Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Saturday, June 30, 2007

I couldn't find the dental floss

I couldn't find the dental floss, so I slapped on a little aftershave instead. I never use aftershave, but this stuff is NICE. Smells great on me! And when I saw it in the medicine cabinet, I just said, "hell, why not? Who's it gonna hurt?"

I'm just not an aftershave type guy, I guess. But every now and then...why not? What's wrong with smellin' GOOD!

I think I ended up dabbing a bit too much on, though. Just a wee dab.

We'll see if I get any complaints.

Friday, June 29, 2007


Qwuuffabet gwabble gnaughen sftot! Byet Vindche Knookle qteetpu daar, sjooten spooala ftahrteks. Quaeit yir fkind akind? Moops. Yol bwaeeker gnaughen bwaeeker schoudel! Qu-i-d'Aieou treepik dyoopik sooutin? Parquaand, mip meppinkuls dy vairdebaughen.

Spiktaughet? Eque nos, eque nos.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Repeal the Helmet Law Pt.3

The other strange thing is, I can't seem to find any reference to there being any so-called "helmet law" requiring me to wear a helmet while bicycling. There's a state law that applies to those under 18, but nothing for adults. This underscores the insidiousness of the movement: they've got us thinking they've won already, when the battle is far from over!

I decided to do some research.

Here's a pretty interesting site I found, with some well-argued points of their own: But then they point you to these folks, at - who sing a pointedly different tune. And then over on we have a third viewpoint. Look at that dude! Seemingly oblivious to the controversy, but he seems pretty happy with his helmet. A powerful case made subtly, in its own right.

Anyway, in response to these new revelations, that is, in response to the recently-disclosed fact that there is in fact currently no law that compels me to wear a helmet while bicycling, I am prepared to conditionally reverse my stance on the motorcycle helmet situation. Provided that pro-bicycle helmet activists do not double-cross me with this bullshit of making it mandatory for me! I won't stand for that! I will reverse my stance right back, so help me! Faster than you can say jackrabbit.

Making something compulsory is not "educating the public."

Repeal the Helmet Law Pt.2

I suppose I should have mentioned at some point that I don't currently own a bike, or do any cycling. But that's not the point. Anyway, the helmet thing is practically what's been keeping me from getting a bike. So in other words, the encroachment of these well-intentioned busybodies into the mandatory headgear realm is having a negative impact on my potential cardiovascular health!


Why is it a matter of law that bicyclists must wear helmets? Why must the helmets, in turn, look so stupid? If I want to bike down to the village for a shaved ice, why am I legally obliged to put a space-age poly-plastic-foam-alloy jackass-hat on my head that makes me look like I think I'm supposed to be Monsieur Tour D. France?

Absent some sinister collusion between lawmakers and stupid-looking helmetmakers,* I don't know why this should be a matter of law. Why should a recreational bicyclist be forced to wear a helmet? If a cyclist is a racer, then yeah, they may be getting up to some pretty dangerous speeds. Fine. Those guys and gals are going to be wearing helmets anyway, to take advantage of those little jetway funnel-cuts that shape your head-zone to perform more aerodynamically.

But somebody just biking a regular bike across town, through traffic, around the fountain - your skull is no more in need of a helmet than the skulls of the pedestrians you skirt! Seriously. What is it, "you could be hit by a car?" So what! So can the pedestrian! Far more pedestrians than cyclists are struck by cars. Shall we make helmets mandatory for anyone who wants to go outside?

On the sole basis of these bicycle helmet laws, I am officially coming out against motorcycle helmet laws. Now, I want to make this perfectly clear: I would have been willing to support mandatory motorcycle helmet laws, if it hadn't been for these bicycle helmet laws. When the motorcycle helmet laws first came out, I said: "I suspend judgment - we'll see how far they go with this." And just like I should have known: they got their motorcycle helmet laws in place, and then they kept on coming. Well, I wish they hadn't - because now we're we're going to have to roll back the progress clock on all forms of helmet law. As long as these Mother Government, micro-meddling, other-peoples'-decisionmakers keep pushing their agenda to impinge on our lives in ever more restrictive ways, I have pledged to do my level best to slant the slippery slope back 'til it tilts in the other direction.

Go ahead. Dig up as many brain-damaged people as you want. Trot them out and tell their sob stories. "Poor Claire, poor Johnny...if only they'd worn a helmet!" Yeah, if only I gave a fuck. It's my head, my life, any risks that I take are on me. My skull is harder than most. Furthermore, forcing expensive and ridiculous-looking protective measures upon every one of us, in an attempt to reduce injury to the few who do get plowed into by cars...hey, I don't know how to put it any better than Ben Franklin: "Security minus Liberty equals NEITHER!" Just because something might be a good, sensible protective measure doesn't mean the law has a right to force it on you. A word to the wise is sufficient. Those who want helmets can have them. Far more important than any helmet is that we be allowed to live our lives without being subjected to an ever-increasing yoke of frivolous restriction. If you want to talk about the burden of medical treatment costs on all of society, go kill off the fucking aged first and then we'll talk. Shit. Fucking asshole.

Actually, that remark probably doesn't deter the people who make that argument, insofar as they are most likely already pro-euthanasia anyway.

But I hate that argument. This is the true cost of socialized medicine: that stupid fucking argument. It goes like this: "I have a right to tell you what you have to do for your own health, because my taxes will pay for your medical treatment later." Oh yeah? Well I have a right to tell you to shut your damn mouth, or else my taxes will be paying for your medical treatment immediately!! Everyone should have to be led collared and leashed through their penned-in, meaningless, freedomless that we can save a buck later on health care. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Go pound sand.

Mind you: mandatory pedestrian helmets would undoubtedly save lives. They would! Indisputably! That's not really the point, though. What kind of a life is that, where you're forced by an intrusive government to purchase and wear a stupid-looking helmet as the badge of your willing obedience.

*which is to imply that both the helmetmakers and their helmets are stupid-looking.

Thought of the day before.

Faith is walking a mile with your eyes closed.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Not Sweet

There's this one girl I know who keeps saying I'm sweet.

I'm not sweet though, dammit! I'm rough and tough. I'm a big bold bully with brusque tendencies. I beat people down just for minding their own business! Sometimes when I get that look in my eye - WATCH OUT!

Don't tell her I said that, though. I don't want to ruin her mistaken impression of me.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Things About Don Henley's "All She Wants To Do Is Dance" That Used To Irritate Me When I Was Younger, But That I Now Find Fairly Effective.

* that synthy guitar or guitary synth riff. It's a great riff, really, in retrospect, but when I was a kid I was like "Come on! Why'd they make it sound all synthy like that! Is it even a guitar at all? I can't tell! If it isn't a guitar, can it even be called a riff?" As a youth I was quite preoccupied by concerns of purity.

* the casual mix of the carefree and the sardonically political.

* the second verse's interpolation of the "and all she wants to do is dance, dance" bit after each line. It just seems intrusive. As compared to the first verse, where each half-couplet functions well as a standalone statement, the second verse's couplets form a fairly cohesive narrative flow - the constant interruption of which is just clumsy and awkward.

* the ambiguous background of the "she" of the song's title. We know that all she wants to do is dance. But where does she fit into the sociopolitical jigsaw of this restive and troubled nation? What of her family? Does she spring from the ruling elite of the natives? From the dispossessed underclass that swells the rebels' ranks? Who are her friends? Has she crossed from one side of the tracks to the other in her quest for pleasure? What are the consequences of her choices? Has her "opting out" made her an enemy of the people's cause? Or is she perhaps a foreigner? And if so...was this really the best country to come to, to dance?

Actually, when I think about it a little more, most of these points still bug me to some extent. But what the heck. It's practically a classic.

Toilet Tips

Once you start flushing used personal toiletry items down the toilet, it never stops escalating. First you think, oh, some used dental floss in there won't hurt anything. Next thing you know, you catch yourself about to chuck a Q-tip in there!

My advice: don't even start down that path. The toilet is for pee pees, poo poos, and used doo doo paper ONLY. Depending on your lifestyle, maybe periodically vomit or large quantities of incriminating drugs.

But not Q-tips.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

World Of Pain

I am going to put you in a world of pain. I am going to take you and put you there. I am going to take you out of our world, the world of nice things such as flowers and candy, and flavored shaved ice, and swelling music, and sensations that could be described as pleasurable...I will take you out of that world, and I'm going to put you into a world where only pain applies.

But how would such a world be organized? What would that look like, a world where the governing principle is pain? I mean, apart from the pain part. We get that. But how would everything else be run, in a World of Pain? That's a pretty interesting concept, that might be pretty cool to see!

So anyway, try looking at it like that. When I put you there.

How Do Dogs Just Automatically Know How to Have Sex?

They just seem to know how. They just get right down to it. I was over at a friend's house a couple years ago, he had a poodle - a pretty good-sized poodle. A friend of his had brought over this tiny brown and white puppy, might have been a beagle or something. We were all out in the back yard, some burgers were grilling, and they were talking about getting him fixed - talking about scheduling a trip to the vet. His owner said, "it's still a little too early, but pretty soon." Next thing you know, bam. He's up on the poodle! Going for it. Voop! Over and done. He's happy! Look at that tongue wagging around. The poodle seemed a bit blasé about the whole thing.

But I guess that really, when you view it without all the trappings and impediments, it is pretty straightforward. The real question isn't "how do dogs just automatically know?" but "why, out of every big and little being in the animal kingdom, why are humans the only ones who need to have this explained to them?" Why the big bit about bees and birds, metaphors and euphemisms? Why the secrecy beforehand and the mystification after?

I am not saying that we should abolish sex education. Make no mistake: I am a big, radical advocate of sex education. I believe that sex education should begin at the moment of conception. At that point, they know more about it then you and I will ever learn!

But it just seems weird that we're the only species that seems to need instruction on this - or at least, we act like we do. And I for one, am a little insulted by the implication.

I'd like to think I could have figured it out for myself.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Chicken Vs. Egg: Let's Settle This Once And For All!

"Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

How many people on earth are stupid enough to think this is even a question in this day and age? It doesn't matter what you believe about the world or about life or about origins or descents. There's no question about it either way!

"Which came first"???!!! What are you a MORON!?!?!!!??

I ask you: how easy does this have to be before people get it? There are only two basic scenarios to deal with here. Like I said - in neither case is there even a question as to "which came first"!

Let's examine.

Chicken or Egg 1: The God Version

In the God version, chicken came first. Duh. God created fully-fledged animals, already ready to forage and fend. Not a bunch of fetal organisms in inchoate form! Imagine how gross that would have been. Plus, most of the just-hatched hatchlings would have died right off. No adults to pop juicy worms into yawning beaks! Or whatever it is they eat. Gravel?

Chicken or Egg 2: The No-God Version

In the No-God Version, egg came first. Well, what laid the egg then, you ask? EVEN BIGGER DUH. It was the closest genetic predecessor of the very first chicken! In other words, the first chicken was a mutant. Which is pretty cool.


There are also some possible "smartass answers," for instance, the No-God smartass answer "the egg came first, because there were egg-laying animals in the oceans and then on land, long before the appearance of birds - let alone chickens!" But this puff of anal sophistry makes hardly a whiff of difference, since we've already established "egg" as the proper No-God answer. Egg is egg, as they say. Then you might have some God-versioners who might claim, "but both birds and sea creatures were created on the 5th Day of creation...therefore, it's a tie!"

But I ask you: just how in heck is that supposed to make sense?

Monday, June 18, 2007

The Wall Ball Kid

He's back. He was gone for a while, we thought he had moved on, but guess what? Oh wait, I told you that already.

He's back.

The Wall Ball Kid.

That's just what we call him. He could be eleven. He's got a floppy blonde mop of California brat-style hair. We don't know his name, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that one day the whole world will be chanting it. He's got the determination and the discipline that it takes to rise to the top.

Every day, he's out there. You can hear him kicking that basketball off that low brick wall for hours. Left foot, right foot. Turnaround foot behind the back. He's like a hackey-sacker with that thing!

I want to ask for his autograph. Just in case! That's just too awkward, though. There's no way to open that transaction. Plus - can't I see he's busy?

I can hear he's busy. That's for sure. Pum. Pum-pap! Pum pap!-pum.

This kid could be the next Larry Bird, who used to shoot free-throws for hours in a gymnasium in French Lick, Indiana. Except, shooting free throws actually helps you play basketball. This endless foot-dribbling, it's a little harder to see the application. Maybe if they had a sport like soccer in America, he could translate some of those foot-basketball skills to the ol' black and white pentagonal orb. Or maybe there might be some variant version of basketball that arises where you can kick that thing!

I hope so. I'd hate to think of all that effort wasted for no reason.

Do NOT Fo Shizzle My Nizzle

My nizzles are extremely sensitive, and I'll thank you not to fo shizzle them. What do you want to go around fo shizzling peoples' nizzles for anyway? Go fo shizzle your own nizzle!

Punk-azz bizzle.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

The Black Keys

The Black Keys make good music that you don't have to pay attention to. It would be perfect to have playing on the jukebox in a dark smoke-stained pool hall with a bar. You see that guy on a roll, see him strut circling the table, laconic with a cocky expression and a head-bob in time to the snakey guitar? Damn right that's good music. It doesn't need any explanation, nor criticism. When your music sounds like these guys, criticism is redundant.

It's also very good music to have on alone at home, getting whisky drunk. I myself don't do a whole much of that, but some of you listeners at home who decide to give it a try will bear me out on that I am sure. It's perfect. It has that sound; that evil-down, fuzz-bluesed, thick-and-supple-wristed, one-foot-stomping-on-the-floorboards shouting-for-joy type vibe. Joy, or something that feels enough like it when you're shouting anyhow. It's got that singing hallelujah praises even all the while clutched by the wages of sin. Type vibe. Now I think I'm reading into it a bit much. Muddying the quintessence of its stripped-downedness.

It's the type of music that Steve Buscemi's character from Ghost World would have liked, until he ran it through his encyclopedic brain, realized it wasn't any of his old-school authentic heroes, and concluded that it was really just two dorky-looking white guys from Ohio.

Whether he still would have liked it at that point depends on how high your opinion of his character is.

The Trick to Trimming Your Beard

The trick to trimming your beard is, when you accidentally fuck up one part, don't go back and make the rest of the beard to look like the fucked-up part.

I'm a man who knows, because I've been doing it the other way for years before I come across this trick. The trick to the trick is that honestly, in a couple of days that one fucked-up part is going to look fine. Not very noticeable. Whereas, if you go back and make the whole beard look like that, it won't look right for weeks.

And that's the trick to trimming your beard.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Those Little Details You Notice That Disgust You With The World

Why did some jackass hang an air freshener outside? I swear: this is the place that I work. What the fuck is wrong with these people?

And what the hell am I doing here on a SATURDAY. That is the deeper of the two questions, here. From my ostensibly sane perspective.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

lullaby blessing


May sleep gather you in
with the softest embrace
and forgetfulness
wash all the cares from your face
as the dreams of the night
take you where you most wish
to be held by the light
and caressed with a kiss.
May the love of your life
beat more strong in your breast
than a pessimist army could hope to contest
and when night quits the field,
and the birds sound their call
may you wake to a dream,
and your life conquer all.


Wednesday, June 13, 2007

An Examination of Contemporary Trends Pt. 1: YouTube

I was on the site U-Tube, which in my opinion should have a logo shaped like a U-shaped PVC tube such as is seen in plumbing applications. This site has gained notoriety recently, not for its logo, but for hosting a number of great videos [Ed. correction: "a great number of videos"] which people are able to search through until they find something they like and then play it almost continuously on their computers. This has become known within the industry as "U-Tubin' It."

I treated myself to a viewing of the video for Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me." It was this video that, all throughout that entire hot summer of '88, kept those poor New Kids On The Block perched staunchly ("Hangin' Tough" in fact) at #2 on MTV's daily most-requested video countdown. This went on for something like 12 straight weeks - like I said, the entire summer. New Kids just couldn't break through. Def Lep with a throat-lock on the top spot!

This was, in my young eyes, a crucial victory for rock and roll.

I have such a vivid memory of how hot I thought that one girl in the concert audience was. You know the one! The one who runs her tongue across the top row of her teeth in slow motion? Man, when I was that age, that was what I was into. Well, perhaps that wasn't "what I was into" generally - the girls I was dating at the time seem more demure to me now, in my mind's eye - but I was nevertheless definitely into THAT!

I bet she's still hot. Maybe hotter, since she surely no longer wears her hair like that!

Anyway, wow: what a video! Anyone who knows me well will tell you that "Pour Some Sugar On Me" is the greatest song ever written in English. They will tell you this because I have convinced them, with my well-rounded and subtle arguments on the topic. So for a song like that, a video of only the highest quality will do. This clip delivers in spades. You remember it! It's not a "live" clip per se, since the audio is clearly a studio remix of the album version. But the overall effect is like a distillation of live. The video features performance footage (in color) intercut with various little black-and-white scenes and micro-vignettes from before the show and backstage, in such a way as to seem almost documentary-like while still preserving the excitement/impact of the live act intact.

You could tell it was footage from several different shows, because the singer's outfit keeps switching around.

You know what, though? I think I'm getting this video mixed up with Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive." I think maybe that was the one with the little b&w bits interspersed. Ah, who knows. Probably they both did it. It's a pretty sweet move either way! The chief point I'm trying to make here is: in your face, NKOTB!!

June is Black Music Month

But that's not all! It's also Dairy Month. Not to mention Goat Trauma Awareness Month. Plus leave us not forget that June is Home Ownership Month in many parts of the country. Maybe all of them. I see where all these different governors "proclaim" it as such, but that seems like a bit too much of a coincidence. I bet they're acting on orders from the Feds.

You know what else...I'm pretty suspicious about the goat one. I think the goat one's a joke. Of course, arguably, they all are.

It's LGBT Pride Month in Minnesota. And a little further North, in parts Canadian, June Is Bike Month!

That sucks, though. When do I get my bike month?

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Sportsball: Do We Have To?

Another thing that burns me up and down is this damn Sportsball. What's the whole damn fuss on this junk, I don't get it! Every year, when the Sportsball season starts gearing up again, and everybody gets all seething and riled for their team, and all the players run out onto the field in their stupid costumes...don't they have anything better to do?

Don't we, as a society, have anything better to do?

Why do we lionize and highly-pay these athletes, just to run around and bump into each other chasing after a children's toy. Grown men, chasing and fighting over a ball? For millions of dollars. And what is it with all these rules, are they kidding me? First they're all standing still, then something happens and they're running everywhere at once. It's absurd! It's a farce!

Is it really so hard to find something to get drunk about, we have to watch this crap?

A Closer Examination of Medical Concerns Pt. 2

And what's the deal with phlegm, anyway? It's just snot plus pus, right? What's so gross about that?


Monday, June 11, 2007

Actual E-Mail! How X'd Up Is That?

A while ago, my friend Jerome was out rabidly job-hunting, interviewing at any number of companies - pounding the pavement, surfing the sites and circling the situations vacant. It was to his considerable consternation that, during this period of high-intensity job-searching, he received the below e-mail in his In-Box. The worst part was, the sender didn't even identify what company they were sending from! It was just a hotmail address with no reference to a company. How messed up is that?!

--Actual E-Mail Message Received During That Troubled Time--
From: Tchad Swoohey
Sent: Friday, Sep 01, 2006 2:40 PM
To: Jerome S_____
Subject: Jerome S_____ Interview/Employment Status (REJECTION)

Mister S_____!

We rejoice to inform you that your application for employment has been utterly rejected, as we deem you to be entirely unsuitable as a candidate for employment at our company! Your many personal flaws are obvious to us after only a brief meeting, and frankly it is a wonder to us that you saw fit to present yourself to us in such a deplorable fashion! The reason for our delay in so informing you is that we seriously considered contacting the police - but decided that in view of your miserable state of existence, we would let you off with a warning: do not call us and do not fax us! Do not ever darken the doors of our facility again! Seek employment elsewhere, or better yet, be more realistic and embrace your inevitable fate: a long, slow, agonizing slide into bum-dom!


With cheerful regrets,

Tchad Swoohey
Deputy Director of Personnel Resources
--End of Actual E-Mail Received During That Troubled Time--

Later on Jerome and I were watching a football game with some of our buddies, and I confessed to Jerome that it was in fact I who sent the e-mail. Everybody had a good laugh on that one.

Saturday, June 09, 2007

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

To perpetuate the hegemony of the dominant paradigm.

The "Auto-Save" Function SUCKS!

There needs to be a way to turn this stupid auto-save function OFF. Why would they implement something like this and then not give you the option to turn it off!

I've lost like, 2 posts so far with this stupid thing. At least give us the option!

Friday, June 08, 2007

Guys: 6 Ways to Sculpt Rock-Hard Abs!

1. Clay - clay is good for that rough-hewn, smudgy-edgy boldly expressionistic type sculpting. Just grab a big handful. Slap it on! Work it out! Cut deep furrows with the side of your hand; build and shape powerful folds of rippling musculature. You can also opt for the smooth approach, but with smooth clay a certain overall sliminess of appearance can take over.

2. Marble - marble is very difficult to work, but in the hands of a master - nothing can beat it for sheer verisimilitude. Need I say David?

3. Wax - for a fully-clothed figure, you can get an eerie likeness in wax. But for a real shirtless ab-clenching posedown-worthy torso, the effect is simply not fleshtastic enough. Ironically, wax can approach closer to the appearance of flesh than any of these other media. The problem is that it gets that close...and's off. Subtly off. That subtle degree of "off" leaves your rock-hard wax abs looking pretty creepy for some reason. I believe that's what they call an "uncanny valley" phenomenon going on there.

4. Ivory - the problem with ivory, apart from the moral problem, is that it's entirely the wrong shape for any life-sized piece. It can be used for abs in miniature with satisfactory results. If money is no object and you want to go all psycho with it, an old-fashioned chryselephantine sculpture could be potentially awesome.

5. Bronze - see, the thing with bronze's basically the same as clay. They start with a clay sculpture, but then they put it through some process whereby it comes out the other end as bronze (this is called the Bessemer Process). I believe a wax mold is employed, and then when the wax melts off, they hit it with a hammer to shatter the outer shell and expose that sweet bronze. The details of the process are truly fascinating.

6. Pasta - It's pretty impressive what you can do with the right-shaped pasta! Macaroni are practically ideal to the purpose.

My Snooty Review of Applebee's, Baker's Square, Black Angus, Cinnabon, and TGI Friday's.

Service was uneven.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Random Musings Walking Home

Tonight I was walking home from pool when I observed a group on the sidewalk well ahead of me. Two women, probably between 35-45 years old each, five to seven smallish children (probably between 5 to 7 years old each), and one lad of about 12. My first thought was, "I could take this whole group of people in a fight right now, take 'em all down."

Does that ever happen to anybody else? Do you find these random antisocial thoughts popping into your head, unwanted, for no reason? I want to point out that I had no desire or urge...there was no thought of acting on the thought, none whatsoever. It just popped into my head, a passing notion. And as soon as it did, I was dead sure that I could totally do it: if it came down to it, I could kick all of their asses at once. I had no doubt about it. And I don't mean "element of surprise," I mean even if they knew what was up, and had a chance to plan and strategize!

They'd send the little kids in first, figuring that I'd go easy on them. WRONG. Next up, they'd be looking for what I would do next - they'd expect me to try to take out the 12-year-old because he, being male, would be the biggest perceived threat in my eyes. Sorry! Wrong again. I'd go straight for the shorter woman in the turquoise pullover. That humorless expression, underlain with a certain no-bullshit confidence, I can tell she's packing mace. She'd never get the chance to get it out of her purse!

As she crumples to the sidewalk, the other two would be on me in a heartbeat - trying to minimize my mobility advantage by grappling me to the ground. I'd fake out the woman by clawing her right in the face with my fingernails - the last thing she'd expect from a guy my size! While she's reeling from that, I'd bowl the kid over and fall on top of him like 240 pounds of fat cement. He's out for the count, but she's recovered enough to be a danger - while I'm prone, and in a bad defensive position. So as I pivot onto my back, I'd send a clumsy flurry of kicks in her general direction - it's not going to connect, but it'll back her right the hell off! And give me a chance to do my special ninja-style kick-out-jump-to-my-feet maneuver. Next thing she knows, I'm right there with a big helping of two-fisted mayhem.

No contest.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007


Subject: Yo, woman! I said yo.
Message Body:


In my previous message I said "yo." I have yet to receive a confirming "yo" in response. What's up witch oo? Don't you appreciate getting "yo"ed?

If that is indeed the case, and you do not appreciate getting "yo"ed, then please respond with an alternative monosyllable for me to use in a substitute fashion, in place of "yo." I will be pleased to meet your preferential mode.

Otherwise, and I repeat: YO.

> From: Joe Sender
> Sent: Tuesday, June 05, 2007 7:32 AM
> To: l. smittykins
> Subject: yo
> s'up
> B-)

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Put your hands together for MC Surrealer and his Juxta Posse

As my beats flat-out flatten whole sections of manhattan! People run screaming from my terrorist rapping! I'm worser than anthrax, my raps make good tracks go bad - and you knew that it would happen from my utterly perverted skillz on the mic / like Fatty Arbuckle col' molestin' a tyke, I strike fear into the innocent with just one hand / I types fifty words a minute
and they all said:

That was the worst rap verse I could come up with on immediate notice.

You know what though, that's just dumb. What's the point at that point? Who even cares! It's just, whatever, it isn't even pushing an envelope at that point, it's more like licking a stamp and phoning it in, like a telemarketer to a disinterested party, like a rap practitioner who came up on the short at the end of the metaphor. Like freestyling in a jail cell - not a contradiction in terms, perhaps, but a pretty unpoetic irony nonetheless.

I prefer to get my lyrics on a more elevated plane. Why don't you join me there! We can be conscious together, reach an elevation from which meaningless things coalesce into patterns that appear to make sense, as the rhyme climbs higher the clouds get dense but then WOOO you break through! The sunlight kinda dazzles your eyes but it's a high that you can never quite realize / you see the goal so clearly but the distance deceives, you spend your life just stretching forward but you've never believed / if you could close your hands upon it then you'd see for youself but...but...

Ahhhh, what's the use. The first one was better.

Monday, June 04, 2007

I Just Got The New Elliott Smith Album!

It's killer! You know what, that guy and 2Pac should do an album together. That would be hot.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Preview Reviews #3 (le troisieme): Paris, je t'aime

I just saw a preview for this in front of Waitress. Then I looked it up on IMDb to see when it's coming out - it says it came out already! In June 2006?

I didn't realize they were still doing that long, slow, delayed rollout thing. Maybe it's just for "independent" films.

Anyway, this looks like one of those jobs with fifty lead roles and twenty directors each handling snippet-stories that get mashed together to form a film on a theme, in this case, falling in love in Paris. About the last guy you see in the preview is Elijah Wood. Can I ask you folks something about Elijah Wood? Apart from that look of shocked and dismayed fascination that he does so well, and apart from his knack for playing entire scenes (or indeed, films) looking as though he has something else, something very compelling on his mind - does this guy have any other tricks?

I'm not disparaging those tricks. Those are two very good tricks! Especially when called for in the story. They can play very effectively. But he worked them so hard in Frodo Goes East that the net effect now is that no matter what role he's playing, that look will pass across his face and the audience will immediately think "Ah yes, the Ring of Power. He will never completely be free of it."

I'm also pissed because if they showed Emily Mortimer in the preview, I missed it! Yet the imdb listing says she's in there. And that means I'm probably going to have to see this mess, because jeez! Emily Mortimer. At some point I seem to have fallen completely in love with her*. I don't even know what it is, because from an objective standpoint, it's not like she's all that much of a smokin' hot babe**. But for me, you know what guys? For me it isn't really dependent on just looks, so much. The connection has to be more on an emotional or spiritual level for it to click. Which is not to say that as a fan I can't observe that she could stand to put on a few extra ozzes and libs, but really, I would never say that out loud because that's HER business.

*In a very healthily detached I-know-very-well-I'm-only-the-audience way, of course.

**oh yes she is.

I Am Easily Impressed

The world can be a great place to play in. There are surfaces you can walk on. Sometimes there are leaves you can crunch underfoot. Stiff winds, for you to lean into, squinting. Then you can turn around and walk the other way - the wind buoys you along! Sometimes just walking across town at night can be an adventure.

There are stars. My God - just look at them. Get out - out beyond anywhere with electric lights, and look at them! They are still there.

On a really hot night, you can feel the heat just coating your skin; feel the night wrap you up in thick breezes warm as blood.

Sometimes on a cold night you gasp, drawing knives of ice into your lungs and then blowing them out again - melted into steam.

Even if you are not drunk, the world is pretty amazing. I just can't seem to get used to it, myself.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Things I Always Wondered #3: Necrophilia

The thing I always wondered about necrophilia was...

In the Rigor Mortis...

Do the nipples get stiff also?

Because otherwise, I don't think I could get into it AT ALL.

I need at least a token sign of interest.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Road Safety Corner #3: Buddy Up!

When you're out on the highways, alone or at night, I can't stress hard enough how important it is to use the "buddy system." Good drivers have to get a little teamwork going out there, to keep everyone on the road safe. You know how it is, moving down the highway especially at night - cars bunch together in packs, blocking stuff up even thought there's generally plenty of free-and-clear in between each pack of cars. Ideally, you want to find a way to move slowly and safely up through the pack, out into the clear, and onto the next pack. The goal is to continuously and safely keep your speed just a few MPH above the prevailing. But how to do it?

Buddy up!

You're in the passing lane. So is everybody else, except the two-to-three-odd cars in the other lanes basically keeping pace, blocking up progress in a very passive-aggressive fashion. The cowards! Suddenly - hey! - a pair of headlights in the rear view, zooming up at an alarming rate! QUICK! Get over. He's coming harder and faster than you are. Very often, you will find that a determined driver like that will find a way to clear a way.

That's your new buddy!

Once he's past you, get in behind him. Don't tailgate! Never tailgate your buddy. Tailgating is his job!

Just keep a respectful distance behind, as he clears the way. Don't crowd him! But don't let anybody get in between you, either. The trick is to match speeds with your buddy, keeping behind him as he wends a path through the lanes, all the while preserving that respectful distance so he doesn't try to pull aside and make you his buddy. If you can manage that, your buddy will clear a path for you both with his speedy and determined safe-driving style, and you can safely go as fast as he does! Because in theory, if cop sees two dudes speeding and can only pull one of them over, cop is probably going to want to go for the front-runner. That's just cop's general preference, mentality-wise.

You'll note I keep referring to your buddy with the gender-neutral "he" pronoun. This is because in practice, let's face it - that dude is a guy. Not to say that females can't make great buddies (in so many ways!), but I've been keeping close track and every time I see that ideal buddy out there on the road - aggressively safe, with driving skills to match that impressive speed - it's generally a guy. That's not predictive or prejudiced, it's a post-facto observation from someone who knows.

Enough! It sickens me how I constantly seem to be kow-towing to the gender gendarmes!

Anyhow, that about gives you all you need to know about how to buddy up. A couple words of warning: if your buddy begins driving erratically or like an asshole, ditch him. You don't need to associate with that or lend your tacit stamp of approval to such unseemly doings.

The second word of warning, I give by way of anecdote. True story. I normally buddy up with cars, but occasionally a motorcyclist has what it takes to fit the bill. Today, driving home from work, I was tearing up the road towards a pretty thick pack of cars, when I notice this biker ahead of me who clearly has the right idea. He's pressing on firmly, everybody is getting over for him - he's not splitting the lanes either, he's firmly planted in pass. He's my new buddy! I'm enjoying myself, flying by everybody, he's clearing the way. I'm admiring his pretty sweet-looking bike and his NICE gold-tone helmet - I'm thinking, "If I had a bike, that's the kind of helmet I'd get!" I'm noticing he's got his bike tricked out with some neat custom touches. What are those blue reflectors for?

Wait! You guessed it. My so-called "buddy" is a COP.

I backed the heck off after that. There's one level of respectful distance for your buddy, but there's a whole other upper echelon of respectful distance to keep behind a speeding cop. Because let's face it: we all love our peace officers and we all support law enforcement, but cop is not your buddy. Cop has a different role to play in that dance. And at some point, if you try to treat cop as your buddy, cop is going to come to the conclusion that you're deliberately fucking with him.

And when it comes to fucking with cop, it is needless to say what it is needless to say.

Reasons To Read My Blog

I'm just putting together some reasons. No pressure:

Reason 1: "Not Famous." There is no reason to read my blog. I'm not famous or anything. This may appeal to those of you who do things for no reason.

Reason 2: "Funny." Some of you have been kind enough to tell me my blog is funny. Well, to you I say, "kudos." Kudos on your keen discernment and fine sense of humor, to be able to detect that funniness in this blog. Because to me, I find it considerably less funny than you so allegedly seem to!!

Reason 3: "Informative Topics." Very often a post that I make will be on some very informative topic that I have chosen. This may be a mark in the plus column for those of you who find topics to be an area of interest to you - bearing always in mind that the specific information I include is quite possibly wrong. Most of it I just make it up.

Reason 4: "Lists." Such as this one. I don't do lists very often, but when I do...list fans rejoice.

Reason 5: "Lists Featured Only Infrequently." Some people may hate lists, and for those people the fact that I do them rarely is a positive boon.

Reason 6: "Canny Word Choice." I'm known for this. Some have even called my word choice uncanny, but I dispute that.

Reason 7: "VERY Well-Endowed (Sexually)." Not really, but sex sells as they say. Not that I have anything to be ashamed about.

Reason 8: "Knows When To Stop." This is more of a general observation than anything anyone's ever told me about myself.

Reason 9: "Ace Songwriter." Seriously! I am. That's something to think about when you think about me being that.

I think I'll stop there.

(note the winking reference to an earlier portion of the post!)