Now that you know what the Links to Cure Boredom are all about, jump around in a circle and dance a jig! The last secret to the universe is known to you!!

10/29/01

Maybe it's just me, but i don't trust salesman with southern accents. I think it might be the perverse fear of reverse carpetbaggerism, but probably just one too many crooked southerners in my politics and in my life. i've been wondering lately why i ever voted for ashcroft - i never saw him coming, i suppose. perhaps when i was more of a religious nut, civil liberties were easily swept aside in the face of !Righteousness! i still find all those southern-gentleman bastards charming, though i will always fear anyone with a belt buckle larger than my testacles. I wonder if we subtracted The South from our heart-related health statistics if the numbers would improve greatly. You can't swing a dead cat around without hitting a steak house in texas, for example, and although Louisiana has the best food on the planet and a lot of it is seafood, i'm sure every state that ever supported Jeff Davis has higher rates of heart problems than any in the god-fearing Union states of old. it's interesting that a problem that was a big deal during the American Civil War is now an issue with today's Congress: less government involvement in people's lives. And the senators from the South encouraging this kind of legislation: Republicans.

Tables, you're turned.

Cool, emotion-sensing car. KITT is reborn!

Our Psychological Ops troops hard at work: American propaganda!
"You are condemned. Did you know that?"
I can just imagine some Taliban guy saying,"Wow! No I didn't! How about that!"
Check out the full text of one broadcast: Doing this is your only chance of survival.

WHO IS SB_100?? I don't know, but his techno music is funny. It might even be serious. Seriously funny, for sure. The rest of the page might be funny in a sick kind of way, or sick in a funny kind of way. Can't decide. Not anywhere as good as Y2Khai from a few weeks back, but along the same vein.

Another great Fade-to-Black magazine piece, this one on how THEY found a way to help our great country in this time of need and revenge. Michael Page has a great sense of humor. If you liked that, go to their main page and check out Operation Panty Aid as well.

Very weird stuff available for auction. I'd comment more, but i am seriously in awe of the weirdness.

One of my many lawyers asked me if i was a Patriot. I responded that i should be, given the fact that they've POUNDED the Indianapolis Colts the last two times they've played. Is everyone a Patriot? Is an injured Drew Bledsoe a larger symbol than we've all imagined?

Propaganda works, no matter how much we educate our children and how educated we were as children on the subject. Too bad, so sad. MSNBC wins the Worst War Coverage Ever Award, for presenting the most one-sided, flag-wavingly patriotic, wheelchair-bound vietnam-vet-esque oiled pectorals coverage of events in America and in the Middle-Asian scene. Jeebus. And people are always talking about crap they saw on it too! Jesus would not approve.

A bit on American Anthems: So Springstein, thank God, did do "Born in the USA" during a benefit concert. Disappointingly, Lee Greenwood sang that ultra-shitty "God Bless the USA" song at a Blues game, which consequently they lost. I am so pissed. More "Born In the USA." more "Little Pink Houses," more "America The Beautiful" (my pick for national anthem), less corporate, Lee Greenwood Nationalism. God damn.

At one of the baseball playoff games, they had a bald eagle fly around the stadium during the singing of the [crappy] national anthem. I was very impressed. That was neat. Seriously, the Nazi propaganda department from years ago would have been blown away. Wow. And to think Ben Franklin wanted the national bird to be a turkey. Could you imagine i turkey clucking around on the football field while we sang about our victorious non-loss at Fort McHenry? Ben Franklin may have been a genius on a lot of things, but like Jefferson with his female slaves, everyone has some faults.

10/19/01

Not sure how good in bed they might be? Using data from lots of folks, you can find out about that not-so-special someone, and see how they'd perform. What a world.

Interesting tidbit on caffeine, and caffeine intoxication. The second link is to a story of what can happen. I once slammed two Jolt! colas, and 20 minutes laters was singing - loudly - in public. Insane Ben A. slammed two Nitro! colas once, in addition to eating two Hershey bars, all on a dare. After running around the block and the party a few times, he came back and puked and went to bed. We all had a good chuckle. Even Ben. God love 'em.

WEIRD. Especially the "sloshing" part.

Jeff provided this one, with the comment: "journalism is such a bowl full of shit lit on fire lately." i agree, but would like to add to that: a FUNNY bowl of shit lit on fire. i thought this was a joke at first - very theOnion.com-esque. But it's true, so it's even funnier. I can't believe there are people who really care about this, and are taking it seriously. Always "about the children." Great.

It's always "about the children" these days. We have to do everything "for the children," and carefully screen our art, speech, networks, hairdo's, asylums, potholes, and black holes for anything that might be dangerous or "bad" for the children. A lot of attention is paid to detail, and very little to the big picture. I know one "husband," for example, who cheats on his wife at least once a week. But in no way does he ever cuss or be "drunk" around the child - at least not very much. Kids gotta play with a lot less cool toys because their parents fear their "pre-disposition to violence." I mean, geez, one of my favorite toys was a Tommy-Gun Water Gun, not to mention all the GI Joes and Star Wars stuff. Granted, i ended up fuctup, but at least not violent. Can't the parents just teach right and wrong, rather than letting their "bad" and "good" decisions teach it for them? That last bit's a stupid route to go anyway. We all saw violence on TV. We knew drugs (some more than others), we had sexy relations. Those Columbine parents didn't even know what was going on with their kids before they did that stuff. I had good parents. Many others didn't, obviously.
And that is the only real difference i have seen between people who grew up maladjusted and those who didn't. Good parents. A number of my friends and family have gotten married and/or have started having children lately. it doesn't take a village to raise a child. hillary is wrong wrong wrong. the village is chock full of idiots and trend-followers, cretons incapable of rational thought, people who invest in companies like Amazon, people who fight like hell at PTA meetings to get better teachers but vote down the bond issue to raise teacher salary, people who vote down great public transportation yet complain about environmental concerns and the rising price of gasoline. And even those that vote for it don't want it near THEIR house. My friend Jamie, who i think will be an excellent and shining example of a father, said it best: "If there was one thing Jesus hated, he hated hypocracy." And not that anyone here is a big christian - that's not the point. He was an example; your are an example. Like it or not. People watch what you do. Kids, even. You don't care? I have no problem with that. I really don't. But i have been intensely impressed by hypocritical actions of parents and peers alike, seemingly intelligent people who just seem to forget to think, quite often. Granted, many (most) children and people get past other people's faults and misgivings, but some don't. The cracks are big, and people fall in them all the time. It is those people, the ones that forget to think, that cause this. I am glad there are those who catch me; i am happy for those who hope to be caught. I loathe those who refuse to question their own hypocracy. Hypocracy is confusing; "do as i say, not as i do" does not work. I heard another parent trying to pull that one off tonight. How can you teach about love, for instance, if you are a bad example of it?

Sorry, i'm ranting. I'm almost done.

A friend of mine was looking for a relationship with a girl who had very similar philosophical interests and agreements, and consequently they would live together not in any sort of passionate relationship, but rather one of mutual respect and admiration, that somehow involved some WHAM-BANG, and some WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP! Then he met one of my female friends, and completely changed his mind about what he wanted. So i'm not a looony. This stuff happens every day. Don't be afraid to make a difference.

10/09/01

I had this great big point to make about how certain folks, like jefferson, marx, and anyone else who waxes extremely philosophical from time to time, gets some big sexual kick from it, and this more or less drives their deviant personal lives. however, realizing this makes me look a big dork, i've decided to cut this one short, and go straight to links:

Gas-powered cell phones? Might be only a couple years away! How environmentally conscious is that? Makes "Back to the Future" seem like prophecy. How cool would that be? Cars running on methane. Sweet.

Object in man's drink was fungus, not PENIS. DON'T DRINK THAT BRAND OF DRINK!

How lame is American Life? Through the eyes of some advertisers, it can be pretty lame. What's funny and weird is that i've seen lots of these sorts of things in action, and thought they were lame at the time too.

The answer i have been looking for: Why He (or whoever) Did It. i had supposed this all along, based on what i had gathered from around all the news and stories, but here it is, laid out, by the man himself.

Get prepped for a glut of June 2002 birthdays, and lots of unborn children with future identity crises and absent parents........

Good link from peter on the U.S.'s attempt to curb freedom of the press abroad. Oopsy!

Russian Black Bread: This richly tasteful bread is dark, and cheap to make. This might be a person who is poor quite often, and at least slightly brooding all the time. he/she definitely doesn't look like a normal person, but is enjoyed by like-minded folks, or people who don't know the real person behind the occasionally enjoyable facade.

Ginger Bread: sweet-tasting, hard to find bread not made very often by too many people, but then again, not too many people are this nice and sweet and just great to have every once in a while. too much of them though and you can get pretty sick.

Shortbread: a dough usually made for cookies, it too is sweet yet compact but still yummy. it's kinda like that one guy/girl you met and maybe hung out with once really late that seemed really nice and probably was, but you forgot about them and it never really bothers you that you won't ever see them again.

White bread: plain, white. your regular ass person. kinda fake to a certain extent, since grain isn't supposed to be "white." like every one else. nothing interesting. the world needs these people for filler, and to make the interesting folks, well, stand out.

Wheat bread: the slightly interesting person. person with a necessary function, or interesting personality quirk, but quickly fades into the background when the function is no longer needed or becomes mundane. if the white bread people are the filler for the world, the wheat bread people are the secondary ingredients.

Hoagie bread: interesting people, but only because they're funny to look at.

Bun bread: special occasion people; really neat when fresh and new, but done with them when occasions are over. a lot of relatives are like this.

Tortillas and Pizza bread: people whose lives are a complete and utter function of who they are combined with. these people alone are unbearable most of the time.

Phyllo Bread: ever met anyone "flaky"? Enough said. interesting, but very thin, dry, usually containing something interesting, but must consume all of it to get to that, and even then, it's not sustenance.

Cracker: salty, dry snack. comes in quite a wide variety, but basically the same. a lot of old people are like this.

Biscuit: kick ass compliment to any meal, often made with buttermilk and white flour. can be mundane, can be great, all depends on how they're raised. everyone needs a few biscuits lying around the edges of one's life. it's white bread with a fun twist, usually served warm and steaming. these people make life interesting in semi-memorable ways. can also be a lifesaver, if surviving on these alone.

Hardtack: dry, small, lasts FOREVER, maybe a tad bit bitter, tastes horrible, does strange things to your insides. a lot like a cracker, but an interesting yet foul, often curmudgeonly person whose sole purpose is to provide some needed tibbit in your life, despite the fact that it may be done out of hatred and/or spite. grim quotes are the only real lasting effects of these sorts of persons.

It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. - Groucho Marx

09/27/01

Because i am so disturbed by the amount of disinformation and widespread ignorance surrounding the "justice" angle of all the recent events, i am devoting this edition to quashing it. People i talk to and respect for their analytical, fact-finding minds are talking nonsense; people i know who can talk philosophy, politics, law, and social issues with the best of anyone are foaming at the mouth with race hatred, warmongering, and calls for swift justice for the enemy unknown and invisible. They say bombs should drop, on innocent people if need be, to get someone who "might be" or "probably is" responsible. Are we a people or a mob? Clinton did that; it didn't work. It only made the innocent people angry at the U.S., and perhaps filled terrorist training camps with waves of energetic new recruits - orphans have to eat. How is it that we so quickly lose the lessons we are supposed to have learned from history?
I do not often cite Jesus as an example, or spout what i think Jesus would do, despite having studied the idea for quite a long time. However, it has amazed me though how quickly Christian ideals have faded into the background. I hardly think that Jesus would approve of all this warmongering. He was a big fan of Justice, without doubt. He denounced terrorism, most definitely. I can hardly imagine he was a big fan of the mob mentality. Jesus liked peace, and sought peaceful solutions to major problems in his society. He debated important leaders in public, challenged injustices right out in the open, and did his research and formed his thoughts carefully before detailing his solutions to his community's problems. Violence was never an answer. I am not saying Jesus has the answer, but he most assuredly would not approve of the actions many Christian-principled people in America want to take.

Very long, but detailed and fairly objective first-hand account of what life is like in Afghanistan, as well as a good recounting of its history for the last fifty years. After reading this, it seems downright stupid and quite dangerous in the long-run to go bombing the country. The article is a bit dated (1998), but the writer asked lots of interesting questions of regular, plain-muhammed Afghanis, as well as important politicians in the country. Very good stuff.

Excellently researched article and poignant analysis of how events within the last few years may have brought anti-Americanism abroad to a head. He pieces together a host of significant political events in the Middle East, and debunks a lot of pundit responses on the looming and oft-discussed question: Why were we attacked?

Think we _aren't_ seeing a lot of propaganda on TV? Here is a website with a quick refresher course on how it works. See if news coverage lately has been passing the test.

And for a tab bit of humor, and some actual serious commentary disguised as humor: this week's Onion ("Holy Fucking Shit: Attack on America") was outstanding.

Some interesting notes of late:

- Jerry Falwell. God that guy's Dumb.
- All the blood donating: it only lasts 30 days until after it's given, unless it is frozen, in which case it takes days to thaw properly (what i heard anyway). that's a LOT of unusable blood. and a lot of woozy americans. of all the things americans could do to do the "something" they felt compelled to do after the tragedy, i wish someone would've suggested something a bit more, well, practical. create monuments, museums, support groups, counter-terrorist organizations.
- The money donating: various charities have collected a total of $200+M for disaster relief in New York. Which just goes to show: Americans are cheap. I mean, c'mon now: if $100M is from corporations (and that i think is a low number, considering that friggin' Applebee's gave a $1M itself), then among the 30M actual individual americans who are actually taking home respectable salaries and incomes (god i wish i was included in that number), that's $3.40 apiece. that costs more than, say, an American flag even.

09/17/01

First some links, because by now, you've got to be bored of watching television and tired from gushing with patriotism.

A rap group named The Coup released this album, only days before America's latest tragedy. Oops.

More fun stuff: What Bush did in May that you may never have heard about. Talk about embarassing.

Good debunking of all those tragedy-related forwards going around. Even the Canada one, which helped inspire my piece below, is put in its proper light, to an extent. To the extent that it doesn't, see below.

And to answer David McCullough's question (see below), i bring you Seumas Milne of The Guardian, U.K. This, in my opinion, is THE best piece written on the current events. It goes well with my piece, and should be read first. It should be required reading for every American struggling to understand the greater context of the events of last week.

This piece does well to explain how and why rooting out terrorism in the world has failed and will fail again, even if the U.S. tries. It is also a bit hopeful too - the first realistic, hopeful piece i have read.

****
It is thankfully infrequent topic of conversation that i am currently unable to cry, at least since age 13. Johnny Cash poked fun at that prototypically American manly attitude; i hope i never have to go to jail, if that song portends anything to that sort of fate. I had a sinus infection strike me down tuesday night, about an hour before i was to get off of work. I had been watching coverage all day, then at work, and when i came home feeling the skinny white boy's allergy burden, i watched some more, till i passed out. I woke up and watched all wedneday between naps, and then all thursday, between more naps. And then all friday. Rings of telephones sounded like missing airlines, Garrick Utley sounded like the voice of God, and mysterious scenarios in dreams blended together with coverage of buildings collapsing and people-covered people who looked like ghosts emerging from Dante's eighth circle. Old G.I. Joe bedroom battleplans came to mind, but not even the AT-AT they borrowed from The Empire could stop this hooded danger. It may be just a bit of jadedness that lends me to not being phased by all the touching tributes and sordid ironies of everything going on. It may be that i know no one who was there or was hurt. It may be that usual animal at work in my brain: confusion. But it may be that i think Americans in some way brought this upon ourselves. The noted historian David McCullough was stopped outside of a hospital in Washington, D.C., after he had just given blood, and was asked to comment on what all was going on. He said what i wish i had the notoriety and balls to say:

The first thing we need to do is ask ourselves why are they doing this? Who are they? What kind of people are they? What do they want? It's foolish to go declaring war on a people we don't even know.

And we don't know them. They are among us.

There is a bunch of forwards going around on the net, one noting how great America is and has historically been, and another noting Nostradamus's prediction of this happening. For the former forward, that document relates nothing of the terrible things we have done to offset the good things: the last major world power to outlaw slavery, last major world power to still have the death penalty, how we can economically crush nations that do not follow our rules, how we go sticking our military and diplomatic nose where it may not belong, constantly. This is not to say America is some sort of Evil. I believe that in general we are and have been a good nation. Just not the glowing, golden beacon of goodness that many seem to currently be trying to portray us as. As far as that Nostradamus nonsense goes, someone made that up. That passage is nowhere in anything Nostradamus wrote. Why anyone would bother with such mystical nonsense at a time like this is typical of those who fail to seek answers to questions they should be asking.

A second Pearl Harbor? How can it compare? We were innocent at Pearl Harbor. The worst disaster in American history? Doubtful. We have perpetrated worse disasters, and wars are disasters in and of themselves. The worst domestic, civilian disaster in American history? Perhaps. Our foreign policy has made our civilians a military target though, because we made their civilians a target first. 2,403 soldiers died at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and 23,000+ died in one day at Antietam Battlefield on September 17, 1862. At the Battle of Cold Harbor in 1864, 5,700 Union troops fell in 15 minutes. But as we have waged war on 44,000 dead civilians in Dresden, and hundreds of thousands in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, is it too hard to believe that other peoples will take a strategem from our playbook and use it against us? They see their efforts as part of a holy war - what is a terrorist act to us is a Fort Sumter to those confederates. They want their demands met, and violence is their only megaphone. There is no excuse and no quarter to be given to anyone who wants to kill thousands of people to further a cause, but do not be surprised that if the United States goes after them with a board with a big nail in it, they will return with larger board, with a much larger nail. And they have the capacity to inflict a lot more damage on us than we on them. It's easy to sneak into sporting events, if you really want to.
Declare war!, but on whom? To declare war on terrorism is to declare war on Palestinians, kicked out of their properties and possessions by US truly; to declare war on Serbs, our old WWI ally and revengers in the vicious cycle of killing in the Balkans that has been going on since the barbarian hordes invaded Europe. Re-declare war on Iraq, whatever good that would do. Declare war on teenagers and religious nuts in America, whose ignorance, pranks, and stupidity are a constant domestic terror. Declare war on fringe Islamic groups, and watch as they use the same propaganda machines we use with our own people to whip their fellow muslims into warlike fury, whose children are taught to use guns not to shoot at other children at schools, but at courageous-yet-ignorant flag-waving Americans. These are the same americans who do not question The United States' role in the world, but are out for blood. Now.
They declared war on us years ago, and recently met in a summit in Tehran as late as last february to organize against us. Why do they hate us? We should answer that question and find the subsequent resolution to pacify their anger. That is how to end this "war." They are not going to stop hating us if we bomb them to kingdom come, or arrest and try their leaders. Revenge pleases the mob, and justice satisfies the high-minded, but solves little in the way of how the world turns.
In eight grade geo-science class, my teacher Mr. Murray explained that every drop of water on the planet had at some point been lots of places on earth. One molecule of water in the water fountain or in the tears of mourners, for example, might have been drank by pharoahs, emperors, and early cavemen. While pondering that i might have drank a molecule of water that Jesus had drank, and the ramifications of that, it occurred to me today that the ash floating from NYC will cover us all, figuratively if not literally. It will be part of the ground we will walk on for the rest of our lives, and be in the air we and generations after breathe forever. Our steps must therefore be carefully measured, if we are to truly honor our dead. Revenge does not equal justice; history can be and has been repeated. The United States has made mistakes, and will again, in the very near future.
When tragedy strikes me, i tend to withdraw into self-reflection: to see if i am at fault, to see where i went wrong, to carefully reexamine all the events of recent history and pursue the best course of action once i truly believe i understand what is going on. America is lacking self-reflection. It always has. Its heroes are lauded for it; its leaders are rewarded and punished for it. Its media fails to grasp the concept.
But it all is so heartily poignant... Grandma has you going #1 in the draft. Every speech made by your president streams by like a Kafka film. I was never really sad or angry and even frustrated over the last few days, huddled with comforter and pillow in front of the tv for 53 hours straight. I was worried. So worried that i might cry. Worried that the guy (who Hunter S. Thompson calls the "child-president") might go with the mob. Worried that like in every war, military actions will escalate, and casualties will be high. Worried that there might be a permanent solution to the Yankees' dominance in the World Series in the next few days. Worried that ignorance and sabre swinging will win the day in the passionate moment that is the still vibrant "now".

Where are the intellectuals? Will they be listened to? Will they even be heard?

Or are their pitchforks out too?

09/07/01

I went to my friend Melissa's Going-Away Karoake Party at this south-city/county bar called George's Route 66. I spent the evening in the company of six georgeous women and a guy wearing a shirt that said, "I'm here for the BLOWJOB." Touche`. I spent most of the evening philosophizing on why i liked karoake so much. There is this bad image, probably from bad Tom Selleck/japsploitation movies, that karoaoke is this event where people who can't sing come up and massacre classic American songs, and everyone laughs in some sort of conciliatory and humiliating event. Anyone who has ever attended a good, regular karoake event knows it is nothing of the sort. Granted, there are Bud Light Drunks who come up and embarrass themselves singing Crap Pop Song #1, but the majority of folks who sing come there to really sing a song with heart, a tune they feel deeply with the same organ. It's not "Can I Sing that?", but rather, "I've always sung that, and I will," and belt out moving epics and fun little numbers oftentimes better than the originals. I also was stabbing at the idea of a local working class hero - a woman you might know who's been through that shit, and her wailing a song about it means a hell of a lot more than any recording. Girls with country-pop voices like Leeann Rhimes that are belting out kickass rock songs. Ex-sailors talking about the hypothetical Brandy they have all met, and their true love, the sea, and how it will always be. How he was killing her sofly, every time they met. It is an easy thing to say that most people like simple metaphors. Pop songs provide them. Karoaoke allows them to experience them over and over again.

AWESOME. Hawking weighs in on the debate over genetic engineering of DNA. Says Hawking, do it now, or COMPUTERS WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD!

Horsies are cute. Hee hee.

This was fucking brilliant: The guy behind Brunching Shuttlecocks has a "feelings" conversation with SmarterChild, an articifical intelligence computer that responds to you on your AOL Instant Messenger, and gives "news, weather, stock quotes, movie times, games and lots more," including..... love.

"Miss Mary is a Station wagon just like the one your mom drives, if your moms station wagon could jump hills, crush cars and do wheel stands, at 50 miles per hour!" What Would Jesus CRUSH! GO FIND OUT!!!!

I live in the land of West County, where talk about money and complaints about an extra $0.25 for bread rule. The most popular drink is the West County Cocktail (water with a lemon in it), and the prices at the Ballwin Days fair would make the Ronald Regan administration GUSH with pride. NIMBY is not a man, nor a social construct, but a lurking thought behind every property-tax paying citizen: I want things to be better for me, but: Not In My Back Yard. Make those changes somewhere else where they don't affect me negatively. The government will fix our mistakes, our misjudgements, and consumer concerns. Couldn't possibly get it done ourselves. My delivered-to-my-door culture is good enough for me. My parents didn't have it too bad but BOY DO I, trying to talk to my friends while driving the noisy [brat, spoiled] kids home in the Ranger Rover. Sunday Christians and Soccer moms should be official political sub-groups for CNN. They want the world at their feet but don't want to do or pay anything to get it: if a restaurant featured free soda and adjusted food prices to pay for the free soda, people would flock there for the free Dr. Pepper for their ADD children. How can an entire class of persons be so philosophically lethargic? Does money cause this? They are led like sheep.

Jean Teasdale is alive and well, and living in West County.

When i was in Bavaria, i walked around the part of Nuremburg that was destined to become Nazi headquarters. I saw where the great Nazi Nuremburg rally was held, and envisioned the 100,000 troops that stood in long grey lines as Hitler walked in religious procession between them. I walked as He walked. I even goose-stepped. I stood precisely where Hitler stood on The Tribune, and looked out, over the soccer fields and overgrown ruins that have replaced the former Nazi parading grounds. It was like it had never happened in their backyard. Like this huge historical event was some sort of backwater accident meant to teach young germans some kind of lesson, despite the fact that they themselves would go where Hitler had stood and salute. Reminded me of my love of history, in all of this, as well as a sadness i could not express. Neko Case, a figurative love of my life, did find a way to express it:

"Another suicide, on the 405...
the black Dahlia, she smiles and smiles

it's the same old town that bled her dry
one more starlet one more time,
bound to make it do or die.

take a walk to BonnyBrae
try to wash these dreams away...

they say L.A.'s...

beautiful

when it rains........"

09/03/01

On my way to work today, i had to stop coming out of my subdivision. There were ducks blocking the road. The whole thing. It was like they had planned it. And it's not like there were more on the sidewalk - they were all in the road, and they weren't moving. For no good reason either. There was no food there, no water, nothing interesting. It was like they were protesting something, but weren't quite sure what. So i sat there for a couple minutes. A tad bit frustrated, but they finally cleared a small path and i got through. I was laughing loudly as i was finally getting out of my subdivision, trying to find some greater point about life in the fact that a bunch of ducks just stopped my life cold. There wasn't one. It was just silly.

More links farmed from reader contributions. Almost always good ones.

John B. is a regular contributor of excellent links, and is responsible for this one as well. Oddly enough, i have always thought the same as the creator of this site, ever since i was little: THERE ARE lots of men out there who look like Kenny Rogers, in that older, pineapple-bearing gay-cowboy sort of way.

****What, a Non-Web Link??****
>1. Call Deutsche Bank/National Discount Brokers
>at 1-800-888-3999.
>2. Listen to ALL of the options (it only takes a moment).
>3. After hearing the 7th option, press 7 and listen.
>EVERY company should have an Option 7!!!

The "Links" in Links to Cure Boredom was always 'figurative', in the same way that the Lucent symbol, the red circle drawn with a crayon, represents continuous innovation that leads to the firing of half the workforce. I apologize if that made sense. Anyway, you must do this during normal business hours, but it truly is amusing. Thanks to my little bro Eddie for that one.

Despite the rediculously good amount of punning, this is a serious article. I sure hope Busch passes this bill, so Mickeys, Fosters, and Samuel Smith's everywhere, on every Boulevard, and every Plank Road, can enjoy their Budweisers and Schlaflys for less Pabst, friggin' cost. However, do not be confused. Even at Beer:30, in st. louis, it is STILL not Miller Time. Thanks to Peter for this one.

And thanks to peter for this one too. I've been told by many folks, from my grandma to nice, older ladies that i have worked with over the years, that The Rapture is coming, and i need to be ready. Well, this lady thought it was here. And in a way, it was.

If you are a normal human being, you've had some of those days.

Yes, THOSE days. Days when you wake up feeling older.

And maybe even looking older.

For me, the last bit is not necessarily a bad thing. I can buy beer at Deirbergs with considerably less stress. I might not get carded at the next R movie i go to. But, the hairline might have receded, my abilities to stay trim and go strong into that good night might have faded a little, and somewhere in my sleepy wee hours, my demographic may have shifted from confused post-grad to confused twenty-something. That all still hasn't changed my mind that getting older is a state of mind. My parents look young, can act young, but think old. Plenty of other people i know are the exact same way. So what gives? Is chronologically aging an excuse? Is being and acting like Death is on his way truly rewarding, or simply something people feel they must acquiesce to, in order to further the course of human events? My grandma and my semi-friend Concert Ben have it right: Go out and do it while you can. The body starts to give way around age 60, and not any sooner. unless you let it. And up till around 60 you can fix it. And still no excuses. my great-uncle had the energy of a teenager up until a week before he died at age 84. He was walking miles every day, and routinely cut his 2 acres of yard once a week, with a small push-mower. My dad told me his uncle was pretty old, and of course at my tender age of 7, anything older than 70 years was practically dead. I remember commenting to my great-uncle soon afterwards while visiting him at his home in rural western North Carolina, "YOU'RE OLD!!" He responded, "I don't feel that old," and proceeded to be the 4th man required for the three of us boys playing any sort of game. And then took us out for some really good popcorn shrimp. We left, and collectively concluded that either A) Our dad was lying about his uncle being old, and some freak accident made him look older or B) Getting old must not be so bad, it's all if you want to be "old" or not. Some people want to be; i suppose that's okay. Boredom becomes complacency. I hope i never see the day.

08/28/01

You've read this newsletter for long enough; time for you to enjoy or at least put up with some of the more, well, interesting and thought-provoking material i have written for no one but myself. This is actually prompted by something i saw on one of VH1's Where-Are-They-Now shows. Kim Carnes wrote and sang "Betty Davis Eyes," a one-hit wonder song in the mid-80's. But, currently, she writes lots and lots of songs for pop-country artists, and has been doing so for years. If i could have a similar job writing songs for bands and artists that _don't_ suck, and have a nice home and family and stuff in the country, i would be a very happy man. One never knows - maybe that ideas.com site from the last LCB could pay off, or random submissions to various artists might get picked up. I don't particularly care, as long as someone that isn't me remembers a song i wrote.

Ideally, this is sung by Neko Case, a Goddess among singers of any songs, but you can sing it yourself. Just keep in mind, it's a waltz. Just count: 1-2-3, 2-2-3, 1-2-3, 2-2-3.........

_And She, So Far Away_ by c. dulatt

finally,
a day off
and a roomful of women
that look like ex-girlfriends

and she,
so far away
yet in the room
lovely smiles she bends

hanging from the ceiling
Hanging from the ceiling,
hanging from the ceiling,
oh, hanging from the ceiling...

[16 measure break]

miles
of desert
and cities in between
where nothing really happens

and she, so far away
closes the gap between
like the web beneath
can you even believe
what a soul
what a life
it is here tonight
it always is

hanging from the ceiling,
SWINGING from the ceiling
swinging from the ceiling
JUST swinging from the ceiling.....

************************************

More proof that Brits are bloody bastards who still can't at least fake some gratitude for us helping them out in dubbya-dubbya two. They don't like Mr. Potatoe head? The golden arches? Those pretensious fooks aren't even good enough to spit in me guinness.

A Rap dictionary. A real gem, especially useful if caught in the "hood", and are perhaps "up to no good." Lots of useful terminology, phraseology, and ghetto-funkology, to allow you to "keep it real on the streets." Okay, that last bit was from the whiteboy-suburbanite-faker dictionary, which hasn't been fully written yet, but Limp Bizkit and their whole generation of neo-hair-rock bands definitely have it in the works. (ex: "The He-Said/She-Said Bullshit: the misunderstandings between young couples that are often unresolved and lead to break-ups).

You may have never known it, but you live in a neighborhood or locality that is marketed for its particular clientele. To see how you are targeted by marketing guys (often ex-frat boys who cracked open a book instead of that 19th beer), check this site out. Just pump in your zip code, and you will be grouped. Kirksville folks: prepare to be amused. BTW, if stereotypes make you mad, skip this link. Marketing guys are terrible.

The protester in this article didn't so much inspire me to think more about the treatment of animals as she did help me think of the next theme party i will throw....

Around the ATO house we always had junk art, and sometimes (ok, often) had redneck ways and means of solving problems around our fraternity house. However, we owe our inspiration to those people who are living this reality, and are clearly doing something innovative that we ourselves are not able to do. Be sure and find the home constructed of multiple double-wides! And the porch roof constructed of a car hood! Rock! Thanks to the person who sent me this, who lives in a very nice and pretty trailer, with no appliances (currently) in the front yard.

Art, appearance, and acceptable functionality of everyday objects are an individuals' perception, or so it could be paraphrased. There is no reason that the redneck soddering random pieces of pipe together to make a jungle gym for his kids is any better than the dad who goes out and spends hundreds of dollars to get red cedar and new steel bolts. I personally would have loved to have rusted out cars in my backyard to play with, or to have built a fort from old furniture and broken appliance pieces (although the fort made of old couches at The House that Klaas and i had to defend from The Non-40-OZ-Drinking Infidels was pretty fucking awesome). I mean, blankets and toys sufficed for my fort-building childhood, but compared nothing to the hulking three-story structure the kid across the street had, the same kid who i knocked out cold with an icy snowball in an intense, bloodwar of a snowball fight, and who later stole CDs out of my car parked in the garage. People with make do with what they have, whether it be a fortuitous plethora of money and opportunity, or junk accumulated from friends and relatives whose lives found the sharp end of the stick. And from a given perspective, it can be funny. But from another perspective, it also can be beautiful.

08/22/01

For some rediculous reason, a friend and i were talking about on-line personal ads, and my personal and utter dislike of them. Completely. However, after enough coaxing and silly discussion on the topic, i began to make one. A fake one. A silly one. Thankfully, when i tried to submit my personal ad for Crusty-99-Year Old Millionaire Seeks Widowed Black Female, Age 70-90, Min. Height 7'2", AOL was having technical problems and wouldn't take it. God love crappy internet companies. Anyway, i did manage to preserve this little gem, my smart-ass answer to one of the many general, vague, and otherwise uninteresting questions that these kind of websites drag out of an individual.

>>What do you like to do? (Limit: 1,000 characters)
>>(Examples: "Skiing", "Being Honest", "Moonlight walks on a beach")

I like being honest, though i think it's pretty funny that it is something that i _like_ to do. I mean, other examples listed are "skiiing," "moonlight walks on the beach," other tired, cliche romantic things. Like "being honest" is a fun activity you like to occasionally engage in. The rest of the time you are a bald-faced liar, about everything. And will occasionally break into fits of honesty for fun, or just as "something you like doing." If a man lists, "being honest" as something he "likes to do," I highly suggest you skip his personal ad, or kick him squarely in the nuts - whatever is more convenient.
Things i like to do. Hmm. Well, here we go: I like scaring myself by imagining that I am jumping off cliffs and out of airplanes (neither of which i have ever done), i like making out beneath The Arch, I like drinking heavily at sporting events, I am amused by the smell in public restrooms that can be described by no other word than just being "brown," i like to people-watch and pretend i know what they are thinking, i watch for the international spacestation to pass overhead at night, i like to rock, i love hanging out with my girlfriend and all of my friends, none of whom i would trade for hundreds of dollars (how much are we talking?), and making everyone happy (insert flowers, applause, and the spraying of canned, spreadable cheese here). Of course, there's lots of things i like to do, but the beer and liquor list alone would take up 43 pages. No need to bore you. You have links to read.

Like Larson, I too am constantly having brilliant ideas on stuff to do, if only someone would listen to me and perhaps want to use my idea, and pay me for it. Well, Matt, here is our chance. No kidding. And that goes for every one else who has some sort of innovation in mind that they think might catch the eye of a major corporation.

Anger management over frustration with Internet Explorer.

Generally amusing lawsuit filed and reviewed in court before it was thrown out: He (and his scooter) sued the U.N., Jesus, AND The Sanhedrin, The Ancient Jewish High Court. Great stuff. Loonies rule.

Last time i was car shopping (a ways back now, it seems), the Saturn salesman remarked about how honest he was, citing his Masters in Sociology, and his lack of "tactics" in dealing with the customer. And being honest is something "He likes to do."

Cookie Monster attacked?! What is this world coming to, where the leading terrorist of the cookie jar (but otherwise a very nice fellow) is getting harassed by the populace? The best part is that Grover had to come in to help fend off the attacker. And who would it be, kids? That's right, you guessed it: a Parent! Boooooo, boooooooo.

What a terrible tragedy american life might be if it were run by a direct democracy. According to historical record, Jefferson, Washington, and Franklin were scared shitless by the concept. Representative democracy was their invention, and a good one. It is with that idea in mind that i finally listened to all my friends, family, and lots of complete strangers and decided to go back to grad school. Since no single one of my friends represents a group of similar friends of mine, and the strangers weren't organized either, this decision is direct democracy in action. A downright vote of acclamation, really - every one thought i should go back - and i was so undecided on the issue, i decided to abstain and almost pocket-vetoed it before dialing it into law this afternoon. What would the Founding Fathers think? There can be no doubt: they'd wonder if i'm Swiss (cheese) (headed).

08/17/01

Let's get disjointed! (This may be as bad as it gets. Of course, it will make perfect sense to Jay, my mentally disjointed partner in crime).

How pathetic do you think you would feel if your musical career piddled down to headlining the Radio Disney tour? This is the emotional predicament The Baja Men ("of "Who Let the Dogs Out" fame) must face.

"Anal Cunt", that tape that someone gave someone else at an ATO Christmas gathering, is on tour again. As is 2 Live Crew.
("What's with this sexist crap?"
"That's my bread'n'butter man!")

I recently saw the Stargate television show, Richard Dean Anderson and his all D-level actor supporting cast included. I guess it makes sense that McGuyver's career would come to this: a TV series based off of one of Matt Haggans' "great" movies (we still do not understand why he thought so). God it was so excellently cliche though. Everything McGuyver did was so McGuyver, in a Stargate kind of way, which was both humorous and confusing. The smug and over-the-top confrontations with the government, the very "pat" and "too-tough-to-care" way in which the complex scientific matters and Stargating was dealt with, and the way the very pretensious and over-simplifying McGuyver-solving of a real-world-related-problem was done. I should stop watching late night sunday TV, it's not good for me. Or Dick Dean Anderson. Ah toilet humor.

Ain't nothin' but a khai thing.

(This is fucking awesome. Check out the other "videos" as well. If the computer you are on right now doesn't have sound, get on one that does. Now.)

*********************************

Ghetto wine takes on a whole new meaning. Step over Mad Dog 20/20, and step the hell off Boone's: there's a new cheap-ass wine in town.

Overused science fiction cliches, of all kinds! I know many (many) folks on this list aren't into science fiction too much, but a lot of this stuff goes for movies and sitcoms too. Makes life seem very cliche, in a way. But what the hey. What did i say? Have a nice day.

Unemployment rates by county in the U.S. I love maps, thus i link them.

Endless fun - Mad Libs on-line. Everyone likes Mad Libs. It's much more fun with people who have huge vocabularies and putting people you work with and know "shit" about though. Try the "At the Bar" one, and you will see what i mean.

I drove by the Ballwin Golf Course the other day, and it finally occurred to me why men like golf so much. I like golf, i admit it. I suck, but i like it. It's fun. But most men like it for reasons i formerly didn't understand. Granted, it is a mystery i personally have always pondered, despite the fact that there are many ready explanations. "It's a sport. Guys play all sports." "Rich people play it." "It's a business sport." Whatever "common" reasons there are to play golf, they are hogwash. Here are the simple explanations, gained from interviews with frequent golfers and personal mental exploration into the subject: Accept the fact that most guys are at least a tad bit macho. Moving on, it's not always cool to note how cool or pretty or nice "nature" is. A golf course (sporting event) is an okay context in which to do so. "That course was nice", or some other form of that statement, is a perfectly acceptable and widely available sentiment in spared and short male conversations. "Geeks" play different conversational games, but jocks have no such options. Golf is there, and it fills a role. All humans appreciate nature. To talk about how pretty flowers are, and how lovely and unprecariously certain words lie tendrilously together is sometimes a little uncomfortable to do in all male company (and even in female company, it sounds like you're trying to get some), but to say a golf course was "really nice", "well-constructed," or a hole was "a georgeous Par 4," is well-understood and coded parlance for a very masculine appreciation of the beauty of nature. An additional explanation of why men like golf so much is sadly simple: Men like to get drunk outdoors. Again, i am sorry, but it is true. A golf course is a very limited and private location for this circumstance, but it is done often and men do it, whether conducting business transactions or playing hookey from work. While pondering future careers, i am also pondering my handicap on the links. Time to hit the driving range.......

08/08/01

So it was a busy July, and i was so mentally preoccupied i forgot about the LCB. And i went to germany. Among a half dozen other things, including becoming an uncle and throwing a jello-wrestling party. But those are stories (and pictures!) for other times.

Sammy Hagar says that there is only one way to rock. I heartily disagree. It is proof positive that he had to join Van Hagar (Van Halen, to those who don't like the "rock music") before he had a mega-hit rock song suitable to put on an late-night-infomercial-early 90's-rock song collection, and he hasn't had a hit song since. So if there is only "one way to rock", then that one way is dead and buried, right alongside Hagar's career. Thankfully, Hagar is not a Professor of Rock, nor does he have a degree in rockology. There are multiple ways to rock: Radiohead rocks in a new and very creative way, though they are musically quite distant from Hagar. Metallica, Slayer, MegaDeath, Jane's Addiction - all are touring and rocking. In different ways. There are even smaller, local bands (El Mail Boxo, The Pixels, Earl, The TripDaddies, in st. louis, among many others) that have been known to rock on occasion. Even a few country and blues bands and artists let loose and "rock", for at least a few songs. In conclusion, there are many ways to rock, and never let a classic rock song, especially by Sammy Hagar, lead you to believe otherwise.

This edition's first phallic reference, with this woman from Ghana trying to avoid an untimely and very painful death.

Is bigger REALLY better? Ask a roman god of fertility. Better yet, change your desktop wallpaper. This follows well with the last link.

Cool picture of bizarre atmospheric phenomenon, with explanation.

Need more exciting lingerie in your life? This is the top-of-the-line, to be sure.

Christian spin controllers learned how to use Flash. BEWARE! :)

After spending some time abroad, and noticing what they do right and what they do wrong, i am forced to ponder how we as Americans in America are different. There, everything runs on time. Here, nothing runs on time. Here, people are friendly in the service industry (for the most part). There, people are semi-friendly at best. There, they serve ice cream on the street, everywhere. Here, NO ice cream on the street, anywhere. There, cheap, good beer everywhere - every town, no matter how small, has a nice local bar - people are encouraged to drink outside. Here, moderately priced-to-expensive beer inside that you to drive to go to, or outside that you have to drive to, elbow-to-asshole with cultureless jerks. There, plentiful, safe, convenient, and affordable public transit. Here, very very little, semi-safe, unaffordable, inconvenient public transit. There, healthy authentic food. Here, Unhealthy authentic food. There, soccer and hockey. Here, a variety of interesting, more talented sports (except soccer). There, festivals, every weekend. Here, county fairs, every weekend. There, Germany. Here America. God bless America.

07/11/01

The last weekend of this month, someone must throw a party here in st. louis. I've got female jello-wrestlers with no place to wrestle. And i'd like to see a Peter/Ben Baker + Jello re-match. Maybe i'll even jump in and throw James' girlie ass around for awhile. And who knows - i know of some models/bi-sexuals who'd prolly be willing to jump in there too. Someone let me know if their place "suddenly" becomes available. :)

My sense of humor has definitely changed over time. I was just listening to some Ween, and noting that at first i didn't find it funny at all. Now, "Mister Won't You Please Help My Pony?" sends me into fits of chuckles. I remember thinking people that quoted movies for laughs were big dorks; now i quote and sometimes tag team quote with Dan at work for big, big laughs (get two people who can quote from _Clerks_ and any Mike Meyers' movie verbatim with proper emphasis, and you are setting yourself up for mega-hit laughitude).

"My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks!"

"In a row?!"

The LCB is taking a week off next week, so don't lose your skirt. Especially you Jay. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH! (sorry megan, i had to).

No Larson, this is not a porn site.

If you liked Dukes of Hazzard (which i loved), then this link is for you. Cooter opened up his own place in Sperryville, VA, which is routinely visited by the cast (including Daisy, still HOT), including Boss Hog, who has apparently made up with the Duke boys. I'll come when Waylon Jennings or Merle Haggard drops in though; i'll skip Cooter's Garage Band. Totally worth dropping into though next time i'm in Virginia.

Pete Chang's 21st birthday shot list, as written by him throughout the night. Note the discoloration of said sheet of paper. You can take a guess what that is from. (Hot Damn! Not a pleasant shot, whenever it is taken)

Need to send someone a "special" gift? Like an asshole ex-boss, or just some asshole or asshole-ess you might know? Send them something they should be quite familiar with, being an asshole/-ess and all.

IN THE FUTURE, we could all be wearing clothes covered with bacteria that eats up sweat and exudes perfume. Can't wait to see how the GAP packages that one for the public.

The way some people write music, it's dastardly outward proof that we all think so immensely different, there's only limited use in arguing about much of anything important unless you want to try and change the way in which someone thinks, which is often altogether unwholesome.... i have come to believe this very much lately, especially once you're older and you get stuck in the way you think and deal with life on a day-to-day, week-to-week,(etc) basis. Two very, very good songs from Modest Mouse that both somehow deal with and/or inspire and/or are just good songs whose lyrics struck at this given moment in time.

BROKE
Broke account so I broke a sweat
I've bought some things that I sort of regret about now
Broke your glasses, but it broke the ice
You said that I was an asshole and I paid the price
Broken hearts want broken necks
I've done some things that I want to forget but I can't
Broke my pace and ran out of time
Sometimes I'm so full of shit that it should be a crime
Broke a promise cause my car broke down
Such a classic excuse it should be bronze by now
Broke up, and I'm relieved somehow
It's the end of the discussions that just go round and round
And round, and round, and round, and round,
And round, and round it shouldn't have been anyway
No way, no way, no way, that's right
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, uh no
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, uh no
It was like everything was evidence of broken (time?)
You're living on fancy wine
You'll drink that turpentine
You're starting conversations
You don't even know the topic

EDIT THE SAD PARTS
Sometimes all I really want to feel is love
Sometimes I'm angry that I feel so angry
Sometimes my feelings get in the way
Of what I really feel I needed to say
If you stand in a circle
Then you'll all have a back to bite
Back logged voices on the 7 wonders
We're all so funny but he's lost his joke now
A communication from the one lined joke
A stand up comic and a rock musician
Making so much noise you don't know when to listen
Why are you judging people so damn hard
You're taking your point of views a bit too far
I made my shoes shine with my coal
But my polish didn't shine the hole
If you stand in a circle
Then you'll all have a back to bite
Back logged books on the 7 wonders
We're all so funny but he's lost his joke now
Our communications come from one lined joke
From stand up comics and a rock musicians
Making so much noise you don't know when to listen
Think it over
There's the air of the height of the highrollers
Think it over
You aint got nothing till ya know her

07/06/01

A few friends of mine took my friend pete chang out for his 21st birthday. As these sort of things usually do, it set my mind to wax philosophically. The 21st birthday thing really is a sort of "rite of passage" kinda thing: you get your ass smoked, but now you can go out and get drunk in public. But anthropologically, it's not too terribly different from what some native american tribes used to do. That whole thing with the ropes and the hooks going through the nipples, and the "young man to be" leaning against the taut ropes, enjoying the endorfins, having visions, and hoping his nipples don't get ripped off. Somewhere in that mess, he becomes old enough to sit around, smoke tobacco, drink firewater, and watch the women do all the work. My nipples may not be all that useful, but i still like them. i'll take the 20th century over the 18th any day of the week. a chubby chinaman puking in a snooty bar is a lot funnier than bloody breasts. what imagery!

Funny Monty Python interview. Sorry, been kinda stuck on Python lately. Yes, i am buying the big DVD set, because i am an easily spotted loony.

Sweet - The Brunching Shuttlecocks review all the apes and monkeys. I went to the zoo last week, and I think Lindsey thought i was nuts over my enthusiasm in going to the monkey house. I have a great picture of this lemur who was leaning over and giving me the "me so sad" eyes. Love your lemur!

Funny Photoshopped ads from The Gallery of Advertising Parody, which is the last link. The first three links are ones i thought were particularly funny.

All your choices make environmental impacts (duh), but here's a quiz that may tell you if you're really thinking things all the way through. or may make you even more apathetic about environmental concerns than you already are. i long ago thought the nice blue "recycling" container made a good secondary trashcan anyway.

My friend Mike from work and i have a great running conversation going about musical groups, in general. We have sat down several times and tried to name every single "supergroup" that there has ever been. Odd as it may seem, we get bogged down in semantics, and precedence (can a supergroup be composed of musicians who suck together and are great apart? who knows?). But Sean McCambridge pointed out once that there existed a genre of songs called "Comin' home" songs. Motley Crue, Ozzy Osbourne, etc... - lots of bands have "Comin' home" songs. But this started me thinking with mike - what other genres of songs exist? We came up with a few: the "life's tough on the road" theme (Bob Seger, Kid Rock, etc), the "I/We Rock SO Much" (Queen, Kid Rock, etc), "Baby I Love You" (everybody, c'mon now), the "I/We Have So Much Money, Glamour, Fame, etc" (any band/act that's ever played a stadium in the last 20 years), the "drivin' and cryin'" theme (more country, but my personal favorite), the "Come With Me [to heaven, paradise, healing light of my cock]" theme (Eddie Money, Righteous Brothers, etc.), and the "I'm Gettin' So Much [sex]" genre (any over the top rock/rap act, etc.). I know i may be missing some, but if you think of any others, please let me know. I'll forward them along. I love playing these games. Reminds me of drunken ATO bar and party conversations.

07/01/01

Commentary this week will have to be brief, despite the addition of several individuals to the list - welcome! I fucked up my back, and I am engaging myself in a very intensive writing project that i swore i would do a long time ago and have finally gotten myself to do it. Anyway, this week's links are very geek-manly, but i'm sure everyone will find a way deep down in their charcoal-filtered shorts to identify with them.

Mommy, I WANT TO BE A ROCK WARRIOR!!
(This sounds like one of the best rock acts, anywhere, ever. Can you say "road trip?"

I knew you could.

Winner of the "Sexiest Geek Alive" contest. Geek friends - take heed.

I don't know why, i just liked this.

I really liked the commentary this on-line game has, as you're trying to fling a cow on to a target. "Are You Swedish?" I still don't know why, but that's pretty funny too.

If you have ever appreciated Monty Python, for any reason, at all, you should check out this link. If you are a total Monty Python dork (hand raised), then you cannot miss this: John Cleese's eulogy for the late yet brilliant Graham Chapman, director, writer, and actor in the late Monty Python's Flying Circus. It is very poignant while very funny, which i think is very hard to do.

A girl not too long ago died in a school not too terribly far away from where i live. She was a special school district kid, meaning she had mental and physical handicaps of, more than likely, an unusual nature. she had Fragile X, a condition that is not completely understood but it typified by an egg-shaped head, often severe mental retardation, and frequent loss of conscious motor control (for example, running around a room clapping, punching others or oneself in the face, playing with and pinching one's own feet till they bleed, and worst of all, lots and lots of biting of themselves and others). The children do have conscious thought however, displayed often via actions rather than verbal or manual communication. Anyhow, seizures are not that uncommon with this condition, in which case standard operating procedure with students like this one is to tie them down, so that they do not hurt themselves or others. it is noteworthy that their seizures are considerably more violent than a relatively run-of-the-mill seizure that a diabetic or epileptic might have. it is called Agitated Delirium, where the shaking that happens with the associated seizure is of such force that it causes head trauma against one's restraints, and is all something akin to a heart attack and stroke at the same time, resulting in a very quick death. Agitated delirium is so rare though that few people know how to diagnose it, yet it can easily be confused with abuse by one's handlers, etc. Lots of cocaine, PCP, or others drugs may also cause this. In their last moments, these persons gain super-human strength and have an explosion of brain activity that ultimately culminates in their death. Brings to mind that whole "if we could use our whole brain" train of thought - for a moment these people can. Neat - i might be able to think about girls, sports, my job, writing, and the intimate underpinnings of the universe while simultaneously driving, smiling, singing, and rubbing my belly.

Neat.

06/20/01

I am feeling rather lowly after reading that the former first daughter has graduated from college. Okay, not college, Stanford. And okay, not just graduated, graduated with a history degree like myself. but not just graduated with a history degree, but with honors too while simultaneously being a slacker, after writing an honor's thesis "in a very short period of time", and her thesis advisor being a god of constitutional history (Jack Rakove). I'll never forget the Spy magazine cover that they did of her though: they put her pre-surgical head (the old one, the one she had back in 1996 before her "treatments") on some sleek & sexy body dressed in a nightie, in a seductive pose. I almost bought that copy, because at first it looked quite real and was pretty damn funny. Oh well. We've only to wait a few years for Playboy to start tanking, and then we may witness one of the most horrible spectacles currently known to us. There apparently is a pic of her doing a cartwheel while swing dancing at Stanford that is a tad bit revealing, but why would i link it? I don't even want to find it.

More gift ideas: this one's aimed at your more gastro-intestinally challenged friends....

This is what happens when you bring your yoghurt around monkeys. To say nothing of what might happen with frogurt (which is cursed).

The truth behind Bert: He's evil. Here's the photo proof.

Disney ripped off a plotline from somewhere ELSE? NO! It couldn't happen. I still remain in disbelief.

As a man
i ain't never been much
for sunny days.
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York,
and maybe as strange.
When the colors go out of my eyes
it's usually the change...
But damn Sam i love a woman that rains.

Clear as a bell,
and sound as an old engineer,
Clear as a bell,
and sound as an old engineer.
with talented breezes that flow off your hat with a sneer.

As a man
i ain't never been much
for talking to.
i'm as open as the door in her house
that leads to her room.
And when the color goes out of my eyes
she's usually too....
But damn Sam i love a woman that's blue.

As a man
i ain't never been much
for sunny days.
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York,
and maybe as strange.
When the colors go out of my eyes
it's usually the change...
But damn Sam i love a woman that rains...

- Ryan Adams

06/18/01

I never really understood the term "Salad Days," because i can think of tens of better phrases than that to describe a particularly pleasant period in one's life (Meat Days! Jello Days! Non-Ramen Days!) Maybe it's medieval and is all about when a peasant family was less than poor and could get off their nothing-but-meat diet for a little while and enjoy some salad. Heh. The term reminds me too of the Monty Python sketch, where everyone's running around playing badminton and the piano in white suits and skirts before eyes start being gouged out and arms ripped off with blood everywhere. This was all on my mind as i headed out to see my new lawyer today, who lives on a bluff overlooking the Chesterfield Valley near the Missouri River (he's not cheap, but he is good). The sun was shining and the sky was that great shade of blue, and although the car was covered in birdshit, the ride was fast and smooth, especially with all the windows open and the stereo sounding something beyond phat. The lawyer was working his mojo, but that was expected (would've been surprised and/or worried if he wasn't). Had a really nice house - grand piano, circle drive, massive kitchen and downright spacious dining room - nice cars - incredible view of the valley which includes Spirit of St. Louis airport and all its Leer jets and private traffic, as well as the home to some of his clients, Gumbo Flats State Prison...... and he had no neighbors. He also ran his business from home. Not a bad setup. Made me wonder if i wanted a life like that......

No.

I'll take the drive.

Letters written to the St. Paul PD after they asked for comments and questions related to their on-line collection of weekly prostitution arrest photos. Not only does it question that whole prostitution legality thing, it also explores such pivotal issues as the NEED for crack whores, the legality of having sex with your "maid," and the overall attractiveness of most prostitutes in St. Paul, Minnesota. Read it all - it's important!

Yay! Mickey Mouse won't have crabs anymore! Woo hoo!

Interesting dictionary of gestures, signs, and body language cues. Complete with explanations and sources from literature. Very cool, especially if one wants to improve their perception and understanding of such things.

*Quickie*

What's it like to be color-blind? Neat web simulation of the effect on the web page of your choice (the example given on their page is a pretty good representation).

Drinking leads to creativity: This explains a lot, from da Vinci to the peculiar way the ATO house remains standing in Kirksville. Thanks to matt for this one.

I disagree slightly with the King Cobra rating, but we were young then. What idyllic times for drinking malt liquor. Thanks to matt again for this one.

And this one's good too. God love engrish. Enough from matt already, but thanks again.

I've been thinking a bit more about st. anthony lately. He was a real person way back when, immortalized in famous statues, street names, and a very nice restaurant in the French Quarter in New Orleans. That all despite him being thoroughly italian - from Padua, Italy, in fact. The broken-fingered statue of st. anthony now guards the bar that is located beneath the Allen Greenspan Shrine, with him suspiciously eyeing a bottle of gin that the Enfanta Jesus may or may not know about. As every saint is, he is a patron saint of something. Historically, these vary pretty wildly, from the patron saints of hurricane survivors, to child workers, to travel in general, driving and airplane flights specifically.... etc. There is a patron saint for everything. Pope JPII may not have assigned a patron saint to the internet yet, but it may very well come soon enough.
St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost causes, the poor, and lost objects (Where is my mind?). If i were religious, this would worry me that i found him. it would also make me think a lot differently about my date and i barreling straight through hundreds of christians on procession singing "Bread of Life" in downtown st. louis, only to get to another bar. I've pretty much discarded those "cosmic circumstances" that seem to freak some people out - they happen to everyone, like it or not, and in the big picture are fairly normal, believe it or not. I could have just as easily found a statue of St. Agnes, patron of virgins, or St. Joseph, patron of banks, builders, husbands, and fathers. I could have just as easily have never found it. I saw the original statue that this smaller one is modeled off of on TV the other day, out of sheer happenstance. It's larger than life - st. anthony is taller than me. His tongue in said statue is longer than it was in life - which you can actually go see in Padua at the Basillica del Santo: his tongue is incorrupt. Which makes some sense, given the legendary power of said tongue - he attentively taught about Jesus to livestock and fish.

Deo gratias.

06/11/01

I love the airport.

I don't know if it's all the joyful reunions that are constantly happening, busy people being busy in the busiest of places, all the pretty girls running around the world in a daze, the international feel of any bar in the place, couples playing cards together to pass the layover time, military personnel taking in long-missed doses of civilization for the first time in awhile, the sound of jet engines and babies crying, the family heading on vacation vs. seeing my city as a travel destination, running down the express ramps like a child at cheetah-like speed, the remaining child-like enjoyment of airplanes zooming off to wherever they're going. Probably everything, that's usually how it ends up.

Remember the many discussions we've had on what the essence of religion is - what makes a religion a religion, or a person "religious?" Here's more fuel for the fire - an article on The Church of Body Modification. (it's a long article, but interesting if you like the subject matter).

The priceless collection of quotes makes this article thoroughly worthwhile, as well as proves further than Florida may be home to some of the dumbest people on earth. Maybe they get too much sun down there.

Where was this knowledge when i needed it years ago?

Some people i know really like Hello Kitty. This is definitely for you. Consider Christmas present "bought."

Time to regale you all with yet another tale:

Maybe life works in stages, as many have often presupposed in high school (at least that's what i remember). maybe one's perspective on life changes when they pass their ideas from one stage to the other, and maybe some persons never proceed from one stage to another, or skip some, or invent their own fantastical constructs that few of us can identify with, yet helps them deal with the world in a pathetically simple way. the venice cafe in st. louis made me think of all this... this weekend. a meat market of people in every true sense of the reality, but a location of remarkable uniqueness that deserved its own bizarre clientele that unfortunately remained elsewhere. lindey, gunther, and i stood by like a bulwark against the fabric of a society gone downright trendy and thickheaded, that never quite realized that there were two easily and quickly accessible bathrooms inside - they stayed outside and stood in a long line to go to the one out there. (Yes, that's a metaphor). Of course, i never saw the bar outside till it was too late, but instead of using that i explored new territory and discovered a cozier smaller bar upstairs with no line (another metaphor). Life is nothing like a box of chocolates - you do know what you're going to get sometimes. i know that if i'm paying more than $3 for a budweiser i am getting ripped off, i knew that there would be lots of death penalty posturing and discussion right before an execution which will soon be forgotten about, and i also know that the delicate fabric of forces that hold the universe together will probably continue to do so, at least until we stop hearing about Clinton, and all accept Allen F. Greenspan as our personal lord and saviour. the next person who proselytizes me about jesus is gonna get a most stirring speech about the amazing similarities between grace and FED rate cuts, how the unemployment rate is a better stick than any christian invention ever has been on how pleased our Allen is with us, and how we should be making inroads to see whether or not Allen is the second coming of Christ who has shaken off the "drop all your stuff and follow me" persona and now controls the stock market/people's happiness/the world's well-being more directly.

It could be true. Praise be to Allen.

06/01/01

Greetings!

So.

Party Bus.

The Quarter Century Birthday Mark Party went awesome. Phenomenal. Better than could be imagined, but i've never been a realistic imaginer of things, so that comes as little surprise. Plenty of hi-jinx occurred, but really what was so great about the whole thing was the subtle process of events for the evening. What does that mean. You haven't lived till you've had a room of 20+ plus people, all of whom you love on some level, including mom, dad, brother, pregnant sister-in-law-with-future-nephew, adopted sister, adopted brothers... sing you happy birthday. (It's a cheesy, simple song written by two sisters who steadfastly maintain the copyright to the song, but can one imagine a birthday in America today without it?) You haven't really lived until a club full of people sing you happy birthday again after you've had a drink with one of your best brothers and your only sister. And then the next place you trash talk your way through several dome hockey victories and multiple air hockey triumphs over persons considerably more sober than yourself. And knowing everyone along the way. Intimately. Specially. Every one. Knowing that the reason they are there has little to do with being a rediculously fun roving party on a bus throughout south st. louis, and has everything to do with "i traveled so many god-damn hours and gave up a saturday night to hang out with this one particular guy." There are few greater gifts. There is no stick with which to measure that degree of friendship and love. There are no words with which to thank such devotion.

But i tried. :)

As far as hi-jinx are concerned, there was red-headed Paul, who was creepily staring at people all night and freaking them out, me and some girl named Ann doing the worst sotally tobered spanish-dancing in the world, John going down like the Titanic in dome hockey after admitting me to his semester course on the game, me ruthlessly crushing, showing off, and vociferously trashtalking my way through two games of air hockey, Peter politely trying to get me back on the bus at the last stop while i was "occupied", the HOT tub (enough said), Paula and i then lindsey and i tearing it up on the dance floor, the one guy (who will remain anonymous) who offered to sell his soul to have Renee, Renee in general and all the phone numbers she got, Dan drunk (how bizarre, how bizarre), all the dancing and singing on the bus, and the gifts i got that i didn't ask for but love anyway. Thank you everyone. Next year the bus will be a limousine bus, perhaps even with HUGE HUGE mirrored ball.

Cool.

I have already linked one site that offers "escorted" tours of the Caribbean. Here's one with all foxy russian girls escorting you around places in Russia like Dnepropetrovsk and Riga and helping you meet lots of the women there who are apparently just lining up to meet you (and get the hell out of there). Thanks to Tracie for this one.

Why do i hear about all these great gifts days AFTER my birthday? Jesus doing a handoff, Jesus hustling down the ice for the puck, jesus at the plate looking for one in his wheelhouse (click on the different sports at the top to look at the different ones). "She has gotten calls from as far away as New Zealand, asking if the figurines can be produced with the jersey colors of a favorite team." Too sweet. The first link is to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch article on the items, the second is to the company's on-line catalog of the items.

I normally stay away from obscure Ebay auctions as links, but this one was pretty good. Not sure if he's trying to make some commentary on something, or he is just a goofball. The bidding on it is kinda funny too. Someone really wants to be hated.

St. Louis in the national limelight again: a janitor gave the commencement address at a high school fairly close to my apartment, and subsequently became a media darling. He just wants to get back to work. Marx would be proud. Hopefully he's a superhero in disguise, that would be even cooler.

I have always said (at least to myself) that i would post an old-school guide on how to examine one's conscience in preparation for a catholic confession, and i got this in the mail a few weeks ago and have prepped it for sharing. You can now acertain how immensely evil and sinful you truly are. You're probably sinning right now, and will go straight to hell. Yay for catholicism!

No end-of-LCB rant this time, just the text of a very funny conversation i had a while ago with a friend:

05/21/01

I found a 3 foot tall wood statue of St. Anthony of Padua with Enfanta sitting behind the dumpster near my apartment. Not sure what i am gonna do with it, or even why it was there (it wasn't IN the dumpster), sitting by itself. It is now sitting on our dining room table, with St. Anthony busy explaining to Jesus why and how the Jesuits are a sad bunch of politically-motivated semi-Christian hooligans he is sorry for even getting started. Anthony's missing two fingers, so apparently Jesus has already dealt with St. Anthony, and is just being a polite listener.

So this newsletter is now officially 2 years old. It can walk on its own, feed itself, though it's terribly messy and doesn't put its toys away (yet). Its sentences are pretty jumbly sometimes, and words get made up and tossed around hither and thither, as this emailing may often get upon arriving in your Inbox. We've featured everything from monkeys to midgets, to strippers stripping for the fireman's fund and sides of ham, dozens of human oddities and sightings of jesus on office buildings, homes, and cash registers, as well commentary from God, Ween, and Satan. I've written this while asleep, awake, under insomnia, drunk, in good moods, in bad moods, after sex, before sex (never during), while wet (ran out of shower to write something a few times), never written anything naked, and only a handful of times from others' computers (good luck finding anything anybody). Don't ask me where i get anything, because not even i really know. And, as pathetic as it may seem, i occasionally read the archives and laugh a lot and wonder a lot: how did i get here from THERE? In celebration of that theme, i did a fairly normal set of links this week, which means completely abnormal stuff with no re-hashing of anything old. And for Jay, Matt, Paula, Peter, Jamie, and Ben, thank you for being there from the beginning. Spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam, wonderful spam, wonderful spam!

If you haven't checked out The Spark in awhile, you should. Be sure to check out the Date-My-Sister saga (especially if you're into all this voyeurism business going on), all the different tests listed on the frontpage, as well as the "Bone-Easy" link at the bottom. You will be grateful. I will be at the casino.

This is the hardest-core woman, EVER. I fear her.

*WARNING*

If you are a woman, especially a woman who knows me, do not visit this link. Please. Simply trust me on this one. If you are a guy who knows me, this is essential. If nothing else, just for the lines we have all heard, time and time again. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll want a drink and someone to laugh and bitch with.

"...a pregnant woman sleeping on her terrace was woken by neighbours shouting: "The monkey has come!." The fear of MonkeyMan has damn near caused rioting in New Delhi, and has already caused several accidental deaths. Fear the monkey!

Where are your free speech rights being trampled? On college campuses silly! The story of what happened to a famous conservative columnist when she visited Cornell U.........brainwashing.....creepy....

"So your court date is..."

It wasn't a fantastic weekend to be a Dulatt.

But it still was really good.

I would like to preface this by saying that i love you all, truly.

Don't know why or how that was the preface, but i'm sure it has something to do with this newsletter ("The Links to Cure Boredom") now being officially two years old. If you haven't yet checked out the archives (link at the bottom), you should. Many of you haven't even known me for that long, or really haven't even met the majority of people on this list. But, well, you should, and there are too few people on this list of 50+ people anyway to really mention everyone. But you know the conversations we've had that i really cherish so much, the times that we've gotten at least a bit tipsy together, the times where we may have hung out and said very little but meant a lot that matter so much to me, the times i've traveled to see you and you've traveled to see me (whether near or far, you know who you are, and how much sacrifice it took - I Really Do Know and Love It), and Everything Else. Thank You, for everything. You know who you are and you know for what also. Perhaps i do not deserve such friends, being the middle son of an underpaid engineer and a will-driven teacher, destined for mediocrity, but you all make me feel like i am tremendously worthwhile. And i love each and every one of you for it. Thank you, and i cannot thank you enough. Written while i was butt-ass wasted, but the sentiment was never truer.

And, in coming back sober and re-reading it now, i didn't mispell anything and don't think i could put it now any better.

05/18/01

i've always been interested in measurements: what size women's clothing i would wear, inches in a mile, and how putting the number system on base 12 would affect the entire planet and make children who knew their multiplication tables the new mathematical wizards of our time. One constant way i measure however is my calories. It is like a counting addiction, and something to keep my dully glowing intellect floating through another day. One pint of milk: 260 cal. The cereal always throws me - the box has said since time immortal (when i learned to read, essentially - let's face it, the cereal box is one of the first things you ever read and have consistently read since way back when) that it's 120 cal/serving, serving size 3/4 cup. But who measures out their cereal intake? I finally had to settle a fomenting-since-infancy curiosity this morning on this issue, and busted out the cereal bowl and measuring cups. A standard bowl for cereal holds 2 cups. Neat. Totino's party pizza - 800 cal. Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice Cream (that small-ass cup): 1600 cal. (Or you could just surgically insert some fat on your ass, it works out the same). Speaking of a pound of fat, - it's around 100-150 cal., just in case you get stuck in some sort of "Alive" situation and are watching your calories while cannibalizing a friend.

Calories in most of your favorite beers, and the second link, a clue to how many calories in your favorite liquor drinks. That old myth of drinking mixed drinks for lower calories, is, well, utterly wrong. It's equal, if not more. Drink Pina Coladas all night, and then stare at your gut/butt/hips - and wish for more fat to be there. That way you can say you've had at least one wish come true.

Neat idea on how to have your own legal-yet-pirate radio station. Matt, let's get started.

Giggle. Smirk. Guffaw. Gotta love the pictures with the crosses on them.

Gotta love Evil. Some shrinks want to codify it, make it testable. In the not too distant future, Jamie, it seems you may be found out.

When i was little, i had the Little People and the whole playset, which had a fire engine and a firehouse to store the fire engine. Anyway, with few buildings to imaginarily burn, the firehouse was often what needed the Little People Fire Department's attention. One of my earliest memories has become reality.

In Taos, New Mexico, there a low hum pervading all through the town. All the time. Only some people can hear it though. Conspiracy theorists on this list are already thinking "Ooo OOoOOo, it's the ELF Communication System used by the military/CIA/NSA/Masons/Zionists/Greenspanites/aliens/people's whose names end in 'son'." Other folks think it's their funky power plant. Other folks think that the new people who are hearing it are succumbing to mass suggestion by other folks. Maybe it was just a bodily problem caused by drinking the water there. Speaking of bodily problems, there was the guy in the Guinness Book who hiccupped for 37 years though, and my friend Amy, who hiccupped off and on for 8 hours while drinking heavily with me at a baseball game. Maybe these people are the same way, but never tried to drink water upside down with thousands of people staring at your butt and wondering what (in the hell) you were doing. Then again, you never know.

05/11/01

(This is one of the best ones in awhile. At least check the Amish link).

I applied for a pile of federal jobs today, and decided to walk to the post office, since it's right behind my apartment complex anyway. My glasses only have one temple on them, so they tend to fall off whenever i make any kind of sudden movement. I had to take them off, especially once i decided to start running. The world in blurry is a lot different from the world in focus. Everything is a lot more clean, organized, acceptable. The parking lot of the post office seemed to sparkle in the sun, but that little sweet avenue had to change - i had to put my glasses on to go inside and buy my stamps. I swaggered on in and realized i was shaking like a little kid who's really gotta pee. A manager at work is like this all the time - he drops plates. Perhaps drinking tequila till 7am with dan and lindsey wasn't exactly good for my physical health: i was dropping coins as i tried to put them in the slot for the vending machine. I wiggled myself to perhaps temporarily reduce the shakes, which seemed to work long enough to get my mail sent. I stepped on out of the post office, and broke a sweat that had been trying to break for the last ten minutes. Dirty jean shorts, my deep purple shirt with a crumbing "OFFICIAL" emblazoned across the back, my eternally new Airwalks on, and that brown Quicksilver hat i have had so long that i forget when i started wearing it. And that steady 100 BPM pulse, like a Chevy with the idle set too high. But i felt brilliant. Like a light that shines brightly and illuminates an entire room.

Brilliant.

I haven't seen some of you all physically in a long time, so i figured i'd paint an accidental-day-in-the-life word portrait. I hope you are at least as well as i!

Smoove B has returned. And just in time too - us men have definitely been getting less smoove lately.

I call for more DonkeyBall. Hell, i call for DonkeyFightClub. Anything is more fun with donkeys included. Alright, most anything. Most any sport. Some sports. A couple sports. Not sex.

For those still in school: don't cheat. THEY'RE WATCHING YOU.

It sounds like something straight out of The Onion, but this is true, and a real problem: Amish kids getting drunk and high and partying their balls off, their buggies swerving all over the highway while trying to get home, buggies decked out with stereo systems thumping Vixen, parties deep in the woods with hundreds of buggies from miles around. America is such a wonderfully diverse place. This is a Classic.

It's not all real. People and life in general rarely are.

It's been awhile since i've linked salon.com articles, despite its being one of the most interesting on-line magazines. Here's a good article about close-to-actual life among the working poor. Reminded me a lot of my ATO bros, and what many of them did/suffered through to afford college and life in general while in college. There's a certain comradery in suffering.

At the Cardinals' game the other day, i stood up and thought about the Star-Spangled Banner as it played, reviewing all the times i have ranted about that song before. It's a crappy national anthem. It's from a battle we sorta won and in a war we really lost. And we didn't really win the battle by sheer American mettle - we won it by inspired British incompetence. There are so many other songs that fit the bill as a "National Anthem" much better as well: Any number of John Philip Souza big band songs, America the Beautiful, The World Turned Upside Down (what the British band played at the surrender at Yorktown), Born in the USA, Little Pink Houses, etc. You get the idea. La Marseillaise, the French National Anthem, has children killing birds and stuff in it, and other nation's are just plain cool-sounding: The German national anthem and Russian national anthem's almost make me want to salute and/or grovel to respect my own heritage. There are worse than ours though - Oh Canada? Oh Canada? We stand on guard for thee? What, all 10 million of you or whatever? That's like the city of Detroit standing on guard for us (no thanks). And would you REALLY stand on guard for 99% wasteland of the Northwest Territories? Or just let it go. Or maybe just send a few planes up there in a token effort, like Canada always does. I mean, thanks Canada for the comedians and music, but they're coming to America to achieve success. At least "Oh Canada" has a beat that i could hear thousands of mounties stomping their boots to though - the Banner is an old Irish drinking song that a bunch of drunks in Boston put Francis Scott Key's words to. Yay, our heritage.

05/02/01

Fight Club: movie for my generation, lots of testosterone lately, too much Unreal Tournament deathmatch. But on to the review (written while watching the movie, typed while listening to "Born In the USA" on repeat, very loud):

Ok, so i got a little toasted before watching it. I settled down with a bag of white cheddar popcorn, Robert Mitchum on the brain, and another delicious Boulevard Pale Ale bottle to satisy the weeping goddess inside of me, plus my pillow and blanket. I was expecting a lot out of this movie, thanks to a rambling and deeply philosophical Fahed, and horribly drunk and sweaty Paz, who had raved endlessly about this movie. This experience was to be a defining moment for my manliness in the 21st century. Right after i spent $40 for a day game baseball ticket too, and went out drinking with girls that in another life I would have nothing to do with but now consider some of my closest friends. _Fight Club_ better be good, or i may never speak to Jay again. A guy at work told me about one of his friends who accidentally saw a porno of nothing but fat lesbians, and how it changed this guy's life forever. I think in some way similar i wanted _Fight Club_ to change my life, at least according to the hype i heard. Maybe i should stop talking philosophy with Vanderbilt students when my testosterone levels are that high. But i digress.

Meat Loaf???

But in truth, going into it, i knew nothing about what the movie was really about. Brad Pitt kicked some ass, cheezy guy coming of age flick or something. Otherwise, nothing, really, at all.

The subliminal images in the movie.....MY GOD! Watch the doctor's scene carefully, during the first part of the movie. There's a one-frame appearing, disappearing person there. Same for the main character watching-the-girl-disappearing-down-the-foggy-alley-after-therapy scene. What_the_Fuck?

"When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep, and you're never really awake." Truer words have never been spoken.

Utter rejection of pop culture.
Complete desire for hunter-gatherer masculinity.
It is the story of the Every_man_ of the 21st Century.
(Just watch the Pitt/Norton bathroom scene again)
It begs the question, "What does it mean to be a man in the year 2001?"
Stop using avoidance techniques - LIVE LIFE. Deal with your situation, don't put it off like a credit card or a drug addiction.

Great writing. Bad acting. Brad Pitt. Pit. My journalism teacher in high school dated him. Apparently he has always had the ability to ruin a good vibe.
Non-confrontationalism is the order of the day. What a fucking world.

Post-script: I fell asleep after writing the above line, missing the last 20 mins of the movie. Which i just finally watched. What a re-hash of Jekkyl and Hyde except in Stranger-esque first person plus a few party quirks and hollywood fluff. I did like the "men need to be more manly" message that seemed to be sent, however i also hated it because of the whole underlying "don't be led" message of the movie. Did it change my life? Not really. Nothing like the fat lesbians must've changed that one guy's life. Made me see my insomnia in a different light. My dislike has turned to revile for Brad Pitt. Made me think a lot about all the fake people who went and saw this movie and didn't think anything. Hmm.

I can easily see why people watch this movie over and over again. However, i have violated the first rule of Fight Club, so i guess you all have to come cut my balls off. Oh well.

do we really need France for anything, except wine and cheese?

Great collection of wallpapers for your computer. Including a very rare picture of Daft Punk, as well as a whole bunch of fine art and cars and junk.

So, you have to like Guided By Voices to truly appreciate this interview done of a group of 11-12 year olds criticizing them. I could not possibly give a quick and realistic appraisal of GBV as a whole, except that i think they have been touring for 6 years without a break, get plowed every night on stage, and the lyrics sound like the lead singer just made them up. Which is downright amazing, because they put on one of the best live shows i have ever seen. Bar-none.

INVENTION OF THE CENTURY. No, make that INVENTION OF THE MILLENIUM. Girls, no more complaints. Guys...... oh yeah. You know what i'm sayin'.

********************

Loneliness.

We don't talk about it, because we don't like to talk about it.

Odd thing is, so many people don't know it. And many of those that have thought so never really have. But it is a universal feeling: a cross-cultural, cross-gender, cross-temporal mentality.

Loneliness.

It comes so often into play, many times for no reason at all. It's part of the first stage of grief. "I'm doing this alone." It's perhaps the most human of all the emotions. And why i am thinking of it this evening is the most surprising of all, because i'm not even feeling lonely. I just came home and there were no calls on the cell phone, no calls on the home phone, no emails, and no one on-line. And i really didn't have much to talk about either. But loneliness is a feeling to cling to - you always remember when you were lonely, and why you were lonely, and occasionally remember how good it is that you are currently are not lonely, if your situation provides such a solution to that rather mundane problem. Money cannot buy your way out of it - brainwashing can (self-induced or otherwise) - but the normal tide of life does get one eventually out of it, assuming one does not enjoy loneliness's dastardly funk. But like an alcoholic or a drug addict, loneliness can become a friend, something to be counted on and held on to - a steady rock upon which one may build the church that is the religion of their life. I do sincerely hope the next time you see some person's name or ass engraved on a bar stool you think of all this and consider it, and perchance imagine that in some sort of bizarre time and space that could have been you, or someone you know. Because it might be.

BTW, according to the Sunday Time of London, Bill Gates is now the 2nd wealthiest person in the world. It's gotta suck to be 2nd.

"I hate people, but i love gatherings. Isn't it ironic?"

04/23/01

Thursday i went and saw a hypnotist. Who was also a comedian. Now this wasn't something i actually paid to go see. My friend Amy called up the Funny Bone in st. louis and told them that they had faxed us some free tickets - 20, to be exact - and that we were interested in going. Comedy clubs and the like do this sort of thing all the time, out of the blue, since service industry people drink a lot and fill up otherwise empty seats on a weeknight. In reality, our fax machine at work is broken and i think Amy was just looking for an excuse to grab a whole bunch of people to go out and get drunk. Mission accomplished. We went out, saw a bad opening act, and then proceeded to the comedian/hypnotist. Now i'm no dummy (most of the time), i didn't sleep through Gen Psych 101 - i can see a cheap gag when i see it. And the first few things he did were far from exuding some great mental power - cheap parlor tricks at best (what picture did you draw that you showed the audience but didn't show me? HERE, let me DRAW IT using THAT FUNNY LOOKING MARKER and that SPECIAL SKETCH PAD you used. Christ. Anyway, 2 or 3 of those kinds of acts, and i was getting ready to start doing shots to lower my mental abilities, so as to better appreciate this fargin' show. But he stops, and gets on to the hypnotism.

Hypnotism is as much a science as it is an art as it is a cheap way to entertain and solve people's problems. It's taking advantage of a psychological phenomenon in the same way that a politician does, but at least the hypnotist is just doing it for entertainment, at least in this case. It's crap entertainment, really, but it's like stopping to see a guy dancing at the scene of a car accident: first, it's a car accident, and secondly, why's that guy dancing? You have to stop and look, and you'll probably laugh, or at least wonder like a mofo trying to figure it all out. But, as usual, i digress.

The show i attended was PG-13, so nothing really all that racey or whatnot occurred. Perhaps my psych major friends could enlighten me as to how hypnotism really works, but it seemed to me like a simple removal of rationality from the mind of the participant. Everyone's naked in the audience? Ok, they are. OHMYGOD! And so it is.

The girls from work went again (you know, the VD/DS Squad, for those in the know) saturday night for the R-Rated, midnight showing of the show, and one of them volunteered to be hypnotized. Now why you would do this at a show where YOU KNOW embarassing things will be suggested to be done is very, very much beyond me, but she volunteered. A girl i had dated a long while back even (don't worry, i feel the shame). Anyway, after a few lolligaggin'-around tricks to make sure he had a good group of hypnotizees, said comedian/hypnotist got moving with this winning-an-academy-award bit, with large inflatable penises instead of trophies, with the suggestion that members of the audience wanted to take their trophy away. So they all held them very close and stroked them a lot (*sigh*). Then there was the tried and true "imagine the audience" naked bit, with the twist of the guys having enormous breasts or something. One of our stoner cooks in the audience apparently stood up near the stage and started jumping up and down. God i love stoners. Such a vital role in society (that's not sarcasm, i mean that). Then for the girls there was the banana with the whip cream bit. The aforementioned girl, with a reputation for being a bit prude and her nickname being "the fun sponge" (she can suck the life out of a party like no one else, no pun intended....yet), went at it like a champ. Ok, more like a Vegas hooker.

Maybe i should ask her out again - can hypnotherapy be accidental?

My friend Lindsey, a friend of hers, came in to work today and pointed and laughed at her for ten (10) STRAIGHT minutes, right in her face (less that 3 feet away, the whole time), crying and often doubling over and nearly falling down when the tide of laughter rose too high. I had no idea what was going on at first, but at first i didn't think Lindsey was a very good friend. Especially after Lindsey told everyone at work every last embarassing detail, multiple times for additional humorous effect, and often right in front of said friend. To her credit, hypnotized girl took it very well and i can't help admiring her for doing so. She even handled the FAQs real well too. Although she couldn't quite answer WHY she did it in the first place. Yet another great question to ponder, sort of like that why-stop-and-see-the-guy-dancing-at-the-scene-of-a-car-accident question.

No no, fraternities aren't about drinking and bangin' chix. Well aren't _just_ about drinkin' and bangin' chix. Also producing reports about such topics (including date-rape tips) and drunkenly showing them to girls mentioned therein. Brilliant.

What a role model. I've talked to several people how interesting it would be to live on an island all by oneself. This woman does. Sort of. In Maine.

The few of you who have the patience and internet bandwidth to enjoy this link will love me so much for sending it along, you may have an accident in your undergarments. To put it nicely. Like they would put it in India.

I know there are some of you how do not know how to dance properly. Finally, there is a web site for you, assuming you want to learn.

One has to admit, Somalia is interesting to read about as far as how starting a modern civilization from scratch might work. I think it is using quite a narrow perspective to say that it is "Ayn Rand-esque" - it is operating only marginally different from New York City or Chicago during the era of machine politics and/or mob controls, or anyplace on earth where order can be or has been restored using religion as a tranquilizer. Too bad we don't have clan leaders in America who we can use to make government smaller. I nominate my grandmother, who told me on Easter that i will be drafted soon, and usually gets some of her info on the world from "very educated and smart people" who go by such names as "Wolfman" and "the Lone Wolf" and other incarnations of names involving wolves. Apparently that is simply something that very educated and smart people do on the internet.

BIRTHDAY PRESENT! BIRTHDAY PRESENT!! BIRTHDAY PRESENT!!!
TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME. Someone remind me to pose for it with a very, very large gun.

***
Songs of the Week:
Daft Punk - "One More Time (Celebrate)"
(even better than "Around the World")
Dismemberment Plan "A Life of Possibilities"
Willard Grant Conspiracy "Notes from the Waiting Room"
***

When i was thirteen i was in love with a girl.

Her name was Jenny. She came from a rather large family, in non-catholic standards. Several younger siblings, two strapping older brothers, and a balding, beanpole, traveling salesman father who had a curious talent of drinking coffee from a styrofoam cup while conversing like a new orleans drunk. I never really saw her mother but once or twice. Non-descript, really, except that she looked old beyond her years. You have seven kids, and we'll see how old you look :)

Jenny and i never really talked. Maybe once or twice, about nothing in particular. We mostly flirted, but only in glances and in passing. Sometimes we would sit across the hall from each other after mass and just sort of look at one another, while pretending to do something else. I can still remember times when our gazes would lock, and one could see beyond the crystalline blue of her eyes to something deeper. Or maybe it was just testosterone. But she was as pretty as pretty could be. Seraphim angels, according to catholic mythology, have so many wings that they can cover their entire bodies with them, since they must do so in the presence of God and man, to humble themselves before the former, and shield their awesome beauty from the latter. So, giving Jenny a physical description not only does not make sense, it belittles her.

Being the "Gutless Wonder" that i often referred to myself as back then, i could never really get the nerve to strike up a decent conversation, or even say out loud what i was clearly saying with every move and look i made. Perhaps words would have been silly anyway. She was from a small town, i was from the burbs - being teenagers, it was just foolish. We had what we had and that was that. Kevin pursuing his Winnie. Mikey looking for his Lorraine. Chris, and Jenny, who he saw maybe no more than an hour a month, if she came on sunday at all. Still, another older woman called me a tall, cool glass of water the other day, and i suppose that appraisal may predate me now, but i digress.

I had a dream about Jenny once, in the midst of all this. I remember the dream like i had it last night, despite having it almost 12 years ago. I married Jenny in a church somewhere. We were both wearing all denim, and her face shown so brightly i could hardly see it. I arrived in a cherry red Porsche 911, with some semi-random guy who i went to school with driving it. She had two girls with her who were sorta throwing flowers everywhere, and there were cheerleaders doing cartwheels all in front of me as i walked in. The church was fire engine red brick - brick everywhere. My view went like that of a film camera when i got up to jenny, drinking her in from toe to face like the coolest and tallest glass of water. The religious term for what i was feeling is called "ecstasy", where it is often purported that the devout (often saints and the like) are indistractable by any method, and sometimes levitate and glow like they are phosphorescing.

I woke up, with a high that perhaps only comes after having either participated in the supernatural or having hyperventilated for several minutes. I proceeded to do the only thing that made sense to do at the moment - i prayed, and prayed and prayed and prayed. Not that this was a terribly unusual activity for me back then, but this kind of praying became daily. More praying than usual, more devout than usual. I wanted the dream again, i wanted to see jenny. i wanted this match.

but, alas, no jenny. weeks went by, and still no jenny. more praying - no jenny. months went by, and i saw jenny only once, at the opposite end of the hallway, and she was gone before i could get there.

she did return - for confirmation. i had since given up, more for my own sanity than anything else, but all the junior high flirting was taking its toll too. we were all interviewed by the bishop - we had to know our catholicism before we got confirmed - and we were all subsequently confirmed by the bishop. there is a picture somewhere (though i have never seen it) of this event, the only picture i know of jenny in any one form or another. it was also the last time i saw her. every once in awhile, i check the internet for her name somewhere, so maybe i could drop her a line and say, "hey, remember me.... we used to flirt a whole lot way back when..... how are you doing.........

.... i had this dream about you once....."

04/11/01

If you get through this in one sitting, i will be impressed.

I'm an introspective person, i think. I guess i always have been. Less so than i used to be, but, still. I remember that, way back in the day, i would sit and listen to the radio for hours upon hours in the evenings, while rocking back and forth in a rocking chair in the basement in the dark. No one ever really said anything to me, though my brothers give me shit about it on occasion. Why i ever started doing this is unknown. Why i kept doing it for so long afterwards (and still sorta do) is an even bigger mystery.

The only light was from the 1960's-era stereo, and i know i bitched whenever anyone would come downstairs and turn a light on. Maybe that explains my fascination with goth women. Heh. Funny thing is, i'm not ever sure what music i was really listening to back then. I can name a few i suppose. Soul to Soul "Keep On Movin'" was and still is one of my favorite songs of all time. Damn, so good. Bel Biv Devoe and that whole genre was pretty good too. I remember what i thought about too - all those cheezy junior high crushes, that, way back in the late 80's were so innocent and silly. Junior high isn't so innocent and silly anymore. Screw first kisses then anymore. More like kisses leading to first screws. So regrettable, so sad. I as a teacher last fall could see the youthful exuberance lost so many times, thanks to all the wonderful crap attached to being a product-wearing and promoting member of Generation Y, although they don't realize it (us devious Gen-Xers saw to that). Pop culture and subsequently, social norms, are powerful animals. So personally corruptive and destructive. And Gen Y-ers just don't see it. Marriage is a device of reproduction, now more so it seems, than as a means of improved survival. What the hell? Perhaps the french have something right - 95% of guys in their twenties there are not married. and near that same percentage are catholic. france is almost as ironic as the south st. louis region of conservative democrats. Almost.

But historically, things have always changed, and things have always stayed the same. What we consider appalling won't be considered appalling by the generation after us, and the generation before us thinks that what _we_ did was appalling, and so on and so forth.

Ad infinitem.

Deo gratias.

I have not yet figured on whether or not laughing at the "All Your Base Belong to Us" phenomenon makes one just a geek, or a monstrous dork. i don't say that meanly - more honestly.

What's your generation? If you're like me, you're a cusper - in between Gen X and Gen Y, though it is damn clear where most of my real peers sit. Add that to the list of qualifications for a girl for me: gotta be a Gen-Xer. Though i have always thought most of these generational listings to be stupid, i thought this one was relatively good.

Want to get involved in doing something serious to help others? Yes, but didn't want to have to do much - don't have time, am far too apathetic and lazy. Or there's so many causes that to work for one would diss another, so none at all. Anyway, on all points, I agree. But here's something that requires minimal effort from you for a great reward, in the long run: get your computer working on a cure for cancer. As you read this, mine is.

How much do YOU know about Britney Spears? Well, you should at least know some humorous commentary made on the facts of her life. and her mid-riffs. sweet johosePHAT.

It's been far too long without linking something on monkeys. I was desperate. And lazy.

Back to the aforementioned phrasical phenomenon:

AYBABTU.

it's got me thinking about how the generation after us thinks and acts,
with everything else going on in the world.

it's like mass-marketing without a product.

here's a zippy catch-phrase, 90% of people using it don't know what it means - But it's popular!:

ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US.

let's get this stupidity straight.

nothing inherently funny there.

a mis-translated sentence. nothing we haven't seen before.

poorly translated kung-fu movies and enough parodies of such have seen to that.
not even if you know the history of the phrase - still not funny.

my friends (the geeky ones) tried to explain the humor of it, and completely failed. they couldn't explain why it was funny to them.
which brings me back to that mass-marketed thing.

n'sync and Gap clothes and Limp Bizkit and everything.

they all suck, or are otherwise mundane.

there's nothing that makes Gap clothes any better than something extremely similar found at Dillard's.

and the guitarist from Limp Bizkit said not even he would buy their last CD.
and n'sync is only marginally different from the New Kids on the Block
who now live in a world of shame (as they should, even though they could dance better).

so what gives?

are companies and now popular culture given to brain-washing techniques?
is there such a deluge of things to think about that we let others think for us?

is MY generation responsible for all this mind-control?

the answer is YES.

hair bands from the late 80's have been regurgitated as today's trash-metal scene, and the teen-pop-crap from the late 80's has spit back up to become today's teen-pop-crap. Teena Marie and Debbie Gibson, meet Britney Spears and jennifer lopez. may you all be big stars in germany some day.

And the mass-marketing of things that happened during the boom-time of the 80's has been successfully re-introduced and blown up as part of mainstream pop culture. little kids say "whazzup" at elementary school, simple and cheap osh kosh has gone the way of grossly overpriced Gap kids, hyperactive 7th-graders scream "gimme somethin' to break!", woodstock goes 100% corporate and 200% against everything that woodstock was supposed to be about. And then gore vs. bush and the whole florida fiasco. excuse me, i would like to re-cast my vote for the cowardly lion - at least he had a heart AND a brain.

at least i feel powerful being part of the generation that is now in control. good work, my peers.

All their base are belong to us. maybe that is why it is so funny. a phrase containing and privately displaying our convoluted, enigmatic success over them. we are in control, and they don't even know it.

but probably not. more of a catch-phrase of meta-geek culture, made even more geeky by most, if not all, of them not even knowing what it means. some things about nerds change, but most of them stay the same.

Like i said, if you got through in one sitting, and now i say, at all, then i am proud of you. Remind me i owe you a beer when the party bus gets rollin'. More on that soon enough.

04/17/01

I had an argument (of sorts) with a theology professor of mine, way back when. When i was really starting to question things (like my sanity, for example. Or why i was pre-med. And the close relation between those two topics). He was a Baptist minister, who was being paid to teach roman catholic theology. Talk about raw irony. He was making this point about Revelations, as everyone is wont to do from time to time if one wants to argue about the Bible. I made some point about how i thought that everything in the bible should be taken with a grain of salt, (especially Revelations), that everything was meant figuratively. While taking exception to that, he agreed that some things were merely figurative - take "the end of time" for example. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Man defines time. Would its end be at some point where man could no longer define it? Does time exist on its own? All deeper philosophical rumblings aside, his religious point has stuck with me over the years: time could end right now, and start over again, and maybe THAT'S what Jesus meant. And given the history of the era, he very well could have meant that. It's entirely possible. Time could end every night for you - and it does, depending on how you look at it. It hit me as i was preparing for beddy bye this evening - i need to get up in six hours..... six hours from when? Six hours from the end of time today. It was a stupid statement to make, functionally, and a stupid question to answer. But methinks it underlies the point that everyday is important. I feel like i have to do something important everyday, even if it is seemingly mundane to everyone else. I have argued before that i believe that is religion, but whatever gets you through the day and helps you sleep at night is alright by me.

You wanna know where the real crazy shit goes down? Forget bizarre religious stuff in the weird corners of America - just head straight to West Africa. I don't know how many of these kinda weird stories i read and don't pass along to everyone. People there still believe in lots of black magic and still conduct old-school witch-hunts.... gives a lot of insight into the more bizarre elements of America's and Europe's pasts.

And speaking of crazy shit, here's a forward making its way around the net. The #1 reason you should not go work on an oil rig in the Amazon.....

(thanks to Paula for this one)

Actual letters written by some of America's more renowned talk show hosts to John Wayne Gacy, in order to get a personal interview with him. This is very tripped out, to say the least.

From the same folks who brought you the infamous and geeky Dungeons and Dragons session sound/video clip, this one's for a sexy lawyers advertisement.

I am grateful to my many female friends for lots of different things. The knowledge any one man might gain from this site encapsulates many of the things that they have taught me and shared with me over the years, as well as a number of things they have only hinted at. From one guy to another trying to further understand women: _This_ is required reading. Women do not talk about the more difficult and complicated elements of being a woman with men very often, if at all. If you're wondering where to start, try the "Would You Stop Mentruating If You Could?" link.

One writer commentating on America's current pop culture funk had this to quote from a famous historical personage, who was France's envoy in writing and agreeing to the Treaty of Versailles, which ended WWI:

"America is the only nation in history which miraculously has gone directly from barbarism to degeneration without the usual interval of civilization."

- Georges Clemenceau

And he said that way back when too!

So accurate, and so coming from a historical figure who would know.

A diplomat.

From France.

*insert lots of history geek laughter here*

songs:

Jets to Brazil - Little Light
(where Morphine meets Luna meets Yo La Tengo? Maybe i am way off-base here...listed as Punk? Definitely not "punk.")
Ween - Piss Up A Rope
(been in a very Ween mood lately, you'd understand only if you understood)
Zebrahead - Wannabe

(Spice Girls cover, so so good)

4/11

No rant, no rave, just 2 funny pics and a movie.

And you thought we were kidding when we said we built an altar to Allan Fucking Greenspan. Here's the picture, complete with offerings and candles to prove it.

I hear babies are good for this sort of thing.

This is absolutely fantastic. All kudos to Dallas Ben for forwarding this one along. Future desktop wallpaper for everyone.

Two quick things: If you have a female computer, can it be a web hostess?

And Britney Spears never says she's sorry for "Oops, Doing It Again." But with her equipment, she could probably set someone on fire and not only get away with it, but use it to her advantage.

First of the (printable, understandable) replies to the Interactive LCB:

your little note about the dodge caravan is meant to be cynical. you are referring to the fact that the person driving said vehicle (not the valet parker, the owner, i mean.) is either a parent or a guy in a crappy band. and we are (read this like dave foley's sarcastic party guest) sooo very lucky to have him around.

or you're just lucky to not be him, and have to deal with his crummy ass life.

i should have put this through the fuck-o-tron thingy you linked on the last one.

oh, another meaning came to me: you want to shave your nuts, but you're afraid of cutting them.

- Anonymous

03/21/01

I went back to Steak n Shake today, where i once worked itseemslike eons ago. But just like the commercials said, it was exactly the same. Same people, same music, and the store itself seemed ageless, like some monument to mediocre human achievements. Same customers even - old, divorced men by themselves drinking coffee, middle-aged women with bad dye jobs, slowly enlarging paper-pushing businessmen who can count on a cup of chili and a tall milkshake adding something unwanted to their bottom line. My former boss Bill's picture was on the wall, wearing a goofy cowboy hat and posing with a George W. look-a-like. That was the _only_ change to the decor of the store. Bill was there of course, with the same dour yet friendly-in-a-sherman-tank-kinda-way disposition. Bought my meal, then instantly flew into a cursing and screaming flap with his kitchen staff that a significant portion of the restaurant could hear. Imagine a fat frenchman crossed with a hard-drinking John Wayne-esque injun. That's my former boss. I dated his boss's daughter way back when - i was her first date. Ever. A 4'11", incredibly intelligent, full-blooded greek girl named Esther, with a super-cute face and a body that made men envious of me. That was a weird feeling, being envied. She came from a slightly wealthy family, so i was already out of my league. I think my understanding of Dostoevsky was what turned her on to me. What a bad basis for a relationship. I've had worse (my last one, just straight obsession). God, don't ask how that worked out either. I asked him about Esther - he said she got married. I was shocked. Of course, she was the first woman to ever dump me for seemingly no good reason (which has continued to this day, don't ask, just assume), but she also seemed like one of those rare and confused conservative feminists who live life in a bubble of naivete`, so you go add it up. Bill said he went to the wedding - at the Ritz-Carlton downtown. 300-400 people, in the grand ballroom, with several free bars and lots of champagne, lots of greek dancing, a band imported from greece, and prolly enough baklava to fill an olympic-size swimming pool. Married a CPA. The estimated bill for said wedding was around $85,000. On a wedding. Goddamn. That's what i expect to pay for my first house. On mortgage. $11,000 just on flowers. Talk about out of my league. I think i need to marry a small-town girl, get married in someone's backyard. Or open up my wedding to corporate sponsors. Heh.

"Great girls bring you lasagna. The rest will just cheat on you."

Or however that goes. Great advice.

Many of you may or may not be interested in learning how to break dance, but i think there are a few who would give it a shot (Dan).

Outstanding reading, especially if you're a macho guy or a sexy-talking/havin' girl who talks about all your sexual exploits. Or want to find 1,000 different ways to describe your one encounter. Or whatever. This + alcohol + sexy/macho talk = good time.

Keep your Taco-Bell-lovin' fingers crossed everybody.

All the buzz on the internet and in college newspapers: David Horowitz's supposedly "racist propaganda" that was published in campus newspapers across the country, in many cases for free. In return he got seriously castigated for these writings, despite them having the ability to open up a good forum for debate on the subject. When will the racist/sexist/etc-ist witchhunt end?

Continuing with that last thought, a Madonna video was banned from MTV for being too violent, despite it attempting to make an anti-violence statement. Is MTV a proto-example of the sort of subtle telling-you-what-is-right-and-wrong-and-good-and-bad mind-control that is going on in society? It's not like America has ever had a true sense of "free speech", despite it always being a "right." Gotta love reverse discrimination, because if you hate it you become a target of it. What a world.

Songs:

Luna "Superfreaky Memories" (weird stuff)
Aerosmith "Dream On"
(gotta highlight the good when the bad is going on)
Sea and Cake "Afternoon Speaker" (weird stuff)

03/13/01

Festus, Missouri. Where people survive on hope and Jesus really does save. Often. He occasionally passes to Satan, who shoots and scores (often, lately, check his NHL stats, really), but in Festus, he just saves. Well, I was driving through Festus on my way to my aforementioned "resort getaway tour", and having a rough go of things lately, i was thinking about people who live on nothing but hope. I flipped the radio station in my rental car (yes, that rough a go of it), and Uncle Tupelo was on the radio. Circumstances can and will be miraculous. "High Water." A slow, emotional track on the end of a great album. On the radio! Listen to it and you will know what i mean. While driving through Festus and thinking about people who were living on hope. I nearly cried.... and smiled and sang along, cracking voice and all.

Then came the tour.

Now the only reason i came down to the self-proclaimed capital of Rednecks everywhere was to get the free stuff: free airline tickets to and free accommadations in Las Vegas or Orlando for anytime in the next year, a 5-inch handheld B/W TV, and free DirectTV dish (not that i was gonna use it, more incorporate it into the decor of our apartment - cable rules). Maybe drop off a resume if i was impressed (again, yes, that rough a go of it). The drive down was nice, the girls behind the desk had a goth-meets-country-girl charm to them, and i had a whole day to blow. I was excited and bemused. If i could get paid to go on little trips like this, i would be happy for the rest of my life. But i digress, on to the tour.
My name was called, but not by some smart-looking gent or lady salesperson but by one of the goth/country desk girls. She dragged me back through their offices and backdoor dealing places to what was apparently the prize room. It seems I didn't make enough money to justify to them spending the time to take me on the tour. So i could go look if i want, but they were just gonna give me the free stuff and get my ass out of there. I was overjoyed. Christmas in March! Who woulda thought. Maybe St. Patrick does work in mysterious ways, other than providing yet another reason to get fabulously wasted and providing for a middle name for myself (not necessarily related, but you never know, do you). I signed my name on a few unobtrusive forms, gave them no money, and in return i have my free round-trip airfare to Vegas complete with free hotel for two nights, a nice pair of Swiss his & her watches (better than the TV), $50 worth of free gas, and a DirectTV dish if i ever get off my ass to send it in. Plus the memory of a nice drive through the hills of Festus.

So, how do i feel about being a walking advertisement?

Timber Creek Resort - A Place That Gave Me A Free Trip for Two to Las Vegas!

Remind me to tell you the story of how i almost sold knock-off perfume for a living. I forgot about that one. And how i almost became a priest. Geez, i have a ton of material left laying absently around. I never run low - it's what having a bad memory and a fuctup life is all about.

A website featuring the strange results people get while searching for something strange. Very strange stuff, as you might expect. Very interesting, especially if you're into all this voyeurism going on in pop culture.

*quickie*

Various humorous pie charts. Simple, stupid, funny.

Don't be shocked: Some guy just found yet another use for his penis. Puppetry! And it's getting rave reviews all across.... Australia. Hey gents, they're holding tryouts - get in line now!

Taking your fast food tastes to a whole new level:
Burger King Rules. Not exactly burned in effigy, but very funny. Great desktop wallpaper material.

It seems when every rock band is wooing its last hurrah, they release a "Coming Home" or an "I'm Back" kind of song. Sean McCambridge is responsible for pointing out this phenomenon to me. Several quick examples: John Mellencamp's (THE COOG!) last "hit" song, Aerosmith's current "hit" song, Ozzy Osbourne's last hit ("Mama I'm Coming Home"), etc. Of note, The Stones have never released such a song, and also, many of these songs weren't so bad (all things relative folks). Eighties "power ballads" played out the entire phenomenon quite well. Sure, not even Motley Crue or Poison got across in a grammy-esque manner how tough life on the road was, all with that bangin' lots of hot chix and drinkin' too much and doin' too much drugs and stuff, but that song was a lot better than most of their other stuff. Same goes for all those bands, if you think about it.

Songs:
Neko Case - "Christmas Card from a Hooker" (Tom Waits song)
(sorry, i am in love with this woman. She could read the phone book and i'd drool like a horny 16-year old :)

Kelly Willis with Son Volt - "He Don't Care About Me"
(replace "he" with "she", and "his" with "her", and it somehow makes me feel better.)
(could be in love, don't know her well enough, not sure)

Go-Go's - "Vacation" (Kevin Kelly and I's favorite Go-Go's song)
(female Rockers? Need i say more?)

03/03/01

The LCB is back from its hiatus, thanks a wonderful and very needed bender in Kirksville and two hard drives that simultaneously imploded, resulting in a serious loss of data. From the past 5-6 years. Anyway, the POS computer is now back in semi-working order, and the discontinued e-communication with y'all will be happily resumed. Get comfortable for this one, i struck a chord with myself.

*****************************************

Thank you for being honest.
And that goes out to all the men and women who tell the truth. Anytime. All the time. Because, well, i suppose it doesn't matter - real men don't have feelings and women will get over it. The truth isn't all that important anymore - it's the 00's: in the age of information, there is so little truth about ourselves that we are willing to admit in anything but intimate circumstances. Oddly enough, many of us are not even sure of a lot of what is true about ourselves until we have a reason to really hash it out. We don't know what we really want. And it changes a LOT. I had four different discussions with people to this effect within the last two weeks, so i strongly believe i am not far from the rocker that used to help me to get to sleep at night. The games that are played now are as stupid as they have ever been (which surprisingly are historically consistent, or maybe that's not surprising at all), but maybe more so. Intense amounts of communication and information has riddled everyone with so much more self-doubt. Theresa of Avila, a famous catholic saint, was said to have had faith in god like that of a little child, even up until her death. She is suppos-ed to be a role model for goody-two-shoes catholics growing up today, in the sense of what one's faith (in God, or otherwise) should be like. No questions, just belief. And it happened. People were that way. Happy relationships resulted. Blind they may have been, but naivete` works great in pairs. God, my parents! Damn, my childhood! But information overload destroys semblances of faith and creates nasty things like cynicism, simply because of the ease at which doubt may be established. It only takes one serious detail to create serious doubt. When that serious doubt occurs, true faith is gone. Rackety faith follows, where one wants to blindly believe and trust, but is always doubting. Often enough, faith and belief are entirely destroyed. AKA, The Cynic, The Atheist, etc. And sometimes this a good thing, depending on what it is applied to. But perhaps too many times not. But like a serious social disease of relationships gone south, men suffer in silence. Give me a soapbox, i'm standing on it for a second. We're so equal, men and women in so many ways. Maybe not in, yes, yes, jobs and social status, and the like - argument made and argument known and is right. But back to the individual in a relationship-esque basis. We're the same. Some men are assholes and some women are bitches. Some guys are great and some girls are awesome. Proportions are all about equal. Ask any member of the opposite sex, especially a manly man or a girly girl. But guys are expected to take it alone when a women treats them wrong, whereas women are expected to be felt sorry for at large when guys treat them wrong. We applaud when a woman proudly announces quotShe Will Survive!quot when a man dumps her butt on the altar, but we perhaps at best whimper a note of sorrow when a guy gets the same treatment from a skippy girl. When a vulnerable girl gets treated like crap by a guy, the guy has a major indictment ladled on top of him, whereas a girl treating a vulnerable guy like crap is labeled nothing more than as simply being a bitch to a soft man, which quickly may fade due to whatever kinds of factors, none of the least of which is straight horniness. Perhaps this is the proof of an unfair God: women and men are so completely different hormonally, so relationships and inter-gender nuances are doomed to suffer and be misunderstood. It is a shame this is additionally compounded with silly gender expectations and strange intergender cultural games

It makes even getting a date a daunting task! Open, straightforward honesty is replaced with signals and hints, and open straightforward honesty is considered brutal and perhaps even smug. It is better to lie and ignore and hope someone gets the message, rather than to say it plain.

And people, now more so than ever, are afraid to admit they were wrong. Why? - there is no good reason. Unwillingness to let it harm one's precious little ego? Can't stand being ashamed of oneself? quotI experimented with [it]quot is becoming so much more common, quot[it]quot is becoming such a wide variety of things, and quotvaluesquot have become so relative as to have little if any societal recognisance or importance. Thus, nothing is quotwrongquot anymore, it is simply different. As if there is this universal consciousness that allows for everything. No. There isn't. We're a fuctup planet of individuals, who moreoftenthannot forget we can think for ourselves but occasionally remember we can think for ourselves just long enough to realize what asses we have been making of ourselves over a given period of time. But like an addict trying to overcome a drug habit, we relapse into lazy thinking and go back into trouble again. quotSociety is the way it is and i must conform and act according to its silly and stupid rules, even if i hate them.quot The Fifties seemed to an age of innocence. The 90's and 00's seem to be an age of guilt. What gives? Nothing, and that is so much the problem.
And that, my friends, is a rant. Dedicated to the memory of Sam Kinison and to the future prospect of a child named Apathy.
And the answer to the question formed in your head while reading the above is: 7.

Your own, personal, Jesus. This time, Jesus isn't the muscular, long-haired hippie type, nor is he Buddy Jesus or the skinny, bleeding, cross-posed Jesus either. He looks like a guy you'd see hanging out at the end of some crappy neighborhood bar, or a guy who is all but homeless. Dark skinned, round face, brown eyes, brown, cropped hair. Oh my Lord, i look like Jesus!

*quickie*

Larson's Jesus, with enclosed commentary.

This is very nine-year-old, but it can be amusing, especially if you enjoy constructing conversations based on how much things suck, and how quotyour mommaquot is involved in a lot of things, and have a lot of pent-up aggression against nothing in particular. Hell, you might even _be_ a modern teenager!

Ecstasy a good drug, or Ecstasy a bad drug? I can't remember.

Main Entry: slut

Pronunciation: 'slut

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English slutte

Date: 15th century 1 chiefly British : a slovenly woman

2 a : a promiscuous woman especially : PROSTITUTE b : a saucy girl : MINX

Heh, Minx.

Main Entry: saucy

Pronunciation: 'so-sE, 'sa-Function: adjective

Inflected Form(s): saucmiddotimiddoter -estDate: 1581 : served with or having the consistency of sauce

2 a : impertinently bold and impudent b : amusingly forward and flippant : IRREPRESSIBLE3 : SMART, TRIM lta saucy little hatgt- saucmiddotimiddotly /-samp-lE/ adverb- saucmiddotimiddotness /-sE-namps/ noun

Main Entry: promiscuous

Pronunciation: pro-'mis-kyu-us

Function: adjectiveEtymology: Latin promiscuus, from pro- forth + miscEre to mix -- more at PRO-, MIXDate: 16031 : composed of all sorts of persons or things2 : not restricted to one class, sort, or person : INDISCRIMINATE lteducation... cheapened through the promiscuous distribution of diplomas -- Norman Cousinsgt3 : not restricted to one sexual partner4 : CASUAL, IRREGULAR ltpromiscuous eating habitsgt
Promiscuous eating habits? I suppose that's one way of saying it.
Main Entry: 1whorePronunciation: 'hOr, 'hor, 'hurFunction: nounEtymology: Middle English hore, from Old English hOre akin to Old Norse hOra whore, hOrr adulterer, Latin carus dear -- more at CHARITYDate: before 12th century1 : a woman who engages in sexual acts for money : PROSTITUTE also : a promiscuous or immoral woman2 : a male who engages in sexual acts for money3 : a venal or unscrupulous person
Main Entry: 2whoreFunction: verbInflected Form(s): whored whormiddotingDate: 1583intransitive senses1 : to have unlawful sexual intercourse as or with a whore2 : to pursue a faithless, unworthy, or idolatrous desiretransitive senses, obsolete : to corrupt by lewd intercourse : DEBAUCH
According to Merriam-Webster then, it seems that to be a slut it must be a woman, though it simply can be a woman who dresses and tidies herself up poorly (slovenly). It also can simply be a woman who is _saucy_. Yowzers. I haven't met many women with the consistency of sauce, but there's always a first time...A slut is also is a woman who has not restricted herself to only one sexual partner. Damn that's outdated for modern popular culture (but where does one draw the line?). The only woman i know who wouldn't be a slut under that definition would be mom. Good ole' mom. Mom rocks. On to whores...A guy can be a whore if he does it for money, or if he pursues a quotfaithless, unworthy, or idolatrous desire.quot So a guy/girl who shacks around with no desire for faithfulness or for women/men who are, umm, worthy (having worth or value), is a whore. Since i have never pursued any women who were, umm, unworthy, nor have i ever pursued a faithless desire/girl/relationship, and am not a promiscuous woman either, i am neither a whore or a slut. Yay! And i now know how to judge them! Double-yay! I.E., the girl who sucked 36 dicks (or 37, if you count Dante), is probably both a whore and a slut, but since she delivered lasagna to her boyfriend at work, and remained faithful to him throughout the course of their relationship, she was/is a good girl (now).
And that was the One-Minute Links to Cure Boredom "Are You A Slut or a Whore or Not?" Quiz. Judge accordingly!

Songs of the Week:

Soul II Soul -"tKeep on Movin'" (used to listen to this song obsessively as a young teenager)

Cowboy Junkies - "Ooh Las Vegas" (what a sexy-sexy song)

Radiohead and Billy Corgan - "If There is a God" (for KEB especially, but everyone else too)