Dang, no Dylan lyrics
Lately I have been using the lyric search on Bob Dylan's webisite for headlines for my blog entries. Today the lyric search isn't working. You can't depend on anything these days.
I went to the Southpark Mall yesterday because I needed underwear. You may wonder what the mall was like on the Biggest Shopping Day of the Year. Two words: cluster fuck.
Plenty of opportunities for people watching, I must say. I am a big supporter of the bare midriff craze created by our recent pop divas. I can only hope the next big pop star does not wear a snowsuit. Seeing how these pop chicks dress and how they influence the teeny boppers what is the next step to take? Pretty soon they will be going to the mall dressed in see through thong panties with a string of christmas tinsel across their chests. Once they go completely nude what is the next step? Body paint? After that? Maybe surgically implanted see through skin so that we can see their innards?
Saturday, November 30, 2002
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
I was looking for an online topography maps and came across a site that had them. Let's have fun with topo maps now. If you click here you will see a map of Leelanau County, MI. Look at the palm of your right hand. Leelanau County is in the tip of the pinky. ANYWAY, on this topo map you will see a red cross in the middle of the map. That is one of the highest places in the county. It's a big hill with a lone maple tree at the top of it. I used to walk through the ten acres of hardwood my parent's owned, exit onto a field and walk up this hill and sit beneath the maple tree. I would face north as I sat and Lake Michigan would actually stretch across the horizon. I could sit there and watch freighters move above the trees.
I was looking for an online topography maps and came across a site that had them. Let's have fun with topo maps now. If you click here you will see a map of Leelanau County, MI. Look at the palm of your right hand. Leelanau County is in the tip of the pinky. ANYWAY, on this topo map you will see a red cross in the middle of the map. That is one of the highest places in the county. It's a big hill with a lone maple tree at the top of it. I used to walk through the ten acres of hardwood my parent's owned, exit onto a field and walk up this hill and sit beneath the maple tree. I would face north as I sat and Lake Michigan would actually stretch across the horizon. I could sit there and watch freighters move above the trees.
All of us, at times, we might work too hard
Oh....my.....god.....I just want to go home. Not only is tomorrow a holiday so I need to get home right away and hide but tomorrow will also be the first day of a four-day weekend. Oh man, my feet are in the starting blocks and I am waiting for the gun and it's not even 11 yet. Soon I will be bouncing my skull off the desk in front of me. I wish Tom was still in telref so I could throw something at him. No one here now is any fun to throw stuff at.
Scene: Tom and Ed sitting in telref contemplating suicide. Ed finishes his seventh Mountain Dew of the day and pulls his arm back in an attempt to bounce the empty 20 ounce bottle off the back wall. Why? Don't ask why, that's just the way things work in telref.
The bottle slips in Ed's hand as he releases it and instead of bouncing noisily off the back wall it hits Tom in his right temple with a thud reminiscent of the sound you hear on television when a major league baseball player takes a pitched ball to his head. The bottle thuds silently to the floor. A red disquiet floods the room.
Ed is horrified and starts to giggle.
Ed: (snorts) I'm sorry...that....that's....it's not funny. (stifles laugh) I'm sorry...(laughs)...it's not funny...(laughs)...I really am sorry...I was trying to bounce it off the wall.
Tom: (a red welt forming on his right temple, appears mad but is generally reconciled to the chaos he and Ed create in telref) You're lucky we're cool or we'd have a problem right now.
Another dumb thing I have done: When I first got the fuck out of the marines in the summer of 1990 and joined my parents here in Charlotte. I spent a month or so working with my dad at Hendrick Lexus washing and detailing cars. After four years of the marines I was looking for something that required less effort than that. Finally I found a job at a convenience store near where I lived. Hey, free smokes!
One day, bored at work (imagine that!) I decided to wrap paper and masking tape around small rock. When it got to about the size of a ball that is bigger than a baseall but smaller than a softball (I guess that would be an orange) I threw it across the store. I underestimated the mass of the object and it really soared. It crashed into one of the glass doors of the beer cooler. My projectile pierced the first pane of the double-paned door. A very similar red disquiet filled the empty store as I digested what had just happened. I tried to think of a good excuse to tell my boss when he inevitably discovered the hole in the door. My solution: "Some guy shut the door too hard and the glass shattered." I'm pretty sure no one believed me but I wasn't questioned about it which is all I really wanted.
Oh....my.....god.....I just want to go home. Not only is tomorrow a holiday so I need to get home right away and hide but tomorrow will also be the first day of a four-day weekend. Oh man, my feet are in the starting blocks and I am waiting for the gun and it's not even 11 yet. Soon I will be bouncing my skull off the desk in front of me. I wish Tom was still in telref so I could throw something at him. No one here now is any fun to throw stuff at.
Scene: Tom and Ed sitting in telref contemplating suicide. Ed finishes his seventh Mountain Dew of the day and pulls his arm back in an attempt to bounce the empty 20 ounce bottle off the back wall. Why? Don't ask why, that's just the way things work in telref.
The bottle slips in Ed's hand as he releases it and instead of bouncing noisily off the back wall it hits Tom in his right temple with a thud reminiscent of the sound you hear on television when a major league baseball player takes a pitched ball to his head. The bottle thuds silently to the floor. A red disquiet floods the room.
Ed is horrified and starts to giggle.
Ed: (snorts) I'm sorry...that....that's....it's not funny. (stifles laugh) I'm sorry...(laughs)...it's not funny...(laughs)...I really am sorry...I was trying to bounce it off the wall.
Tom: (a red welt forming on his right temple, appears mad but is generally reconciled to the chaos he and Ed create in telref) You're lucky we're cool or we'd have a problem right now.
Another dumb thing I have done: When I first got the fuck out of the marines in the summer of 1990 and joined my parents here in Charlotte. I spent a month or so working with my dad at Hendrick Lexus washing and detailing cars. After four years of the marines I was looking for something that required less effort than that. Finally I found a job at a convenience store near where I lived. Hey, free smokes!
One day, bored at work (imagine that!) I decided to wrap paper and masking tape around small rock. When it got to about the size of a ball that is bigger than a baseall but smaller than a softball (I guess that would be an orange) I threw it across the store. I underestimated the mass of the object and it really soared. It crashed into one of the glass doors of the beer cooler. My projectile pierced the first pane of the double-paned door. A very similar red disquiet filled the empty store as I digested what had just happened. I tried to think of a good excuse to tell my boss when he inevitably discovered the hole in the door. My solution: "Some guy shut the door too hard and the glass shattered." I'm pretty sure no one believed me but I wasn't questioned about it which is all I really wanted.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
A master in the arts
I 'member growing up I thought art was something unattainable. I couldn't draw and I wasn't very good with my hands. I didn't have the knack that a lucky few have for drawing. Drawing is the one thing I have never been able to do that I would want to do. It took me a long time to realize that there is more to art than the stuff you cannot ever hope to achieve. I would look at paintings by masters and would be afraid to draw. I received bad grades in art class after busting my ass while trying to create sometihng unique and it crushed me. Now I realize that if I write my name in the snow while peeing that it's art, goddammit. That is why I love the website Exploding dog. The setup is simple. You email this guy a line and he makes a line drawing out of it using. The combination of drawings and lines is consistently interesting and sometimes genius. Occasionally it doesn't work at all but it's never boring. In some ways it reminds me very much of the Farside by Larson.
I 'member growing up I thought art was something unattainable. I couldn't draw and I wasn't very good with my hands. I didn't have the knack that a lucky few have for drawing. Drawing is the one thing I have never been able to do that I would want to do. It took me a long time to realize that there is more to art than the stuff you cannot ever hope to achieve. I would look at paintings by masters and would be afraid to draw. I received bad grades in art class after busting my ass while trying to create sometihng unique and it crushed me. Now I realize that if I write my name in the snow while peeing that it's art, goddammit. That is why I love the website Exploding dog. The setup is simple. You email this guy a line and he makes a line drawing out of it using. The combination of drawings and lines is consistently interesting and sometimes genius. Occasionally it doesn't work at all but it's never boring. In some ways it reminds me very much of the Farside by Larson.
You might have drugs at your command
Riding the bus to work in the morning always is unpredictable. I guess while driving your car to work you can have an encounter with the unexpected but that is more along the line of road rage accompanied by middle fingers and the occasional shoot out. It doesn't have the variability of a bus ride.
This morning when I got on the bus I noticed one of the regular female riders had a strange look on her face. She looked a little troubled but was wearing half a smile across her ample caramel complected maw. I sat down a few seats behind the clump of humanity near the front, broke out my new issuse of Asimov's Science Fiction. I had a CD made for me by my friend, Ingrid, playing. It was a CD I hadn't heard before by a group called Peabody from Australia. It's rawking pub rawk. Good stuff. After a few minutes of reading and jamming I notice that there is more conversation than usual on the bus. A few seats in front of me there is a woman who appears to be in her middle thirties giving the bus driver shit. Sitting next to her is a guy who looks to be in his late forties and he is also giving the driver shit. I take my headphones off and catch snatches of conversation from the woman. He speech is heavily slurred and I can only catch bits of what she is saying. It mostly consists of words like "shooperphizer," "shit," "not takin' thish shit," "bullshit," and some cryptic remark about settling this when we get downtown to the transit center.
When I noticed the guy was giving the driver shit also I got interested. I wasn't going to sit there like a panty waist if he made some move towards the driver. "Let's roll" would by my war cry. If some drugged up fuck is going to crash the bus I am going to get a few licks in before we all die.
I am assuming they were drugged up and not drunk. After a few minutes the woman got disgusted, stood up (her jeans were horrifyingly unzipped) and came back and sat across the aisle from me. She didn't reek of booze so her mind was probably full of crack. After making this observation I put my headphones back on and went back to reading. I heard some slurred speech directed toward me and then saw her pound the seat next to her to get my attention. I took off my headphones and glanced over at her. She said "I shed g'd mornin!" I said back, "mornin." That seemed to sasify her so I went back to reading and jamming. At the next stop her partner bailed. She didn't notice because she was too busy trying to zip up her pants.
Some guy got on at the next stop and she followed him to the back and annoyed him. I think he started lecturing her about her apparent substance abuse problem but that just got her more agitated. Sadly my stop came up soon after and the show for me was over. I am sure she was greeted by security and the transit center and I hope she is enjoying her warm jail-cell bed right now.
Riding the bus to work in the morning always is unpredictable. I guess while driving your car to work you can have an encounter with the unexpected but that is more along the line of road rage accompanied by middle fingers and the occasional shoot out. It doesn't have the variability of a bus ride.
This morning when I got on the bus I noticed one of the regular female riders had a strange look on her face. She looked a little troubled but was wearing half a smile across her ample caramel complected maw. I sat down a few seats behind the clump of humanity near the front, broke out my new issuse of Asimov's Science Fiction. I had a CD made for me by my friend, Ingrid, playing. It was a CD I hadn't heard before by a group called Peabody from Australia. It's rawking pub rawk. Good stuff. After a few minutes of reading and jamming I notice that there is more conversation than usual on the bus. A few seats in front of me there is a woman who appears to be in her middle thirties giving the bus driver shit. Sitting next to her is a guy who looks to be in his late forties and he is also giving the driver shit. I take my headphones off and catch snatches of conversation from the woman. He speech is heavily slurred and I can only catch bits of what she is saying. It mostly consists of words like "shooperphizer," "shit," "not takin' thish shit," "bullshit," and some cryptic remark about settling this when we get downtown to the transit center.
When I noticed the guy was giving the driver shit also I got interested. I wasn't going to sit there like a panty waist if he made some move towards the driver. "Let's roll" would by my war cry. If some drugged up fuck is going to crash the bus I am going to get a few licks in before we all die.
I am assuming they were drugged up and not drunk. After a few minutes the woman got disgusted, stood up (her jeans were horrifyingly unzipped) and came back and sat across the aisle from me. She didn't reek of booze so her mind was probably full of crack. After making this observation I put my headphones back on and went back to reading. I heard some slurred speech directed toward me and then saw her pound the seat next to her to get my attention. I took off my headphones and glanced over at her. She said "I shed g'd mornin!" I said back, "mornin." That seemed to sasify her so I went back to reading and jamming. At the next stop her partner bailed. She didn't notice because she was too busy trying to zip up her pants.
Some guy got on at the next stop and she followed him to the back and annoyed him. I think he started lecturing her about her apparent substance abuse problem but that just got her more agitated. Sadly my stop came up soon after and the show for me was over. I am sure she was greeted by security and the transit center and I hope she is enjoying her warm jail-cell bed right now.
Monday, November 25, 2002
Sometimes the silence can be like the thunder
Today while riding the bus to work I was, as usual, listening to music on my headphones. I was listening to the recent Sonic Youth album called Murray Street. The first review on the previous link sums up my feelings for the album perfectly. ANYWAY, yesterday I noticed that the battery light was flashing on my personal Cd stereo headphone system by Panasonic. I made a mental note to change out the batteries after I got home. Of course, I forgot to change out the batteries. This morning, in the dang cold, I started up the ole personal CD stereo system and there is that goddamn battery light again. I just knew they weren't going to last all the way to work. I put the headphones and waited about ten minutes for the bus, got on and, as soon as I sat down, the music dies. Now I have to spend the 20-minute ride listening to bus brakes and the two loud talkers in the back. Thank god books don't require batteries.
Today while riding the bus to work I was, as usual, listening to music on my headphones. I was listening to the recent Sonic Youth album called Murray Street. The first review on the previous link sums up my feelings for the album perfectly. ANYWAY, yesterday I noticed that the battery light was flashing on my personal Cd stereo headphone system by Panasonic. I made a mental note to change out the batteries after I got home. Of course, I forgot to change out the batteries. This morning, in the dang cold, I started up the ole personal CD stereo system and there is that goddamn battery light again. I just knew they weren't going to last all the way to work. I put the headphones and waited about ten minutes for the bus, got on and, as soon as I sat down, the music dies. Now I have to spend the 20-minute ride listening to bus brakes and the two loud talkers in the back. Thank god books don't require batteries.
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
I was reading the book Night Watch by the criminally ignored writer Sean Stewart a few years ago and the poetry of Li Po was featured heavily in the book. Ever read any Li Po? I have found his poetry to amazing in that its tone is that of poems you can read today in any poetry journal. You can't read
Beowulf or Homer and make that connection.
You are probably thinking right now, what's the point? I was searching for a clever way to make you want to read Li Po. I failed. I am shamed and I apologize.
The reason that they killed him there, and I'm sure it ain't no lie, Was just for the fun of killin' him and to watch him slowly die.
Martin is really pissing me off right now. He is sitting next to me while I am doing chat reference here in the work room. He is very negative and if doesn't watch it, I am going to kill him. Slowly, with a dull spoon. Why is he talking to himself when there are two other people in the room? You should only talk to yourself if you are alone or if you are swering at one of your cats. He types like a girl. His watch is too big. He is writing an email to someone in Tech services. The only way to effectively communicate with those people is to go down there and stomp some ass. Major ass. Stomp ass like a group of drug dealing eight graders coming across some grade schoolers.
In case Martin has a safe fall on his head on the way to his car after work or something equally unexpected happens, I want to assert that I was just kidding about killing Martin. I have never killed another human being since Vietnam. I got all that out of my system then. After that slaughter of the pre-school daycare full of suspected VC children I really didn't have the need to really ever kill again. I did because it was easy. I just didn't have to. I could take it or leave it like a homeless guy and soap and water.
I was reading the book Night Watch by the criminally ignored writer Sean Stewart a few years ago and the poetry of Li Po was featured heavily in the book. Ever read any Li Po? I have found his poetry to amazing in that its tone is that of poems you can read today in any poetry journal. You can't read
Beowulf or Homer and make that connection.
You are probably thinking right now, what's the point? I was searching for a clever way to make you want to read Li Po. I failed. I am shamed and I apologize.
The reason that they killed him there, and I'm sure it ain't no lie, Was just for the fun of killin' him and to watch him slowly die.
Martin is really pissing me off right now. He is sitting next to me while I am doing chat reference here in the work room. He is very negative and if doesn't watch it, I am going to kill him. Slowly, with a dull spoon. Why is he talking to himself when there are two other people in the room? You should only talk to yourself if you are alone or if you are swering at one of your cats. He types like a girl. His watch is too big. He is writing an email to someone in Tech services. The only way to effectively communicate with those people is to go down there and stomp some ass. Major ass. Stomp ass like a group of drug dealing eight graders coming across some grade schoolers.
In case Martin has a safe fall on his head on the way to his car after work or something equally unexpected happens, I want to assert that I was just kidding about killing Martin. I have never killed another human being since Vietnam. I got all that out of my system then. After that slaughter of the pre-school daycare full of suspected VC children I really didn't have the need to really ever kill again. I did because it was easy. I just didn't have to. I could take it or leave it like a homeless guy and soap and water.
Sunday, November 24, 2002
She can take the dark out of the nighttime
Last night at Movie Guy's place we watched two movies. Imagine that. Only me and Bookpimp showed up because James and Dutch were out chasing skirts and Martino De Casa cancelled at the last minute for reasons unknown. I think he got sand in his vagina.
First movie: Near Dark. A vampire movie that never mentions the word vampire. A vampire movie with a hot blonde vampire that falls for and converts a cowboy who looks like the guy from Quantum Leap. It's a decent B movie romp without enough titty. Movie Guy's favorite scene, where the vampires who never claim to be vampires, kill a bunch of rednecks in a bar. The incredibly hot Jenette Goldstein who played Vasquez in Aliens plays one of the vampires. Yummy. One nice touch in the movie is that the older vampires are less concerned with hygene. They don't bother to wipe the dirt off. Reminded me of older humans who pay less attention to their personal appearance. You've seen those old guys with the bad hair cuts that don't trim their nails anymore. They stopped caring a couple of years ago and now they are waiting to die. What I did like was since the budget was obviously low they used a lot of implication as far as their vampire powers. The hot blonde vampire does mention early in the movie how loud the night was with this line: 'Listen to the night, it's deafening.'
Second movie: The Salton Sea. First half, gritty real-life drama about speed addicted yahoos in southern California. Second half, shoot em up revenge action flick. Picture 'Trainspotting' combined with 'Lethal Weapon II.' It did have a few good lines in it, my favorite was spoken by a tweeker half out his head and holding a spear gun: 'Excuse me. I don't mean to impose, but I am the Ocean.' What this movie needed was Tom Waits to walk through it at least once.
After the two movies we watched the trailer for Blazing Saddles at my request. Blazing Saddles came out in 1974 and trailers were not the art form then that they are now. Believe me. Anticlimatic at best.
Last night at Movie Guy's place we watched two movies. Imagine that. Only me and Bookpimp showed up because James and Dutch were out chasing skirts and Martino De Casa cancelled at the last minute for reasons unknown. I think he got sand in his vagina.
First movie: Near Dark. A vampire movie that never mentions the word vampire. A vampire movie with a hot blonde vampire that falls for and converts a cowboy who looks like the guy from Quantum Leap. It's a decent B movie romp without enough titty. Movie Guy's favorite scene, where the vampires who never claim to be vampires, kill a bunch of rednecks in a bar. The incredibly hot Jenette Goldstein who played Vasquez in Aliens plays one of the vampires. Yummy. One nice touch in the movie is that the older vampires are less concerned with hygene. They don't bother to wipe the dirt off. Reminded me of older humans who pay less attention to their personal appearance. You've seen those old guys with the bad hair cuts that don't trim their nails anymore. They stopped caring a couple of years ago and now they are waiting to die. What I did like was since the budget was obviously low they used a lot of implication as far as their vampire powers. The hot blonde vampire does mention early in the movie how loud the night was with this line: 'Listen to the night, it's deafening.'
Second movie: The Salton Sea. First half, gritty real-life drama about speed addicted yahoos in southern California. Second half, shoot em up revenge action flick. Picture 'Trainspotting' combined with 'Lethal Weapon II.' It did have a few good lines in it, my favorite was spoken by a tweeker half out his head and holding a spear gun: 'Excuse me. I don't mean to impose, but I am the Ocean.' What this movie needed was Tom Waits to walk through it at least once.
After the two movies we watched the trailer for Blazing Saddles at my request. Blazing Saddles came out in 1974 and trailers were not the art form then that they are now. Believe me. Anticlimatic at best.
Saturday, November 23, 2002
I'm strumming on my gay guitar
I was looking over the PBS website about the show that honored Bob Newhart with the Mark Twain American Comedy award and I came across the biography of Fred Willard. You may remember Fred from his hilarious improvised appearance in Best in Show. He played the thick-headed TV announcer. One of the funniest performances I have ever seen. Anyway, anyhoo and anywhy, in the short bio it mentions that he won an award for his appearances on the television show Rosanne as the 'gay lover' of the character played by Martin Mull. Ok, Willard is a guy and Mull is a guy. They play lovers. That would make them............gay! Does the writer of this bio suspect that there might be somone who would read this and think that maybe Willard dressed in drag and played a woman or is it sucn a notable accomplishment for a straight guy to play gay guy on TV that it deserves to be highlighted? I don't know, it's just semantics, I reckon. Too much Carlin in my brain diet.
I guess I will, from now on, refer to any woman with whom I am currently coupling as my heterosexual lover.
More file sharing stuff
Here's a great story on file sharing and the coming death knell for large record companies. The last paragraph gives reason enough to stick it to these fucks.
I was looking over the PBS website about the show that honored Bob Newhart with the Mark Twain American Comedy award and I came across the biography of Fred Willard. You may remember Fred from his hilarious improvised appearance in Best in Show. He played the thick-headed TV announcer. One of the funniest performances I have ever seen. Anyway, anyhoo and anywhy, in the short bio it mentions that he won an award for his appearances on the television show Rosanne as the 'gay lover' of the character played by Martin Mull. Ok, Willard is a guy and Mull is a guy. They play lovers. That would make them............gay! Does the writer of this bio suspect that there might be somone who would read this and think that maybe Willard dressed in drag and played a woman or is it sucn a notable accomplishment for a straight guy to play gay guy on TV that it deserves to be highlighted? I don't know, it's just semantics, I reckon. Too much Carlin in my brain diet.
I guess I will, from now on, refer to any woman with whom I am currently coupling as my heterosexual lover.
More file sharing stuff
Here's a great story on file sharing and the coming death knell for large record companies. The last paragraph gives reason enough to stick it to these fucks.
Friday, November 22, 2002
Power to the people, right on. Or: Me vs. Harris Teeter.
A short while ago I delineated how the shithead security guard at the Park Road Harris Teeter notified me, while I was checking out, that I should leave my backpack at the customer service desk while I am in the store. Naturally, I now despise the guy, though I shouldn't because he is just doing the job his overseers have saddled him with.
Not long after this I received the same treatment at the Eckards drugstore a few doors down from the Teeter. The Eckards' employee was less enthusiastic in his duty and even a little embarassed and he apologetically informed me that "we have to do this for everybody."
Tonight I stopped by the Harris Teeter again to pick up some pictures. First I had to tinkle so I headed to the restroom. I kept my backpack on. Fuck 'em. As I was leaving the restroom there stood the security guard. He said something to me. I had to remove my headphones and he had to say again some bullshit about leaving my backpack at the customer service desk. Since my pictures were awaiting me there I said "I got some photos to pick up and that's they're located." I turned my back on him and went to pick up my photos.
With this douche bag trailing me I walked up to the customer service desk and got my pictures. As they were processing my payment I asked the customer service rep what the big deal was about my backpack she said, "Oh, we have to do that for everybody."
Why must they qualify it? What kind of person is out there that has our merchants ths frightened? Teeenagers? Terrorists? It must be those OTHER people. You know, the people you are not dealng with at this moment. This may be nitpicking but I don't see them forcing women to check their fucking purses at the customer service desk. It's probably just a merchant's way of decreasing shrinkage (theft). I see it as another way we are controlled by those with more power than the individual. It's the same treatment I received as an OfficeMax employee when they forced us to read the new employee manual which was really a listing of all the reasons that could lead to your dismissal.
I guess the Harris Teeter would rather lose my next five year's of grocery purchases rather than take the chance of losing a few bucks right now. Assheads.
A short while ago I delineated how the shithead security guard at the Park Road Harris Teeter notified me, while I was checking out, that I should leave my backpack at the customer service desk while I am in the store. Naturally, I now despise the guy, though I shouldn't because he is just doing the job his overseers have saddled him with.
Not long after this I received the same treatment at the Eckards drugstore a few doors down from the Teeter. The Eckards' employee was less enthusiastic in his duty and even a little embarassed and he apologetically informed me that "we have to do this for everybody."
Tonight I stopped by the Harris Teeter again to pick up some pictures. First I had to tinkle so I headed to the restroom. I kept my backpack on. Fuck 'em. As I was leaving the restroom there stood the security guard. He said something to me. I had to remove my headphones and he had to say again some bullshit about leaving my backpack at the customer service desk. Since my pictures were awaiting me there I said "I got some photos to pick up and that's they're located." I turned my back on him and went to pick up my photos.
With this douche bag trailing me I walked up to the customer service desk and got my pictures. As they were processing my payment I asked the customer service rep what the big deal was about my backpack she said, "Oh, we have to do that for everybody."
Why must they qualify it? What kind of person is out there that has our merchants ths frightened? Teeenagers? Terrorists? It must be those OTHER people. You know, the people you are not dealng with at this moment. This may be nitpicking but I don't see them forcing women to check their fucking purses at the customer service desk. It's probably just a merchant's way of decreasing shrinkage (theft). I see it as another way we are controlled by those with more power than the individual. It's the same treatment I received as an OfficeMax employee when they forced us to read the new employee manual which was really a listing of all the reasons that could lead to your dismissal.
I guess the Harris Teeter would rather lose my next five year's of grocery purchases rather than take the chance of losing a few bucks right now. Assheads.
Who's on first?
Stolen from someone else's blog:
HU'S ON FIRST?
(We take you now to the Oval Office.)
George: Condi! Nice to see you. What's happening?
Condi: Sir, I have the report here about the new leader of China.
George: Great. Lay it on me.
Condi: Hu is the new leader of China.
George: That's what I want to know.
Condi: That's what I'm telling you.
George: That's what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China?
Condi: Yes.
George: I mean the fellow's name.
Condi: Hu.
George: The guy in China.
Condi: Hu.
George: The new leader of China.
Condi: Hu.
George: The Chinaman!
Condi: Hu is leading China.
George: Now whaddya' asking me for?
Condi: I'm telling you Hu is leading China.
George: Well, I'm asking you. Who is leading China?
Condi: That's the man's name.
George: That's who's name?
Condi: Yes.
George: Will you or will you not tell me the name of the new leader of China?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir? Yassir Arafat is in China? I thought he was in the Middle East.
Condi: That's correct.
George: Then who is in China?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir is in China?
Condi: No, sir.
George: Then who is?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir?
Condi: No, sir.
George: Look, Condi. I need to know the name of the new leader of China. Get the Secretary General of the U.N. on the phone for me.
Condi: Kofi?
George: No, thanks.
Condi: You want Kofi?
George: No.
Condi: You don't want Kofi.
George: No. But now that you mention it, I could use a glass of milk. And then get me the U.N.
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Not Yassir! The guy at the U.N.
Condi: Kofi?
George: Milk! Will you please make the call?
Condi: And call who?
George: Who is the guy at the U.N?
Condi: Hu is the guy in China.
George: Will you stay out of China?!
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: And stay out of the Middle East! Just get me the guy at the U.N.
Condi: Kofi.
George: All right! With cream and two sugars. Now get on the phone.
(Condi picks up the phone.)
Condi: Rice, here.
George: Rice? Good idea. And a couple of egg rolls, too. Maybe we should send some to the guy in China. And the Middle East. Can you get Chinese food in the Middle East?
Stolen from someone else's blog:
HU'S ON FIRST?
(We take you now to the Oval Office.)
George: Condi! Nice to see you. What's happening?
Condi: Sir, I have the report here about the new leader of China.
George: Great. Lay it on me.
Condi: Hu is the new leader of China.
George: That's what I want to know.
Condi: That's what I'm telling you.
George: That's what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China?
Condi: Yes.
George: I mean the fellow's name.
Condi: Hu.
George: The guy in China.
Condi: Hu.
George: The new leader of China.
Condi: Hu.
George: The Chinaman!
Condi: Hu is leading China.
George: Now whaddya' asking me for?
Condi: I'm telling you Hu is leading China.
George: Well, I'm asking you. Who is leading China?
Condi: That's the man's name.
George: That's who's name?
Condi: Yes.
George: Will you or will you not tell me the name of the new leader of China?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir? Yassir Arafat is in China? I thought he was in the Middle East.
Condi: That's correct.
George: Then who is in China?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir is in China?
Condi: No, sir.
George: Then who is?
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Yassir?
Condi: No, sir.
George: Look, Condi. I need to know the name of the new leader of China. Get the Secretary General of the U.N. on the phone for me.
Condi: Kofi?
George: No, thanks.
Condi: You want Kofi?
George: No.
Condi: You don't want Kofi.
George: No. But now that you mention it, I could use a glass of milk. And then get me the U.N.
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: Not Yassir! The guy at the U.N.
Condi: Kofi?
George: Milk! Will you please make the call?
Condi: And call who?
George: Who is the guy at the U.N?
Condi: Hu is the guy in China.
George: Will you stay out of China?!
Condi: Yes, sir.
George: And stay out of the Middle East! Just get me the guy at the U.N.
Condi: Kofi.
George: All right! With cream and two sugars. Now get on the phone.
(Condi picks up the phone.)
Condi: Rice, here.
George: Rice? Good idea. And a couple of egg rolls, too. Maybe we should send some to the guy in China. And the Middle East. Can you get Chinese food in the Middle East?
Can't you smell that smell?
Mmmm, the bus. What a great device in which to contain the various aromas exuded by us human folk. Today I sat behind two middle-aged ladies. One wore what appeared to be a wig with a bowl-cut design and the other was drenched in my what I hold most dear, cheap perfume. Before my sinuses could completely close up a middle aged man got on the bus and sat next to the smelly lady. He smelled like old newspapers. Fortunate for me his old newspaper aroma soaked up the perfume of the lady next to him. Eventually the two smells cancelled each other out and I could go on jamming to the Streets album Original Pirate Material in peace.
Who's that knockin' on my door?
Another question I have been asked a lot is, what's the dumbest thing you have seen on television lately? Well, since I haven't come across any Anna Nicole Smith episodes during random flipping, I would have to say the dumbest television program I have seen recently would be the Victoria's Secret Fashion Special. I have to admit I was mesmerized for about 2-3 minutes by the preternaturally perfect bods of the superduper models. After the initial shock wore off it got boring real fast. I love that they actually referred to this T&A display as a fashion show. I guess if Sports Illustrated can pretend that their swimsuit issue is fashion then this Victoria Secret crap was fashion also. Why must we sit through these sterilized euphemisms on the tube? They need to just start showing people fucking.
Mmmm, the bus. What a great device in which to contain the various aromas exuded by us human folk. Today I sat behind two middle-aged ladies. One wore what appeared to be a wig with a bowl-cut design and the other was drenched in my what I hold most dear, cheap perfume. Before my sinuses could completely close up a middle aged man got on the bus and sat next to the smelly lady. He smelled like old newspapers. Fortunate for me his old newspaper aroma soaked up the perfume of the lady next to him. Eventually the two smells cancelled each other out and I could go on jamming to the Streets album Original Pirate Material in peace.
Who's that knockin' on my door?
Another question I have been asked a lot is, what's the dumbest thing you have seen on television lately? Well, since I haven't come across any Anna Nicole Smith episodes during random flipping, I would have to say the dumbest television program I have seen recently would be the Victoria's Secret Fashion Special. I have to admit I was mesmerized for about 2-3 minutes by the preternaturally perfect bods of the superduper models. After the initial shock wore off it got boring real fast. I love that they actually referred to this T&A display as a fashion show. I guess if Sports Illustrated can pretend that their swimsuit issue is fashion then this Victoria Secret crap was fashion also. Why must we sit through these sterilized euphemisms on the tube? They need to just start showing people fucking.
Thursday, November 21, 2002
Why do we never get an answer when we're knocking at the door?
I've been asked a question several times and it's now time I gave you the answer. What question is that you ask questioningly to yourself. Why, it's the eternal question of who is the best poet writing right now. Gosh, I'm glad you asked. I don't know if he's the best but I sure am a big fan of Jimmy Santiago Baca. Fan sounds so lame. How about I am a great admirer of his writing? That sounds better. How do you describe a great poet? Without going into unecessary language, a great poet leaves you with a sense of wonder after you finish reading. He does that for me.
Speaking of poetry, I downloaded a copy of the second New York Dolls album last night. It's called 'Too much too soon.' It's such a decadent little rock and roll album. It's the kind of music that makes you want to buy a bottle of whiskey and kidnap a couple of girls from a middle school dance and take them to New Orleans and sell them into slavery and take your profits and buy an evening with a voodoo priestess prostitute and drink chicken blood off her breasts and then wash yourself in the Mississippi and then steal a car and drive to a juke joint, get beat up, hitchhike to Memphis, get some crank so to stay awake and then catch a ride on a riverboat casino where Don Rickles is entertaining and after the show you buy Don a drink and he tells stories all night long about Deano, Frank and Sammy. About three in the morning Don goes to bed and you pass out in the kitchen of the riverboat right next to the trash can used by the dishwasher. Good thing the Dolls only made two albums. Too many nights like that can't be good for you.
I've been asked a question several times and it's now time I gave you the answer. What question is that you ask questioningly to yourself. Why, it's the eternal question of who is the best poet writing right now. Gosh, I'm glad you asked. I don't know if he's the best but I sure am a big fan of Jimmy Santiago Baca. Fan sounds so lame. How about I am a great admirer of his writing? That sounds better. How do you describe a great poet? Without going into unecessary language, a great poet leaves you with a sense of wonder after you finish reading. He does that for me.
Speaking of poetry, I downloaded a copy of the second New York Dolls album last night. It's called 'Too much too soon.' It's such a decadent little rock and roll album. It's the kind of music that makes you want to buy a bottle of whiskey and kidnap a couple of girls from a middle school dance and take them to New Orleans and sell them into slavery and take your profits and buy an evening with a voodoo priestess prostitute and drink chicken blood off her breasts and then wash yourself in the Mississippi and then steal a car and drive to a juke joint, get beat up, hitchhike to Memphis, get some crank so to stay awake and then catch a ride on a riverboat casino where Don Rickles is entertaining and after the show you buy Don a drink and he tells stories all night long about Deano, Frank and Sammy. About three in the morning Don goes to bed and you pass out in the kitchen of the riverboat right next to the trash can used by the dishwasher. Good thing the Dolls only made two albums. Too many nights like that can't be good for you.
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
I wanna be famous, a star of the screen
Today a co-worker, and fine American, Michelle told me she thought she saw my name in the paper's opinion pages. She also said she wasn't sure it was me because she thought it was well thought out. Very funny. Everybody is a comedian. I wrote my anti-new-Charlotte-NBA-arena diatribe a few days ago and, after not seeing in printed yesterday or Saturday, I figured they passed on it. Lo and behold, today it shows up. They edited the hell out it and it now makes more sense than the diatribe I originally sent. Read it here. And, please, no laughing.
Today a co-worker, and fine American, Michelle told me she thought she saw my name in the paper's opinion pages. She also said she wasn't sure it was me because she thought it was well thought out. Very funny. Everybody is a comedian. I wrote my anti-new-Charlotte-NBA-arena diatribe a few days ago and, after not seeing in printed yesterday or Saturday, I figured they passed on it. Lo and behold, today it shows up. They edited the hell out it and it now makes more sense than the diatribe I originally sent. Read it here. And, please, no laughing.
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Pulled into town in a police car
Actually I pulled into town on the train from Durham that was two hours late arriving today. Like the guy on the cell phone said, before he starting bragging about how much he loved his job to whoever the fuck he was talking to, it's no wonder why people don't ride the rails more often. From what I could gather from the happy happy workers on the train, the train couldn't move because they were having problem with their computerized dispatcher. I spent much of the trip back worrying about a head-on collision due to the a foul up.
One of the big reasons to visit Durham, besides spending time with a good friend, is to check out the two awesome used book stores within walking distance of Lee's apartment. I found a used copy of book called World Poetry. It's lovely. Big and full of poems I'll probably never read. It looks good on the book shelf though. The cover has nice colors.
The first book store we visited. on Saturday, was located behind a fried chicken shack and is called 'Books Do Furnish a Room.' It was especially interesting due to the the two guys that were working there. One was the typical used bookstore owner. Thin mousey with dark hair that appeared dyed. The second fella looked like Frankenstein's monster. I believe his neck tilted to the right so his head was out of line with the rest of his body but I couldn't be sure because I didn't want to stare. I bought a book of essays by Donald Hall.
The second store, called Nice Price, was less than a block away next to a convenience store and across the street was a Family Dollar which we did not enter. This store has a staff that is much less creepy than the other store. On this day there was a lovely and very nice waifish lady in her early 20's who's special talent was looking at you directly and smiling sweetly. Bless her heart. This is the store where I found the World Poetry. I had been wanting to find a used copy of that book for a while. It's something I will keep part of my personal collection for the rest of my days. It was on the floor at the foot of the poetry shelf covered by other books. It was pure luck that I decided to move that pile around.
We lit out from there and stopped by the Duke Museum of Art which is located right across the street from Lee's apartment building. I can't say enough good things about this place. I won't even try to describe it. Check out the webpage if you are interested. Just know that it deserves to be visited if you are in the area. You are short changing yourself if you do not visit this museum.
Actually I pulled into town on the train from Durham that was two hours late arriving today. Like the guy on the cell phone said, before he starting bragging about how much he loved his job to whoever the fuck he was talking to, it's no wonder why people don't ride the rails more often. From what I could gather from the happy happy workers on the train, the train couldn't move because they were having problem with their computerized dispatcher. I spent much of the trip back worrying about a head-on collision due to the a foul up.
One of the big reasons to visit Durham, besides spending time with a good friend, is to check out the two awesome used book stores within walking distance of Lee's apartment. I found a used copy of book called World Poetry. It's lovely. Big and full of poems I'll probably never read. It looks good on the book shelf though. The cover has nice colors.
The first book store we visited. on Saturday, was located behind a fried chicken shack and is called 'Books Do Furnish a Room.' It was especially interesting due to the the two guys that were working there. One was the typical used bookstore owner. Thin mousey with dark hair that appeared dyed. The second fella looked like Frankenstein's monster. I believe his neck tilted to the right so his head was out of line with the rest of his body but I couldn't be sure because I didn't want to stare. I bought a book of essays by Donald Hall.
The second store, called Nice Price, was less than a block away next to a convenience store and across the street was a Family Dollar which we did not enter. This store has a staff that is much less creepy than the other store. On this day there was a lovely and very nice waifish lady in her early 20's who's special talent was looking at you directly and smiling sweetly. Bless her heart. This is the store where I found the World Poetry. I had been wanting to find a used copy of that book for a while. It's something I will keep part of my personal collection for the rest of my days. It was on the floor at the foot of the poetry shelf covered by other books. It was pure luck that I decided to move that pile around.
We lit out from there and stopped by the Duke Museum of Art which is located right across the street from Lee's apartment building. I can't say enough good things about this place. I won't even try to describe it. Check out the webpage if you are interested. Just know that it deserves to be visited if you are in the area. You are short changing yourself if you do not visit this museum.
Friday, November 15, 2002
Every pissant photo contest
Are you a zero? A nobody? Another drab face in the monotonous crowd? Do you have a camera and know how to use it? Then do I have a contest for you: The Everyman Photo Contest!. It's put together by Troy. He's the fella that does the Whole Life Catalog. He owns a digital camera that is worth more than my whole wardrobe, and his wardrobe from what I have read. I entered this contest last year and got royally screwed. I can't believe my picture of RL Burnside didn't make the finals. I think the judges were racist. I also believe they don't realize how amazing it is that the picture was in focus cosidering how stinking drunk I was when I snapped the photograph. Judging from the finalists, my photo wasn't abstract enough nor was it in black and white. I know what to do now. I will enter again this year and I will be victorious unless, of course, Troy reads this entry and sees that I called him a racist. I should amend that. He's not racist, just prejudiced.
Not just another pretty face
I have been fascinated for a while now with the actress All Kliouka who plays a tough-ass Russian immigrant woman on the Sopranos. I did an internet search for her today and it turns out she is quite famous in Russia. Who knew? She has only appeared once this season and she had a great line when facing the actress who plays Janice, Tony Soprano's sister who is completely full of shit. Every word out of her mouth is a waste of valuable oxygen. Anyway, this last episode Janice sees Sveltyana, the character played by the tasty Alla, and emptily apologizes for a misdeed from the season before. Sveltyana, fully aware of the complete shit rolling out of the other woman's mouth, looks at her and says, "aaaach, you are a boring woman." She delivered the line perfectly. Her timing was impeccable and she carried the whole episode.
More Human Clock News
We now have an entry at 1:45 pm. It's my bobblehead goth girl sitting in the window here in telref.
Are you a zero? A nobody? Another drab face in the monotonous crowd? Do you have a camera and know how to use it? Then do I have a contest for you: The Everyman Photo Contest!. It's put together by Troy. He's the fella that does the Whole Life Catalog. He owns a digital camera that is worth more than my whole wardrobe, and his wardrobe from what I have read. I entered this contest last year and got royally screwed. I can't believe my picture of RL Burnside didn't make the finals. I think the judges were racist. I also believe they don't realize how amazing it is that the picture was in focus cosidering how stinking drunk I was when I snapped the photograph. Judging from the finalists, my photo wasn't abstract enough nor was it in black and white. I know what to do now. I will enter again this year and I will be victorious unless, of course, Troy reads this entry and sees that I called him a racist. I should amend that. He's not racist, just prejudiced.
Not just another pretty face
I have been fascinated for a while now with the actress All Kliouka who plays a tough-ass Russian immigrant woman on the Sopranos. I did an internet search for her today and it turns out she is quite famous in Russia. Who knew? She has only appeared once this season and she had a great line when facing the actress who plays Janice, Tony Soprano's sister who is completely full of shit. Every word out of her mouth is a waste of valuable oxygen. Anyway, this last episode Janice sees Sveltyana, the character played by the tasty Alla, and emptily apologizes for a misdeed from the season before. Sveltyana, fully aware of the complete shit rolling out of the other woman's mouth, looks at her and says, "aaaach, you are a boring woman." She delivered the line perfectly. Her timing was impeccable and she carried the whole episode.
More Human Clock News
We now have an entry at 1:45 pm. It's my bobblehead goth girl sitting in the window here in telref.
Thursday, November 14, 2002
Laughed until I cried
Thank Drudge Report for this. Someday soon we well see cartilage sticking out of that nose. Cartilage covered by a thin layer of plastic. Upon a second look, maybe that is cartilage sticking out the tip of Michael's honker already. This guy just needs to throw himself off a sufficiently tall building.
Bob Newhart
Last night on PBS television I was very fortunate to come across the presentation of the annual presentation of the Mark Twain prize for American Humor. It was being presented to Bob Newhart who really is a brilliant and influential comedian. Trust me, he is. Ever hear his telephone call bits? The best part of the show last night was the appearance by the Smothers Brothers. Not many people know this but I LOVE the Smothers Brothers. Few things make me laugh harder than Tommy Smothers stammering excuses for his tom-foolery. Like seeing Bill Cosby on Letterman a couple of months ago, it was heartening to see these guys onstage just being funny.
Thank Drudge Report for this. Someday soon we well see cartilage sticking out of that nose. Cartilage covered by a thin layer of plastic. Upon a second look, maybe that is cartilage sticking out the tip of Michael's honker already. This guy just needs to throw himself off a sufficiently tall building.
Bob Newhart
Last night on PBS television I was very fortunate to come across the presentation of the annual presentation of the Mark Twain prize for American Humor. It was being presented to Bob Newhart who really is a brilliant and influential comedian. Trust me, he is. Ever hear his telephone call bits? The best part of the show last night was the appearance by the Smothers Brothers. Not many people know this but I LOVE the Smothers Brothers. Few things make me laugh harder than Tommy Smothers stammering excuses for his tom-foolery. Like seeing Bill Cosby on Letterman a couple of months ago, it was heartening to see these guys onstage just being funny.
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
A New Superstore
To know me is to know that I love blasphemy in all its forms. Whether you are a comedian like George Carlin or Bill Hicks, skewering sacred cows with their unmatched wit or you are the purposely offensive cartoonist Callahan, you have my attention.
Naturally I was thrilled when I recieved an email from David whick linked me to Jesus Christ Superstore. Ahhhhhhhh, as Bill Hicks would say, let's go surf on that lake of fire.
To know me is to know that I love blasphemy in all its forms. Whether you are a comedian like George Carlin or Bill Hicks, skewering sacred cows with their unmatched wit or you are the purposely offensive cartoonist Callahan, you have my attention.
Naturally I was thrilled when I recieved an email from David whick linked me to Jesus Christ Superstore. Ahhhhhhhh, as Bill Hicks would say, let's go surf on that lake of fire.
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
The Human Clock
Have you heard of the human clock? It's a clever time-waster website that publishes pictures submitted by average joes that cleverly show what time it is. We at telref decided that the human clock should not exist without a couple of pictures from us. At 9:26 and 9:28 am there are pics of Walt Short and Michael Engelbrecht, respectively. If you do check it out at those times and you do not see those pics hit reload a few times and our pics will cycle through.
This weekend in Durham while visiting Lee I hope Chris, Lee and I can come up with a few worthwhile photographs. I will have to take photos with my boring old SLR and then scan the pictures once I get them developed. I don't know how I am able to live without a digital camera. I really don't.
Fun with the homeless
Yesterday while walking to Johnny Burrito #2 during lunch I passed in front of the CVS. The CVS is a favorite lurking spot for bums either because of the cheap snacks that are readily available or the convenient doorway they can hide in that can't be seen from inside the store. Right in front of CVS this very dark and squat woman, as she is stumbling past me, says Tourettely, "Yougotacigarette?" I said no. She looked at my like I was lying. I wasn't. Honest.
After eating too much at JB #2 I was passing the CVS on my way back to the library. Once again I saw my nicotine jonesing friend. Now she is standing in that doorway next to CVS holding a brand new pack of Newports. She saw me glancing at her and she called out in another spastic burst, "gotanychange!?" I shook my head. I could tell she thought I was lying again and this time she was right.
2nd Floor bathroom aroma
Todays aroma reminded me a pair of soiled underwear sitting on a flat rock that had been pooped on by a lizard the evening before and is now being roasted in a 110 degree desert sun.
Have you heard of the human clock? It's a clever time-waster website that publishes pictures submitted by average joes that cleverly show what time it is. We at telref decided that the human clock should not exist without a couple of pictures from us. At 9:26 and 9:28 am there are pics of Walt Short and Michael Engelbrecht, respectively. If you do check it out at those times and you do not see those pics hit reload a few times and our pics will cycle through.
This weekend in Durham while visiting Lee I hope Chris, Lee and I can come up with a few worthwhile photographs. I will have to take photos with my boring old SLR and then scan the pictures once I get them developed. I don't know how I am able to live without a digital camera. I really don't.
Fun with the homeless
Yesterday while walking to Johnny Burrito #2 during lunch I passed in front of the CVS. The CVS is a favorite lurking spot for bums either because of the cheap snacks that are readily available or the convenient doorway they can hide in that can't be seen from inside the store. Right in front of CVS this very dark and squat woman, as she is stumbling past me, says Tourettely, "Yougotacigarette?" I said no. She looked at my like I was lying. I wasn't. Honest.
After eating too much at JB #2 I was passing the CVS on my way back to the library. Once again I saw my nicotine jonesing friend. Now she is standing in that doorway next to CVS holding a brand new pack of Newports. She saw me glancing at her and she called out in another spastic burst, "gotanychange!?" I shook my head. I could tell she thought I was lying again and this time she was right.
2nd Floor bathroom aroma
Todays aroma reminded me a pair of soiled underwear sitting on a flat rock that had been pooped on by a lizard the evening before and is now being roasted in a 110 degree desert sun.
Monday, November 11, 2002
A walk in the woods
Two of the nicest people in the world are Marysia and Bill Walpole. Marysia and Wendell share the same exact birthdate. They figured out that there is a good chance they were born within the same hour. Every year around their birthday, Wendell and Marysia have a big happry birthday to us love fest. It's all very touching.
On a couple of occasions over the last few years Bill and Marysia have invited Wendell and I to go for a walk in a 80-acre wood that borders their property. The woods are called Evergreen Forest and Marysia played a big role in a recent campaign to keep the woods from being turned into softball fields and such. The gray area north of Sheffield Dr in this map shows you the location of these woods. If it wasn't for the sounds of vehicles on nearby Independence Death Race 2000 then you wouldn't even know you were in the big city.
Saturday Wendell took a phone call from the Walpoles inviting us to go for a stroll through the woods. We gladly accepted their invitation and got there about 3 pm. You can get to the woods from their back yard by climbing over s step ladder that they prop up against their five-foot-high chain link fence. There is a small glade opposite their yard before you get into the forest proper. There are trails all over the place and we took one heading northeast. Bill wanted to show us the Geo cache he had found a few months ago. The cache was under under a dead tree and covered over with sticks and leaves and near what is known as 'the big hole'. I found it by kicking stuff after Bill and Wendell had given up. Don't uderestimate the effectiveness of destruction when searching for treasure.
We then meandered over to the big hole which is just what the name implies, a big hole in the middle of the woods. According to Bill the hole was there when he was a kid and Bill is in his forties. No one seems to know how the hole got there but from what I have gathered from Bill he would rather not know how it got there. It is a childhood mystery that he doesn't need solved.
Saturday really was about the perfect day for a walk. It was slightly overcast with fast moving clouds which took turns covering and revealing the sun. As this went on during our walk the colors inside the forest changed constantly from a subdued murkiness to a slanting autumn gold. Walking with Bill and Marysia is nice because they both are very familiar with the plant life of the woods.
We spent about an hour strolling casually through the woods, often leaving the paths. I enjoyed leaving the paths the most. It had been a very long time since I had walked through a wooded area with no path. It felt good to push through tangled sapplings, to feel felled and rotting trees break apart beneath your feet and to just have to pay attention so you wouldn't get your eye poked out by a branch. If you live in Charlotte you ought to check the woods out someday soon before all the leaves are gone. You can park at Evergreen Cemetery which you can enter from Central Ave.
Oh no!
Bill Moyers scared the crap out of me with this essay.
Read on the bus: A story and essay out of 'Expanded Universe' by Robert Heinlein. I have been reading 'From here to Eternity' but it's too damn heavy to carry every day.
Listened to on duh bus: Waco Brothers, 'New Deal.'
Best movie ever?
Could this possibly have a shot at being the best movie ever made or the best movie ever?
Two of the nicest people in the world are Marysia and Bill Walpole. Marysia and Wendell share the same exact birthdate. They figured out that there is a good chance they were born within the same hour. Every year around their birthday, Wendell and Marysia have a big happry birthday to us love fest. It's all very touching.
On a couple of occasions over the last few years Bill and Marysia have invited Wendell and I to go for a walk in a 80-acre wood that borders their property. The woods are called Evergreen Forest and Marysia played a big role in a recent campaign to keep the woods from being turned into softball fields and such. The gray area north of Sheffield Dr in this map shows you the location of these woods. If it wasn't for the sounds of vehicles on nearby Independence Death Race 2000 then you wouldn't even know you were in the big city.
Saturday Wendell took a phone call from the Walpoles inviting us to go for a stroll through the woods. We gladly accepted their invitation and got there about 3 pm. You can get to the woods from their back yard by climbing over s step ladder that they prop up against their five-foot-high chain link fence. There is a small glade opposite their yard before you get into the forest proper. There are trails all over the place and we took one heading northeast. Bill wanted to show us the Geo cache he had found a few months ago. The cache was under under a dead tree and covered over with sticks and leaves and near what is known as 'the big hole'. I found it by kicking stuff after Bill and Wendell had given up. Don't uderestimate the effectiveness of destruction when searching for treasure.
We then meandered over to the big hole which is just what the name implies, a big hole in the middle of the woods. According to Bill the hole was there when he was a kid and Bill is in his forties. No one seems to know how the hole got there but from what I have gathered from Bill he would rather not know how it got there. It is a childhood mystery that he doesn't need solved.
Saturday really was about the perfect day for a walk. It was slightly overcast with fast moving clouds which took turns covering and revealing the sun. As this went on during our walk the colors inside the forest changed constantly from a subdued murkiness to a slanting autumn gold. Walking with Bill and Marysia is nice because they both are very familiar with the plant life of the woods.
We spent about an hour strolling casually through the woods, often leaving the paths. I enjoyed leaving the paths the most. It had been a very long time since I had walked through a wooded area with no path. It felt good to push through tangled sapplings, to feel felled and rotting trees break apart beneath your feet and to just have to pay attention so you wouldn't get your eye poked out by a branch. If you live in Charlotte you ought to check the woods out someday soon before all the leaves are gone. You can park at Evergreen Cemetery which you can enter from Central Ave.
Oh no!
Bill Moyers scared the crap out of me with this essay.
Read on the bus: A story and essay out of 'Expanded Universe' by Robert Heinlein. I have been reading 'From here to Eternity' but it's too damn heavy to carry every day.
Listened to on duh bus: Waco Brothers, 'New Deal.'
Best movie ever?
Could this possibly have a shot at being the best movie ever made or the best movie ever?
Friday, November 08, 2002
Conspiracy?
When you buy a frozen pizza it comes with a piece of cardboard beneath that conforms perfectly to the shape of the pizza. Naturally the instructions for preparing the pizza always remind you to remove the cardboard before sitcking the pizza in the goddamn oven. What purpose does the cardboard serve? The fwiggin' pizza in frozen! A frozen pizza doesn't need this superfluous piece of cardboard in order to stay flat. It's frozen! Ever kick a frozen dog turd? it doens't need cardboard to retain its form. I think they just get a kick out the knowledge that their useless piece of cardboard is starting housefires all over the world.
Please note that I did not start a fire tonight but I have stuck more than one frozen pizza in the oven without detatching it from the cardboard bottom. I have never had a fire start from this oversight but it is a bitch to seperate a completely cooked pizza from an equally toasted piece of goddamn cardboard.
This bullshit is blogging at its finest. Eat your heart out Gary Trudeau.
Remember to always cook frozen food completely. It's the only way to be sure that you have fully sterilized the mouse feces on your food.
When you buy a frozen pizza it comes with a piece of cardboard beneath that conforms perfectly to the shape of the pizza. Naturally the instructions for preparing the pizza always remind you to remove the cardboard before sitcking the pizza in the goddamn oven. What purpose does the cardboard serve? The fwiggin' pizza in frozen! A frozen pizza doesn't need this superfluous piece of cardboard in order to stay flat. It's frozen! Ever kick a frozen dog turd? it doens't need cardboard to retain its form. I think they just get a kick out the knowledge that their useless piece of cardboard is starting housefires all over the world.
Please note that I did not start a fire tonight but I have stuck more than one frozen pizza in the oven without detatching it from the cardboard bottom. I have never had a fire start from this oversight but it is a bitch to seperate a completely cooked pizza from an equally toasted piece of goddamn cardboard.
This bullshit is blogging at its finest. Eat your heart out Gary Trudeau.
Remember to always cook frozen food completely. It's the only way to be sure that you have fully sterilized the mouse feces on your food.
Thursday, November 07, 2002
Top ten
Top ten things I heard in my dreams this week.
10. Crocogators taste like lemon toenails.
9. Let's eat our way out of the quicksand!
8. Hey, you girls, stop spanking Mr. Spock, he's got calculations to finish.
7. If Jesus can run a garter snake through both his nostrils then I can definately fuck a spitting cobra.
6. I want an inside-out pizza.
5. The best way to get Wendell off the ceiling is with a high-pressure hose.
4. Can you drown in birds?
3. I think Teddy was much sexier than FDR.
2. Does picking a dollar off a stage with your butt cheeks make you a tool user?
1. Go home and find your pants and then come back and do your live national TV spot over until you get it right.
Top ten things I heard in my dreams this week.
10. Crocogators taste like lemon toenails.
9. Let's eat our way out of the quicksand!
8. Hey, you girls, stop spanking Mr. Spock, he's got calculations to finish.
7. If Jesus can run a garter snake through both his nostrils then I can definately fuck a spitting cobra.
6. I want an inside-out pizza.
5. The best way to get Wendell off the ceiling is with a high-pressure hose.
4. Can you drown in birds?
3. I think Teddy was much sexier than FDR.
2. Does picking a dollar off a stage with your butt cheeks make you a tool user?
1. Go home and find your pants and then come back and do your live national TV spot over until you get it right.
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
Bob Crane gets it on and on and on and on...
Wendell and I went and saw Auto Focus last night. I grew up watching Hogan's Heroes on syndication and I learned about the wild sex life of Bob Crane in just the last few years. I had to see this movie after I had read a few reviews and heard about the debate surrounding it.
First of all, Greg Kinnear does a great job portraying Bob Crane. I don't know if it was make or just good acting but he was eerily similar to Crane at times. William Dafoe played Crane's porno-fuck buddy Bob Carpenter with just the right amount of sleaziness and passive-aggression necessary to set him up as Crane's obvious but unconvicted murderer.
The movie critic for the Charlotte Creative Loafing had an excellent review of Auto Focus. He mentions how the film distances itself from Bob Crane and through this distancing we are able to objectively watch his slide into addiction. The fact that it is sexual addiction is secondary, it's his plight that is the focus.
Auto Focus is one of those movies that I am glad I saw. It's probably the most interesting and thought provoking film I have seen since Ghost World which the whole world should have to see.
Wendell and I went and saw Auto Focus last night. I grew up watching Hogan's Heroes on syndication and I learned about the wild sex life of Bob Crane in just the last few years. I had to see this movie after I had read a few reviews and heard about the debate surrounding it.
First of all, Greg Kinnear does a great job portraying Bob Crane. I don't know if it was make or just good acting but he was eerily similar to Crane at times. William Dafoe played Crane's porno-fuck buddy Bob Carpenter with just the right amount of sleaziness and passive-aggression necessary to set him up as Crane's obvious but unconvicted murderer.
The movie critic for the Charlotte Creative Loafing had an excellent review of Auto Focus. He mentions how the film distances itself from Bob Crane and through this distancing we are able to objectively watch his slide into addiction. The fact that it is sexual addiction is secondary, it's his plight that is the focus.
Auto Focus is one of those movies that I am glad I saw. It's probably the most interesting and thought provoking film I have seen since Ghost World which the whole world should have to see.
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
A Marine Corps Memory
Right now I am reading 'From here to Eternity' by James Jones. It is a novel that is about the army on Hawaii in the year before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. I have not read it before nor have I seen the movie so I don't know how much of the book takes place after the attack. I'll let you know if you are interested.
Anyway, the strength of the book so far has been about the minutiae of military life. Small boring activities like cleaning weapons, mopping floors, waxing those same floors, sweeping sidewalks, picking up litter, empyting garbage, washing dishes and saluting officers.
It's not all about the mundane activities that take place during a workday, it also covers the personal time you do get afterhours. It seems that soldiers in 1940 spent a lot of time gambling which seems to have been a lost art when I was in the service. We probably were paid better so we didn't have the need to gamble for drinking money.
There is a scene where a few fellas are playing a game of poker in the latrine while using a blanket for their table. There is a lot of good-natured ribbing and a sharing of resources. It reminded me of the times my friend Mike and I spent drinking Budweiser at the Sunabe
Seawall which is located on the western coast of Okinawa. You can see the location on this map. The seawall is just to the left of the letter 'E' on the map which is the Air Force based called Kadena.
This was in 1988 and I had a 500 dollar Toyota Corolla. We would drive out to the seawall on Sunday evenings and drink Bud longnecks. The seawall was a great place to hang out on a Sunday evening. Okinawas and military personal would cruise around the narrow road and hang out and meet people. On Sundays it was not as chaotic as it could be on a Friday and or Saturday night so that was my favorite time to go.
We bought the bottled Budweiser longnecks because when we finished a beer we would throw the bottle onto the cement formations that looked like jacks that were used to break the waves coming in. This became a major form of amusement. We would rate each bottles impact on the jacks. The jacks were stacked on top of each other so there were gaps the bottles could bounce down into. The longer it bounced and the more dramatic the shattering would cause the rating of the throw to improve. We did this enough so that are rating system became quite sophisticated.
A hard throw that didn't bounce but allowed the shattering of the bottle to supply a good report could push a rating of '7.' One bounce with a good smash really couldn't get beyond a '7.' It was excting but lacked pizzazz. I don't remember there ever being a '10.'
Mike would often declare a long bouncing bottle that pinged deep into the jacks a '10' but I could never allow it. I never rated a bottle's destruction over '9.5' and we both were allowed to judge each other's throws.
I hearkened back to my high school baseball experience when rating a throw. I remembered my baseball coach was driving a van back home after a baseball trip to the Detroit area. He was a big guy and we had stopped at a White Castle before we embarked. About an hour into the trip he started ripping the worst farts I have ever been forced to breathe yet. As he gassed us and we gagged he laughed devilishly and rated each fart. The highest he ever went was '9.5.' After one particularly nasty release I asked him what a ten would be and he answered, 'Oh, you can see a 10.' That experience is what held me back when rating our bottle smashes. I guess I figured a '10' would have to either cause the bottle to explode like a stick of dynamite or one of the glass shards would have to injure one of us. That never happened.
I have done some internet searches on the Sunabe Seawall and I see now that it is a gathering place for scuba divers. There may be a remote chance that one of our Budweiser bottle shards may have cut a foot of one of those divers. There may be a '10' out there that we will never know about.
Right now I am reading 'From here to Eternity' by James Jones. It is a novel that is about the army on Hawaii in the year before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. I have not read it before nor have I seen the movie so I don't know how much of the book takes place after the attack. I'll let you know if you are interested.
Anyway, the strength of the book so far has been about the minutiae of military life. Small boring activities like cleaning weapons, mopping floors, waxing those same floors, sweeping sidewalks, picking up litter, empyting garbage, washing dishes and saluting officers.
It's not all about the mundane activities that take place during a workday, it also covers the personal time you do get afterhours. It seems that soldiers in 1940 spent a lot of time gambling which seems to have been a lost art when I was in the service. We probably were paid better so we didn't have the need to gamble for drinking money.
There is a scene where a few fellas are playing a game of poker in the latrine while using a blanket for their table. There is a lot of good-natured ribbing and a sharing of resources. It reminded me of the times my friend Mike and I spent drinking Budweiser at the Sunabe
Seawall which is located on the western coast of Okinawa. You can see the location on this map. The seawall is just to the left of the letter 'E' on the map which is the Air Force based called Kadena.
This was in 1988 and I had a 500 dollar Toyota Corolla. We would drive out to the seawall on Sunday evenings and drink Bud longnecks. The seawall was a great place to hang out on a Sunday evening. Okinawas and military personal would cruise around the narrow road and hang out and meet people. On Sundays it was not as chaotic as it could be on a Friday and or Saturday night so that was my favorite time to go.
We bought the bottled Budweiser longnecks because when we finished a beer we would throw the bottle onto the cement formations that looked like jacks that were used to break the waves coming in. This became a major form of amusement. We would rate each bottles impact on the jacks. The jacks were stacked on top of each other so there were gaps the bottles could bounce down into. The longer it bounced and the more dramatic the shattering would cause the rating of the throw to improve. We did this enough so that are rating system became quite sophisticated.
A hard throw that didn't bounce but allowed the shattering of the bottle to supply a good report could push a rating of '7.' One bounce with a good smash really couldn't get beyond a '7.' It was excting but lacked pizzazz. I don't remember there ever being a '10.'
Mike would often declare a long bouncing bottle that pinged deep into the jacks a '10' but I could never allow it. I never rated a bottle's destruction over '9.5' and we both were allowed to judge each other's throws.
I hearkened back to my high school baseball experience when rating a throw. I remembered my baseball coach was driving a van back home after a baseball trip to the Detroit area. He was a big guy and we had stopped at a White Castle before we embarked. About an hour into the trip he started ripping the worst farts I have ever been forced to breathe yet. As he gassed us and we gagged he laughed devilishly and rated each fart. The highest he ever went was '9.5.' After one particularly nasty release I asked him what a ten would be and he answered, 'Oh, you can see a 10.' That experience is what held me back when rating our bottle smashes. I guess I figured a '10' would have to either cause the bottle to explode like a stick of dynamite or one of the glass shards would have to injure one of us. That never happened.
I have done some internet searches on the Sunabe Seawall and I see now that it is a gathering place for scuba divers. There may be a remote chance that one of our Budweiser bottle shards may have cut a foot of one of those divers. There may be a '10' out there that we will never know about.
Fun with the homeless
I was working the reference desk yesterday and this angry homeless guy walks by the desk and I glance up at him. He gives me an absolutely nasty look like he is ready to jump across the desk and attack. He tells me I need to stop staring at him and look elsewhere. I answer a couple of his orders with comments like, "Oooookay" and "all right, then." He doesn't actually threaten me but as he heads into the magazine stacks I can tell it's only going to get more interesting when he comes back out. He comes out from the magazine stacks and comes by the desk. I stare at him because there is no way I am going to be intimidated by some drugged up homeless fuck. He tells me again to stop staring at him etc. etc. etc. As he walks toward the elevator he calls me a "homo queer boy." He gets into the elevator giving me his best evil look as he gets in. Before I can call security a patron comes up with a question which I answer. I then call downstairs and the cop on duty tells me the guy has already left.
He came in today and security escorted him outta. Bye bye, fuckface.
I was working the reference desk yesterday and this angry homeless guy walks by the desk and I glance up at him. He gives me an absolutely nasty look like he is ready to jump across the desk and attack. He tells me I need to stop staring at him and look elsewhere. I answer a couple of his orders with comments like, "Oooookay" and "all right, then." He doesn't actually threaten me but as he heads into the magazine stacks I can tell it's only going to get more interesting when he comes back out. He comes out from the magazine stacks and comes by the desk. I stare at him because there is no way I am going to be intimidated by some drugged up homeless fuck. He tells me again to stop staring at him etc. etc. etc. As he walks toward the elevator he calls me a "homo queer boy." He gets into the elevator giving me his best evil look as he gets in. Before I can call security a patron comes up with a question which I answer. I then call downstairs and the cop on duty tells me the guy has already left.
He came in today and security escorted him outta. Bye bye, fuckface.
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Let's go see a play
Last evening Jessica took me to the school play put on by the students at the school she works at. The evening's entertainment consisted of two one-act plays, one by the middle schoolers and one by the high schoolers. The middle school kids came out first and did a play called 'The Miser' which, according to the playbill, was adapted from Moliere by Roland Reed. They did a good job considering how young they all are and that the middle school drama class is doing the play twice with two completely different casts. A difficult task. The children should be commended for doing such a good job under such obvious stress.
The high school class did the play "The Poet and the Rent" by David Mamet. They were superb. These young people were very professional in their presentation of this screwball comedy. In fact, their performance was better than the script which, in it's attempt to explore the nature of art, was too self conscious. I like it when a drama breaks down the barrier between the performers and the audience but Mamet took it too far for my tastes. Since I am unfamiliar with the play I don't know how much liberty was taken with the text. But the actors were fabulous. They threw something into the play which I thought was very clever. In the middle of a scene a cell phone was heard to ring off stage right. Someone answers it and over the laughter of the crowd you hear a voice say "He's onstage." The person who answered the phone then calls out to one of the actors onstage who then stalks offstage and has a angry conversation with "mom." While he is doing that the actors who are left onstage pretend to be emabarrased. After the call ended the actor came back out and the scene picked up where it left off.
The play took place in a building in Concord called Old Courthouse Theater which is not actually in the old courthouse as the previous link explains. It is a grand old building nonetheless and had the same lighting fixtures as hung from the ceiling of Holy Rosary Catholic church where I was indoctrinated as a child.
It had been a very long time since I had been to play before last night. Each time I go to a play I thoroughly enjoy it. I then remind myself to support local theaters like the Charlotte Repertory Theater and the Children's Theater of Charlotte. I did go see a performance at the Charlotte Children's Theater a few years ago when I was a student at UNC-Charlotte. A classmate of mine was performing in a play about the Nazi war crimes trials. This classmate was 16 years old and going to a university. He took an assload of classes, acted in two plays in one semester and was one stressed out little monkey. I remember one of my instructers, Malin Pereira, said of him that it was intimidating to instruct someone 'innately more intelligent than you are.'
I saw in Lee's blog that he published a poem. Here's one:
My Indecision
I saw him on the race track
sticking his car beside two,
should have let off the gas
let them stay ahead for a lap.
Instead his left front in the grass,
he shoots up the track
like a puck across the ice.
Chaos, bruises, tears, regret.
"I know they're going to blame me"
says the driver to the interviewer,
"but if you look at the replay closely,
I had no choice but to do nothing."
A website you waste your time and god's
What does google think of shit? Try googlism and see! They claim it's zany and madcap comedy. The Marx Brothers were zany and madcap. This is merely amusing and good for a chuckle or two.
Last evening Jessica took me to the school play put on by the students at the school she works at. The evening's entertainment consisted of two one-act plays, one by the middle schoolers and one by the high schoolers. The middle school kids came out first and did a play called 'The Miser' which, according to the playbill, was adapted from Moliere by Roland Reed. They did a good job considering how young they all are and that the middle school drama class is doing the play twice with two completely different casts. A difficult task. The children should be commended for doing such a good job under such obvious stress.
The high school class did the play "The Poet and the Rent" by David Mamet. They were superb. These young people were very professional in their presentation of this screwball comedy. In fact, their performance was better than the script which, in it's attempt to explore the nature of art, was too self conscious. I like it when a drama breaks down the barrier between the performers and the audience but Mamet took it too far for my tastes. Since I am unfamiliar with the play I don't know how much liberty was taken with the text. But the actors were fabulous. They threw something into the play which I thought was very clever. In the middle of a scene a cell phone was heard to ring off stage right. Someone answers it and over the laughter of the crowd you hear a voice say "He's onstage." The person who answered the phone then calls out to one of the actors onstage who then stalks offstage and has a angry conversation with "mom." While he is doing that the actors who are left onstage pretend to be emabarrased. After the call ended the actor came back out and the scene picked up where it left off.
The play took place in a building in Concord called Old Courthouse Theater which is not actually in the old courthouse as the previous link explains. It is a grand old building nonetheless and had the same lighting fixtures as hung from the ceiling of Holy Rosary Catholic church where I was indoctrinated as a child.
It had been a very long time since I had been to play before last night. Each time I go to a play I thoroughly enjoy it. I then remind myself to support local theaters like the Charlotte Repertory Theater and the Children's Theater of Charlotte. I did go see a performance at the Charlotte Children's Theater a few years ago when I was a student at UNC-Charlotte. A classmate of mine was performing in a play about the Nazi war crimes trials. This classmate was 16 years old and going to a university. He took an assload of classes, acted in two plays in one semester and was one stressed out little monkey. I remember one of my instructers, Malin Pereira, said of him that it was intimidating to instruct someone 'innately more intelligent than you are.'
I saw in Lee's blog that he published a poem. Here's one:
My Indecision
I saw him on the race track
sticking his car beside two,
should have let off the gas
let them stay ahead for a lap.
Instead his left front in the grass,
he shoots up the track
like a puck across the ice.
Chaos, bruises, tears, regret.
"I know they're going to blame me"
says the driver to the interviewer,
"but if you look at the replay closely,
I had no choice but to do nothing."
A website you waste your time and god's
What does google think of shit? Try googlism and see! They claim it's zany and madcap comedy. The Marx Brothers were zany and madcap. This is merely amusing and good for a chuckle or two.
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