafood and whatnot I've been used to Saturdays treating me like an unwanted child for quite awhile.
Boring stuff - usually wake up late, as late as possible, and lie in bed ruminating about my plight. Maybe *maybe* go out for a bike ride (at least back before the motorcycle was in the shop for THREE FUCKING WEEKS). Maybe do some laundry just to make me feel like I'm doing something productive. Maybe go running - not cause I like it or because I want to be healthy (although it's a nice side-effect) but mostly because I'm a junky just like the rest of you and the endorphines kick in and make me not so sad. You laugh, I know, but it's true. I don't even run long enough to get that typical "runner's high". I'm no kitty bukkake
or nothing. Just 6 miles on a good day, 4 maybe on a bad day.. but enough to so I can zone out a little
bit and by the time I'm home on the couch it's like being just slightly stoned. Just slightly. Okay, not really or nothing but those natural little endorphins have a way of making life's little thorns seem not quite as sharp. Chills me out. Helps me chillax.
That was the schtick for awhile anyway. Alone time. Too much alone time. Time to think and ponder and for a mind like mine - that's a dangerous thing.
Said to myself one simple Saturday running along the Eastern Promenade in the drizzling rain: "Michael, this is it. You're making a decision!" and so I thought, incredulously, oh yes? what decision would that be?
and I replied "That decision is this: This girl, this phantom, this thorn in your side, it is killing you - softly." and I thought yes, yes it is
, "so you need to build yourself a life-line. You need to give proverbial power of attorney to your better half, your logical side." So I contemplated this and mulled it over. And how would I do that?
I ventured. "This graduate school you think of.. it won't happen if you don't instill the drive, the want. You need a promise." Yes yes.. okay.. so..?
"So I think you should promise that you will go off to graduate school if this girl doesn't work out. When you're done, finished, on the ground and bleeding, you need to go to graduate school. When she is finished kicking you in the gut and the blood is mixing with your spit and dripping thickly from the corners of your mouth you need to get up and go to grad school. When the moon covers the sun and it is dark out and the ghouls and ghosts and goblins come ink-like from the darkest places to come carry you away into the night like a stolen babe, then is the time: go to grad school..."
and I thought it over for some time, as I ran *splash* *splash* *splash* in the rain and my ipod dripped sadly, soon to have a ruined LCD screen from that run in the rain, and I came to a conclusion.
Yes, you're right. For my own sanity.
And then I said, outloud - my voice appearing in the wet foggy breath in front of me, a rare occurrence talking to myself, indeed - "Yes, if this girl doesn't work out I will go to graduate school."
And for some time afterward I didn't believe me. I would have internal conversations about my convictions, about how trustworthy I was, about how committed to my own internal word I was. Fearing a deceitful back-stabbing I rushed out and verbalized my promise to friends thereby securing the promise in reality. By speaking, outloud and in mixed company, the conviction of grad school I effectively put giant meat hooks in the flesh of this decision; rooting it, chaining it, leashing it to this world - the one outside my head.
So Saturdays are turning into the space-out burn that the week used to be for me. I can sit now, at home, with little worry about production numbers or social outings. I watch movies by myself but I'm no longer alone in those afternoon hours of the day - I am accompanied by all the voices in my head that are attempting to choreograph my life like a thousand junior stock brokers yelling into telephones in the boiler room of my mind. Except they are all yelling at the same person.
They are loud and annoying but I know they mean well so I listen, intently, and I pick through the dialogue for useful tidbits of wisdom, advice, and morality.
There are some in there, truly.
I still run - more so now than ever - because it gives me time to let each voice have it's turn and it helps remind me where I'm going. Whether I'm running in a circle or down the street or around Back Cove I am figuratively running towards
something, somewhere. There is direction.
Some day the emotional trial - the tough one that is this girl - will be over. This emotional trial which is easily the hardest emotional trial of my life to date (admittedly not very hard at all by many standards but to this little short lived mind a very hard trial indeed) will end somewhere in the future. It may end happily or with regret. It may end remorsefully or abruptly or simply peter out like the dying light of the day. But with my decision and my promise - the promise of grad school - I have been given a new lease, a stay of execution. This trial shall continue later but for now the court is in recess.
So what do I do now? I live out my years as a poor student again knowing that out there somewhere - in the direction that I am running - there is the end to the trial. The last fall of the judges gavel. Adjournment.
And that is what I am running for.
Uhh.. um. I was going to try and come up with a witty intro to this comment I saw on a post on slashdot
about an Anti-HIV virus, but I just can't. I think this particular slashdotter's comments speak for themselves and need no introduction. All I will say is that there is a reason I rarely read slashdot comments..
I told my wife last night, 'honey, I can't have just one pussy for the rest of my life! I need more pussy than that,' and she said, 'Hey, if you were a little bigger, you'd have more pussy right here!'
So I looked into it, and the average pussy is eight inches deep, while the average penis is only six inches long. That means that two inches of pussy are wasted, on average, with every coital thrust. The average sex act lasts three minutes, with 30 thrusts per minute, adding up to 180 inches of wasted pussy per sex act, which happens on average three times per week. Multiply that by 52 weeks, and divide by the number of inches in a mile (63,360) and we find that there is nearly half a mile of wasted pussy per woman per year! Figuring approximately 100 million American women of legal age, that means, as a country, we are wasting around half a million miles of pussy every year, while some men here go without!"
I found an interesting blog (via Slashdot
) about one man's journey
into Honda Hybrid ownership. Quite surprising is the horrible gas mileage he has been experiencing (32mpg versus 48mpg advertised), which is only given more creedance by a few recent articles
discussing the issue.
This despite the fact that pages upon pages of pro-hybrid news articles can be found searching Google News for "hybrid car mileage"
and nary a negative word in sight.
One source of the problem, it would seem, is the inaccurate EPA testing which dealers are only happy enough to embrace (since the lab-only testing reports much higher mileage than real-world testing, it would seem). I gotta ask, at what point is Honda, Toyota, et al responsible for their advertising claims
See Honda's official website page on the Civic Hybrid here
I am truly curious about how many people use site feeds with a newsreader or other such information aggregator. It's certainly being touted as the next big thing
but I suspect people will always want to visit individual sites, just as people will always want to read magazines and newspapers and just as people will always want to watch full length sporting events.
If life were all about just hitting the important highlights then we'd have gotten there already, but we haven't.
Anyhow, because I doubt anyone coming here uses an aggregator this is a moot post and I will end it now.
None too happy with the blooger
folks these days but I'm alright with that cause we can't please everyone all of the time. Heck, hard enough to please some of the people some of the time or even, *gasp*, one person one time.
I think I might have pleased two people once, at the same time.. but that was a pretty big deal. And no, not what you're thinking.. unfortunately.
I figure they are trying.. they're innovating.. they are improving.. they are experiencing technical difficulties and, hell, that is to be expected. Would hope people would give me a break if I was in their shoes so that's just what I'll do.
Give 'em a break.
Up here in Maine we have a dumbass campaign for the roadworkers. It's to try and get people to slow down in construction zones. They have these big orange signs they throw up: "Give 'em a Brake". They think they are funny with their little puns but I have a nagging feeling that it just pisses people off and makes them drive faster. Maybe.
None too happy with myself lately cause my brain is kicking and screaming out a little temper-tantrum about making these looming life decisions. What can you do? To be expected, I suppose.. but it's making everyday harder and harder. It's making general thinking tasks harder. It's raising my body temperature and giving me hallucinations..
Okay, I guess I can't blame graduate school decisions on the hallucinations.. but whatever. It's tough. I'm not enjoying the process. I want to be there, or here, NOW, with the decision made, executed, and done. I don't want to wait.
If patience is a virtue I'm certainly not virtuous.
These days I don't even have the patience to write a worthwhile blog post and make it make any sense. I don't re-read or edit or spell check. I don't do much, but whine bitch and complain.
Speaking of, what I'd really like to be doing is talking about the horrendous photos coming out of Iraq and how it must look to the rest of the world. They are pretty much making the U.S. look like a buncha Nazi fuckers.. and that's just it, we probably are a buncha Nazi fuckers. We're heading up a large military operation and shit is bound to get nasty down in the trenches, sure, but is it really necessary (I don't care how much fucking stress you are under) .. is it REALLY necessary to be treating prisoners like.. do you.. what?..
It makes me too mad to even verbalize about it.
This shouldn't be a discussion. This shouldn't be a debate. It's far too simple to even call it a "no-brainer". It just is. The United States of America should represent itself on the world stage with honour and, at the very least, follow international moral and ethical codes - despite what everyone and anyone else might do. In fact we as a nation - the U.S. of A. - should be holding ourselves to a higher standard - JUST BECAUSE.
If you ask me there should be some war crimes trials really soon. Not U.S. trials but INTERNATIONAL trials. The defendants, among others, should be everyone from the U.S. military involved in this - from the private all the way up through the ranks to any on-site officers and even further up if there is any hint of evidence that even higher-ups knew even one iota of what was happening at ground zero out there in the desert.
I'm all for supporting the troops. I'm all for saying "good going, guys". I'm all for thanking young poverty stricken minorities for fighting the wars of the white rich. But only if they fucking EARN IT.
I fear for this nation. I fear for the race of man. I fear that there will be major apocalypse in the near future. Twenties years from now the political and physical landscape could look far different than anything we could imagine right now.
and I'm scared.
Blogger is being a biatch today and everyday it seems. Had problems from before - template being chopped off at the heels and never coming back, but now, now it gets chopped off at the knees. Replace, Republish, what now? NULL.
Null is about the most evil word in the computer language. Never ever want a null. They're awful.
But the site posts fine so I will stay away from the template editor like an addict locks themselves away from their dealer. No more. We're stuck with what we've got, for now.
ALWAYS stuck with what you've got,
I'm a horrible speller. I could have spell-chunked that last post but I didn't. Why?
We all know why.
Which is the same reason I don't post as often as I want and the same reason I don't get out of bed when I want and also, gasp, the same reason I don't get as much work done as I want.. to.
Is that why people comment less on the politically charged posts of mine? Laze? Or is it more because nobody has anything to say? Or is it because the people coming here, reading this, have little interest in my (sound, logical) politics and more interest in my heart - and by heart I mean soul, as in the soul-searching CRAP that I normally write here.
Is that it?
Are you all just a bunch of soul-searching crap-o-phites?
I certainly know what I am. I know where I stand - mostly. Sure, confusion is a natural human tendancy but if I want to - really want to, concentrate - I can pull my head out of the sand and clear the cloud and I know.. oh, I KNOW, what the answers are. I know what I am.
Laziness is can be a virtue if placed in the proper hands.
So why no comment debate? What is it about any one post that causes one person to comment but not the next? I could count the number of multi-comment posts I've ever had on one hand. Okay, maybe two.. Nobody cross-posts. Nobody discusses. It's just "yah, i agree".
Appreciated - thank you.
( note : do not shoot gift horse in mouth )
But why? Wouldn't it be more productive, interesting, energetic, explosive, envigorating, to post disagreement? discourse? diatribes? dialogue?
jus' a though'.. tha's all. jus' a though'.
Decisions - or rather looming decisions - abound today. If I read my horoscope today (and they were actually accurate) it would say something like: "You will be a big stressball today in part no thanks to your excessive caffeine intake well past the noon hour but mostly thanks to your impending life decisions which will forever and ever shape who, where, what, and why you are, were, and will be." Okay, maybe not the were
part.. I've already made all the beds I've slept in so far. The question is.. THE QUESTION IS.. which bed will I be sleeping in next?
At this point Graduate school is looming large in my forward view and I'm weighing pros, cons, and other such nonsense such that I can make a decision that will no doubt play a gargantuan factor in how my life plays out from here on in. Thing is, I know the right choice. I know which school I should
pick. I know the option I should be opting for. I'm just trying to avoid making it.
I'm just a loser, baby. So why don't you kill me.
No. Really. Puhlease. I need someone to remove me from this ridiculus perch. It's tipsy, high, and the snapping turtles below are hungry.
I am such an asshole it's not even funny. If I could impart a single ounce of wisdom to everyone on earth as my last dying wish it would be: Don't be an asshole like me!
I will be making this life decision soon, I will be traveling away from my current path soon, I will be going somewhere I have not been before soon - figuratively speaking, of course. I will be running amok like a chicken with my head cut off, cursing buearcracy, and sending arrows of seething hatred into my brain - the part of my brain that made the decisions (albeit the correct one) to put me where I will be.
Or fuck, hell if I know, maybe I'll love it. Ain't everyone that gets the chances I get. Ain't every dude that can say they've seen what these a'ramblin' eyes have seen. Ain't every day you can wake up and say:
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
I have an itchy nasty question to ask.. it's about gender and racial equality but I'm not going to ask it because I don't want to deal with finding out I'm wrong..
Okay, fuck it, I'll ask it anyway:
Where are all the black bloggers at?
I know tony
claims to be black (half black? all black?) but shit, he claims he is 109 (110?) so I can never tell really. Other than that I'm shooting blanks.
There has gotta be some out there.
The last thing this internet needs to become is another white suburbia cause I think that would just about be the end of the world for me. I'd ask 'em to stop the ride right there.
Let me get off.
Course maybe half the bloggers I read out there are black and I don't even know it.. which would be the best thing of all. Words be only words and they're all equal when read from anonymous authors with no race, background, religion, or otherwise.. but I guess I'm just nervous that they're all whitebread crackers.
I'm about as whitebread cracker as you can get, and let me tell yah, I've done some mental gnawing away on myself here and there and damnit.. I just don't taste that great.
Variety is the spice of life and if I believe it, trust it, think it, then my life decision isn't a decision at all, is it? It's an answer just waiting to be choosen.
I don't intend double-speak there. I'm just saying that if I believe what I say I believe than the choice is obvious and not really a choice at all.
Pre-determined, in fact?
I will not get a cell phone. I will not talk to people in basements of deep dark buildings where my cell phone will get horrific reception and every other utterance out of my mouth is "Huh? [sccczzeerch] Wha[scaaeerp]?". I will not pay $60 for a $35 cell phone plan. I will not will not will not.
Damn, if I leave this place I will leave my free cable tv and my free wireless internet that my neighbours don't know I am stealing. If I leave this place I will leave my friends - (am I a bastard? I was just thinking of saying something that would certainly make me sound like one) - I will leave my home, my apartment of three years - three FUCKING years - the longest I've lived in any place other than the houses of my parents that I grew up in. I will leave the relatively inexpensive rent and the super-duper roommate/bestfriend I just NOW received. I will leave the running path, the ocean, the sailboats, the diners. I will see my fitness program fall on it's face - no doubt it will do that on it's own without any prodding from me but it's a good one to add to the list anyway.
Running in large cities is a bummer, if you ask me. I need some solitude. I need some trees and grass and maybe a brisk chilly evening, dark even, and not a whole lot going on around me. I need my music in my ears without any distractions so I can dive deep into the pool of sound, deep enough that the noise of the world becomes nothing more than a distant and muffled rumble.
I have a wonderful opportunity, given genetics and stature, to become a fat old man. If I put my mind to it and really gave it my all it could happen in a few years, even. I could double up on the packs of cigarettes to get those wrinkle-lines around the eyes and to increase the aging process. I could lay out in the sun every day to the point of almost
-burning till my skin was a golden golden brown such that it would start to hang off me like so much.. hanging stuff. I could pack in the smoked meat sandwiches and cheese and avoid every green speck of vegetable and I could get
F A T
If that was my motivation. If that's what I wanted to do. If that was my M.O. But hell I can't even make the decision to go to one school or the other why should I why should I why should I be allowed - who GAVE ME this authority - WHY am I in control of this life, I'm dangerous, I don't make well thought out logical decisions..
You've seen me in the ways of the heart. I'm a schlep. I'm about as illogical as you can get, for a person so logical as myself. I write HORRIFIC poetry to those I lust. I ignore those I love. I convince myself that life, although painted as if it were a neverending journey of choices, is a linear path - travelled, untravelled, who cares - it's one - singular - not something to be choosing here, or there. I'm not talking about ketchup or mustard on your burger here. This is bigger than that. This is L I FUCKING E. This is 80 years - a millisecond - a nanosecond - a billionth of a millionth of a nanosecond in the life of the world, the universe, but holy fucking shit is it ever BIG to me. It's all I know. Even though my life so far, approximately up to this point, has been less than one one-millionth of one percent of the time this earth has existed in this universe (which is to say if the earth existed for a year than I have existed for far less than one second).. even though this is so..
It is HUGE-MONGOUS to me.
From this tiny vantage point up on this cliff with the wind beating at my pretty fucking hard, my toes slipping off the edge, the lightening striking from above as storm clouds twirl, swirl, whirl around above my head.. all I can see - in fact my ENTIRE view - is a mere 25 years. Less than the equivalent of one second of one year. Equivalency aside, perspective my friends is a powerful thing.
Ask George Bush.
The bad thing about doing your laundry all at once a few times a year is that sock matching becomes a major bitch. Each run through I end up with 6 or 10 spares that have no partner and man, are they the sad little singles bunch. I just wrap them all together and they sit in my lower bin like a buncha schleps at a dive bar on tuesday at 4pm.
A few months later I'll do another laundry run - it's usually 6 or 7 loads at once but I've gone for as many as 9 - and I'll whip out those singles from the lower bin and see if they can meet a girlfriend or boyfriend in the fresh new pile. Sometimes they get lucky. Last run through I had 12 singles all milling about the bus stop like their long-lost bestest-girlfriend-ever was coming to visit via greyhound and somehow it happened. 9 of those 12 suckers got hitched. No joke.
It took me close to an hour just to sort through all the socks but hey, now there are only 3 sad singles in the lower bin... and it'll be a few months yet before I have to think about laundry again.
I look around and see exciting things happening around me. Right
around me. Like I'm surrounded by up and comers. Like I'm a magnet for could-bes. New bands are formed right in front of my eyes with all the verve and bravado. All the energy. Ideas are hatched like spring chickens and worked out late at night at kitchen tables. Cigarettes are smoked, beer is consumed, the next-big-things are born.
Note to self: Idea#1 - hypothesis, re: why my generation is fucked -> The negative effects of the information age as it pertains to drive and motivation.
Note to self: Idea#2 - story, re: invisible girl and the inability to come to terms with what we can't see.
Things happen, you see. Interesting things happen. Can't talk about it here or now, but I'll fill you in when the need arises. Incognito, yah?
But sometimes I'm surrounded by has-beens too, which is a super bummer. Has-beens know they are has-beens and they just like to fuck other people's shit up cause they're bitter about their position. They're the sorts to tell my pal not to sleep with the 19 year old, you know what I mean? (Okay.. almost 19. Whatever.)
14 year olds in California are trying to get the vote
, and my pal can't sleep with a 19 year old? (almost 19, whatever). What sort of country are we living in here, anyway? I'm probably not the first one to say this but isn't giving 14 year olds 1/4 vote status akin to giving black slaves 3/5ths vote, or whatever it was that we did back when? It's taking the implicit stance that teenagers aren't "real people" and getting awfully damn close to being pretty damn explicit. Plus, if I'm 18 and MTV is babbling at me to "get the vote" and Bush and Kerry are arguing on TV and 10% of my fellow classmates are going out and voting.. hell, you think I'm going to go out and vote at 14 when I BARELY EVEN COUNT? People live their entire teenage years feeling like they barely count.. will giving them 1/4 vote really improve anything?
of population by age in California pegs 14-17 year olds at right around 2 million in a state where total population exceeds 35 million. The 18 and older population is right around 26 million. That means that, if 14-17 year olds could vote, they would account for 7% of the voting public. Account for their 1/4 vote and you're talking about less than 2% of the voting power. Account for the 75% of 14 year olds who won't vote anyway (and I'm being optimistic to think 25% will show up at the polls) and you're now down to 0.5%. LESS THAN ONE PERCENT.
Just think of the amount of money being wasted on this issue. The press conferences. The lobbying. The counter-attacks. All for LESS THAN ONE PERCENT, a number so small that it won't matter anyway.
The dilemma continues.
Yup, it's official. I am a bad person. I think I can deal with it. Oh the lines
[of communication] are opening up (just as I planned). She brought up graduation (she asked me to sleep with her when she graduated a while ago) she brought up being legal (almost 19) she said she takes sexual favors where she can (hehe) Oh yes it will be done YES IT WILL BE DONE mwahahaha mewahahaha!
Duder's car, man.. replicated
over at LebowskiFest.com
Laying in bed early into the morning hours, staring out at the dark world humming around me, I tried to post. I tried to write about jaime's
great pics and how it's the sort of photography I think I'd do if my primary mode of transportation was still foot-driven and I was in a setting thick with urban decay.. no, no, I don't mean to sound morbid there.. I just mean that decay (in a literal sense, not a figurative sense) makes for good subject matter. Ever notice how great old-people potraits come across? Not stately
, per se, but.. well.. classic
, I guess. Items, too. Old barns leaning heavily to one side with grey grey wood that hasn't seen a varnish or a stain in well over my lifetime. Giant old knarled trees with roots practically bubbling out of the ground all around it like a frothing foaming tempest. Tired old dogs laying under pickup trucks sitting in the bright midday sun, ears drooped down so low around their face as if them ears were roots and the cool ground was water, the elixir of life. I dunno.. there is something about old shit.
I tried to post an explaination about my decay lately; not the urban kind, but that of the mind. By that point in the early early morning my elbow was tired of being leaned on and my eyes were tired of being open and I was tired of being tired but I tried to post a positive message to wake up to this morning..
But blogger was being a bitch last night.. and not my bitch.
Blogger ate my first Jaime post.. ate all the links I made to grafitti art in his blog and how cool I thought it was that people from around the world visit his site and someone, every once in awhile, will recognize a piece of art or the style of the art and they'll know who the artist is, will know where the artist is from, and it'll be from the other side of the world.. cause it is a small small world, here, in this tiny bubble we call home.
Blogger ate my whiny post about feeling bummed out. I guess I shouldn't really complain about that. In fact it should be a feature. Come on Google, get with it.. crank out some smart algorithms to filter out posts that are whiny, bitchy, or otherwise honest. It would be great. Blogs could turn into network television. All smiles and red lip gloss and bad stuff only happens in a dramatic way such that it's good: it makes you feel like you're alive.
There be a touch of sarcasm in there somewhere, sonny.
Finally wised up to the situation when I went to check my links and alignment - like the good little blogger I am - and I tried one more time:
Blogger ate that one to. By this point it was 2:30 (ante meridiem) and I gave up...
till just now.
Have to mention that Sony launched it's new music store
with super happy DRM copy-right protection today. It's all about the MiniDisc though which I certainly loved the idea it just, sadly, never caught on. They're just spinning a lot of tiny CDs though cause Sony plans to release their new and improved 1-gig Hi-MD discs in June.
No big guess why everyone and his brother wants in on this shit as it's quite the growing market. Forrester Research, in fact, thinks the digital music market will jump from $308 million this year to $4.4 billion by 2008.
I'ma gonna tells yah what I know real quick like. All of it:
From here on out you can stop reading.
is on a roll all writing novellas over there on the west coast in his castle and I got a whole lot of nothing for you here in my cave. I can't seem to get shit done lately. It's as if, kind of like, almost, if you look at it right, I'm going crazy.
No worries. I'm as rooted as ever.
Maybe that's why I link the likes of Anti all the time: cause I know I've got shit to say so I figure maybe you all can shuffle on over to some of these other sites with something actually interesting on them. Sure, not everyday. Nobody is good for every
. But you know what I mean.
Me, I'm not even good enough for every other week it seems. I'm bone dry and coughing up blood. Someone turned me upsidedown and shook the contents out on the ground. I'm etch-a-sketched out.
And I got shit for hits these days. Shit.
And I got shit for decision making skills these days.
Want to - badly - want to believe I can make decisions, stick with them, and - most importantly - get rewarded for them.. but I can't even write a coherent sentence. Or two.
I can't even get out of bed on time. Wish it were depression so as I'd have an excuse but it's not. Insomniacal sleeping habits that have stayed with me since childhood and an overactive mind makes for shitty mornings. never liked the mornings. ever.
Would like to believe it's all going to make a difference down the line like the good get better and the wicked get worse and things balance and even out and it all comes out like a simple formula in the end.
probably doesn't though.
don't imagine so.
I don't care for the significant differences in apparent colour saturation between my work monitor (17" Acer 77c powered by a NVidia Riva TNT2 Model 64 fed by Windows 2000 5.00.2195 at 1024x768) and my home monitor (12.1" Active Matrix laptop display powered by an ATI Mobility Radeon 7500 fed by Mac OS X 10.2.x).
Maybe I'm using the wrong terminology here.. but my laptop makes for much brighter an richer colours.. sort of the opposite of what I would expect. Poo on you Acer.
Subsequently, my buzznet photos probably look pretty assy to most of you.. since I'm sure you're all on Windows machines with 17inch monitors, for the most part.
And inspiration strikes when you're not looking.
do you like to feel up pizza when you've had to much to drink? I do. do you feel like it's ok cause the pizza won't talk? I do. I feel like I can do what ever I want to pizza and I will never get in trouble. It's a power thing I guess.
I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here or anywhere.
Complaints: it's too hot too cold too muggy too old.
Whine: it's just not fair.
Conclude: it's just my bum luck.
I think perspective, or rather the realization of other's, is what gets me in trouble
Cause I act like I care. I act like it matters. I act like what others think effects me
but it doesn't doesn't doesn't in the smallest teeny tiniest of ways.
If I perceive your hatred of me then it effects me. I make amendments to my rules of engagement based on the enemy. I cajole or seeth or just plain ignore. I plead or sugarcoat or knee you in the balls. Depends, but the bill passes through the legislature up in my head and veto or no it's going into effect - this is a dictatorship. In my head. In my head there are millions of citizen-synapses firing firing firing at eachother. Interacting. Communing. Building societies in my head. Republican synapses and Democratic synapses and Libertarian ones. My eyeballs hurt. But deep down in the core, somewhere far away in a corner of the universe I like to call my cerebral cortex, there is the mother-synapse.. big and fat and all ganglious and firing off direct orders, making direct decisions, calling the big shots. The dictator mother-brain-synapse that says:
I hate you too
But if I fail to perceive any sense of your seething hatred for me then there is no debate, there are no enactments, there isn't a single choice or decision or amendment to my daily life. I go about in a fog - hazy, misty, semi-lucid, fighting.. fighting.. - but not a single clue enters the building. The mother-synapse sleeps tongiht. No decisions to make. I don't know you hate me.
So I make it up anyway. You must hate me. Change perspective. Create something. You don't like me because of what I said about what you did to you know who.. of course. It makes complete sense. No wonder you didn't call. No wonder you didn't write. No wonder. No wonder.NoWonder.
So I make it up. You hate me I hate you he hates me we hate eachother. Makes perfect sense. 1 + 1 = 2 and 2 + 2 = 4 and I hate you.
So I'll make my mind up about things using this roadmap that's based on a drawing by a child from memory who wandered the landscape last year. In the dark. The kid is always in the damn dark. It's always dark where I get my roadmaps from and they don't make any sense at all. Not one iota. So what do you do? You make it up as you go. You must hate me.
I'd like to think it's choice, in the end.. just that it's not being made - not being actively choosen. The choice is choosing me and I'm choosing it because it's there in front of me.
Can you make the choice not in front of you?
But more importantly - of utmost importance, in fact - is my last question for the day:
Do choices take extreme meditation? Does perspective change because you employ a zen-like concentration or does it change because you stop worrying about it? Do perspectives turn about from intense worship of the idea or from a point-like decision to effect a difference?
How powerful is my perspective. How powerful is my control over it. How much, in the end, does it matter?
Choice or Consequence?
Why do people talk to me with their little voices like I'm wasting my time?
I'm mostly done with just linking other folks and saying "go read" cause what's the point in that? I never wanted to be a phone book and I'm not going to start now. When you first start a blog it can be awful tempting.. heck, that's all some blogs are.. and I'm not saying it's wrong.. in fact it's great. Some blogs out there are just like the phone book for me, only opinionated. And just like a good critic (once you've found one you like you can mostly take their word for it) they've sifted through the craposphere all night for you so that when you show up in the morning (okay, afternoon) all you need to do is make a one-stop-shop'ping run and you're caught up on most things interesting in blogland.
is on the horn right now about the pixies, which is great. I've been seeing it for a few weeks now, building up to their re-appearance on the scene.. but this last weekend was the coming out party and tony writes about the secret pixies show he saw. And. AND.. even though all he does on that damn blog of his is write about kurt cobain he knows that kurt said "I was just trying to copy the pixies" (of which leader black francis frank black said "I was just trying to copy the beatles") and he knows that, and I quote :
"the problem was the pixies were too good ... the best people in attendence [at the show] were the pixies ... overlooked because they didnt dress funny or kill themselves or make kickass videos. overlooked because of the subtlety to their rock. and the power to their pop.
I should have mentioned.. The Moral Dilemma below is not my
I just e-mailed my little 18 year old friend. I think I'll try to bang her. I need to bang a young girl at least once... i think. I figure I can open the line of communication and just like every other time I talk with her any amount, IT comes up. So I just plant the seed and wait. Is this wrong? It wouldn't take much for me to believe that I'm am making a choice that is not the best choice. But I think it may be a bad choice that I learn from... right? Any way I'll talk to you later.