bomb the world

2007-02-27T22:46:00.000-06:00

John writes: “You know how everyone is an artist... sandwich artist, performing artist, recording artist, make up artist, tattoo artist, etc. If you make sculptures then you can say you are a sculptor. If you make paintings and say you are a painter then people think you want to paint their house. So the question -- What is a good name for someone who paints pictures?"

god good man, don’t buy into the propaganda! sandwich artist? that is all subway, being really sneaky, getting you to say things that sound hip in hopes you’ll promote their product. even when you and your friends aren’t near a television commercial or flat billboard with jared on it, eating all his fingers off his hand, dying for a big mac.

i mean they have really dug deep to plant the meme way down there, where we cannot get to it. it is too late.

it is sprouted. all over the place. you can’t stop it now.

go ahead. wikipedia “sandwich artist.”

see where you end up.

you hear that?

the faint screams?

those are the sounds babies make when they die from suffocation. suffocation from million-dollar marketing schemes that get people to say “sandwich artist” to their friends, in normal everyday conversation.

average guy: “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

john: “i don’t know.” shrugs. “i was thinkin’ maybe an artist.

average guy: “oh yeah? what kind? painter? singer? stained glass? certainly not a graffiti artist – that stuff isn’t art.”

john, laughing: “oh no, no. not graffiti. goodness no. graffiti? you must have eaten fifty caps or something man.”

average guy, giggling: “i’m just kidding. graffiti? what would your mother think!”

john, getting serious: “exactly.” pause. “in all seriousness, i was thinking of going to school to become a sandwich artist.”

hope dies.

______________________________________________________________

but really, my friend tom always used to say “hey greg, everyone’s an artist.”

and i believed him. i still believe him.

i still say that to people.

people that paint pictures are called people that probably feel good. it feels good to make something.

usually. at least in my experience.

sometimes you just don't feel like proofreading -- sorry mrs. bielstein

2007-02-13T21:00:00.000-06:00

coreroc writes: “Should the definition of graffiti be changed to reflect the fact that it is art and not just random vandalization. It has more mass appel that most current forms of artistic expression. Yet in the dictionary graffiti artists are deduced to the same thing as a 10 year old that breaks out windows.”

i never knew graffito was the singular form of graffiti – that is the most interesting thing i’ve learned today.

i doubt there are too many people around who can look at something like this

and not acknowledge that the effort is a work of art.

but if it was illegally placed on the side of someone’s barber shop or grocery store, then it’s art and destruction of property.

then again, if someone pays the artist to put it on the side of their health food store or record shop or single-family home, then it is just art.

it’s just like if someone urinates on a 10’x10’ canvas: it’s art. it isn’t necessarily good art, but it’s art.

and: if you urinate in my face, it can be considered art. but: it may also cause the person who owns the face to become pissed. then: you’ve pissed; i’m pissed.

then again, if you create some graffiti on the side of an abandoned warehouse – though it may be illegal – it can still be perceived as an upgrade.

but what if the graffiti is really awful? like this:

still art. but less value, right? (some english hooligan probably painted this after a big spurs win. isn’t there a premier league team named the spurs? i don’t know.)

my second-grade philosophy book defined art as anything that a human created by manipulating or using something from nature to change something else from nature.

do people still argue about graffiti? arguing about whether graffiti is art seems to be on the same level arguing about the big-bang theory. the close-minded people are going to say “graffiti isn’t art dammit!” and the open-minded people are going to say “graffiti can be/is art dammit!”

compromise, schrompromise.

interpretation, insmurpretration.

now i’m going to finish this gin and tonic and go shovel the walk for the third time today. and make some art by pushing snow into various white piles. and hopefully not pass out in the cold.

part 2

2007-02-11T14:35:00.000-06:00

Dai Oinuma writes: “All this time, I would think life was a gift given by an all knowing super nice guy living in clouds, just feeding every breathing cell with an ultraimportant purpose.

it was just made of logic and numbers.
god, that makes me feel so fucking alone!”

PART 2

norman mailer currently believes “in an existential god.” that’s what he told us anyway.

i expected him to be six-foot-five, and bound into the room cursing, tugging on a fifth of whiskey, and swinging fists at anyone who so much as looked at him sideways.

it turns out age can take a toll on even norman mailer.

by chance, where i stood ended up being along the path he took to get to the table at the front of the room. i turned around when i heard everyone in the room quiet, and mailer was a few feet behind me. he walked with a cane in each hand, and moved very slowly past. he was much shorter than i had expected – maybe five-six or five-seven.

he had come to chicago to read from his new book, the castle in the forest, and to answer questions. his book is about adolf hitler up to age sixteen.

he began by apologizing for being late: “i always hate it when i go listen to a politician or a writer and they are late. and here i am, twenty minutes late. i’ve become what i hate.”

the crowd forgave him.

his voice, despite being housed in an old, broken down body, was loud, full of gravel, and strong. he continued, “i’ll just read a few pages from my book and then take questions. the questions part seems to be the part everyone wants to get to anyways. i’ll tell you, i’ve been answering questions for sixty years so i’ll probably already have an answer ready for you. eventually someone will ask me about religion. i’ll tell you now: i was an atheist. for a long time. now i believe in an existential god. not reincarnation, or anything of the sort. rather, he created us. he can’t control us. he created us though. all of us, and all of this.”

before he began his reading, he had to establish where in the novel he would be picking up the story: “i need to tell you where we’re at in the story. how can i say this politely, for this mixed-crowd? let me put it this way: hitler had just been conceived. it was quite a scene, a tryst involving three individuals – his mother, his father, and satan himself. sparing you the details, let’s just say it was a majestic fuck.”

i don’t remember much of what he read. i just remember thinking “how strange that i’m listening to norman mailer read his words.”

he coughed quite a bit. then he took questions.

a few things i remember:

he said at one point, “i swear i’m not loco.”

on the difference between writing in his twenties and thirties, and now in his eighties: “when i was younger, i could get up and write all day. then i’d go out and party all night, you know. get drunk. really tear it up. then i’d get up the next morning and write all day again. and on and on. now, if i really tear it up, there’s no writing the next day. at this point of my life, the hangover dictates my writing schedule.”

after going off on a tangent in response to a question, he tried to return with the phrase “in any event,” and continued talking. when he finished his answer he said, “and let me let you in on a little secret. anytime you are listening to a speaker, and he says ‘in any event,’ he has completely lost his train of thought and has no recollection of what the original question was. so, in any event, i have no idea what the nice young woman just asked me.”

on how mahmoud ahmadinejad (who has stated he would like to eliminate the state of Israel) compares to adolf hitler: “there’s no comparison. ahmadinejad is a wart on hitler’s ass.”

on book reviewers: “most book reviewers don’t even read the damn book. they skim over it. pick out a few quotes. read some other book reviews of the same book, and then write it as quickly as possible. let’s say they get paid fifty bucks to write a review. they spend forty-five minutes writing it, then go out on a date. take that fifty bucks and get a nice steak dinner. see how it’s done? they are ahead of the game if they can pull it off like that.”

on his existential god: “god is a true artist, he has created much better stories than i have created.”

then it was done, and i waited for the bus.

and i looked around at all the logic and numbers.

part 1

2007-02-10T18:37:00.000-06:00

american spectacle

2007-02-04T21:59:00.000-06:00

Jason writes: “is there such a thing as being too avant garde? it’s a yes or no question, so the following is a brief why.”

the new avant-garde is to be as mainstream and as predictable as possible. so what would be more mainstream than writing about the super bowl?

4:55pm CST – the cirque du soleil pre-game show is on. is it just me, or are all the people in the performance wearing indianapolis jerseys white, and all the performers wearing chicago jerseys black?

well i guess it doesn’t matter because the performance was AMAZING. i mean, totally worth the price of admission. i think people will still be talking about it tomorrow. it – was – awesome.

5:04 – jim nantz: “welcome to america’s greatest sports spectacle.” guy debord would be proud.

5:13 – based upon each team’s entrance onto the field, the colts look to be more emotionally pumped up. they were running, yelling, hitting each other. the bears just kind of jogged out and looked around.

5:17 – billy joel – any chance he will sing “piano man” instead?

5:18 – no.

5:19 – hey look – the deaf lady from the show that used to be on television! they got her to – sign the national anthem.

5:20 – prediction: bear 34, colts 17.

5:21 – i can tell already this super bowl is going to be a letdown in comparison to last year.

5:22 – is it wrong to want hope norbit dies at the end of his movie?

5:24 – they said all week kickoff was going to occur at 5:25. no chance they will make it. we haven’t even tossed the coin yet.

5:27 – kickoff is about to occur. i feel like hester is going to run this back.

5:28 – i swear i wrote that before it happened.

5:34 – two false starts and manning is already pissed.

5:36 – katie couric, you suck. kagan’s been doing positive stories since november.

5:37 – bob sanders has got to be the coolest guy in the nfl.

5:39 – the beard comb-over. pretty funny.

5:40 – tracy morgan. i hope for more of him.

5:41 – it’s raining during the super bowl. what the hell, god?

5:50 – it’s great when the field-level mics pick up swear words.

5:52 – phil simms just said “you gotta get up the field to stop the runs.”

5:56 – pride. tom arnold is in it. bernie mac is cracking penis size jokes in the preview. then it gets serious. it’s a race thing too? at a swim meet? am i to laugh? am i to contemplate race relations in america? tom arnold's in it for christ's sake. i’m so confused.

6:14 – david spade is looking a little rough.

6:17 – the coca-cola/video game/grand theft auto/end of the world/love commercial has to be the oddest one yet. it made me feel a little uncomfortable. it didn’t make me want to buy coke.

6:33 – i keep falling asleep. i don’t know if it’s all the pizza i ate or the game that is making me drowsy.

6:34 – colts score a touchdown – momentum has shifted.

6:39 – i don’t know if you have heard, but there are two african-american head coaches in today’s game.

6:43 – it’s about time for the bears to pick-off manning and run it all the way back.

6:45 – well, that didn’t happen.

6:46 – tim allen and john travolta riding their hogs across the country? i can hear the oscar buzz already.

6:54 – the coke commercial with the old man, the one where he has some coke and then runs with the bulls, jumps off the high dive, and rides the motorcycle. he must have had a lot of coke. cocaine.

6:56 – vinatieri missed. whoa.

halftime.

7:07 – i assumed prince alone would have been able to stop the rain when he walked on stage. he didn’t. does he not have the power? no, you say?

next you’re going to tell me there were no weapons of mass destruction.

7:14 – i stand corrected: prince is purposely creating the rain. duh. he needs it for “purple rain.”

7:17 – prince was a perfect choice for the super bowl. he performed to the spectacle. he was great.

7:24 – carlos mencia. he just doesn’t do it for me.

7:35 – i need to remember to draft joseph addai in my fantasy league next season.

7:36 – more curses words heard. awesome.

7:44 – wild hogs was just advertised as “the comedy event of the spring.”

7:45 – it has only been thirty minutes since prince performed. it seems like six hours. i wish he’d come back.

7:46 – hey nantz, it’s booger. not anthony.

7:47 – grossman fumbled the snap. again. cue circus music and slo-mo replay.

7:48 – who doesn’t like talking animals? thanks taco bell for the lions.

7:50 – i don’t understand how we – the collective world – can do a total face transplant to replace someone’s destroyed visage but we can’t keep a camera lens dry in the rain. it’s 2007 and we don’t have this technology? what are our scientists doing?

7:57 – robert goulet commerical – that was a good one.

7:58 – ugh, nasty. i just verped. (i added this solely to see if it was in wikipedia. sadly, it is not. someone should really add this entry. soon.)

8:06 – it took this long, but finally jim nantz brings up tank johnson and his multiple arrests. always a nice story.

8:13 – yeah, i’m sure cargill has the best interests of small farmers in mind.

8:22 – unless things change, rex grossman is going to have a long offseason.

8:29 – cato june is my second favorite name in football. (ebenezer ekuban is my favorite.)

8:30 – rex grossman may be hanged this week in chicago. he better just stay in Miami until may or june.

8:31 – everyone is going to be so cranky at work tomorrow. everyone but the girl from indianapolis. and me.

8:44 – it’s over.

8:49 – the score isn’t a final yet, but the colts will soon have won. i don’t think i’ll remember much about this super bowl. except for the rain. that is probably what everyone will remember it by. the rain bowl.

so jason: in answer to your question,

high of 4

2007-02-03T20:22:00.000-06:00

Ginger writes: “hey can I borrow an ice cube?”

i’m staring – staring – staring.

it is currently 2 degrees fahrenheit.

on the bus, seven girls from ohio:

“oh my god, look look look! look at the skyline.”

“what?! where? lemme see!”

“there!” pointing. “the skyline.”

“i don’t see it. what skyline?”

“the buildings! the buildings make the skyline. look!”

“oh the buildings! yes, totally cool. i see it. i see the skyline.”

on the phone: “yes, there will be seven of us.”

pause.

“how much is the deep dish?”

pause.

“17.69? okay. we want three cheese.” interrupt: “no! one pepperoni!”

“no, no, wait. make that – yes, i’m sorry – two cheese, one pepperoni.” laughs. “yes, deep dish, totally.”

pause.

“thanks!” hangs up the phone.

“oh my god, it is SO COLD. everything is like ice cubes.”

phone rings. “it’s shawn.” smiles, answers. “hey shawn” – pause – “yeah, we got three” – pause – “no, no sausage, it’s two bucks more” – pause – “well, you’re gonna pay for it!” – pause – “yeah, i know, one-thirty” – pause – “yes (annoyed) i’ll call” – pause – “bye.”

“that was shawn.”

“is he still at the hotel?”

“yes, and he wants SAUSAGE.” grimaces.

she dials phone. “i told him it was two dollars more and we didn’t want sausage and that if he wants sausage he’s paying the extra for the sausage.”

“hi, hello. yes.”

pause.

“i called earlier about the reservation – Cunningham?”

pause.

“i’m sorry, yes, we’d like to change our order?”

pause.

“we’d like one cheese, one pepperoni, and one sausage.”

pause.

“yes, yes, deep dish please.”

pause.

“oh thank you so much! i appreciate it!”

hangs up the phone. sighs, smiles. “i’m just telling you, he is paying extra."

“oh my god, it is so cold guys.”

did you know dick's middle name is bruce?

2007-01-30T20:43:00.000-06:00

Elizabeth writes: “you must have more time than God on your hands. or perhaps you can stretch time in your little head to make it rebound – hour after hour after hour – pulling all of the air out of it and making it land on your back porch with as many hours as the sun has to burn…

who are you? this man in this cyber bubble who waits for words to float over his head – waiting to catch them.”

searching for: an outlet.

some people eat
some people lift weights.
some people run marathons.

others collect things.
some hit things.
still others shoot guns or jump out of planes or yell or play their guitar or meditate or pray or eat acid.

some start wars, some bar wars.

i just wait for the floating words. and provide an outlet too.

give and take.

“you give and you take, sam, you give and you take.”

the hungry and the hanged, the damaged and the done

2007-01-22T21:11:00.000-06:00

Cecotrope writes: "Title = Altering Response: Fictive Semiotics in chuck bundchen's bomb the world (I can never think of titles so you've got to cut corners somewhere: http://www.brysons.net/generator.html)

You win, you are the next most post-modern thing I have witnessed all day, by which I mean yesterday... technically, you are the most post-modern thing I have seen all day. Before you were the most post-modern thing I witnessed all day there was a Docu-Drama called Intervention. This particular episode which my friend gets on demand was about a 24 year old meth addict/ alcholic named Christy, she has been addicted to meth for 10 years. Thats a long time needless to say, and it definatly shows that meth psychosis can do powerful things to warp the mind, it was absolutly terrifying and proved to be a continual reminder to never touch the stuff (along with cold medicine, all antibiotics (they cause super bacteria to breed right), and heroin (maybe) .)

To be concise, this blog of yours is a pick me up. While Miko seems to point out that blogging and the internet in general is very insignificant to the world being pulled and revolved by gravitational forces from the sun, this blog is made up of things. People, numbers, letters, the back bone of what has built our civilizations. You point out this is like reverse spamming, instead of recieving random information about questionable things, you recieve random sweet nothings about real things... and those are probably the best things of all. This blog connects people, it takes whats happening and makes it happen for any person who reads it. I could be doing homework right now and I will, perhaps right around 3am, but I will be cool for class in 9 hours because its night time somewhere and we all know living and sleeping can overlap.

One day we can all erect a giant monument to the cause of the internet, we will gather every discarded monitor and use the cables to intertwine and connect the screens into a giant armature of ones and zeros. It will be glorious and intimidating, and from that day forward true free democracy will flourish through the internet as nations free themselves of oppression with giant robots made out of old computer parts, if we win then bomb the world, if we lose then bomb the world. The fall out will change us all into Lagomorph, our ears will extend and if we happen to be male our scrotums will somehow migrate in front of the penis. Women will likely deviour us after that for creating giant robots out of computer parts.”

i before e, except after c.

when was that phrase burned into my gray mush? 2nd grade? 3rd? 4th? i’ll never forget it – it is impossible. it’s like 7x8=56, 4x4=16, and 12x12=144. around the world in 3rd grade. champion. white card stock; green numerals.

“who among us will avenge miss nina simone?”

only when i’m drinking do i think i’ll smoke.

only then, do i make all the plans in the world.

only then, do i think i could write the bible. in one sitting. alone.

only when i’m drinking do i think i’ll actually do it.

i think i’ll do everything. just tonight.

“dead kids don’t get photographed, god bless our dead marines.”

in november and december, i wrote the above lyrics on a chalk board in a men’s room.

someone wrote “fuck you.” both times.

i also wrote “go black ‘n’ gold.”

someone wrote “fuck yeah.” one time.

“lost a friend to oceans, lost a friend to hills.”

and then i sent a story to the hippest cats this side of the communist manifesto. they said yes; they said no.

and then i showed my dad and he said “you don’t actually believe this stuff, right?”

he said that -- despite the fact that i didn’t get anything but an “A” until 4th grade – you can imagine that day. it was over for me i was sure.

i would never play nintendo again, and i sure as heck wasn’t going to college. and surely i would be sentenced to go to sunday school twice a week instead of just once. maybe three times.

confirmation class was more stressful than the driving exam, GRE’s, or graduate-level final examinations. nicene creed? transmogrification? deuteronomy? worst days of my life. i didn’t sleep the week previous.

“when the world is sick, can’t no one be well? but i dreamt we was all beautiful and strong.”

esophagus – strike one?

no one has ever been stronger – he could stop the tsunami. and fight the killer, and put out the fire, and save the princess, and protect us all.

all in the same night.

the esophagus felled my giant’s father as well.

or maybe peristalsis just wears out like a rubber band.

note: lyrics not mine.

through subterfuge

2007-01-16T20:57:00.000-06:00

Beth writes: "Why are there “thousands” of volunteers helping to rebuild south Mississippi but none can be found to help me and my husband put a roof on this place? Yeah, we live in a piece of crap trailer but we still need a roof over our heads! My cabinets are falling to pieces because the rainwater pours in, my floors are rotting because of rain pouring in. We have the wood 2x4 things but can’t find a single soul that will come out here in the Franklin Creek area and help us. My husband has a bad back and I’m not able to help him because I can’t even lift one of those pieces of wood. All we see on the news is all these rich people with volunteers from all over the place help rebuild those big fancy mansions on the beach. What about us little people that really need the help?!"

through subterfuge they took it from us.

we were warm, we were there.

he was the last man.

and just as he suggested, the nightingales couldn’t be trapped or caught. those that did succeed only solidified their own ruin.

today, i cannot hardly speak/write/think of him without tears. what have i become?

but it may just be that time has distorted the details.

miko's box in a box

2007-01-12T22:56:00.000-06:00

Miko writes: “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

thinking you can solicit creativity from RANDOM strangers?

WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO YOU THINK WE LIVE IN?

do you think creativity is FREE?

HAVE YOU BEEN OUTDOORS? LATELY?

people are trying to pay their bills, trying to afford their new
plasma T.V., trying to scrounge enough change for their latest 'self-
help' book, trying to get enough money for their weekend date so
their partner won't think they're 'poor bastards who can't even
support themselves,' - Not to mention all the people who need to rent
a new movie tonight so they 'Have something to do,' and the people
who need to make their $564 payment on their 2006 Honda -

My god, man - They're running around out there, totally distraught
over EVERYTHING!

Sure, they collect music, buy a POSTER here and there, have cute
little BOOKS of practical advice and emotional sentiment cleverly
sculpted into easy-to-remember limericks and poemy-catch-phrases -

BUT MAN! COME ON!

they don't have the TIME to strum on a cheap guitar, smear some
watercolor, or pen anything down.

SHEESH MAN.

be a little easier on people.

it's a hard life out here. planet earth demands SO MUCH. just look at
pictures from outer space - there she is, trying so hard to SPIN,
making every effort to ORBIT, and it must be a ROYAL BITCH trying to
capture all those photons from the sun - not to mention HOW she
managed to win some lottery to be the 3rd, most perfectly positioned
planet suitable for life.

MAN.

I can't BELIEVE you think CREATIVITY is FREE.

Get a FUCKING JOB.”

i’ll answer miko’s six questions in the order he asked them:

1. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” chuck bundchen. and no, before you ask, no relation to gisele. nor am i from brazil.

funny story actually. my family originally came to the u.s. from the south of france, a small town called fontvieille. my great-great-great-great grandfather, thierry bundchequelle, labored in the nearby stone quarries. it was difficult work, but paid the bills.

a single man in his early twenties with money in his pocket was bound to find some trouble in fontvieille. and thierry was no different. he had a penchant for underage women, and even an age of consent of fourteen proved to be a problem for great-great-great-great-grandpappy, or G4-Pappy as my family has come to remember him by. one evening after a particularly tough day slinging stone, thierry found himself at the local watering hole getting a little too friendly with his twelve-year old server, the tavern owner’s daughter. now details are few, as this occurred in 1847 (not to mention it isn’t exactly the most positive glowing tale about my ancestry), but it seems he was caught in some kind of mid-nineteenth century precursor to “to catch a predator.” apparently it involved a broadside in the men’s room, grain alcohol, and the very promiscuous female server. i know, i know: sick.

needless to say, thierry bundchequelle had to get out of fontvieille – and fast. as he ran home from the drunken angry mob that was chasing him, G4-Pappy happened to notice another broadside that night, tacked to a lamppost in the street. it promised that if he signed up to fight for mexico in "the north american intervention,” he would be rewarded with a plot of land of a few acres in the texas territory after it was reclaimed. thierry decided then and there he was bound for mexico; he escaped the mob and boarded a ship a few days later for the war and the promise of a better life.

once he made it to mexico, thierry dropped the quelle from his name, and added an “n.” no one knows why he added the “n,” but my grandfather always said “he added an ‘n’ ‘cuz that wuz the ‘n’ of his old life; he wuz startin’ anew here in america.” (grandpa was from the hills – but that’s another story.)

once in mexico, thierry signed up for the army and was sent north to fight the americans. but by the time he reached the front in late 1847, the war was all but over. when the war officially ended in february of ’48, mexico was a loser, texas was still an american state, and thierry was penniless having spent all of his savings for the voyage across the atlantic.

the next few years are a bit sketchy, but by 1853 thierry can be traced to south carolina, working for the South Carolina Railroad Company. again, he had managed to save up quite a bit of money over a few years since arriving in north america.

about his time the former president of the South Carolina Railroad Company, james gadsden, was appointed by the american government to negotiate with mexico the purchase of land in arizona and new mexico for the completion of a southern transcontinental railroad. now, somewhere between 1848 and 1853, thierry had made the acquaintance of james gadsden. and gadsden must have told G4-Pappy about an idea for a canal that was to be built on the isthmus of tehuantepec. gadsden explained to thierry that he was working his connections in washington so as to be named chief negotiator for this land deal with mexico, and if he was selected, gadsden certainly would be including a section in the treaty that would allow a company that he would be investing in to build the canal. and would thierry like to invest in the company?

thierry poured his savings into the risky deal. gadsden became the chief negotiator of the land deal. and just like he said, the gadsden purchase included a provision guaranteeing the united states the right to build a canal on isthmus of tehuantepec.

thierry continued investing all the money he could over the next five years as gadsden again worked his contacts in washington to persuade the federal government to move on the proposed canal in mexico. unfortunately gadsden died in 1858, and the isthmus of panama proved to be narrower that tehuantepec. panama eventually got the canal and thierry was out all of his savings again.

things became worse after this for thierry. in early 1860, he caught a nasty case of gonorrhoea from a woman in cleveland, and died soon after. before dying, he learned that the woman was pregnant, and married her as he thought it to be the most honorable thing to do under the circumstances. he never met his son, thierry bundchen II, named after his late father.

thierry II, or G3-Pappy as my family liked – wait a second. why am i writing out my family history for a bunch of strangers? especially the parts about how my great-great-great-great-grandfather had to leave france in shame after molesting a 12-year-old barmaid, and how he escaped to mexico just in time to help lose the mexican-american war? and then lose his life savings in a crackpot canal endeavor? and then to die of the clap in cleveland?

let’s leave it at this: who the fuck am i? chuck bundchen. and i have a job: i donate plasma for a living.

2. “thinking you can solicit creativity from RANDOM strangers?” i don’t want your creativity. i just want your email. it’s more like i’m a negative spammer. rather than sending you garbage, you send me garbage. it’s fun – you should try it. negative spamming.

3. “WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO YOU THINK WE LIVE IN?” an amazing one. have you seen the iPhone? i mean, come on. when would you rather have lived? seriously dude.

i’ll take 2007.

4. “do you think creativity is FREE?” no, apparently it is going to cost around $599.

5. “HAVE YOU BEEN OUTDOORS?” in my life? yes. that seems like a silly question.

6. “LATELY?” ooohhhhh. lately. lately have i been outdoors? kind of. four hours ago. it was getting cooler and had started raining.

11 straight days -- it must be a record

2007-01-09T22:56:00.000-06:00

J Haley writes: “Tomorrow there is a forecast of Hell Fire falling from the sky, so we have been reinforcing the roofs of our shacks with the skins of virgins. Their belief system is really whacked here.”

in new york, it was seventy degrees. on january 6th. men and women kicked soccer balls across central park; joggers ran up and down the city streets in their shorts. chicago is dry as dry. bill nye is on television predicting 2007 to be the warmest year yet on record. apparently frigid forms aren’t selling in ’07.

despite the climate collapsing upon itself, tomorrow mr. bush will deliver his strategy for victory in iraq, four years (almost) after bush’s war began. he has broken so many rules, ended so many lives, shit upon the very document he took an oath to defend so many times, that the populace barely shrugs a collective shoulder when, after 3,000 dead americans – more than september 11th – bush has the impudence to assure us he will have a new strategy to win soon. day after day throughout december, bush’s anchorman tony snow told us: be patient. he’ll announce changes soon. to the parents, wives, husbands, and children of those soldiers who surrendered their lives for bush’s war: don’t worry. he’s thinking of changing plans. he’s tossing around some ideas, letting those ideas marinate in his brain. he’s thinking real hard. give him time. to those of you related to the as yet undead soldiers – and there will be more dead americans before his war is over – relax. he’ll get to it.

you should just mind your business and keep shopping. and enjoy the weather.

bill nye is right -- fifty degrees in january!

2007-01-07T21:54:00.000-06:00

DELACRUZINK777 writes: “Who creates the script of your daily routine?”

on sundays, there is no routine. especially here. i get to do whatever i please, within reason.

today i woke up at 8am. i drove to home depot. in fact i drove right past it. then i turned around illegally, and drove back to home depot. here i had two keys copied and lamented not learning Spanish in high school. biggest regret of my life (yes, my life has been very easy up to this point).

then i returned to my apartment and did two loads of laundry. and really banged my head hard off the ceiling of the basement. i saw starrs.

next i dodged piles of dog shit and walked three blocks to this record store i’ve been walking past for the last week. there was a very friendly cat walking around the store. lots of great used cd’s. i found four to buy:

red sparowes – every red heart shines toward the red sun
the pixies – doolittle
these arms are snakes – easter
battles – B EP

(i should have bought the t.a.a.s. album a long time ago.)

then i assembled my christmas gift – the dirt devil en vision upright bagless vacuum. it is awesome. it really sucks. it is loud and has a headlight. and it’s green and black. the only picture i can find of it is on wal-mart’s webpage, and i can’t in good conscious link to it. it would be like linking to nambla. just try to picture it. it’s real pretty.

what other fascinating things did i do today? i had the television tuned to the two nfl playoff games today as i played with my vacuum, scrubbed shelves, and continued to unpack. i unpacked nothing between tuesday and saturday. i am lazy.

i also looked up a number of things on wikipedia – i go there every day of my life. even on vacation i think. in case you’re curious:

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.

i never knew ian williams was from johnstown.

also on this sunday i ate a clementine, only to realize after i had finished it that almost every one of the clementines in the box was moldy. gross.

lunch: a sandwich and too many doritos. two sam adams’s. and a small 100 grand bar.

dinner: four rice, cheese, and black bean tacos on corn tortillas. delicious.

but the water here tastes like metal…

now i am just listening to music and writing. soon, sleep.

it was a good day, but missing someone.

tomorrow the man writes the script of my routine.

soap sometimes equals a phallus

2007-01-04T22:07:00.000-06:00

Hi There writes: “I performed a few weeks ago and this guy told me he liked my...whatever I did. He asked me about my childhood. I told him I had a great childhood. It was true. I had a lot of fun growing up. There was tons of art and artists in the house, because my relatives were all poor so we all lived in one house, like immigrants. In that house was an old man with a swearing problem who painted like some old smelly Italian genius, a bunch of volatile teenagers full of angst in the 70s (one of which was my mother), a crap load of kids that came from those teenagers, (one of which was me), a fat, hard working and very loveable old lady who paid all the bills, a hungry hungry hippos game with all but two or three marbles missing, and the place was crammed with bootleg video store VHS tapes and lots of antiques which had been scavenged from people's garbage. It was a geniune art wonderland.

The kids would get into trouble together a lot. Not real trouble, but kid trouble. We'd break into the fridge and mix shampoo and other bathroom condiments together to make new products. Dangerous, if you don't know what you're doing. But for some reason, the punishment was always much more brutal than the crime. Make a sofa pillow fort - switches to the ass. Moon old man in the kitcken - mouth washed out with soap.

Well, I told the guy that my mouth got washed out with soap as a kid. He related that to rape. It seemed pretty interesting to me. He said it seemed as aggressive and intrusive as rape. What do you make of all of that?”

the first time i ever went to a strip club was five years ago. could i really have made it to twenty-four years old without have gone? i guess so. on this occasion, a number of my friends were going to a gentlemen’s club (yeah, that makes it sound better) for a bachelor’s party.

i was terrified.

what if one of the strippers talked to me? feign deafness. worse, what if one of the strippers touched me? would i die instantly of AIDS? most likely.

without going into too many details, here are a few observations from that night, and the five other occasions of my life where i found myself in a strip club (yeah – it happens sometimes: you just end up there, sometimes with your girlfriend):

* i did not get AIDS.
* strippers in northwestern pennsylvania smell like vanilla. (i know: gross.)
* when you buy beer, all your change comes in one-dollar bills, even if you pay with a twenty.
* never do lines of cocaine off the back of a toilet in a strip club bathroom. (for health reasons.)
* never sit on the floor in a strip club bathroom.
* when the guy standing at the urinal beside you in a strip club bathroom asks you “how’s it shakin’ tonight, fellah?”, do not answer.
* never enter a strip club bathroom.
* strippers are really friendly.
* do not stay at the strip club for five hours.
* do not touch the strippers. in fact, don’t touch anything.
* if the music stops and the stripper has to put quarters into a juke box for the music to begin again, just leave.
* a truck stop + a strip club + plus free coffee + an ex-stripper in her fifties on a CB = the strangest situation of your life.
* when the overhead lights are turned on at the end of the night, don’t look at anything or anyone. just leave.
* it is unwise to eat from a free buffet at a strip club.
* avoid strip clubs that feature fly paper hanging from the ceiling.

__________________________________________________

i don’t know if i’ve ever had a dream about strippers.

not about seinfeld

2007-01-01T18:23:00.000-06:00

Varla writes: I heard a friend say this recently, and because she is kind of a shallow twat anyway, it was even funnier:

"I've been trying to be more spiritual and practice compassion, yada yada yada."

one month hiatus over – time to write something.

anything. anything at all.

the move is complete – no more driving to work.

today i tested my commute, though it most likely isn’t an exact representation of my daily trip downtown as it was a holiday. (fireworks all night.) sixteen-minute walk to the station. ten-minute ride train ride. three-minute walk to work. total: twenty-nine minutes. about the same as my drive to work in pennsylvania.

i followed a young couple out of the station, the female pushing the baby’s stroller. the male wore a sweatshirt with a photograph of g.w. on the back and the words “we’re fucked.”

that’s so… 2002.

this is aught-seven, man. stay positive. only two years remain. with any luck, the new democratic majorities will castrate any delusions of power that bush retains. all he’ll have left is the veto. at least until lieberman decides to caucus with the republicans, giving them control of the senate.

so these two young things were walking and another young woman with short cropped hair tried to pass on the female’s right side, and the she clipped the girl trying to pass on the back of the foot with the stroller. it didn’t phase the lady in the least – she didn’t even miss a step. just kept on walking.

and the girl pushing the stroller didn’t miss a beat either, continuing on her way. the boy (father?) yelled. “i’m sorry miss. she does that all the time. hourly probably.” he paused. “she’s a real twat,” he yelled toward the woman with the short cut.

“fuck you, you prick,” the stroller-pusher bellowed.

happy new year. here’s to compassion in ’07. may it rest deep within all our souls.

and our twats.

title killed in kombat

2006-12-01T06:56:00.000-06:00

Mindy writes: “291 million "egg-laying" hens are trapped in cages so small that they
cannot flap their wings or even stand erect.”

i don’t eat eggs. i don’t eat meat. i don’t eat metal. i don’t eat children. i don’t eat vinyl.

but i’m lazy: i eat things with eggs in them. like cake. and chocolate.

actually i have no idea if chocolate has eggs in it. i bet it does. it has milk. i don’t drink milk. i think it smells funny. but i eat things with milk in it. like chocolate. and milkshakes. and chocolate milk two or three times a year.

but i don’t eat cereal. because one has to soak it in milk to eat it. i do miss eating a bowl of crunch berries now and then…

check out this video. i have to say – i have to say – i have to say it is one of the worst videos ever made. you don’t know what b6 is? and trust me, crunch berries blow kix out of the water.

but speaking of numbers (291 million), one year – i can’t recall which – i counted the number of christmas commercials i viewed. it was sometime in the early nineties. i remember seeing the first one in mid-november and thinking how early that seemed to be considering christmas. (though when i played little league, a couple of kids’ parents did their christmas shopping in july and august. really weird.) i decided then to count the number of ads until christmas day.

i counted 555 christmas commercials viewed that year. i probably watched more television then.

i have to leave for work now.

291 million egg-laying hens plus 555 christmas commercials equals my head explodes.

no, not scott bakula

2006-11-28T21:38:00.000-06:00

Marguerite writes: “Rainy season has started here – we may not see any significant sunshine until June 07 – that and just general povery and depression reminds of my favorite quote, by Samuel Beckett “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”

look at june 2007. looking at the results just on page one, i see the 19th annual FIRST conference is taking place.

that seems impossible.

also, the sakai foundation will be meeting in amsterdam. it seems like as good a place as any to brainstorm about the future in open-source education software.

it looks like rotarians will be meeting in salt lake city in june of 2007. honestly, i didn’t know what members of rotary international did until i read the wikipedia entry, but i know they are everywhere.

any Ratays reading? well please be sure to mark next june down on your calendar. because it’s the ratay family reunion. look out south hills.

and finally, there is Evolution 2007. interestingly held in christchurch, new zealand.

that would make a great sitcom.

i’ve never been to christchurch or new zealand. i assume some briton named this town christchurch. from everything i can glean from my world’s media, new zealand is a fairly liberal place, and they are probably very welcoming of all those biologists and naturalists, sitting around talking about science and philosophy.

i hear the 2007 evolution conference came down to salt lake city and christchurch. apparently the salt lake citiens weren’t interested in having all those scientists and philosophers roaming around the hallowed streets of mormon town.

instead, the rotarians are coming.

transition transition transition transition transition transition transition (Word doesn’t like the same word typed back-to-back seven times – it brought out its red pen six times).

i have seen one play this year. samuel beckett wrote it. i’ve always thought that he had really nice hair. he has a strong face. he looks the part of a writer.

if i was to cast a samuel beckett biopic, i’d choose jack palance.

but i guess that isn’t possible for a number of reasons.

i can’t go on.

and i won’t.

60604

2006-11-22T18:16:00.000-06:00

JoAnn writes: “I eat toasted cheese sandwiches a lot. I like toasted cheese sandwiches when they are hot, once they cool the cheese is like rubber. I don't like that. I keep them warm until I slice them in half, diagonally. Then I eat them, while they are warm.....remember I don't like them cold.”

i recently traveled to another office within our company for a presentation and interview. before the presentation began, the office director decided that everyone in the office would introduce themselves and name their favorite cheese. it was mainly for my benefit and the guy giving the presentation, as we were both out-of-towners. i suppose it lightens the mood for everyone as well.

many people named cheeses i have never heard of, nor can recall today, only five days later. i went with nothing fancy, but a classic: sharp cheddar. plus i was next-to-last and no one had chosen it.

(because i’m a vegetarian, cheese is by far my number one food intake. and potatoes. i love potatoes. with cheese.)

other things that occurred during my short, twenty-four hour trip to the midwest (i guess these are all plane-related):

-- the guy sitting beside me on the plane on the way out wouldn’t acknowledge me the entire trip, and that was fine by me because i despise small talk. i’m terrible at it. plus i was making my game plan for when i landed. so it worked out for the both of us. but he talked to himself, both asking and answering questions the entire trip. under his breath. all while playing on his laptop. my favorite exchange:

guy sitting next to me (after plane has been moving all over the runway for ten minutes): “jesus, are we going to taxi all over the entire airport?”

guy sitting next to me: “yes, we are going to taxi all over the airport.”

guy sitting next to me: “jesus, i get to see the whole damn thing, the whole airport.”

guy sitting next to me: “great. this is great. i was hoping to get in late.” guy chuckles. “do i have a target on me?”

guy sitting next to me: “yes, yes i do.”

-- also on the same flight, a man who spoke no english dumped his drink all over his lap and the lap of the fellow sitting beside him. hijinks ensued.

-- about ten minutes into the flight back, the flight attendant asked if there was a doctor on the plane. someone had a heart attack on the plane! luckily, there happened to be two doctors on board. the doctors worked in tandem and apparently saved her life. they got a small ovation when we departed the plane, except from the guy sitting to my right (see below).

-- the guy sitting to my right was a total douche bag. he took up all the arm room and wanted to talk the entire time. (the fact that he wanted to talk does not make him a douche bag. read on.) “so, you think the steelers are gonna take it this weekend?” and, “man, the browns suck.” and, “oh man, i do not feel like flying. this sucks. i just want to get home.”

but the topper, after the woman had the heart attack, was this gem: “oh sweet! i bet they clear us for landing so we’re in front of everyone else coming into pittsburgh. we might get home by ten!”

i told him as coldly as i could muster, “true, but they will probably have paramedics come onto the plane on the runway, so we’ll just have to wait while they do their thing. might actually cause us to be later.” not to mention, the source of your ‘oh sweet!’ is that A WOMAN HAD A HEART ATTACK.

his response: “oh fuck, you’re right. dammit.” apparently we moved into the comfort zone of being able to use words like the f-word on a crowded plane without my even knowing. he pouted and shifted in his seat during the thirty-five minutes we sat on the runway while the paramedics worked on the woman. he also added, “i don’t see why we have to wait here while they check her pulse.”

hopefully that guy has reproduced and is teaching the virtues of patience and compassion to his children that he so aptly demonstrated on our fifty-nine minute flight.

our baked potatoes are almost done.

__________________________________________________________________

short hiatus has ended. but posts will be periodic over the next month, what with the holidays and a move by january 1. more of those details soon.

stock market? hilarious.

2006-11-10T17:31:00.000-06:00

G Dev writes: “Hi, I would like to considered to be a writer for your magazine. My websites are given below for your review. The first one is a story of my investing in stock market. That article is probably the funniest article written on stock market experience.”

thanks for the email G. Dev. i must really have posted a poor solicitation to make you think i had a magazine…

if i did have a magazine, it would be called a cute amerika. but that is a future project, in the works. i swear. right jason?

actually, i don’t believe even know if jason knows this place where you are reading exists.

i’m getting off topic – it’s friday. my mind is wandering. have i mentioned i’m going to see borat in about two hours? less actually. i’m very excited. you are going to want to check out that webpage. did you know larry charles directed the film? didn’t he do cheers? no it was seinfeld.

jesus, i have no train of thought. work will beat you down like that i suppose. (yes, that is how easy my life is.)

yes, yes, i’ve never written any statement as bold as the statement that G Dev writes in his email to me: “That article is probably the funniest article written on stock market experience.”

take a moment and read G Dev’s article on “stock market experience.” it is the bottom article on his homepage.

yeah, i know, i was in stitches too.

that’s it – i’m phoning it in it seems. i’m so hungry for mexican food right now i have to go…

we scratched that itch...

2006-11-09T21:52:00.000-06:00

jim writes: “I love figure drawing! I am always so inspired when I have a live nude human before me to draw. Tell me what you think of my work.”

i’m totally inspired too when there is a live, nude human before me. but it isn’t to draw. it’s more an inspiration to gawk, laugh, turn away, or see if i have any ones on me.

here’s what also inspires me: the american electorate!

can you believe tuesday? i am still wiping my eyes with glee expecting to wake up and see that rick santorum is still my senator. for the first time in six years, we actually get to see the bush administration forced to work with others. you can expect yesterday morning they had to open their merriam-websters and seek out the definition of the word compromise.

other than ricky losing, and the democrats gaining subpoena power, the highlight of the night was jon tester defeating conrad burns in montana to take the senate seat. can you imagine that this guy is now a sitting united states senator?

jon tester is an organic farmer who looks like anything but a senator. i can’t wait to see what happens when he gets to washington.

the other positive is that george allen is no longer a senator – the guy was a total jerk. and republicans should be thankful his campaign self-imploded in ’06 rather than ’08, because he seemed to be cruising towards the republican presidential nomination. now if you are a republican (and i come from a long line of republicans in my family – not that there’s anything wrong with that), wouldn’t you rather see allen completely blow the senate race (and let’s face it – democrats didn’t have a chance of winning this race until about three months ago and allen’s macaca moment) rather than do this during the ’08 campaign? that’s what i thought.

i also really enjoyed the tandem of chris matthews and keith olbermann on msnbc on tuesday night. (i watched them for about nine hours, well past 3am.) they seemed to work well together. matthews was fun to watch because the guy obviously loves politics; olbermann was fun to watch because democrats were sweeping the floor up with the republicans.

alas, not everything went as i had hoped for on tuesday night: phil “the human house” english won handily in our district.

maybe ’08?

the six year itch

2006-11-06T23:13:00.000-06:00

John writes: “Theres the blindly patriotic republicans, the bumbling democrats, and the people in the middle trying to calm everyone down. It seems like everyday I read the news the world just gets more and more messed up.

How can we make sense of it? Can we trust the media? The left wingers tell us the media is warping and controlling our opinion to some sort of grand scheme. Maybe forty years ago we could have trusted our politicians, but nowadays they're paying more attention to special interest groups then to their own constituents. Everybody has an axe to grind, an angle to impose, a personal opinion to express. Non-biased opinions are growing into a very precious commodity, even more then they were 10-20 years ago.

Just the other day (yesterday to be specific) I got into an argument with a co-worker over the way in which the president has misused the tragedy of september 11, and all the sadness, fear and anger it caused, to pursue his, and the people in his administrations, personal vendettas. I argued that the president used this fear of further terrorist attack to take away American freedoms at home, which I must say is an icy, slimy, slippery slope (Patriot act, warrant less wiretapping, anyone?), and fight unnecesary battles
abroad. I say battles, not war, because I approved of the war in Afghanistan, but disprove of the war in Iraq, both of which I consider to be battles in the "war on terror". My coworker, in what must have been a tactic he took from President Bush, accused me of being un-american, and supportive of the terrorists. This is a coworker I've known for a while, we work well together, and both of us have a lot of respect for the other, but this issue drove us into a screaming match (screaming on his part, I feel its important to say) in less then ten minutes. And when I stop to think about it, if this is what such an issue can do to two friends, why hasn't it, on a national level, completely torn us apart? I geuss the answer is that it slowly is, but it still needs some sort of final tilting point.

So I find myself wondering what I can do. What should I do? Sometimes I wish I owned a few acres in Kentucky, just so I could build a house, and get away from all this.”

and i say,

GO VOTE.

saturday gives me a high five

2006-11-04T14:38:00.000-06:00

Collin writes: “Vegetable-based robots are the wave of the future, Lloyd.”

i give up.

i’ve been trying since i received this email (september 13) to think of the movie this quote came from. maybe it didn’t come from a movie. maybe collin made it up.

the only guess i have is dumb and dumber.

does anyone know?

dumb and dumber came out in 1994. i went to see this movie with my friends rob and corey. the theatre was packed and i recall everyone laughing hysterically. especially during the bathroom scene. that still makes me laugh.

speaking of bathroom scenes – my last four meals have gone like this:

thursday evening – vegetarian chili
friday lunch – vegetarian chili
friday dinner – vegetarian chili
saturday lunch – bean burrito, cheese enchilada, cheese quesadilla, rice

i am feeling clean as a whistle!

__________________________________________________

new driver’s license photo – i couldn’t be happier.

2006

a citizen of the world

2002

still thought it was a good idea to go to graduate school

1998

sweet! i can drink now. and i could pull off an orange shirt then. those days are over.

unfortunately, i can’t locate the 1994 license. it’s around here somewhere.

sidenote: about the driver’s license center in my town. it was a great experience. it took less than seven minutes total to walk in, answer a few questions, have the photo taken, wait for it to process, pick up the license, and walk out the door.

no problems at all. they get a bad rap sometimes. i can’t wait to go back. in 2010.

part of me dies as i recall moments of my past that are fading fast from my brain -- just kidding. have a great weekend everyone!

2006-11-03T17:37:00.000-06:00

P.B. writes: “You're my assassin, huh? Well I already executed my contract yesterday and I am planning an attack on my new mark today. I am leaving my office for the DMV today around 11 if you have the balls!”

did you ever play the assassination game, or a variation thereof? it was always a huge deal in our high school, though this was the mid-nineties – pre-columbine. (i would bet many schools frown on assassination games now.) what i’m talking about is the game where you are given a target and had to chase them down outside of school and work and shoot them with a squirt gun. i know – it probably sounds ridiculous if you have never participated in a game. but i’ll tell you, it was a blast. and very nerve-racking.

every spring everyone looked forward to the assassination game. it was something we counted on after a long winter. there were always very heated arguments concerning the times when one could legitimately “kill” another: “no way! i was walking to my car from mcdonald’s – i was at work! illegal kill! illegal kill!”

i was always amazed that someone my age could organize a game that fifty to one hundred people in my high school took part in. incredible. i couldn’t do that now.

actually, i don’t know fifty people.

inevitably, people would get pissed over results and feelings would be hurt. i can remember running through the mall with squirt guns chasing after our targets, attempting to assassinate people in hills (hills is where the toys are!).

i have a distinct memory of the hot sun beating down on my face, being chased through the wal-mart parking lot, diving into my car, only to have someone on an opposing team lying on the floor of my backseat and popping up and blasting me in the head with a stream of water. game over.

how could i be so stupid as to leave my car doors unlocked? one of my life’s regrets.

it seems P.B. runs some type of game like this. alas, it seems too complicated for me. it reminds me of contemporary video games. when i encounter video game systems now, i say things i would expect to hear come out of my father’s mouth: “there’s so many buttons.” or, “i remember when… (insert reference to fifteen-to-twenty-year-old video game here) was popular.”

remember space invaders? “i remember when space invaders…”

yeah, it’s over for me in the video game department. and most likely the assassination game department too.

__________________________________________________________________

i have to go to the dmv tomorrow. i wonder if getting my driver’s license photograph taken while having a beard is a bad idea? because i always shave it off after a few months and then go facial hair-free for months at a time. and i look like a child clean-shaven.

thanks buddy. gotcha.

2006-11-02T20:46:00.000-06:00

leslie writes: “You do a good job buddy. Keep up the good work!”

well, thank you leslie. these are very kind words.

but i feel as though i’m slacking off. maybe it is more realistic to think i’m going to post two-three times a week. four-five is probably way too ambitious.

i mean, look at this blog. it hasn’t updated since mid-october. (hint, hint.) come on, poop mouth – start creatin’.

lezzzlie, you’re email reminds me of this:

“hey buddy. how’s it going buddy? we’ll see you next week buddy.”

disinfectant. squirt-squirt. rub-rub. disinfectant, disinfectant.

inside jokes are like inside jobs. people don’t see them happening until they are complete. and even then, one can’t really understand what happened. this is turning into a work-centric post.

end it buddy.

sidenote to leslie: you keep up the good work too – you have been a thesis-writing machine this week! although you are probably having nightmares about turabian.

phil english scares me every day, not just on halloween

2006-10-30T21:42:00.000-06:00

death violet writes: “i want to go to italy to see the mummies.”

perfect, just in time for halloween.

i have had no feelings about halloween this year. there are too many other things happening and october has passed me by.

(starr, warning: this may have little to do with the email. but it is inspired by the email. that’s the rulez, right?)

i haven’t posted since tuesday? it seems like yesterday. much respect to those who can keep up a daily blog – you are amazing.

i generally like halloween. october is my favorite month, and here it is over. october is over. but there is still halloween tomorrow…i bet death violet is dressing up.

it is difficult to blog when the elections are only eight days away and one is attempting to buy a car. let me tell you, the rumors are true: car salespeople are intolerable. i almost bought a saturn from this dealership, but the guy has been harassing me for two days: “so what do you think? you wanna buy? let me just put all the paper work through and you can give me the yes or no whenever you are ready. no pressure. really, no pressure. but i will say, if you could tell us by tomorrow at five, it would really help my numbers – it’s the end of the month you know.”

listen: i know me buying a car will make you money. but don’t phrase it that way – we aren’t friends. i don’t care if i put you over the top, or help you reach some kind of quota. you have more money than me, probably drive a nicer car than i’m buying off of you, but please. try to pretend that you care that i’m doing what is best for me.

i’m so naïve to think one salesperson might work with me, rather than work to play me.

tonight, i went and looked at this other car – the one i’m most likely going to buy. the sales manager (the guy above the guy who was actually working with me to sell the car) came over and i recognized him immediately. i had seen him really drunk a number of times around town (i realized this later after i returned home). we both knew that we had seen each other immediately, but neither could actually place the other. before he even introduced himself, he said this: “hey, didn’t i get really drunk with you one time? (yes, well not with me per say. but i was around you at a bar where you got really intoxicated, told everyone about your shitty life at the time, and then put your arms around everyone there at some point.) i didn’t try to fight you did i? you know, i broke my rib yesterday laying insulation. my name is bill, i’m the sales manager around here.” all of that before i spoke a word.

i did like the salesman i dealt with – he wasn’t pushy and didn’t ask me if he had ever tried to fight me.

so maybe i’ll buy a car on halloween. i hope that doesn’t jinx the car or the purchase. it would spook me about buying cars forever.

what’s another seven or eight grand of debt when one is already paying off that graduate degree? until i’m in my forties…

sidenote: my dad, a republican who has voted for the incumbent representative each time he ran, yesterday showed me some hope. he was on the phone with his buddy discussing the latest steelers’ collapse and the conversation drifted into politics. i only heard his side of the conversation, but it went like this:

dad: “yeah, how’s he doing?”

pause.

dad: “he hurt his back?”

pause.

dad: “(chuckle) he probably hurt his back putting all those yard signs in.”

pause. more chuckling from dad.

dad: “yeah, i drove by his house yesterday and saw all those signs. swann, hart, english, santorium (yes, he pronounced it wrong. he always does. but i don’t care because he is voting for casey.) he probably has his lips on bush’s ass just like hart and english and santorium.”

it is unlikely that phil “pork chop” english can lose this year. but if my dad – who has voted for english the last four or five elections – is voting against him, maybe there is some hope.

the snow, the snow -- and then we change the clocks

2006-10-24T17:32:00.000-05:00

raj writes: “Rancid Horror Dog Barks the Truth.”

let’s see if a few glasses of wine and raj’s email can’t get something going.

1) the Truth: did you know that stephen colbert’s show – the colbert report – recently celebrated its paper anniversary? that was a quick year.

here’s some stephen:

how many times in the last year have you heard someone use the word truthiness?

2) when i searched the words that raj sent me on technorati, i get this post on this guy’s blog. it turns out it was from his first day of blogging. he continues to blog to this day. he writes a ton.

the internet is so weird.

3) this is the most effective campaign ad i’ve ever seen.

maybe it’s because i grew up watching family ties every thursday night, and thought back to the future was awesome. and teen wolf.

it is difficult to watch that ad and not become a one-issue voter.

4) starr just gave me a bottle of bombay sapphire gin. we are going to have high-quality gin and tonics over the next month or two. what a great girl.

enough, enough.

spacesick as carrie

2006-10-20T21:01:00.000-05:00

i haven’t written for a number of days – i’ve been sick and uninspired. i see why people get burned out so quickly. sometimes i feel like i don’t have anything to say. there is a dilemma: do i write something half-assed or do i wait and give it everything? i hate to post dog shit just for the sake of posting.

here’s an example of something i tried to write in the last four days:

Seth writes: “peanut butter jelly with a baseball bat.”

i have never eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my life. it’s the jelly – i’ve never liked it. it is cold and slimy. who wants to eat that?

there were maybe three or four times that i had a bit of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my life. i would be at a friend’s house, and his mom would make sandwiches, and i wouldn’t see the jelly in there. from the plate, it looked like a peanut butter sandwich. then i would dive in and have that cold jelly hit my tongue.

nasty.

let’s face it – i don’t have my A game right now. what is the problem? i can’t get anything going.

baseball bat

brats

the ramones

closet republicans

awful. reading that passage is like getting stuck on a transatlantic flight with laura schlesinger: you’d root for a heart attack or engine failure just to please, god, end it. i mean, jesus. terrible. and i tried a number of times. i just couldn’t write.

so i quit. and saved it.

but whatever. must. keep. going. maybe the inspiration hits now that this cold has finally broke and the weekend is here and i get a new driver’s license photo next week and the elections are just around the corner…

sidenote: Q – but you didn’t begin this post with an email?
A – so?

Q – does that mean you may have an entry now and then without an email?
A – i could if i wanted. i’m god around here, remember?

Q – it’s just that, i thought the point of this thing was to respond to an email from someone you don’t know?
A – hey, sometimes the people in charge cheat. bend the rules to suit their needs. that’s life pal – get used to it.

Q – but, that would be like the president saying we have to go to war for one reason, going to war, then changing the reason later on after the initial reason proved false.
A – (silence.)

the meaning of life -- it's down there somewhere

2006-10-16T19:28:00.000-05:00

Zoe writes: “How do you walk away from a boring life?”

for the last two hours, i’ve been mixing cold medicine with alcohol. and let me tell you, it isn’t boring right now.

this is terrible advice – don’t look toward narcotics to take away the boringness of it all. (to my delight, when i typed boringness microsoft word did not underline the word in that hideous red underline indicating i have spelled something incorrectly. i never would have imagined that boringness could be a word. i was just going with it. hey, sometimes following your instincts is the moral of the story – maybe even the answer to your question zoe.) i just really wanted a beer after work and the effects of this minor cold i’ve located in my body seem to be getting the best of me. whammo – now i’m floating.

i had a professor – dr. lanier – who taught me a number of things in graduate school. i had some of the best conversations with her sitting in her office, wasting her time. (she was the professor who took a liking to my use of lower-case missives.) there were times during the many months of writing my master’s thesis that i would discuss the process of writing with her. she told me how still, to that day, when she was having a problem getting started writing, she would simply begin free writing. i had always felt silly using free writing to get started on an academic assignment; no longer. why do i bring this up? because i fear this entry has devolved into one extensive free writing exercise. and that is okay.

(sidenote 1: after i completed my thesis, i bought the three professors a small gift to say “thanks for reading my boring-ass thesis topic about congregational ministers.” i bought one a nice bottle of wine, another a gift certificate to a local restaurant. for dr. lanier, i chose to purchase her an album that i listened to constantly while writing my thesis. of all my professors, i expected she would be the most accepting of this unique gift. i bought her godspeed you! black emperor’s lift your skinny fists… album. it seemed like a great idea at the time. she must have thought i was a real wackjob. dr. lanier never said if she listened to or enjoyed the album.)

(sidenote 2: other advice received from dr. lanier that i am unlikely to forget: going through a phd program can wreak havoc on a marriage/relationship and that worcester, massachusetts is pronounced wu-sta.)

where was i? boring life, yes. have you read any good books lately? a great piece of fiction can go a long way to improving your mindset. i recently began cat’s cradle, one of the last three vonnegut (he shares a birthday with my dad – not the year, just the day) books i have yet to read. i have really been saving the last three because there is nothing like reading one of his books for the first time. i haven’t finished it yet, but here are my favorite few lines thus far:

“dr. hoenikker used to say that any scientist who couldn’t explain to an eight-year-old what he was doing was a charlatan.”

“then i’m dumber than an eight-year-old,” miss pefko mourned. “i don’t even know what a charlatan is.”

other things that seem to make people happy about their lives:

- take pictures
- laugh a lot
- turn a blank sheet of paper into something that never existed (story, poem, drawing, comic)
- exercise
- look for a new job
- mix cold medicine with beer
- watch a wes anderson movie
- start a blog – come on, everyone’s doing it. and you get to be god of your blog. do whatever you want. it’s great for control freaks.
- make plans and hope

(sidenote 3: the last one in the list is the meaning of life. i know i subtly dropped that one in there, but those two things are the key to happiness and moving forward.

free writing ends here. time to eat the food.

i blog my photoshop class

2006-10-12T15:52:00.000-05:00

Nicole writes: “For the love of Pete…”

...do i really have to sit through this boring-ass non-credit community-level adobe photoshop class tonight, when the penguin game and the casey-santorum debate is on television? and my girlfriend is sick? and the person i work with – sarah – is skipping class? who will i talk to?

yes, i must go to class. what follows is a play-by-play of my class, typed as it occurred.

6:05pm: the instructor hasn’t arrived yet. maybe he won’t come!

shit. i hear him in the hall.

class attendance has decreased significantly since our first class six weeks ago. the first night twelve people attended. tonight, six.

our instructor’s dress code has also decreased since that first night. during our first class, he wore a nice shirt and tie, along with dress pants. tonight? sweatshirt, jeans, baseball cap. they’re not paying him enough.

6:07: two stragglers roll in. lucy (the crazy lady) still hasn’t showed up. actually, her name is sandra.

6:11: our instructor, ken, has checked his phone twice already. it is obvious he wants to leave as much as we do.

6:13: great. i feel like a total douchebag. ken just informed us that a student of his (he teaches somewhere else during the day) has died in a car accident this week. his quote: “this week has been hell.” then he answered a phone call.

all bets are off now – anything could happen in this class. will my guilt dissipate by the end of the class? stay tuned.

6:14: the older gentleman who seems like an all-around good guy informs ken and the class that sandra will not be attending class tonight due to sickness.

others have since arrived. now everyone else is here. looks like sandra and my friend sarah are the only ones who didn’t make it tonight.

6:17: ken gives us his phone number in case we have to contact him. tonight’s class is the next-to-last class. thanks. ken also informs us that he teaches both high school and college.

i expect the updates to slow down now. i think he might begin instruction.

6:22-6:36: the class waits while our instructor works through a lesson before we do it, to make sure it works. ken concludes we cannot use this lesson because we are working on pc’s. the lesson is for a mac. fourteen minutes down the tube. i wonder what my sick girlfriend is doing right now. oh that’s right, she is sick. i should be taking care of her. instead, i’m here. i’m a terrible person.

easy dude. ken has had a tough week. chill out.

6:40: ken is now downloading a video for us to watch. waiting, waiting, waiting.
just remember greg: there are four molson goldens in the refrigerator for you if you can make it until 9:00pm.

6:46: still waiting. the older guy up front has the video playing on his computer, and he is now attempting to help our instructor get the video playing on the projector screen on the wall.

6:49: our instructor proclaims: “no. you aren’t going to stop me tonight. i will not be defeated.” i’m not sure if he is talking to us or god. ken is now disconnecting the projector from his computer and connecting it to the old guy’s computer.

6:52: the video is now playing. fifty-two minutes into class, we begin.

6:55: i ask ken a question. i can tell by his tone he dislikes me.

6:57: ken accidentally started the movie over.

7:27: i have successfully made a mountain with a flag on it using photoshop. and you wanted to miss this, sarah?

7:29: ken laughed and said, “isn’t this fun?” then he laughed some more.

i’m hungry. and I have to urinate. but i don’t want to miss anything. i’m terrified that next week (the last class), ken is going to give us some sort of quiz to determine if we have learned anything. i am going to fail and my company is not going to reimburse me for the $130 i paid for the class and the $30 i paid for the book. i’ll slit my wrists to get that $160 back. whatever is necessary. that is like, three or four people’s worth of christmas gifts.

7:33: we’re watching another video lesson. we watched the flag-on-a-mountain video six times. in a row. while we all tried to follow along. we watched it six times because there was no way to pause the video as we tried to execute each step. yeah, technology – sometimes it blows my mind too.

imagine watching an extremely boring five-minute video explaining how to use a computer program. now take what that feels like, and multiply it by six. welcome to my thursday night.

7:36: we passed the half-way point of class!

7:41: ken decides we will watch another video.
7:45: video over. ken’s response: “wooowwww. that was boring.” you said it man. “i wouldn’t have done it that way. let me show you another way.” my head hits the keyboard in frustration.

7:53: sweet! back in ken’s good graces. by demonstrating my use of the pen tool, he said to me, “great! you got it.”

he looks tired. now i feel really bad. though at this point, we are really just wasting time and everyone here knows it.

7:59: our instructor leaves to take another phone call. the old guy announces to the class, “i don’t like drawing.” a few laughs. i wish he would have said something else like, “my finger smells like the inside of my wife.” that would have made me laugh.

8:01: ken is back. fifty-nine minutes to go.

8:03: ken decides on another video. sarah, you chose the right class to skip. this is a joke.

8:11: my computer froze and then i gave myself a paper-cut. video lesson number four is now on. this one was prefaced with, “oh let’s see. let’s see what this one does. it’s really only for advanced students, but we’ll watch it anyway.”

the guy in front of me leaves. he claims “i have to pick up my wife.” yeah, right. great, now ken will be able to see if i’m paying attention. though, i’m happy that guy left because his cologne was kind of strong.

speaking of which, my armpits are kind of strong at this point of the day.

8:17: now i’m paranoid because despite trying to type quietly, i think my keystrokes are really loud. oh screw it, who cares. ken’s looking at his phone again.

8:19: the instructor’s computer is now frozen.

8:29: at least i can check the score of the penguin game during class on yahoo sports. school is so much better now than the 1950s, or even 1996 for that matter. you can watch games in class and look up everything on wikipedia. sometimes earth is really great.

8:32: the instructor is now sending a text message. why did you even have class tonight?

8:34: ken leaves for a phone call. i’m not exaggerating either with this phone business. the lady in front of me decides she is leaving. i am so jealous that she has made this decision, but let’s face it: she has more balls than i.

8:35: now the lady beside the lady that left is shutting down her computer and getting her things together. ken the instructor still isn’t back.

i’m out of here.

this decision makes me feel so good i feel as though i’ve found jesus. walking across the dark, cold parking lot, life seems pretty good.

the whole brevity thing, man

2006-10-10T18:45:00.000-05:00

Lisa writes: “I like to e-mail. I am currently looking for a new pet to service me around the house. I think an asian monkey would be cool but whatever.”

you like to email? cool, send some more. tell your friends and family to email me.

as for your other desire, well, i’m not really that kind of website. but i bet a quick google search of something like “bestiality asian monkey,” or “monkey to service me” would hook you up with the type of people who could make that happen for you.

i’m not here to judge; i’m here to help.

okay, i am here to judge actually. i intend to use this as a writing exercise and personal forum to judge the world. isn’t every blog just a sick, greasy mirror of judgment?

related: i received this other email a while back.

Pupbert writes: “A post involving monkeys (flying perhaps) would be great.”

now, this may sound crazy but i think lisa and pupbert may just be destined for one another. feel free to contact me – maybe i can give each of you the other’s email address? whatever you want. like i said, i’m here to help.

the aroma of my education

2006-10-09T19:50:00.000-05:00

dead chalk writes: “the worst part is the smell.”

i’ll tell you what i smell, and it doesn’t smell good: college loan debt. if you ever want to be sick in the stomach, think about the fact that only about 65% of that check you write every month counts against what you originally borrowed. yeah, that 3.0 interest rate you locked into last summer when everyone said “you better consolidate your loans, rates are going to skyrocket”? it does a good job of hiding what we all owe.

talk about starting off on a downer. sorry. i just paid my loan, so i’m a bit jaded. also, looking at my account i see that my projected date of total loan repayment is july of 2025. i’ll be forty-eight years old. just in time for my as-yet-unborn children to graduate high school and enter their first year of college. my advice to them will most likely be: you better start stripping or selling weed. or join the military. they’ll probably be so hard-pressed for recruits they’ll be offering million dollar sign-on bonuses by then.

seeing the letters A-E-S together is enough to make my stomach do loops. but i’m coping.

that smell? maybe it’s fear.

other observations:

* slash doesn’t make me want to buy a volkswagen. if you watched any football at all yesterday, you saw slash rock out in front of a number of volkswagens about twenty times. (despite seeing this commercial twenty times on sunday, i didn’t know that you could get a free guitar by buying a volkswagen until watching it on youtube. why? as soon as it would come on, i’d say: “oh christ, slash.” click.)

* david shuster has been great on msnbc the last few weeks (hardball and keith olbermann). though, during each interview he seems as if has been sucking down cocaine all day. whatever – he’s good and i want my politics from the best during this last month.

* jackass number 2 was a fantastic movie. i don’t think i laughed non-stop in a movie since, well, the first jackass. if you enjoy poop, penises, and punching people in the privates, you will most likely find this movie enjoyable.

* funny.

* that’s it. i’m still pissed about the loans.

buffering

2006-10-07T22:31:00.000-05:00

Steven writes: “I once had a preacher's son tell me that the solution to the world's energy problem was simple: convert all fossil fuels back into dinosaurs. Any thoughts?”

it is impossible to have any thoughts on fossil fuels or dinosaurs or preachers when the damn blood brothers myspace page won’t play the album i’m trying to listen to!

come on! here i am, sitting at home on a saturday night post-penguins game, pre-saturday night live, trying to kill some time. and right there, staring back at me on the front page of myspace is a myspace exclusive album that i actually am interested in listening to. now, here it is, 11:01pm saturday night. this website couldn’t possibly be that crowded could it? aren’t the cool people who use myspace out on the town at this time, drinking yeager bombs, wearing pink shirts, flipping people off, throwing out white gang signs, and banging chicks?

yes is the answer. the kids are out there right now. therefore leaving myspace with little traffic, just the losers and pedophiles, allowing me to listen to this entire album uninterrupted before tuesday when it comes out. youtube just worked fine. so myspace should work fine.

but no, it plays through one song and then stops and says this to me:

buffering.

only it doesn’t stop buffering. i wait five minutes because i’m a patient man. nothing. so i refresh and listen to the first song again (the forward track button has been disabled for whatever reason). and the first song is really good, and i like it even more the second time i hear it and now i want more. i want the second song through the fifteenth song!

alas, after the first song, more buffering.

damn it myspace. i know where the canaries and the crows go for exclusive downloads, and it isn’t myspace.

so steven, in light of my mood swing unfortunately colliding with your email, i leave you with this:

dinosaurs are dead. religion is dead. chivalry is dead. the fossil fuels are powering my internet and they’re letting me down because of all this buffering. we’ll all be dead in eighty years.

but hey, at least gas prices are going down in time for november 7.

sigh. gag. blech.

2006-10-04T21:31:00.000-05:00

Jessica writes: “Isn't onomatopoeia one of the coolest words ever? Let me know.”

i have been staring at this email since august 26. it is the oldest email in my inbox, just sitting there at the bottom staring at me each time i check. it pleads with me, begging: “please use me.”

me: “but i don’t want to.”

email: “why? what have you got against me? i offer you a question, your favorite type of emails to answer.”

me: “yeah, but, i just haven’t felt a spark with you. (i look at the ground with my hands in my pockets; push some gravel around with my shoe.) it isn’t right to force it, you know what i mean?”

email: “please. (frustrated.) you probably just don’t know what onomatopoeia means.”

me (taking offense): “that’s a joke. i learned it in ninth grade, english class. mrs. thomas. (i remember a student telling me she reminded her of a bird.) i don’t recall what story or play we were reading that led to onomatopoeia coming up in the discussion, but that’s when i learned it. next thing you know you are going to tell me i don’t know what chips are to the britons.”

email: “well, still. you’ve had a month and a half with this email. you couldn’t come up with anything better?”

me: “i’ve tried. i have sat in front of my computer with this email open numerous times. i just didn’t know where to go with it. i thought: well, you have relatives who live on whippoorwill street. you could go there. but it just didn’t work…”

email (cuts me off): “the least you could do is answer jessica’s question.”

me: “i suppose you’re right. (trying to change the subject) it isn’t that i didn’t appreciate the email…”

email: “you’re changing the subject…”

me: “okay, okay. jessica, in answer to your question, no. in the list of coolest words out there, i’m not into onomatopoeia. i just have felt like it was always overrated. like the smart kids always threw that word out when they wanted to sound, well, smart. the people that used onomatopoeia in high school are the same people who now use the words facetious, impetus, clandestine, vertiginous – come on. you know the type.”

email: “don’t you use those words now and then?”

me (face turning red): “jesus, what are you? you’re probably one of those who think the foley im’s are more than just naughty emails.”

email: “damn straight they’re more than naughty emails.”

me (defeated by this precocious email): “well, okay.”

email: “this post is such a cop-out. a conversation with an email? please. i’ve read better stuff on pajamas media.”

me: “that’s highly unlikely.”

email: “okay, you got me there.”

presidential dippin' dots and a great american

2006-10-02T19:52:00.000-05:00

AMiles writes: “Does the country really believe that if Hillary Clinton runs for Pres that Big Daddy Bill will run the country. I really think is rant on T.V. proves he is guilty as sin. He has BinLaden several times, but he could not keep it in is pants so BinLaden took a back seat and we lost thousands of lifes. I think if Hillary won the election, Big Daddy will be dipping his dot again, no doubt and lining his pockets with Silver.”

i totally agree with AMiles and have been eagerly awaiting the moment when someone would suck it up and demonstrate the proper courage to elucidate these charges: bill clinton, when faced with the opportunity to stop osama bin laden, assessed the situation and determined that sliding a delicious cuban up the vagina of a white house intern was more important than deterring the most heinous terrorist attack on american soil in united states history.

scream it from the mountaintops!

i watched chris wallace’s interview with clinton this week on the sieg heil news channel. clinton could hardly keep it in his pants while talking to wallace. the ex-prez was off his rocker! pointing, and red-faced, obviously turned on by wallace.

it is obvious to anyone with a brain that hillary clinton is going to run for president with the intention of allowing bill clinton to run the world from the position of first gentleman. and my sources tell me that he intends to, in fact, line his pockets with silver once elected. he intends to force hillary to make as the centerpiece of her campaign a strong support for the free silver movement. by doing so, his recent investment in a large silver deposit will prove to be totally corrupt – obviously the only reason hillary will support silver to be minted freely at the rate of $1 per troy ounce is so that bill can procure a large profit from his investments. (this is a completely unsubstantiated accusation.)

there are unconfirmed reports that if elected, hillary will nominate william jennings bryan as her secretary of state.

come on people, as AMiles stated: “we lost thousands of lifes” because of this guy. do we really want him anywhere near the oval office again, what with millions of american lifes at stake? i don’t know about you, but i don’t want “slippery dick” bill clinton in charge of my life, my girlfriend’s life, or any of my family’s lifes. lifes are too important to sit still while hillary clinton plots the reemergence of bill. we must stand tall and strong – lifes depend on it!

thank you AMiles – you’re a great american.

w.w.j.d.? (what would justin do?) he'd bring the sexy.

2006-09-30T14:43:00.000-05:00

Mule writes: “Would you please provide your reading audience with a close and indepth reading of Justin Timberlake’s new hit single Sexyback? I almost think that i have a good grip on the song but then lose the songs intent with the announcement of both the bridge and the chorus…. perhaps there is something deeper, more primitive that I’ve missed during my many listenings and interpretations of the song. ”

mule provided a link to the lyrics here. i’ve studied them. now, i have heard quite a bit about this song, but hadn’t heard it yet (until earlier this week when i took on this haunting, yet necessary task). on the day i received this email, starr played a few seconds for me. but this week, against my better judgment (my heart tells me this is a song with the potential to get in my brain and latch on for days and days), i’ve listened to the song in its entirety a number of times on starr’s itunes.

my initial reaction is that, like mule, a mere mortal won’t be able to discern justin’s true intentions. he’s really working a different level here.

the lazy listener is going to come away with this: sexy has been gone now for awhile. some other individuals don’t know how to bring it back for us. luckily for the general citizenry, justin has taken the time to locate the sexy and bring it back to us.

that is a straightforward analysis of the song. do i think justin intended more? definitely. he didn’t abandon ‘n sync so he could produce something so one-dimensional. it is apparent justin wanted to get a little deeper, you know, to grow as an artist. ‘n sync was holding him back.

i think the best way to approach this is take it line by line.

I’m bringin’ sexy back
Them other boys they don’t know how to act

this is the first reference (of three) in the song to someone else, in this case, “other boys.” justin is apparently calling out the “others.” has someone wronged him? is he implying that his ex-bandmates wouldn’t know sexy if they woke up in bed with it? hopefully, he gets more specific as the song proceeds, but i think justin is purposely vague here – he wants the reader to assign meaning.

I think it’s special… what’s behind your back
So turn around and i’ll pick up the slack

here, the vagueness continues. does he like a particular woman’s backside? or is the said woman holding something behind her back – maybe a present? is it even a woman justin is talking to? i don’t know. i haven’t seen the video – maybe that holds a key to understanding. but this also alludes to some possible homosexual undertones: “so turn around and i’ll pick up the slack.” what is justin saying here?

Dirty Babe
You see these shackles baby I’m your slave
I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave
It’s just that no one makes me feel this way
(take it to the chorus)

justin allows us a view into his personal, physical desires in this stanza: the man likes S&M. and by him deliberately demonstrating his fondness for leather and pain and domination in his song, he opens the door for the millions out there ashamed of what enjoying the same thing. you see, justin likes to play a slave, he likes whips. he probably messes around with a ball gag now and then. and you know what? that’s okay. i really admire when a celebrity can admit to something that the american public considers a taboo. it just makes it easier for everyone to accept as normal. i wish other celebrities would do as justin does here, and tear down these walls of bigotry. (i’m looking at you oprah.)

Come here girl, go head be gone with it
Come to the back, go head be gone with it
VIP, drinks on me
Lemme see what you’re twerking with
Look at those hips
Make me smile
Go ‘head child and get your sexy on

here justin allows his celebrity to get the best of him, and show off a bit. “VIP, drink on me” – dude, we get it, you’re wealthy. and popular. but even the most humanitarian of celebrities need to gloat a bit, and i’m willing to forgive. besides, you are teaching me new words in this stanza! i had to do some investigating to discover that twerking is a type of dancing that focuses on the rear end. another reference to butts? hmmm, maybe justin enjoys asses. it’s common. don’t sweat it.

I’m bringing sexy back
Them other fuckers don’t know how to act
Girl let me make up for all the things you lack
Because you’re burning up I got to get it fast

stop right here – justin is angry. the use of explicit lyrics (two f-words that i heard throught the song) shows he just can’t take it anymore. these “other fuckers” have pushed him to the limit. again, though, no hint as to whom they might be. are they the ones who stole sexy in the first place? it’s unlikely we are going to find out, but i smell dissertation in the future tackling this topic.

then there is a repeat of the bridge, chorus, and first stanza to close out the song. and frankly, the average listener wouldn’t be able to take much more anyway – it’s almost too much sexy. what with it gone for so long, one can’t just be presented with all this sexy – especially justin timberlake sexy – and expect to keep it together for too long. by the end of one listen, i unknowingly had removed my shirt, was grinding against the lamp, and started taking my pants off too when the song ended and my senses came back to me.

in conclusion, i don’t know for certain what this song is about. justin is just too nuanced to pigeon-hole this into one meaning. there are many things the song represents, one being that this song is a metaphor for life, and i think that is what justin wants us to take from it. when we have lost something, don’t stand around sulking. go get it. justin went and got the sexy and brought it back, but, he’s not always going to be around. don’t be afraid to take chances – that’s the overall message.

have a good saturday, i have some twerking to take care of now.

backdoor bleaching

2006-09-27T18:40:00.000-05:00

todd writes that at a recent party, the following topic came up: “Anal Bleaching.”

initially, i thought you just came up with these two words because they were funny when you put them side-by-side. then i typed “anal bleaching” into trusty old wikipedia.

this is real.

i suppose i shouldn’t be surprised. but seriously. bleaching your butthole? how could that possibly ever enter your mind as something that would enhance your physical identity?

in the break-room:
worker: “dude, your dump-hole is looking a little dark.”
co-worker (blushing): “are you serious? you can tell? dammit, i didn’t think you could tell as long as my pants were on…”
worker (judging): “well, it stands out.”
co-worker: “just the other day in the bathroom, i was bending over in front of the mirror examining the skin that surrounds my anus. and my first thought was, jesus, it’s getting a little dark.”
worker: “i wasn’t going to say anything, but, i know you are up for that promotion, and yesterday i saw the boss giving you a condescending look while you were xeroxing those expense reports.”
co-worker: “shit…”
worker: “hey, easy buddy. it isn’t like you don’t have options.”
co-worker (laughs uncomfortably): “oh yeah, what, am i gonna paint my pucker white or something? look to the heavens for the white-ass fairy to appear?”
worker (dead serious): “bleaching my friend. ANAL bleaching. (pulls down pants and underwear in one motion, bending over.) you think this shit is natural? (he points to it.) look at the whiteness, the supple pink anus areola.”
co-worker (getting out his reading glasses for a closer look and crouching in front of his friend’s ass): “damn, are you serious? that isn’t natural? god, it looks so good. so real.”
worker: “yeah, i got a great anal bleaching guy down on second street near the hot dog connection.”
co-worker: “and it doesn’t hurt?”
worker: “not after the initial waxing. i have cindy apply it every morning after my shower. (laughs, with the understanding that women love bleached assholes) cindy loves this shit. how could you not?”
co-worker (jealous): “pffft. i know, i know. that must cost a fortune though.”
worker: “if 49.95 is too expensive for a white dump-button, not to mention that last hurdle for your promotion (winks to co-worker), then i guess you just don’t want it…”
co-worker: “that’s it? 49.95 for a nice, clean, artificially-bleached white anus? i’d be losing money by not getting my butthole bleached.”
worker (stoically pointing at his co-worker): exactly dude.
co-worker: “why are your pants still down?”

tabitha stevens has had it done. so yeah, if you are going to have some twelve-inch penis monster railing you for a living – in the “no-no” area – then, of course, anal bleaching is totally justifiable.

but if your significant other is giving you shit over this, it may be time to consider some relationship changes.

thanks todd, for teaching me something tonight. i had no idea. but, why were you discussing this at a recent party? not that i’m judging or anything – it’s totally cool.

3rd-grade suicide (the fake kind)

2006-09-25T19:47:00.000-05:00

Dawn writes: “You were a suicidal dream.”

when i was in 1st grade, there was a crazy girl that rode my bus. her name was toni jo. i thought she was crazy because she had two boy names for her first name. i recall that i disliked her glasses as well. they were big and plastic like the ones my dad wore, and i didn’t like them. (i had vowed long before that if i ever had to wear glasses, i would refuse to accept any big, ugly plastic frames. in 3rd grade, i got glasses – big, ugly, gray wire frames.)

it turned out that she was crazy for other reasons besides the two boy names and her stupid glasses. toni jo was the type of girl who lied and yelled and exaggerated for attention. she was always doing this or that, things that no one in elementary school could be doing. “i read the entire bible last night.” “my mom let me drive to the store to get her cigarettes.” “i’m dating a fifteen-year-old boy.” all lies.

she continued to ride my bus, and one morning in 3rd grade she trounced (her walking anywhere was always a big production) onto the bus with these white bandages all over her neck. it looked as if a child had placed the bandages – they were falling off and were affixed to the skin by at least two rolls of white adhesive medical tape. toni jo threw her bag down, turned and announced to the bus: “everyone: i tried to commit suicide last night. i didn’t though.” no shit. “i’m fine now, but i broke a mirror.” she turned around and sat down.

the bus was abuzz with whispered chatter. “is she crazy?” “i don’t want to sit beside her today in class.” “i hate her.” “what’s suicide?”

later, we learned more details from her. apparently, in a rage, she locked herself in the bathroom. then she took the bathroom scale and slammed it against the mirror, shattering the glass. with a broken shard, she began slicing her skin from ear-to-ear. she explained that as she got to her adam’s apple, her life flashed before her eyes and she threw down the broken shard of glass and collapsed in shock. her mom’s boyfriend broke down the door, and they bandaged her up, saving her life.

most of us were mesmerized with her story, though skeptical. the majority of 3rd graders hadn’t yet contemplated suicide. i know i had to look up suicide in the dictionary. after learning what the word meant, i thought: this girl is a liar. (once around this age, my mom was trying to make me put my toys away and get ready for bed, and i didn’t want to. in an attempt to make her feel bad, i yelled from the living room to where she was in the kitchen: “you never let me do anything! i wish i was dead.” it was one of only two times to this day that i have heard my mother swear. she dropped whatever she was doing, and i heard the determined heavy steps that meant trouble. within a second, she was yanking me by the arm and pointing into my wide-eyed face: “damn it gregory edward, don’t you ever say anything like that again in your life.” she didn’t blink when she said it to me. and i haven’t yet said anything like that, even once.)

(and yes, i count “damn it” as a swear when discussing words that i’ve heard out of my mother’s mouth. the other time i heard her curse was when i left a toy john deere tractor on the floor and she stepped on it. her foot bled. “shit! gregory edward: get in here now!” two times. that’s it. in twenty-eight years.)

the next day toni jo got onto the bus without any bandages on her neck. miraculously, there were no markings around her throat – apparently the wound had healed over night. completely and without a trace.

toni jo was in my dream last night. it must have been the first time i’ve thought of her in a decade. in my dream, she was dating keith olbermann of course.

thank god rick santorum doesn't compose music

2006-09-24T09:08:00.000-05:00

Erica writes: “I have this goddamn song stuck in my head. ‘If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that i’d like to do…’”

it’s been five days since you emailed me. this song surely must be out of your mind by this point.

so allow me to drive it back in!

IF I COULD SAVE TIME IN A BOTTLE,
THE FIRST THING THAT I’D LIKE TO DO…

i don’t know this song, but, based on lyrics alone, it sounds awful. i expect the next line might be:

IS SAVE ALL THE WONDERFUL CHILDREN,
AND TEACH THEM HOW TO READ.

i’m afraid to google the lyrics because what if i do know it, and it is a terrible song, and then it gets stuck in my brain? i don’t need that.

i do, though, at all times throughout my day have a song in my head. always. i’ve told people this and few believe me.

so for the rest of my saturday (as i am writing this on saturday), when i remember, i will note the time and song in my head. it’s possible that it will be the same song each time. (oh, i hope not – that would be boring to read.)

3:45pm: C’mon Come on (Loose an Endless Longing) by the silver mt. zion. i didn’t know that song title off the top of my head. i was listening to the cd and that song was going into my ears at 3:45.

4:20pm: God bless our dead marines by the silver mt. zion. i’m already singing the song in my head that i originally was trying to get out by playing another album by the same artist. i have had this song in my head off and on for about three weeks now.

6:08pm: 10,000 Days by tool. i had to put in a cd.

11:46pm: a song off of bitches brew – i don’t know the name of it. it is the first disc – i have no recollection of song titles off of any miles davis albums. inevitably, having a drunken conversation with my friend rob leads to a discussion of miles davis; tonight was no different. my other friend tom gives me a hard time because i never listened to miles davis until i was twenty-three or twenty-four. he’s says i just like him because it’s cool. what does he know anyway? do kids like miles davis right now? i don’t know. i have only seen one person wearing a miles davis t-shirt in my life.

8:43am (sunday): Friendship by tenacious d. i woke up this morning with this in my head. i also had a dream about rick santorum. i guess any dream with rick santorum is more of a nightmare. i went to this bookstore and there was a very long line of elderly people holding statistics textbooks. red book, white lettered-title: Statistics by Rick Santorum. i’m not sure if it was a book about the discipline of statistics, or a list of statistics brought to you by rick santorum. i’d like to think the latter. i imagine a few of rick’s statistics to be:

• women are 50% more likely to die of aids by earning a college degree
• 93% of women who engage in pre-marital sex get cancer
• teaching women to read leads to a 66% rise in homosexual crime
• women cause all hurricanes

i hate when rick santorum enters my bedroom and slips into my dreams. it is a strange way to begin a day.

enjoy your sunday – i hope you have great songs playing in your brains. if you are bored, google “santorum.” leave off the rick.

jim caviezel and those allergic to his films

2006-09-22T21:47:00.000-05:00

Jill writes: “Do you have any idea what I might be allergic to?”

i began thinking about this early this morning. i cannot come up with an answer.

i’m not allergic to anything, so maybe i am not qualified to answer jill’s question.

when i was young, i used to want to have allergies. it seemed lots of my friends had allergies and sneezed and took medicine. i never have taken any allergy medicine in my life. i’ve never had benadryl, not even once. i have always felt like i was missing out.

today, i’m obviously glad i don’t have any allergies.

but back to me thinking about jill’s email: ever since this morning, when i began thinking about it, the face of jim caviezel has been on my brain. i have no idea of the link between jim caviezel and jill’s allergies.

i admit i’ve always had an aversion to jim caviezel. first, his name. strike one, right off. it isn’t easy. go ahead – try it. only the film majors and those who watch access hollywood will know how to pronounce it.

then i looked at his filmography. yeah, it sucks. you read it right. i haven’t seen him in a movie since pay it forward. there must be a reason for that. but i see him all over the place, though much less since the hype has died down from the passion of the christ. each interview i would see with him, he would just be, so, i don’t’ know, pompous? holier-than-thou? (i swear i wasn’t trying to make a joke there, it just happened.)

i thought: maybe i don’t see any movies with jim caviezel because i’m allergic to him. this, however, is unlikely.

all of this inspired me to create my first comic since i was a little kid. see below.

sidenote: welcome to everyone visiting via bad mother coitus. enjoy your stay – feel free to stop back.

uppercase racist

2006-09-20T21:36:00.000-05:00

KtP writes: “What do you have against capital letters? Did they shun you in a past life?”

yes, yes, capital letters are the devil. i’ve heard this question numerous times over the last decade.

at some point in the late nineties (somewhere between misplacing virginities and discovering internets), i began to feel this prejudice towards capital letters. i’m not sure where or why it developed. i just established an aversion to capital letters. i felt like they were constantly yelling at me. AAARRRGGGHHH seems much more imposing than aaarrrggghhh. (not to mention one can type so much more quickly without worrying about those pesky shift+letter capital moments.)

then i stumbled upon charles bukowski and he taught me (not personally) that it was okay to write anything in lowercase letters. he wrote entire stories in lowercase letters, and had them published! that was circa 2000.

then: during grad school, after a long conversation about email etiquette with the professor i was a t.a. for, i made a decision that it shouldn’t be offensive if i used all lowercase letters in an email. email was supposed to be informal and a time-saver. if i wanted to be formal, i could type out a letter. with capital letters, return addresses, salutations – all the bells and whistles.

later on in my graduate school career, another professor said this to me in a conversation one day in her office: “you know, i really enjoy getting your emails the most. i love that you use lowercase missives exclusively.” at the time, i didn’t know what missives meant. i assumed that it referred to letters. but this was the introduction to the term “missives,” and it was the proverbial nail in the coffin that convinced me it wasn’t a felony to ignore uppercases and that no one would die if i typed things in lowercase letters. it is unlikely i will ever forget that conversation – it is so vivid in my brain that i remember noting the weather out her office window.

there you go.

they hate our freedom

2006-09-18T18:48:00.000-05:00

asp attorney discussed the iraq war with some adults recently. after relating some of the conversation, asp attorney writes: “If we are so rotten and so ‘big brother’ driven and we are forcing our views on this countries people who do not want it, then why are there so many Iraqi people in America? Why do they come searching for a better way of life?”

for the record, any spelling errors or grammatical miscues inside the quotations are the work of the email contributors. the mistakes you find littered throughout the post, well, those ones are all mine. feel free to email me letting me know everywhere i screwed up. i like getting email – even mean ones. though, i’ve yet to receive any. but it’s coming, i can feel it.

as for this email: can i call you Asp? i think i will. your name must be Asp Attorney. let’s pretend it is. there is an easy answer to your question why so many iraqis come to america.

they come for the new fall television programming!

surely they are as excited as i for The Class on CBS. if you watched any AFC football yesterday, you likely saw the advertisement for this show. about fifty times. it was the one where all the twenty-something white people danced around and posed together and laughed and high-fived in a room with a white floor, white ceiling, and white walls. i think they took a discarded friends intro and re-filmed with these new, no-name actors.

the premise is fantastic, surefire gold: eight people (four men, four women) all were in the same third-grade class. then they went off into the world. but fate can be so strange sometimes! now, almost twenty years later, they all happen to find themselves in each other’s lives. crazy, i know!

upon closer inspection, the same guy who created friends created the class. that should answer everything. this show couldn’t really have created a bidding war to find a network? are networks that desperate to come up with new ideas? oh i guess they are.

you see Asp? iraqis love american-style sitcoms. and this one looks fantastic, doesn’t it?

but there are other reasons besides the new fall line-up that persuade iraqis to come to america. they also like to watch american justice played out on television. they like to watch nancy grace i’m sure. she is the hard-nosed, take no prisoners host of CNN Headline News’ Nancy Grace. she has a tendency to proclaim a guest guilty or innocent right there on-air, thereby bypassing any need for an actual trial.

recently, nancy berated – oops – interviewed the 21-year-old mother of a kidnapped child. and she asked the mother (melinda duckett), the tough questions. so tough in fact, miss duckett killed herself hours before the episode aired. case closed. next! (nancy chose to run the episode anyway.)

other reasons to come to america: football, soft toilet paper, hot dogs, fast internet, celebrity gossip, new years rockin’ eve – many reasons Asp.

oh yeah, and because ever since we decided to give them a new government and take out their leader, their country has dissolved into civil war. but i’m betting it’s that fall line-up – it has real potential!

sidenote: thanks to elo for the shout out! (i like to think of her as my fairy blogmother.) and to all of those new around here today, i say welcome. please feel free to hang around as long as you would like. it’s nice having you.

talk about cheesy

2006-09-17T19:05:00.000-05:00

Anthony writes: “new pick up line: hey baby, you’re better than individually-wrapped cheese slices.”

deli-sliced cheeses have a much higher quality and are tastier. do people still eat those kraft singles? i think those wrapped cheese slices taste like chemicals. haven’t the scientists figured out they cause cancer yet? they surely do.

although, as a child i ate many kraft singles. i just can’t anymore.

actually this pick up line may work on, say, a ten-year-old. and that’s just sick dude.

holy friday night

2006-09-15T18:44:00.000-05:00

Meghann wrote: “Love makes lust holy.”

this is a line from a novel named Morning Star by kerry newcomb. i’ve never heard of her. by the looks of the covers of her novels, she enjoys writing fiction about the West and war. it looks like there is a pirate ship on one of those as well.

i know i’m not supposed to do this, but, judging by the cover only, these books look awful.

but maybe i just haven’t given historical fiction a chance. i’ve been told gore vidal’s Lincoln is fantastic.

it is the end of the work week, and i have nowhere to go with this but to discuss things i love – because i’m in a fantastic mood at the moment. it’s 6:53pm on friday afternoon! “but greg,” the discerning reader might ask, “why are you in front of the computer after working all week?” answer: i’m unwinding. see number one on the list.

1) i love friday afternoon beers. at the moment i’m enjoying a flying dog pale ale. it’s a great way to toast fine beer and ralph steadman.

2) i love the book the rum diary. (what is this, the schematic network theory? that is the only thing i remember from psychology class, and there is no wikipedia entry to link to. maybe i’m remembering it incorrectly…) i never really knew anything about puerto rico before i read this book, and i really still do not. however, reading the rum diary made me wish i had gone to school for journalism. and it’s hard to go wrong as far as entertainment when it comes to hunter s. thompson.

3) i love indian food. i constantly crave it. i want it right now. it doesn’t help that our podunk town has zero indian places. indian food is a vegetarian’s dream. this beer isn’t helping to ameliorate my cravings.

4) i love possessing tickets to the home opener. having crosby and malkin together on the ice is a wet dream for any penguins fan. yeah, it’s happened a few times this summer – i’m not afraid to say it. starr, at 3am: “greg, what’s wrong? you’re rustling the covers.” greg (in a daze): “oh, sorry, nothing sid-, starr, nothing. i’m fine.”

5) i love that there are only two years, four months, and a few days left. he couldn’t do that much more damage, could he?

6) i love it when newspapers place all of their content online, for free. do i feel guilty for reading it but not paying for it? yes. but i still do it. it’s like burning cds. not that i would ever do that, but i’ve heard that some people do. bastards.

7) spending friday evening with good friends and a really cute baby.

enjoy your friday night.

writing copy

2006-09-13T19:52:00.000-05:00

Super Writer Girl writes: “Wow – this is great fun! A nice way to not think about copywriting…

How the heck did Craigslist and wikipedia get so big anyway? I love them I couldn’t live without them!!!”

you bring up a word i’ve always been confused about. copywriting. what is it?

i was always aware of the profession throughout grad school because i was interested in writing, though i went to school for history. i would hear people say things like: “yeah, i’ll probably just try to get a job as a copywriter or something; you know how it is, to get started.” i never really new what they meant. i read newspapers like crazy, and once after i had decided against trying to get a phd, a professor gave me some advice. (would a phd really make me more marketable? the answer is NO.) “you should get a job as a copywriter (as if it was so easy to get any job i so pleased) for a newspaper for a few years,” he said, “gather some experience, and then go get a graduate degree in journalism.” yeah, and i’ll pay for that how?

this is what i always thought a copywriter did: someone else would assemble all the facts of a particular story and give them to a copywriter. then the copywriter would write the story and allow the individual who gathered all the info to garner the credit for writing the article. yeah, i know. it isn’t at all what a copywriter does. i have no clue where i came up with that. but i must have decided “this is what a copywriter does,” and then i just believed it from about 1999 until today.

today, i looked up copywriting on wikipedia. it really doesn’t have much to do with what i thought a copywriter did. maybe a little. but it seems like it has more to do with marketing and promotion. my professor was wrong; i would have been miserable as a copywriter.

side note to Super Writer Girl: if you email me with a short, human definition of copywriting, i will add it here. it seems like you know what you are talking about when it comes to copywriting, and i think it would be beneficial to add it here.

i checked out your website, Super Writer Girl. admittedly, i glazed over most of it except for your FAQ’s. for whatever reason, i enjoyed reading this. a lot. i like to read questions and short answers. i have no idea why i find this interesting. i just do. it’s like the blogs i like to read. i like the ones that are updated frequently, aren’t incredibly long, and are informally written. i have no clue why i like to read about strangers! but i enjoyed your FAQ’s, and most of it was even about your business, which i have no need for at this point of my life.

you have a sharp emblem too. it reminds me of wonder woman in the eighties, and that is always a good memory. (it turns out this aired 1977-9. i watched it in the 1980s; i guess it was syndicated?)

as for craigslist and wikipedia: i use craigslist periodically (hey, it worked in getting some of you to submit email, and for that, i thank you craigslist). but wikipedia? everyday. at least thirty times a day. this website began in 2001, but i never stumbled upon it until mid-2004. i’ve been addicted ever since.

i’m with you Super Writer Girl: i can’t live without it either.

(it’s so dramatic to say things like that. “i can’t live without it.” of course i can live without it. i just really love it and find it incredibly useful.)

side note 2: thanks to everyone who sent me email. i appreciate it – keep it coming.

peopley post 1

2006-09-12T19:46:00.000-05:00

John writes: “People get more peopley all the time.”

peopley. people who are peopley have short attention spans and do things without thinking them through. we all know peopley people. one cannot predict what someone going all peopley will do.

with that in mind, i’m all over the place.

1. stephen colbert and steve carell were on the dana carvey show.

2. i don’t know if this story has gotten any media play nationally, but pittsburgh has a 26-year-old mayor. that’s right; someone born in the 1980s is the mayor of a major city with about 350,000 residents. makes you rethink what you did in your mid-twenties doesn’t it? when i was 26 years old, i held a master’s degree and worked at target.

in answer to the question you are most likely thinking: yes, it was the low point of my life. thus far. “money well spent on that graduate degree, greg,” i thought to myself as i checked the inventory on the target-brand tampons.

3. my friend is beginning a webcomic that will be updated quite often if i can convince her to do so from my behind my office partition. check it out here. it will be funny if you think poop is funny.

i think poop is funny. and most things associated with poop are funny. except for infection. there is nothing funny about infection. prove to me that something exists that is funny about infection. try it.

4. chester taylor had just a good-enough game to allow me to win my match. sometimes chance coupled with a good choice can work in your favor.

5. drew changes things. and it looks great.

6. i’m running out of email! with my head down, i ask that if you haven’t sent me an email, send away. bombtheworldATgmailDOTcom.

thanks dudes. (and by dudes, i mean girlz and boyz.)

choice, chance, and chester (taylor)

2006-09-11T11:52:00.000-05:00

Cedar Lee writes: “So I am kind of bummed that Steve Irwin died. There are so many people who should have died instead. Why him?”

whoa, cedar lee! sounds like somebody has a case of the god complex! you sound a little bit like alec baldwin, playing dr. jed hill in the film malice.

i don’t mean to be too harsh cedar – i’ve wanted to whack a few people in my day as well.

why him? it’s as simple as the combination of choice and chance, cedar. at least that is what my rational brain tells me. choice and chance can explain any situation or occurrence known. even the death of a beloved television personality. now it may not seem fair that one guy gets it over another, but alas, that’s the way choice and chance work.

take my fantasy football team. it was my choice to bid on certain players, while ignoring others. however, chance rears its ugly head all the time in the form of injury. chance also factors into the equation with regards to a team’s schedule; the weather; coaching decisions; and random occurrences that take place during a football game.

tonight, i will be praying at the altar of Chance, attempting to persuade this mighty being in my favor. i have a slim five-point lead in my fantasy football match-up this week. we each have two players remaining for tonight. i have chester taylor and lamont jordan left to play; he has brad johnson and randy moss. see how chance can affect our lives?

is it too much to ask that chester and lamont have great nights running the ball? please, please, oh fair chance! please let brad johnson simply hand the ball off to chester taylor about thirty times tonight, while not throwing any touchdown passes. chance, couldn’t you find it in yourself to maybe stick a little food poisoning in randy moss’s dinner? nothing serious of course, just enough to have him spend more time off the field than on.

i suppose it’s wrong to want to influence chance. i should just stick with my part of the equation, my choice in choosing the players i selected.

of course, if i could knock someone off, wouldn’t it make sense to go after the starting running back on a team that i own the back-up for? i’m looking at you warrick dunn. jerious norwood doesn’t want to sit on my bench all year long.

sidenote: my girlfriend introduced me to something new two weeks ago, and i'm addicted. sprouts. specifically, broccoli sprouts. they are so delicious. i want to put them on everything i eat. i never thought something that tasted like dirt could taste so good. i have replaced all lettuce in my diet with sprouts. i'm making baked potatoes tonight -- i think i'm going to put sprouts on them. if you haven't tried them -- try them.

lucy in the sky with diamonds

2006-09-08T13:03:00.000-05:00

adrian writes: “she was an egotistical selfless whore bag with a flaccid outlook on morality.”

it isn’t often that you come across the word “flaccid” and it isn’t in reference to a penis.

right off the bat, that’s a good email.

so: someone’s been bad. some whore bag. bitch. most whore bags that i’ve meant possess a weak understanding of morality. seems like this guy ran into the classic whore bag.

do you think adrian’s sentence was the answer to a question? maybe, “hey adrian, how would you describe your last girlfriend?” or, “yo, adrian, how would you characterize your mother in thirteen words or less?” nice job, you went all thirteen.

last evening was the first night of this non-credit class i have to take for work. it’s an adobe photoshop class. my education is in the humanities, and computer programs that seemingly involve art skill frighten me. (bear with me – this ties into a whore bag.)

there are ten people in the class, and all but one woman were competent with a computer. this lady did not know how to turn the computer on. our instructor – kenneth cole (yes, he made the obligatory joke concerning the fashion company: “most of you know me from my handbags…” – knew immediately this was going to be the problem student. “what’s your name?” asked mr. cole. “lucy,” she said with a smile. “i’ll keep that fresh in my mind,” said ken.

lucy was near sixty; and she obviously had breast implants. they were perfect. and just didn’t match her sixty-year-old face. it was unsettling. her make-up was spackled on, hard and deep. her denim jacket and jeans brought it all together. actually, maybe it was the smorgasbord of pills she popped throughout the three-hour class that brought it all together for her. blue ones, yellow ones, light-green ones; every few minutes she opened her orange container, dropped one in her palm, inspected it, and down the hatch.

she was lost from the time kenneth cole asked us to click on the photoshop icon found on the desktop.

as class wore on, lucy’s patience wore off, and apparently the pills weren’t helping. every few minutes, we could hear lucy say “shit” just quiet enough as to not disturb the class across the hall. her hand would go up, the class would moan, and ken would saunter back to the help lucy.

about two hours into the class and just after another interruption from lucy, i heard the girl in front of me say under her breath, quite delicately: “whore bag.” she said it like she was saying “pumpernickel” very quietly. only she said “whore bag.”

maybe she was talking to herself. maybe she was upset at her computer. more likely, she was unhappy with lucy.

i look forward to seeing if lucy comes back next week. i hope so – three hours is a long time to sit in an evening class with no entertainment.

worst email ever

2006-09-06T19:43:00.000-05:00

felix d. writes: “the first word or phrase to pop into my head is the following: Mooooooooooo.”

without question, this is the worst random email i have received.

but don’t cry felix. it’s likely the most honest i’ve received.

i suppose it was better than the girl who emailed me a link to her personal business, and then typed the name of her business as her email. let me explain: let’s say her company is called i eat diapers. her email looked like this:

i eat diapers! www.ieatdiapers.com

now, i don’t mind linking to your website, but come on. don’t just do it for the advertising. because there are like, six people who check this site frequently. so felix, i take it back. your email was not the worst. it was the second worst.

here are the worst and second worst things about three random things in life:

worst thing about reading your favorite blogs: when the writer doesn’t update for multiple days. like you, there are between 8-10 blogs i check every single day. multiple times. the more updates the better. that’s the great thing about living right at this moment in time. if you like to read things that are interesting, funny, and informative, the internet is a real nice thing. because there are writers out there who write things for us to read. unfortunately, it really blows when those sites don’t update. (hey, haven’t i gone over 48 hours since i updated? oh forget it – move on to the second worst thing about your favorite blogs.)

second worst thing about reading your favorite blogs: when the author writes about the same news story or funny video as the other seven blogs you just read. i like to hear about how that republican congressman blew two illegal immigrants in the backseat of his lexus in exchange for cocaine as much as the next guy sitting at his computer at work. however, i don’t want to leave blog A and then read the same story at blogs B,C,D,E, and F. but that’s the nature of having so many choices – we’re bound to get some repeats. that’s why this is the second worst thing, and not the first.

worst thing about fantasy football drafts: when someone tries to draft a player who was already chosen. there is always that one guy who screws it up. you think: “hey, alright. we’re in round thirteen. two more rounds to go. i think everyone is paying attention this year.” and then the guy sitting beside you (who’s been drinking beer and eating chips all afternoon even though he didn’t bring anything to the draft) says, “i’ll take chris chambers from miami.” cue collective groan throughout the room, followed by the words/phrases “taken,” “already picked,” “gone,” “fred picked him in the fourth round idiot” all spoken at once.

second worst thing about the fantasy football draft. when the second person tries to draft someone who was already chosen. it can get ugly.

worst thing about my drive to work: driving past the landfill. it smells. like high-pitched methane. i don’t know what that means exactly. but that is the smell.

second worst thing about my drive to work: getting behind this lady with a mullet who drives a mid-nineties teal thunderbird. she works at the county library loan association. that’s an awful description of her employer, i know. i think that’s what it’s called though. when she gets in front of me, it’s over. it becomes a “bad drive into work day.” she drives about thirty-five mph. the speed limit is fifty-five most of the way. the county library loan association is right after the landfill. so if i can make it there, i’m home free.

moo to you too.

labor day, 2006

2006-09-04T15:09:00.000-05:00

paul-felix writes: “I like underwear art.”

who doesn’t like underwear art? i like it. or sit at their computer and type in their underwear? i don’t know many not into it.

utilizing our twenty-first century virtual concordance, i stumbled upon HOARD magazine, an online art and culture magazine.

now: had i not solicited emails from strangers – an outlandish act in and of itself – paul-felix would never have contacted me. in turn, i would never have explored the www, bumping into HOARD magazine.

maybe i’ll never think about HOARD magazine again in my life. but today i thought about it for fifteen minutes. fairly amazing.

today i also:

ate a granny smith (they originated in alaska – don’t tell me you knew that)
went grocery shopping
ate lunch (bagel sandwich, jalapeno chips, raspberries, dr. pepper)
watched a movie
listened to a cd and played internet

i could have done many other things, but i did these things. also amazing.

“not much for a day” many would say, but then again it’s a paid holiday, and for that i realize: i’m one of the chosen.

dreamers vs. the funny

2006-09-01T16:13:00.000-05:00

katie writes: “Someone told me, Dreamers are becoming an endangered species…”

katie. dreamers aren’t an endangered species. dreamers are dead. they died on december 12, 2000. all the angels that walked the earth died that day too. i know, it’s sad.

since the dreamers are dead, to whom do we have to look for inspiration?

inspiration is dead too. it died on november 2, 2004. (sidenote: most things containing a soul died on this day as well. if you’ll recall, the months of november and december 2004, and most of january 2005 were kind of a downer. remember how it seemed that if the future was a color, it would be the darkest black imaginable? thanksgiving sucked. christmas sucked. new year’s was lame. then you kind of started forgetting about it, until bam: january 20th sucker-punched you in the face and you realized that as long as he’s been around, it is exactly as long as it’s already been until he’s gone again. then you swore off caring about the future, started drinking more, probably wagered a bit too much on the super bowl, and then it let you down too because new england won again. then you just kind of slept through the rest of 2005, taking menial jobs that you despised because…why am i bringing up these terrible memories?)

damn, inspiration’s gone too? shit. well screw this. i quit. the dreamers are dead. inspiration is dead. what’s the point?

whoa, wait a second katie. forget about the dreamers. their overrated anyway. all the dreamers do is make you feel bad that you aren’t doing more. why can’t they just relax and watch caddyshack with commercial interruptions on saturday afternoon like the rest of us?
instead of lamenting the loss of the dreamers, it’s time to give praise to those who make you laugh.

here are three people that make me laugh:

1) drew. this fellow creates my favorite comic on the web. actually my two favorites (the second one he writes in collaboration with his wife. she's funny too. drew also has a blog that is funny as well. you know when you read a really good story or hear the most amazing song and think: damn, i wish i would have been the one who thought of doing that? i feel that sometimes with the comics drew comes up with. plus, he makes fun of many things i think are silly.

2) bill hicks. this guy is hilarious – his stand-up is cutting edge and searing. he – oh wait, he’s dead. damn it, i was attempting to stay positive… forget i brought him up. another dead hero…

3) dan tobin. (and he’s still alive!) i stumbled upon this guy’s blog one day because he was linked to another one i read consistently. and for whatever reason, i loved reading his blog. he is a writer. he is funny. we’re about the same age, so i understood many of his pop culture references. and he seemed to like a lot of the movies and books i like. and he liked sports. he just took a one-month hiatus from writing his blog, and it’s good to have him back. plus he likes the shorter blog entries, something i’ve always been a fan of as well.

see katie? don’t worry about the dreamers. think about all the funny people around!

so: what makes you laugh?

5.11.06 -- 9:31PM

2006-08-31T07:00:00.000-05:00

elle meno pea writes: “i’ve got a terrible headache and can’t sleep.”

i know the feeling. reminds me of this:

“wiretaps are coming out of the television’s mouths and into my ears; my scalp itches, along with my elbows. i’m tired and i can’t quite finish bluebeard.

too many things are happening right now: jim’s bachelor party; trip to philadelphia; find an apt.; money; write the story; finish the book; new computer; eighteen weeks of running; save for a move; pay my parents back; brew another batch of beer; more rescans and procedures and albumen prints; find an adobe photoshop class; fill my car’s tank with 87; rearrange these boxes around my third-floor flat; read the new vanity fair; read the 1,000th rolling stone; read the new nation; watch grey gardens; finish the eagle; do more push-ups; get groceries; decide whether to make pasta salad or the new pasta recipe sarah gave me for the party on saturday; wash my car; vacuum my car; clean the bathroom; get to bed; get up early and run because of the rain; pay the credit card bill; pay the gas bill; pay the car insurance; discuss spryo eclipse with rob; return unbreakable; do something about the uneaten potato in the pot on the stove; save the lime on the counter; change the sheets; talk about chicago; play monopoly; buy one more pair of jeans so i have three; write my congressman about the internet legislation; email donna about my mom working at the bookstore; mother’s day; wash these pants.

i’ll finish bluebeard tonight and think about spyro eclipse – keep it simple.”

sagging tits and an erect phallus

2006-08-28T21:26:00.000-05:00

at the end of his poem the peeler army and the second civil war, Drake writes:

“...when and where are we going to build the memorial for those who have fallen,

for those who will fall, in this civil war?

a twenty foot tall alabaster statue depicting a broken cock and ball sack between

a pair of sagging tits,

awash in lights of red white and blue

and a fine and flaky grey patina of pigeon shit.”

immediately, and rightfully so or not, the following rushed into my brain: charles bukowski, the war on terror, and priapus. most likely, the author doesn’t intend for these thoughts and ideas and connections to detonate in a reader’s brain. but that’s the great thing about art, right? i suspect some authors/painters/creators agonize over the world misinterpreting their art’s intention. my friend tells me that for years, instructors analyzing robert frost’s the road not taken incorrectly (how you like that drake? discussing your poem and robert frost’s in the same paragraph).

i’ll let you analyze and make critical decisions about the above lines from drake’s poem.

reading this, the minor greek god priapus popped into my brain – “popped” being the key word. as we learned in my undergraduate mythology class, priapus’ most dominating feature is his huge, erect penis.

our mythology professor had the most sarcastic delivery of any instructor i had in college. his descriptions of the various minor gods and goddesses in greek and roman mythology were wonderfully confusing, and quite humorous. by the time he finished his account of a new player in the mythological game, students were usually bordering upon laughter.

his description of priapus: a minor greek god with a huge, erect phallus, half-man, half-goat, half-dog (yeah, i know: impossible – three halves?), protector of thieves, giver of fertility, and guardian of all livestock.

did you get that about the penis? it’s very important: HUGE, ERECT PENIS. all the time. not something you want as a human male.

turns out, our professor wasn’t far from the truth. priapus was most of the above, except that he wasn’t protector of thieves, he was protector against thieves. now, was it important that i learned who priapus was? ABSOLUTELY! otherwise, i wouldn’t be able to discuss priapus to you, seven years later! this is one cool god.

i haven’t thought about priapus or my mythology class in a long time. for that drake, i thank you.

as for charles bukowski and the war on terror: i’m interested in seeing this movie. and the war on terror? well, you better be thinking about it! 24/7! because if you don’t, they’ll win. the terrorists will. don’t help the terrorists. i’m talking to you al-qaeda types!

strangers

2006-08-26T09:29:00.000-05:00

FLShorty561 writes: “i was doing a blog awhile back, and no one was responding, and i know how annoying that can be.”

FLShorty also went off on a difficult personal situation concerning a wedding. i’m not yet married, but from everything i’ve scene from listening and being around friends who have planned and carried out a wedding, i’ve come to the conclusion they are quite stressful affairs. it is impossible to please everyone – yourselves, your parents, grandparents if their still breathing – it’s really too much. the two individuals getting married are usually the ones who end up compromising what they went in an attempt to make those around them happy. that just isn’t right.

in your situation FLShorty, you’re getting screwed over by your friend. do what you want to do. be polite, yet stern, and tell her your decision.

as for the quote above, maybe that is a good segue into a one-week update on my efforts to get this thing off the ground. after deciding on a concept for writing, i posted a few solicitations for random email on craigslist and myspace. i never actually expected to receive any emails – i thought starting this writing experiment would fail before it began. (i’m usually more positive than that, but i am also a realist.) who is going to send email about nothing in particular to some idiot who starting another blog? does the world need another blog? of course not. but…

it turns out you like to send email. and i thank you for it.

i’ve received quite a few emails and messages, enough that i’ve been able to pick through and choose the ones that pique my interest, and still have some back-up email for the lean times. the pleasure i get from reading emails from strangers is more than i imagined – does that make me some kind of twisted, electronic-mail reading voyeur?

you would be amazed what strangers send. i received some poems, some quotes, a rant or two, and not surprisingly some not-so-subtle attempts at getting me to plug a business. i’d rather not use this forum as an advertisement for your for-profit scheme. i would like to use it as a way to link to your blog or creative webspace. (i’ve also received a number of offers for performance enhancing drugs, erectile dysfunction solutions, and news on apartments for rent around the continental united states.)

but keep that email coming! i really do enjoy logging in and checking my account, wondering what someone in Ypsilanti has sent me. don’t be afraid – you don’t even have to use your real name!

in the middle of things

2006-08-24T21:11:00.000-05:00

R.B. Morris III wrote me a wonderfully off-the-wall email. actually, he forwarded me what seems to be one email taken from an email conversation he is having with another gentleman who goes by the name of jack.

i appreciated this email. it’s like being born: you just end up in the middle of things.

i’m going to respond to a number of sentences, randomly plucked from R.B.’s email. his words will appear in quotes.

“6 years of emailing, eh? I’ll have to confirm that.”

actually, i sent my first email in the fall of ’96. so it’s been more than six years. a decade! it was in the basement of carlson library. i recall that our email addresses began with s_ , and the screen was black with green missives. i would check that email every day hoping to find an email from a girl.

“next thing you know there are grease stains?”

now this is a phrase you’ve probably all heard. i heard tony snow say it today at the white house press conference in answer to this question: “what did the executive order look like after the president had it in his hands?” but to use this phrase in the form of a question, now that’s something new. and i don’t know what you’re talking about here, R.B.

“bet that was the straw that popped the funk baby out of the tub.”

this is a nice adaptation of the classic cliché. but one with a late seventies feel to it. it reminds me of the george clinton album my girlfriend recently bought. it also reminds me of the jeremy piven classic PCU. either way, it’s a clever update on a tired cliché.

(aside: has jeremy piven recently lost his mind, or is that just me? please confirm.)

and finally, something i just don’t hear enough:

“I’m sorry if I’m the nagging whorebag.”

apology accepted.

a happy death

2006-08-22T20:20:00.000-05:00

shaun writes: “I hope one day I can see what I truly desire in life. that’s it.”

he also notes that he “has been drinking.” well, that’s okay, shaun – i’ve been drinking too. and listening to broken social scene – i’ve rarely listened to them but found out a few hours ago they are touring with one of my favorites, do make say think, this october. it should be a fantastic show – do make say think is one of those bands you don’t want to miss if you have the opportunity to see.

i’ve spent hours and hours lamenting the fact that i had no idea what i was to do to make me happy – there wasn’t enough time to make myself happy with so many others to please. i was never quite happy, and was never certain if what i was doing was what i should be doing, or if it was even what i wanted to be doing. (wow, now that’s poorly written.) eventually, i just accepted the fact i would always be yearning for something else and that was okay. once i got there, boy look out! i actually ceased feeling anxious. the next thing conquered was a routine fear of death – no need to fear it! embrace it. and shaun, once you get there, you’re home-free. i swear it – no more worries. heck, even my 58-year-old dad tells me he doesn’t know what he wants to do when he grows up.

in closing, write something down on paper (i always find filling a clean, white sheet of paper with ink makes me feel better for some reason – it must be magic!), call a friend, or put on a great album and have another drink. think of one good thing you are going to do tomorrow.

hang in there shaun.

_______________

sidenote: driving home this evening from the track, i witnessed an air conditioner fall out of a fourth-floor window and smash off the curb, shattering into twenty pieces. it. was. awesome.

a dissertation on excrement

2006-08-21T20:49:00.000-05:00

Captain Munch writes: “what does it mean if your poo is green?”

i received this email from captain munch, a young man working on his dissertation from a very reputable online university – captain munch swears it’s a very prestigious school. he is a molecular biology major, finishing up his doctorate. but he’s stumped! his entire body of study has come down to this question: what does it mean if your poo is green?

it’s an interesting topic – and a risk. who would gamble their career on such a barnburner! i asked cap’n – he said i could call him cap’n – i asked cap’n: where did you come up with this stunningly deep dissertation topic?

he replied: “well, my brother actually taught me this phrase. he said it was a wonderful way to pick-up young co-eds. he promised it would make them laugh, and every playa knows the fastest way to a women’s heart is through her funny bone! however, it didn’t end up working so well. but my other brother taught me something too: when life gives you lemons, squeeze them hard and make a drink out of them!” (cap’n munch seems like such a positive fellow!)

well, cap’n, let me tell you: if your poo’s green, you either have consumed too much split-pea soup, or you found your way into the gerbers brand vegetable mash. either way, my advice is work on your pick-up lines.

keep these brain-busters coming people! i love it!

_____________

sidenote: my very good friend from new york told me in high school that his favorite soup was split-pea soup. what’s your favorite soup? i’m a vegetable barley kind of guy…

zen marketing

2006-08-20T16:54:00.000-05:00

green bean writes: “wherever you go, there you are.”

first off, thanks to green bean for the first email.

i like this one – simple and endless!

first thing that comes to mind is that this phrase would make for a wonderful slogan for a public transportation system. where i live, few people use our bus system. our town has around 15,000 residents, and the bus is the only form of public transport we have. yet it isn’t uncommon to see the bus roll by empty.

could the problem be the name of the bus service? it’s called: THE BUS

maybe a new slogan would liven up that service. “take THE BUS today. wherever you go, there you are.”

this also sounded like an inspirational phrase to me, something a buddhist would exclaim. so i googled the phrase and learned it is a book written by jon kabit-zinn. (this fellow is related to howard zinn, one of my favorite historians.) this is a book on meditation and helping you get your life together.

i don’t engage in too much mediation, but today as i ran, a few times i said to myself: “wherever you go, there you are.” i thought maybe it would help me run longer.

i wonder: have you read this book green bean?

sidenote: this first entry didn’t go anywhere i had hoped, but that’s okay. i think that is the point. i feel like i am standing on the edge of the blogging pool, and i have just stuck my toe in to test the water. it feels cold and uncomfortable. i’ll need to just jump in and swim around a few minutes and then it will feel as it should.

so this is me jumping in and testing the water.

2006-08-19T12:12:00.000-05:00

here we go.

just waiting for email.