Happy Electsmas, Everyone...

I was trying to comment on Craig West's blog, but the freakin blog security thing kept telling me that I was entering shit wrong. So screw it. Here are my thougts, such as they are, on the state of Canadian politics, such as they are...
To read what set me off, check out Craig's blog. These are the comments that got me going.

Right off the top, we have to recognize that, while not a perfect example of democracy, our nation has the opportunity to spank the Liberals for lies, corruption and some truly despicable back-room boy-on-money love...
The Libs lied and were caught. The Libs stole and were caught. The Libs used an opportunity to keep this country in one piece and used it to launder money and pay for lots and lots of drinks and buy golf courses and make some friends richer. And, by the way, it wasn't the last time they had a majority... The last time they had a majority was when the shit hit the fan and they were found out.
It happened. They were caught.
So who do we blame for the Libs staying in power? What sneaky bastard let them back in to rule this country? Oh, yeah. It was ALL of us. We had the opportunity to show the Libs how we felt, and we told them, hey, some love lost, but not much...

So here we are again.

And what a strange, strange thing we wake up to... Harper and Martin are promising to spend money like druken sailors at a strip club on two-for-one night... Layton says, hey, I've got a plan, but, sorry, I can't tell you about it coz we've only had a year and a half to put it together and its not ready yet. And the Greens aren't sounding so green anymore.

This one seriously important election, folks.
Unless the Conservatives win a majority, Harper will become truly familiar with what its like to be in the midst of a feeding frenzy with a group of sharks on crystal meth. Unless the Libs win a majority, Martin will get curbed like a frat boy on a Saturday night outside the River Rock and will become a footnote in Canadian history, having his name mentioned in the same breath as Turner and Campbell...
The purges are on the way, people, it ain't gonna be pretty.

It isn't an easy decision, this election.
On the one hand we have the Libs who have yet to answer for their crimes. They need to pay the band, shut out the lights, and clean up. They also need to bring back Brian Tobin, but that's a whole other wish list.
The Conservatives need to get rid of the neo-cons. The vast majority of Canadians are very, very uncomfortable with this brand of social conservativism. We dig fiscal conservatism, but this whole angry white guy shit is just dumb.
And the NDP... well, they've kinda become the sad kid in the corner at a party where they can only join the cool kids when the cool kids need them to beat up the other cool kids. I loved their whole self-righteous act in the '70's and the '80's. Now, they are just kind of sad...
And, please, please stay away from the Greens. For everyone's sake, make these fucks shut up. Their leader is a former PC member and a motiviational speaker for multi-national corporations. Fuck.

Anyway, I've rambled more than enough, I think.

Just remember, when you vote, think nationally, act locally...

Strange Rumblings From The Christmas Mad

While checking out one of my favorite daily reads, The Museum Of Hoaxes(go check it out, I'll be waiting) I came across this.
Please, check it out.

Is it real, could he have really pulled it off? Its pretty cool either way.

Now, I'm going to go play with some Christmas lights. You should, too.

Strange Rumblings From The Great White North

Huh?

Is this real?

Check out the story...

What have you been up to, Roy?

Only one solution I can see...nuke it from orbit...

And so I worked hard, very hard, and wrote this whole thing about the kidnapping of the local fellow in Iraq and I was quite proud of it and I thought it was very nice and sensitive and then...and then Internet Explorer lost its fragile fucking mind and crashed and there went my very nice and sensitive and made-me-proud piece of writing that I have been working on for hours and hours and thinking about for days and days.


Fuck you Internet Explorer. First chance I get, I'm upgrading to OS X and waving good-bye to your sorry ass.

Fuck you Microsoft. Christ, you know it ain't easy...

Feel free to comment. I'm going to try again later, when I am not thinking evil thoughts about Bill Gates.

Strange Rumblings From...okay, this is fucked up...

Very, very odd...

Oh, boy.

Strange Rumblings While Staggering Around The Information Superhighway

One balding, middle-aged man's mumblings and bumblings while checking out this new-fangled thing called "The Internet"...

Having issues calling a call center? Tired of "your call is important to us" bullshit (a little known secret about working in a call center - when we call another department, a department no-one from the outside can get to, an assist line or another tier with no connection to the public at large, guess what we hear while waiting... "your call is important to us". Really.)? Tired of "press # then * then blah-blah-blah? Check this out - some dude is putting together a list of IVR cheats (that's the quasi-tech term for the fucking robot voice).
Here is the tale...
And here is the cheat sheet...
I checked - the call center I call home is not on the list, but one I did work at is.
Check it out. Now.

Other bits of coolness...

While searching for wholesome goodness for the soul, I came across this bit of high-speed photography...skynet.be. Check out the Bullet Technique. It is good when some folks have too much time on their hands.

And then there are the other folks...

Tired of having two nostrils when one would do the job? Are you? Click here and check out Human Upgrades...

Do you or does a man you know suffer from Behavioral Effeminism and Male Homosexuality Disorder? Then worry no more. Hetracil is here to save the day...

Looking for that one special Christmas gift for the cat-lover in your life? Bonsai Kitten to the rescue.

And another link for Roy...For you, my friend...

Strange Rumblings...

When watching the circus that is the American political system I have become accustomed to seeing all kinds of bizzaro-world things happen. Lots of Orwellian war is peace thinking, lots of "hey, we're the home of freedom so let's erode our freedoms at home and in the workplace" kind of kink, lots of 2 + 2 = 5 logic.
But the last few weeks have really hurt my head.

Dick Cheney, the V-P of the corporation to the south of us (unless you live in Windsor, where it is to the north of you... weird, huh?) has hit his head or is swallowing Percs or munching on shrooms or something.Dick Cheney has taken it upon himself to debate the merits of torture with John McCain... Remember - Dick has never been in the military, stayed the hell away from Viet Nam and is working for a guy who avoided the military due to his family connections. McCain, on the other hand, spent five and a half years in a pow camp - this dude was tortured, beaten, starved and pissed on. For Christ's sakes, the guy can't reach above his own fucking head.

Weird.

How big does your ego have to be, how large are your balls, how stoned or insane or demented or just plain delusional does one have to be to argue the merits of torture with someone who has been fucking tortured?

For more on Dick and McCain and the sad, sad, sad debate read this and this.

Strange days, indeed.

Also, Dick and Dubya keep repeating the "we do not torture" mantra.
Maybe the Fifth Estateshould be force fed into the American mindscape... The folks at the CBC did a fine job exposing a fermenting pile of shit and vomit and put in on some fine china for all of us to wonder at.

We should thank the stars every day for what we have in the CBC, by the way. The same night they broadcast this incredibly disturbing doc, Nightline NBC was blowing the lid wide open on the John Lennon murder... using audio interviews with Mark David Chapman from about fifteen years ago. And never once questioning the official story. Nice.

Maybe that's a clue into the major difference between Us and Them... They get pablum, we get a five-course meal served up in a really nice restaurant.

Hmmm... Things to ponder.

No pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, but here's a link for Roy...click here, Roy...

Strange Rumblings From Afar

I saw U2 the other night.

Bono spoke of Important Things and the band played like an unstoppable freight train. The crowd was fifty thousand strong and knew most of what they heard.

I saw U2 the other night.

A new band led by Gavin of Bush opened the night. We were polite, but they bored me. Gavin - skipper and bad dancer...

I saw U2 the other night.

Before experiencing them live, I had always assumed the band belonged to Bono and The Edge. Now... I assume the band follows Adam. He is a force of nature, a professor of the funk, a professor of the punk and a champion of the groove. Someone had to behind their rapid changes of style.

I saw U2 the other night.

They played Gloria. The Detroit crowd sang the chorus. It is an odd site watching fifty thousand people sing Latin, but, hey, it happened.

I saw U2 the other night.

Larry has a portrait of himself hidden in his attic at home that is aging. Cause he ain't.

I saw U2 the other night.

And it got me thinking... When this band sings of faith and God and religion and Jesus, we don't mock. We don't duck out for a quick smoke. We don't cuss them out for bringing down the party. When Social D plays When the Angels Sing or Angel Wings or Ball and Chain the pit doesn't stop, the room doesn't empty. When Johnny Cash would release an album of gospel music, we accepted it. And it go me thinking... Is this an example of a 3-dimensional faith? Are we (meaning, well, me...) more accepting of someone else's religious views and someone else's faith and relationship with their God and their beliefs if that person has walked thru fire and stood on the edge of the cliff and wakes up every day and has to decide if today they will be Good or if today they will Bad and their demons hound them every second of their life and it is a constant struggle to look in the mirror and be proud of what they see? I swear, when I listen to Hank Williams Sr, I can almost hear the battle going on in his head... Is that why I can listen to his suicide songs and his drinking songs and his goofy songs and his faith songs? Don't know, really... I can't stand listening to white choral music, but I get a groove on for black gospel. What's up with that? Things to ponder.

I saw U2 the other night.

And just as I was feeling real good, real comfortable with pop stars speaking their minds, with people in the music industry taking a pro-acitve role in world affairs and matters of the mind and things bigger than themselves... 50 Cent opened his mouth. The destruction of the Gulf Coast was supposed to happen? The displacement of hundreds of thousands of people, the deaths, the devestation of entire communities was what... God's practical joke? Once again to prove how important Chuck D is to world of hip-hop and rap... 50 Cent speaks his mind. Shut up 50. Please. Thank you.

I saw U2 the other night.

They made me feel good about the world.

Strange Rumblings In Kubrick's Brain

2001 explained?
Is it possible...?
Got 10 minutes or so?
Check this out.

What are you waiting for?

No, there are no pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh. Just Kubrick goodness.

Now, go on, get.

Strange Rumblings From New Jersey, Cont'd...

The first day of shooting Clerks 2 has been posted, and here is the clip, in quicktime...
Hopefully, I don't get sued.
Or beaten by goons from New Jersey.

Be good. Check it out.
Snooch.
And, still, no unclothed ladies flinging pooh...yet...

Strange Rumblings From Florida

Sometimes, occasionally, once in a long while we all come across something that leaves us a little bit speechless...

Free Key West Juan!!!!!

Strange Rumblings From New Jersey 2

Godfather 2.
The Empire Strikes Back.
The Two Towers.
Superman 2.

Clerks 2.

Check out Kevin Smith's video diary. Check it out now now.

Kevin Smith rocks. Snooch.

Strange Rumblings From The Information Super Highway

Blogs, blogs, blogs, blogs, blogs.
Gotta love 'em.
Really, we do.
Things to click on... and they are all blogs.
Kevin Smith. He is the man behind Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Jersey Girl and, eventually, Clerks II. He has a blog. It's called My Boring Ass Life.
Rick Mercer. This Hour Has 22 Minutes, Rick Mercer's Monday Report, that show about Canadian television that had the Tragically Hip theme song. You know the one. He has a blog. It is called Rick Mercer's Blog.
Wil Wheaton. He was one the kids looking for the dead body in Stand By Me. He also played Wesley on Star Trek:The Next yadda yadda yadda. Don't hold that against him. Go to Wil Wheaton Dot Net and feel the love.
Bob Mould. Husker Du (if only my computer could make those cool little dots over the u's) and Sugar and solo artist and all around great guy (I'm sure he is). He has one, too. Boblog is its name.
The amazing Donna Hopper. Blossoming graffiti vandalizer, photographer, jewelery maker, wife who has yet to kill me in my sleep. She blogs twice. Stuff and Things and the Photo Blog.
Craig West. Startlefish, Chris Belsito Band, Spiderback, God only knows all the other outfits he's played with (and even then, God probably gets confused...) and solo artist. Friend and best man at my wedding. He has a blog. Make your way there, now.

There. Enjoy. That's not all the blogs I go to, but I have to get back my laundry and looking at pictures of unclothed ladies. So I will post more another time, when the dogs aren't whining to go outside so they can chase rodents.
Lord willing and the creeks don't rise, I will return.

Staggered into here, unclothed ladies, flinging pooh, apologize, yadda yadda yadda. You know the rest.

Strange Rumblings From The Big Apple, Pt 1

Yestarday I finally got around to watching a classic, Panic In Needle Park with Al Pacino.
No, I didn't watch it with Al Pacino (though that would have been kind of cool. I could lie and say, yeah, I did watch it with Al Pacino and we shared adult beverages and nachos and then played Star Wars Trivia Pursuit and laughed and laughed and laughed. But I won't.)
Its an early Pacino film, as far as I can tell his first starring role. According to IMDB this is the film that Coppola showed the brass at Paramount in order to convince them to hire Pacino for The Godfather.

The film revolves around Bobby (Pacino) and Helen (Kitty Winn - she played Sharon the hottie in The Exorcist) who are young and in love and living in Manhattan. They just happen to live in Needle Park and are a couple of beautiful junkies and hustlers and theives and exist in one of the lower circles of hell.
The movie has a gritty, real look to it. A no-budget, hand-held camera kinda shaky thing going on at times. There are moments when the film has a real documentary feel to it, with in-your-face examinations of the rituals involved in shooting street-grade heroin. The fingers tapping the envelope, coaxing the powder into a bottle cap. Lighting a couple of matches and holding them just right to cook. The syringe lovingly filling up. The careful insertion into the vein (more tapping). Slowly pushing the plunger. The near-orgasmic extasy of the junkie when the poison hits the brain.
Trainspotting, this is not. No MTV-generation edits here, folks. Sometimes, its one fluid shot (no pun intended, maybe) from smack in bottle cap to orgasm. Which does tend to support the myth that the film-makers did employee some real junkies...

If you ever see this film (he says, hoping someone actually reads this blog-thing), watch the folks in the background in the street scenes. I honestly believe that this was filmed, at times, sans permits. Guys stop and watch Kitty Winn's legs as she walks by them. People passing by seemed confused when they overhear the conversations between actors. Very cool. Don't get a lot of that these days.
And pay attention to the faces in the film. There are some very familiar, but very young, ones here and there. Paul Sorvino as a john, Raul Julia as Helen's lover when she first meets Bobby.
And the camera work. Oh, boy, the camera work. Jerry Schatzberg really shines. There is one scene in a coffee shop, where Bobby runs out to grab his brother Hank (a B & E artist who dresses like a banker). The shot follows Pacino out of the coffee shop to get Hank and then back to his table without breaking or the camera leaving its spot near the counter. And on the way out, Pacino runs straight into a bus boy which sends a tray of cups and plates flying, which has the feel of a real accident. Pacino's line (an ad-lib?) sends Kitty Winn into a fit of laughter.

One thing I gotta say that I truly loved about this film is that everyone, I mean everyone, is a user. From the thieves and hustlers and junkies to the cops. No cop with a heart of gold in this movie. He wants to make a bust and he's going to use the pretty girl to do it. I loved that.
In a remake, the handsome cop would want to save the girl, take her away from this world and make her his all his. Of course, in a remake the addicts would all share some huge loft with hip posters and hip furniture and hip music. Panic In Needle Park has no wallpaper. Very little furniture. The characters share a park bench where they drool and twitch. And, praise Jesus, there is no music in this movie, anywhere. None. Not one iota. Zero. Zip. Do not go looking for the soundtrack people, there ain't one.
So, to sum up... Panic In Needle Park is an early-seventies movie that has plenty of close-ups of needles breaking skin, lots of dialogue, very little action, a lot of stuff going on off-screen (and we're expected to use our brains to figure out), and no music.
Cannot recommend it enough.

So why are you still here? Find it, rent it, love it. Panic In Needle Park. This ain't your parents junkie film (actually - it is, funny, eh?).

If you staggered into here expecting to find pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, I apologize. I'm not from around here. Maybe try later...

Strange Rumblings From New Jersey

Stumbling and staggering around the information superhighway, I came across something very cool. For folks that dig Kevin Smith and hate hurricanes, View Askew is hosting a charity auction. Some of the fun includes a barbeque at Kevin Smith's, a walk-on in Clerks 2, goodies from Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash.
Much coolness.
Sure, the starting bids might be high, but, if someone can afford it, look at what you get.
Check it out. What are you waiting for? Why are you still here?

Strange Rumblings From The Lunatic Fringe

When a rational explanation just won't do...
Let's talk today about conspiracy theory.
I could go on and on and on about all the questions and coincidences surrounding the assisination of JFK or Lincoln or Bush 2's election in 2000 or the attacks on September 11, 2001 or the death of Alexander the Great or the Cold War or the change in Barney Rubble's voice. I mean, hey, the Carlyle Group (including Bush 1 and a Bin Laden) were meeting at the Ritz Carlton in DC on 09/11/01. And Oswald's uncle was a mob driver and Ruby was a made man and Garrison had mob connections and I won't even go into the whole thing about Woody from Cheers' dad. And we will never know the entire truth about Mel Blanc, will we...

Anyway...

So a while ago, staggering around the world wide web, I came across the death of Hunter S. Thompson conspiracy theories. Uh-huh. That's right, they are out there... Oh, boy. Something about the truth about 09/11/01 and snuff films and satanism and pedophiles. Really. Here's an example of this nonsense. And here is a beautiful thing, picking these theories apart and dropping them in the mud.

And so I thought to myself, hey, self, this is got to be the height of crazy, right? (I'm going to state right here that, sure, this is not the height of crazy, but I'm not going near the racists or the kid-diddlers. I don't like sharing dna or the planet with these scum and I'm not going to create any traffic for those fucks. Even if only one person visits this blog-thing and hits one link, that is too much attention for shit that doesn't deserve to breath. We have to fight them in our own unique ways.) So, as I was saying, this is pretty nutty. In a "hey, that guy at the end of the bar is talking to himself, hee-hee" kind of way. In a "hey, that guy on the bus told me to drink my own urine if I want to live forever, hee-hee" kind of way.

And then today I staggered across what has to be the granddaddy of crazy. I'm talking about "hey that guy at the end of the bar who talks to himself just smeared feces on his face and is wearing Daisy Dukes and singing Sugar, Sugar by the Archies" kind of crazy. Hurricane Katrina, the one that just took out New Orleans and Biloxi and Gulfport and other towns and villages and just made a few hundred thousand people homeless was caused by (deep breath) the Yakuza. Yes, the Japanese mob caused a monster storm and steered it into Louisiana and Mississippi and Alabama.

I'm not kidding.

Check it out. You cannot make this shit up. And you thought it was just one freak.

Someone please explain to me why some of the people who can figure out this html-thing also tend to lean towards the insane side of life...

So good luck to all the crazies in the world topping this one. The bar has been truly raised.

If you staggered into here expecting to find pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, I apologize. I'm not from around here.

Strange Rumblings From the Gulf Coast

I can't really think of anything remotely clever or witty or... whatever. Check out this blog...
I've got nothing. Just check it out. Click on the title bar above (Strange Rumblings From blah-blah-blah).
What are you waiting for? Why are you still here?

Strange Rumblings From The Big Easy

Chaos and death and anarchy and flooding and fires and explosions and folks shooting at the rescue helicopters and carjacking ambulances and stealing hospital generators and Homeland Security delaying Canadian relief efforts and complete incompetence from Washington and Condi Rice buying shoes in Manhattan and going to Spamalot and isn't this the same bunch of motherfuckers who snafu'd the 2001 attacks and isn't this the same jackass who sat like an inbred dog for 10 or 20 minutes after being told his country is under attack and then vanished for something like 24 hours and I wish I could say I was shocked and I wish I could say I was suprised and I wish I could say that I expected more from them but, man, the Bush administration is just about the most incompetent group of assholes that have ever run that country.
Would the federal end of the rescue be so completely and bewilderingly fucked if this had been Florida or Texas instead of Louisiana and Mississippi? Would Jeb have been left to float in the toxic waste if this had been Miami and not New Orleans? Just wondering.
I'd write more, but I just found this piece of inspiration on the (real) White House site, www.whitehouse.gov... It is truly hard to believe this fucksauce's hero is Churchill, isn't it. I get all weep-eyed whenever I re-read the bit about Trent Lott's house...

President Arrives in Alabama, Briefed on Hurricane Katrina
Mobile Regional Airport
Mobile, Alabama


10:35 A.M. CDT

THE PRESIDENT: Well, first I want to say a few things. I am incredibly proud of our Coast Guard. We have got courageous people risking their lives to save life. And I want to thank the commanders and I want to thank the troops over there for representing the best of America.

I want to congratulate the governors for being leaders. You didn't ask for this, when you swore in, but you're doing a heck of a job. And the federal government's job is big, and it's massive, and we're going to do it. Where it's not working right, we're going to make it right. Where it is working right, we're going to duplicate it elsewhere. We have a responsibility, at the federal level, to help save life, and that's the primary focus right now. Every life is precious, and so we're going to spend a lot of time saving lives, whether it be in New Orleans or on the coast of Mississippi.

We have a responsibility to help clean up this mess, and I want to thank the Congress for acting as quickly as you did. Step one is to appropriate $10.5 billion. But I've got to warn everybody, that's just the beginning. That's a small down payment for the cost of this effort. But to help the good folks here, we need to do it.

We are going to restore order in the city of New Orleans, and we're going to help supplement the efforts of the Mississippi Guard and others to restore order in parts of Mississippi. And I want to thank you for your strong statement of zero tolerance. The people of this country expect there to be law and order, and we're going to work hard to get it. In order to make sure there's less violence, we've got to get food to people. And that's a primary mission, is to get food to people. And there's a lot of food moving. And now the -- it's one thing to get it moving to a station, it's the next thing to get it in the hands of the people, and that's where we're going to spend a lot of time focusing.

We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. First, we're going to save lives and stabilize the situation. And then we're going to help these communities rebuild. The good news is -- and it's hard for some to see it now -- that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house -- there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch. (Laughter.)

GOVERNOR RILEY: He'll be glad to have you.

THE PRESIDENT: Out of New Orleans is going to come that great city again. That's what's going to happen. But now we're in the darkest days, and so we got a lot of work to do. And I'm down here to thank people. I'm down here to comfort people. I'm down here to let people know that we're going to work with the states and the local folks with a strategy to get this thing solved.

Now, I also want to say something about the compassion of the people of Alabama and Mississippi and Louisiana and surrounding states. I want to thank you for your compassion. Now is the time to love a neighbor like you'd like to be loved yourselves.

Governor Riley announced the fact that they're going to open up homes in military bases for stranded folks. And that's going to be very important and helpful.

My dad and Bill Clinton are going to raise money for governors' funds. The governors of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama will have monies available to them to help deal with the long-term consequences of this storm.

The faith-based groups and the community-based groups throughout this part of the world, and the country for that matter, are responding. If you want to help, give cash money to the Red Cross and the Salvation Army. That's where the first help will come. There's going to be plenty of opportunities to help later on, but right now the immediate concern is to save lives and get food and medicine to people so we can stabilize thesituation.

Again, I want to thank you all for -- and, Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job. The FEMA Director is working 24 -- (applause) -- they're working 24 hours a day.

Again, my attitude is, if it's not going exactly right, we're going to make it go exactly right. If there's problems, we're going to address the problems. And that's what I've come down to assure people of. And again, I want to thank everybody.

And I'm not looking forward to this trip. I got a feel for it when I flew over before. It -- for those who have not -- trying to conceive what we're talking about, it's as if the entire Gulf Coast were obliterated by a -- the worst kind of weapon you can imagine. And now we're going to go try to comfort people in that part of the world.

Thank you. (Applause.)

END 10:39 A.M. CDT

Parting words to live by - "And now we're going to go try to comfort people in that part of the world."


If you staggered into here expecting to find pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, I apologize. I'm not from around here.

Strange Rumblings From The Hinterland

I had a dream the other night.
I was watching an infomercial for a juicer that will cut your grocery bills into tiny shreds. The host was wearing a loud sweater, with a swastika on each shoulder.
I had a dream.
In the dream the host was talking to the inventor. The inventor was wearing a golf shirt, khaki shorts and converse sneakers. He kept pushing his aviator sunglasses up on his forehead and pulling them back down.
I had a dream the other night.
The juicer was impressive, indeed it was an awe-inspiring task of engineering. Large and imposing, with hoses and wires and chrome bits and white bits. Large teeth and what looked like a chain from a chain-saw and other pointy things sticking out at weird angles. A truly awe-inspiring task of engineering, a monstrous piece of machinery. It stood twelve feet high, it lay across two executive desks and was started with a pull on a cord. Sixteen homeless men were required to carry the juicer into the room. Three Catholic virgins were needed to pull on the cord and bring the beast to life.
I had a dream the other night.
The inventor fed fruit into the juicer at first. Oranges and limes and apples and melons and berries and grapes and kiwis. And then he started adding vegetables and then he started adding office furniture and carpeting and window coverings and then he started throwing in electronic equipment without unplugging it first, sparks flying everywhere, small fires breaking out and stamped out by the production assistants and the audience.
I had a dream the other night.
The host was screaming, frothing at the mouth, dancing like bug on a hot-plate. The host would sometimes crouch down, make himself a wee ball, then leap into the air hitting heights of eight, maybe nine feet. Wailing the entire time in a strange language known only to himself and his tribe.
And then the host stopped moving, stopped jumping and leaping and dancing. The host was silent. He raised his hand. He pointed at the inventor with a gnarled finger, a finger covered in snot and blood. He pointed at the inventor, with a glaze in his eyes and a growing stain in his pants. He pointed at the inventor and mumbled in a voice from the deep south, "Where are the virgins? Bring me the virgins. Bring me them now. Where are the homeless? Bring them to me. Where are they? We must make more juice."
I had a dream the other night.
And the inventor seemed to sense the danger, the lightening in the air. The inventor paused for a fraction of a second, frozen in place, a piece of lawn furniture in his hands forgotten. And then he smiled. A grim smile. A smile of a man who has driven to the edge of the cliff. A smile of a man who has faced a gang of armed militants armed with only a bowie knife. A smile that has tasted the blood of fiends and the wrong.
I had a dream the other night.
The inventor dropped the piece of lawn furniture to the floor. The inventor continued to smile. He slowly crept towards the host. The inventor continued to smile. "Now, hoss," he purred, "why did you have to say something like that? Tell me, pig-fucker, why did you have to go and ruin The Fun and say something like that?"
I had a dream the other night.
"You want more juice, pig-fucker? You want more juice? You don't see we're making Art here? We're making Fun? I'm going to teach you about Joy, pig-fucker. I'm going to bring you to Nirvana." And with one smooth motion the inventor grabbed the host by the crotch. And he lifted the host up, up above his head and tossed him like a bag of dirty laundry. And the host flew across the infomercial stage, over the smoldering remains of a sofa, over the small bits of electronic equipment that didn't make it into the juicer, over the heads of the virgins and the homeless, he flew. A look of horror mixed with extasy crossed the host's face as he arched across the stage. And with a mighty growl, nearly orgasmic, the juicer accepted its gift.
I had a dream the other night.

If you staggered into here expecting to find pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, I apologize. I'm not from around here.
HST - we miss you.

Strange Rumblings From the War Zone

I saw John Hockenberry on Jon Stewart the other night. He's a writer. He writes for Wired. He is in a wheelchair.
Anyway...
He was on Jon Stewart chatting about an article he just wrote for Wired. Its about Military Blogs. Or Milblogs for short. These cats (and kittens) in the warzones, he was saying, are writing online about their day-to-day lives. These cats (and kittens) are logging on and telling their stories. They aren't giving away state secrets. They aren't giving away locations. That would be seriously dumb. No, they are writing about daily experiences. They are writing about how it feels to rise each day and go about your job and wonder if you're going to see the end of the day.
The letters home that used to take weeks and months to reach home during all the past conflicts are now published and downloaded in moments.
I guess Washington saw the internet as a way for these cats (and kittens) to keep in touch with back home, to raise morale. Washington saw that these kids would be in the desert for an uncomfortable stretch of time and thought, hey, lets give them email and photos of undressed ladies, that'll keep them occupied.
So soldiers being people, some also saw this as a chance to start-up online journals and blogs and stuff so they could post pictures of sandstorms and themselves and their fellow soldiers and let freinds and family know how they are doing. And, John Hockenberry sort of said, the Military Blog was born.
I won't get into the whole question of what the Pentagon is allowing or not allowing or censoring or blocking or channeling to the world or whatever. Go over to Wired's spot on the Internet, go to the magazine. Look for the article. John Hockenberry does a much better job of that than I ever could. A much better job.
Anyway...
I saw John Hockenberry on Jon Stewart. And I got thinking about this whole Milblog thingy. I read his article. And I continued to think about these Milblogs some more. Was Mr. Hockenberry pulling examples of the writing on these blogs from rare occurences? Or was this a regular state of affairs? Were these soldiers really writing these things about life in the Iraqi nightmare? So I decided to check it out.
I went to Google, typed in milblog, not really expecting anything to happen. Maybe a link to Wired or Jon Stewart or some crazed soldier-wanna-be Stateside. I was thinking, hey, if this is for real, the Pentagon must have made it hard to find, right? Right?
Jumping Jesus on a trampoline. These blogs and links and other stuff started filling up. Page after page. And then I started surfing and staggering and stumbling from one blog to another. Some of these cats (and kittens) can write. I mean, seriously write. I'm talking like Hemingway or Faulkner or Thompson or whatever. I found posts that made me laugh out loud. Posts that choked me up. Posts that had me scratching my balding head, searching for the answer to their existential angst.
I found one blog that...well, I haven't added it to my links. I read and I damn near wept. It was so personal and full of...I don't know, grief, at the death of the writer's humanity. He could feel himself becoming colder and harder and shutting down and was keeping a daily journal of it. And his return home to his family was coming up and seeing his children again and his wife and...shit, man. It went beyond a voyeuristic peek into his personal diary. It was a flatscreen exposure of his soul. A little too heartbreaking. Last time I checked, his only entry this week is "Taking A Break". That's all it said. I like to think that means, Hey, I'm home. I'm gonna hang with the wife and the kids and play pool at the bar with my friends and all is good in the world. Maybe I'm right. Maybe I'm wrong.
Anyway...
I have added some links (over to the right...see War Pooh...yeah, there). The one to Blackfive is a guy State-side. The link I've got there to his page is a giant list of these blogs. He's a wee right swinging, okay, and some folks I know will have some serious issues with his adds, but if you can look past his politics and just check out some of those links, you'll be pleasantly suprised.
The others are a small taste of my faves. If you do nothing else here today, check out SI VIS PACEM, PARA BELLUM. This guy can write. Shit, can he write. As I have said before, and will say in the future, jumping Jesus on a trampoline.

We all have differing opinions on the war in Iraq and the Afghan one and we question the motives of the folks who are in charge and some of us are living in an environment that is trying its best to beat those opinions out of us and some of us are lucky to be living in an environment that asks us to question everything we are fed by the media and the govenment and the loud-mouth at the end of the bar. If you're reading this thing, you probably know exactly where I stand on these issues. You should know that I believe that any war that is run by a bunch of suits who avoided ever putting on a uniform is not recipe for success. You should know that I believe the Bush family has sold their country for a dime and is swimming in a pool of blood and ground bone. But the one thing you should know about me is I rarely question the motive of these cats (and kittens) who do what I am truly unwilling to do. I won't wear a uniform. I won't march in line. And I will (hopefully) never have to put myself in a situation where people are shooting at me.
These Milblogs are a glimpse into the minds of people who are willing to wear a uniform, march in line, put themselves in situations where bullets fly. I may not truly understand their thoughts and dreams and circumstances that have led them to this life, but their blogs are giving me a peek.
Okay, I have rambled on enough. I'll stop now. And if you have staggered into here expecting photos of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, once again I apologize. I'm not from around here...

Strange Rumblings From The Far East...

And so I says to the guy...
One post, one little "hey, look at me, I'm over here" entry, and what do I get? A bunch of odd comments, some of which made me vomit a little in a my mouth... Oysters???? Huh????? Ah, life. Gotta love what a liberal education will get you these days. Keep the comment-stuff coming!

And so goes the daily battle. This html stuff is definitely the spawn of some lower demon from one of the more disturbing inner-circles of hell. I don't know if its me or this ancient Mac I'm using, but everything is showing up a little...slanted. Maybe its not looking that way on other computers, but, man, I can't figure it out on this one. The other template I was attempting to use was shrinking everything. Very odd.

New pooh... The links are coming together nicely. Slow and slanted, but still nice.
I'm starting to wonder what the links I'm choosing are saying about, well, me. Hopefully that I am well-adjusted, a benefit to society, an all-around nice fella. Probably not.
Over to the right, there are a couple of North Korean links. While he may be a complete madman who takes paranoia to a whole new level, Kim Jong Il is easily one of the funniest sociopaths in modern history. His administration takes the time and spends the energy to entertain the rest of us on this blue marble, yet most folks don't know about it. Check out the North Korean News, for example. You won't find any updates on the six-nation nuke talks there, but you will find out about every wreath-laying ceremony in the country. And while they may shy away from mentioning their multi-decade long famine that has crippled the country and is wiping out an entire generation, they wil update the world on, well, wreath-laying ceremonies. And just for shit and giggles, occasionally they will mention their "foreign visitor" whenever he returns to North Korea to pal around with Kim. One thing that is interesting about "foreign visitor" is that the first time he seems to have been mentioned in the news was around the time Bin Laden disappeared into the Afghan/Pakistan borderlands... Whoever "foreign visitor" is, he spends a lot of his time while in North Korea at wreath-laying ceremonies.
The North Korean Pooh link is a collection of Kim's fave links. Really. Check it out. And remember, Communism is not dead.

Also, over to the right, is Geological Pooh. One is a constant update of earthquakes. Yay, earthquakes. The other, I am so proud of finding this, is a webcam pointed at Mt. St. Helen's growing bulge (heh, heh, heh). Check it often, be the one who can say, "I was there when the Mt. St. Helen's webcam was whaked by a river of lava..." Oh, joy.

So, enjoy. There will be more to come. I just have to wrestle html some more, find its weaknesses and make it submit.

And once more, I have to apologize to anyone who has staggered into here expecting to find pictures of unclothed ladies flinging pooh. I'm not from around here.

Uh...Is This Thing On?

Um...
Alrighty, then. This is my "blog". From what I understand, a blog is a place where some folks rant, some folks sell R.V.'s, some folks show pictures of unclothed ladies they have found while staggering around the internet. Occasionally (I have heard this from reliable sources) some folks have something that needs to be said. And there being a lack of boxes to stand on and shout from and a lack of people willing to listen to people standing on boxes shouting (except in that park in London, but that's another day and another dollar) these folks have turned to the blog as the new soapbox.
So here I am. Hopefully, as time passes, I will have interesting things to say, that, in another time and another place, I would be shouting from a soapbox, if I was able to find one.
This blog-thingy I've got going here is under construction, I gather. So please be patient while I try to figure this out.
And, if you have staggered here by accident expecting photos of unclothed ladies flinging pooh, I apologize. I'm not from around here.