Do You Feel Lucky?

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

Sunday, January 31, 2010

This Was The End of The Show. Crowded House, Mt. Winery Pt.5

So, a belated capper to my serialized concert review in four (now five) parts. This goes back to September 2007, and I quote from myself at that time:
During the final number, "Four Seasons In One Day", the much-threatened curfew kicks in, and the power is abruptly cut. But flouting the venue's affluent neighbors, Neil forges on - inciting the crowd into a long singalong finale of "Four Seasons" that tacks on a quick run-through of the coda to "Better Be Home Soon" for good measure!

Some kind soul got the whole bit down on video, so I could relive a sweet moment! Wonderful:

Man, can Neil ever hold that note. He could have held that note forever!

Thank you, whoever shot this. What a gift we give to memory, to refresh it from time to time with a record of what actually happened. And thank you Martine, from the Crowded House Fan Forum, who tipped me off to its existence!

If you're interested in the first four installments of the story:

Crowded House, Mountain Winery Pt.2
Crowded House, Mountain Winery Pt.3
Crowded House, Mountain Winery Pt.4

Pts. 2-4 were a serialized narrative. The first post was more a general review of the band at that stage of their career:

Crowded House, Mountain Winery Pt.1

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Is This It Or What?

So, is this it? Is this all we get?

For all your life, you try and try, and try and fail, and run and hide. A penny saved. A penny lost. A lesson learned - at any cost. We've all been bitten much more than twice; we'll shy away - away from life. We'll finish our work at the end of the night, and go home, to life - in a shambles. Hey.

For all the lies we swallowed whole, let's just metabolize them all. We'll burn them up, a burst of speed. Flush out those empty calories. We've all bought into the wrong idea - let's sell our shares, get out of here! We'll finish our work at the end of the year, and we'll go out all night and get scrambled.

But - let's be unrealistic for once. Let's be unrealistic for once. Let's be unrealistic, for once. You don't know you won't get what you want.

For all the risks we took for free, to compensate, we'll charge a fee to all the ones who laughed us down when they come 'round to see us now. We've all got something to tell ourselves: we'll go to jail; we'll go to hell. We'll go to lengths, and heights and depths, and we'll be unrealistic! Just say yes,

Oh yes, be unrealistic for once. Let's be unrealistic for once! Let's be unrealistic, for once - you don't know you won't get what you want!

You don't know.

No, you don't! No, you don't now.

For all you know, this is all you get. But don't get all distracted yet

We're all in love, in life, in pain - for all you's just in your brain?

We've all got something to hope for, eh? For all we know, it's all in vain. We'll finish our work at the end of the day, and go out


just like candles


For Shame #4: No Real Progress Yet

I'll leave the concept explanation and go straight to the chase on this one. Four installments in, I think we can dispense with the formalities! If anybody needs a refresher, click on the 'shame' label in the footer and they'll all come up. probably some other stuff will come up too, which I'd guess you can sort of skip, or just not scroll down to. Not sure what else gets the 'shame' label. Hm. Maybe I should take a look, just to be on the safe side. I don't want to call attention to my own shame.

OK! Groceries! My most recent quick trip to the grocery store. Let's See What Have We Here:

Milk. Needed some milk.

Canned pears. Because the fresh fruit I bought up to cut up to go with the plain-flavor yogurt I have in the fridge, I got lazy on it and just ate it as hand fruit. I love hand fruit! Peaches and apples. But then I found myself left with this plain yogurt. I have to be in a particular mood for plain yogurt. So now, I have a choice of moods: plain yogurt, or pears. With some plain yogurt on.

Heinz beans. I love these. I don't love the other kind. These are the kind I love:
Heinz Beans
You never see them in stores. You always see tons of the other brands and kinds, lesser beans all. These are the ones you want. Best beans. Good with bangers, or breakfast, or franks, or as a side, or with cookout food right on the laminated paper plate right next to the potato salad - basically, for all your beans needs. Boy howdy! Do I love Heinz beans. When I saw they had them, I got four cans. That'll last me a couple months I'm sure.

I may have to switch to shopping at Johnny's Super. Not only did they have the Heinz, that checkout guy had such a sweet shuffle and touch with the bagging that it looked like a speed-juggling trick! He was expert. Packed up my stuff, plus a big paper towels I snagged, all snug in a double-bagged grocery sack, lickety-fast and handing it to me with a smile! His name's Roger, I think? The guy after me mentioned it: "How you doing, Roger."

I think it was Roger. But maybe the guy behind me was ex-Air Force, and a little confused. Because if that's the case, he should have said, "How you doing, over." And then when Over replied "Oh, I'm fine" he could be like, "Roger that!" But only as a response. You can't go around Rogering people on something you yourself said! Unless of course, Roger is in fact their name.

Which is still my primary assumption, all digressions aside.

Hands In The Air Like You Just Don't Care

All the prostitutes in the house say "ho!!!!!"


Ok, that's dumb anyway, but I guess somebody beat me to it. I should have put it up when I first said it off-the-cuff!

Could've been first.

An Historical Perspective

History is the past we make due with, in the absence of better facts.

Big Deal, Denver!

Yeah, I've had your omelette. So? What's the big deal? You chopped up some bell pepper and put that in there. Amazing. How did you happen to think of that? Had some bell peppers lying around, perhaps? Weren't using 'em for anything important, thought it was about time you stepped up and made your mark on global cuisine with a signature dish all your own? What a city of master-chefs! Denver, you amaze me with your chutzpah.

You think people back East hadn't thought of doing that, way before you did? Sure! They just didn't call a press conference over it. Didn't hire a PR firm. Weren't too impressed by the result, most likely.

Whereas out in Denver, I picture you back in the day inflicting this proud concoction you're all so pleased with yourselves about, on all the waves of incoming cattle-drivers happy for a chance to unwind in the big city after their long dusty trail. "Can't I get it without all the colored bits?" "We do eggs this way here, Cow-boy!" "Well okay, then, I weren't making no trouble about it."

I've got news for you, Denver: a lot of people don't even like bell peppers.

Insomnia? I'm Trying To Help!

I'm in the process of compiling a long list of my most boring posts, for you to use as a resource when insomnia strikes. That may take a while - in the interim, the "lucky, punk?" random button at the top works pretty well for that purpose.

But all of that's more in the nature of treatment. I'd like to talk to you about something a little better than that! Prevention, maybe? Maybe just something as simple as understanding. A lot of people seem to be talking about their problems with insomnia. Do you have insomnia? Do you know what causes it? How did you happen to get it? Is it something you've done? Is it something you do?

Maybe it is something you failed to do.

What is it at the root of what's keeping you up, tossing and turning, miserable nights? Have you examined yourself deeply for clues? Are you being punished? Are you punishing yourself? Is Jesus punishing you? Did you repent to Jesus? What did you do that was so awful?

Now I want to make one thing clear: I'm not being accusatory, here. And I'm certainly not being insulting! I'm trying to help. I'm not trying to get the dirt from you either, on whatever it is you did. That's not my business, I'm not your father confessor! But sometimes it does help to unburden yourself. I'm here for you, if you want to come clean.

Have you tried repenting to Jesus? Do you have any idea what it is you did? Maybe even if you don't know what you did, that was so wrong, maybe try repenting to Jesus anyway. Modern studies hint that Jesus is often able to work miracles in ways that mirror science's powerful "placebo effect" - which is the proven, technical term for when you get better, even though it's based on faith in something that turns out to be basically sugar pills. So why not try Jesus for your insomnia? Just imagine when it works! Soon you'll be drifting off to dreamland, sleeping the sweet, untroubled sleep of a sailor in port. Surely that sounds better than an eternity in hell, wailing and gnashing it up down by the fiery lakeside? Sipping a tall cool class of caustic hydrochloric acid.

Okay, maybe your trouble has nothing to do with Jesus. Maybe you did nothing wrong, and you are being tormented for no reason. Feel better?

I'm just trying to help. I'm trying to throw out proven, creative ideas that have worked for millions of insomnia suffers. If you don't want to try Jesus, that's fine! I'm not pushing the Lord, here. This is about relief of symptoms: PERIOD.

Anyway, you don't need to cop an attitude with me, pal. Last I checked, I'm not the one with insomnia.

Friday, January 29, 2010

The Absolute Hardest Lesson In Life To Learn #1

This is going to be the first in an ongoing series. If I can come up with any others.

The absolute hardest lesson in life to learn is that you're better off with nobody than with people who are bad for you.

More Health Tips for A Better, Healthier You

Ejecting faeces from my body when I'm done with them is just one of the many ways I keep the natural systems and functions of my body running smoothly.

(Hey, did you notice how much classier it is when you spell it with that extra "a"? Oddly, this doesn't work for all words: "aasshole")

There are all sorts of other things I do as well:

Carbon dioxide could build up to toxic levels in my body. So I gather it up and transport it with my bloodstream, and then I expel it through my lungs. I try to do this where plants are nearby - my waste carbon dioxide is like food made out of air for them! This is the reason why people say talking to your plants is good, even though objectively, it ought to be crazy-behavior. The benefit to the plant world outweighs the human social stigma!

Even though our society says you have to be on-the-go, all-the-time, I like to take time out for sleep - generally every day, I try to sneak in between 5 and 16 hours of sleep. Why? Well, I like to use a metaphor to describe that: I'm "recharging the batteries." And what happens to a battery if you don't recharge it? That's right. You throw it out.

These are all common, sense-based tips and observations. No hard science or mumbo-jumbo from me! But I hasten to add, for those of you who would like to dig deeper, for every one of these tips, there is a wealth of proven information available on the internet. The internet is a vast resource for your health information and wellness strategy needs. There's good information all over it, so if you're interested and/or skeptical, look it up yourself!

Don't take my word for it.

When Your Turn Comes Round, And The Light Goes On...

"I hit the match / I lit the match / I saw another monster turn to ash...felt the burden lifting from my back / do you recognize a nervous twitch? / that exposes the weakness of the myth?"

When your turn comes round

and the light goes on

and you feel

your attraction to him

- your instinct

can't be wrong

Thursday, January 28, 2010

You Can Say What You Want, But It Doesn't Make It True

Some things are true without ever having to be said.

Those would be the true things. Those are the things that would be true, without ever having to be said.

In fact, no proposition has ever gained or lost in truth value merely by being made into a statement. I would even go so far as to say: statements of equivalent truth value remain equivalent, regardless of the relative volume at which they are broadcast. Or to put it another way: truth spoken louder is no truer for it, but a whispered lie will always find a willing ear.

Wait, no wait a second - sorry! That whole last part derailed into subjective realms best left to the fabulists and theoreticians.

I guess if I'm going to get all poetic and shit, I could say "Truth spoken loudly is no truer for having...for having been...for hurting your ears? Truth spoken loudly is no truer for the listener's tinnitus? Truth, the louder you say it, no wait - Truth spoken softly may still hurt, but at least you don't get tinnitus!"

And it became a proverb.

Megan Fox Pt.2: I Just Want To Clear Up A Possible Misconception!

I just want to say, I don't mean by the previous post on the topic, I don't mean people to think I'm down on this young woman in any way. Now you might hear a lot of people observe, "There are some people who are considered 'hot', who if you really look closely at them, you will see that the only thing attractive about them is their youth. They have no particular distinction of face or form that sets them apart, no particular strong flame of character or charisma that will burn long and endure. They have only the glow and the shine and the sheen that they were born with, and grew into, confident and secure in a bloom that flourishes now at its peak, but that soon will fade - leaving them disappointingly, crushingly, resoundingly plain." Now it's true, you may hear a lot of other people say that, but I refuse to add my voice to that suspiciously eloquent chorus of dismissive criticism.

Because I say: if that's so, if this young woman or if any young person in that situation, is doomed to spend the rest of her (or his or her) life in the shadow of their former glow, trying to keep up to the level of what they still solidly believe they are truly worth, only to have the world back down look at them and see, and say: "pack it in dear. We only liked you because you used to look good sweaty." - well, if that's the case and if that is the hand dealt by cruel fate, won't life be hard enough without us piling on, all snide with our observations?

I say give this poor girl a break. If that's what life has in store for her, she'll have it hard enough soon enough. Give her her day in the sun.

Admittedly, I haven't seen any of her movies yet, so I'm probably not holding some of the same grudges that others on her anti-bandwagon may have, stowed and secured in their grudge-compartment.

"a knack for only that"

"a knack for only that"

my answers all arrived too soon
for me to remember
when the questions came due

so I missed all my chances
by miles or more
with days late adding up to
more dollars short

but there's one thing that I'm good at,
yeah, about one thing I'm good at,
oh, I've got a knack for only that
and that's what's getting me through

my business has a mind of its own
I've been trying to mind it, who knows
where it's gone

or what it's gotten into
whatever it is, won't go well
not for long

'cause there's only one thing that I'm good at,
yeah, about one thing I'm good at,
oh, I've got a knack for only that
and that's what's getting me through

Megan Fox: The Riddle Of How Hot She Is

So I'm looking at her, and I'm hearing all the various remarks and appraisals people make - and let me tell you, as a feminist, I'm dismayed sometimes by how shallow some of these people are. But leave that aside. I'm doing my best to make the whole image and reality line up, and figure out why so many people - dudes, principally (who one would think would know) - are talking about how incredibly hot they say Megan Fox is. And I came up with something, a pretty strong theory that I think fits the facts.

I think that maybe, she reminds them of someone they used to know in school? And maybe had a crush on? One of those unrequited deals.

Anyway. I'm not the only one wondering, either! I've seen other people trying to make sense of it. So that's my guess. I'll let you know if I think of a better one.

Available To Be Compensated

So I was looking at my Mandatory FTC Full Disclosure Notice (in the sidebar, right below the "Who Am I?", right above the "Today's Cat & Girl" button), where I disclose that so far I've gotten jack nil in terms of $ or swag from running this blog.

I'd like to spruce that disclosure notice up a bit. I'd like to spruce it up by disclosing some actual, countable cashola. What do people blog for, if not for the money?

So I looked back through my blog, and identified the two likeliest deep-pockets contributors:



Hi Coke! Hi McDonald's!

I couldn't help notice the multiple sincere endorsements I've put out there over the years for both of your fine products and/or services. I'm guessing that if you cut me a check with multiple zeroes (between 3 zeroes and an arbitrarily large number of zeroes - no decimal point, please) and at least one positive integer at the front of it all, and I then disclose that payoff right there in my disclosure notice, such an act might well galvanize the buying public to increase their intake of and/or demand for your products/services.

The best part is, on my part at least, the real work's been done already. So you know exactly what you're getting!

A bold proposal, I know. But as I always say: bold words call for bold times.


No - Wait, sorry: I mean: "HIIIIIIII-YAH!!!"

I like to throw a lot of forearms around. A nice forearm smash? Yeah. Solid. I like that solidity. And jabs. A peppering of straight jabs, and then throw in a forearm smash. I manage the arc swing so if I miss hitting it dead-on, if the majority gets dodged and the contact only occurs in the outer periphery of the arc - well, that just means that what happens instead is a brutal elbow strike. Which if anything, is more devastating! But I don't focus on that, or try for that, because number one - too easy to score a clean miss, and number two - well.

It isn't as satisfying. It just isn't as satisfying. The elbow strike is savage, elegant even, and it's got a certain crack-thwack appeal! That's all true, but it lacks that solidity. It's like you're using a baseball bat! It lacks that personable, agreeable "hello-mass,-meet-force!" feel, of just mashing your whole forearm across the target, high-impact, with your whole shoulder in the swing. You're involving your whole body on that one! It just means more. So yeah. Jabs, straight jabs that is, and forearm smashes.

It's an odd combination at first, and can raise some questions, but people get used to it pretty quick and then it's business as usual. "Oh, he's just like that - that's just what he does. Don't let it bother you."

Throw a front-snap kick in there, if it gets boring.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I'm Too Bold For This Shit

There's a new me in town, and he's not like I used to be. No more of this worried about what people think crap. No more of this, oh, apology for the thousandth time for wasting your time like I do, when you and I know that's just what I do. This new me is on the prowl for the real good time, looking out for number you-know-who, beating the bushes for who let the dogs out, and getting down with the bad self.

The proverbial town was painted red when I got there, officer.

Lone Ranger Mask vs. Ninja Mask


Tuesday, January 26, 2010

The Far-Reaching Implications of This John Edwards Sex Tape

Here I go again getting all political. Apologies, but sometimes somebody has to step up, yell "bullshit!" and blow the whistle. And sometimes that somebody has to be el numero ME.

This John Edwards sex tape sounds like a plant.

Edwards knows the American psyche, and he's playing it like a pinball machine. He figures that once his massive penis is right there in the public eye (ow!), people will be forced to take him seriously, regardless of all the scandal and shame. You can't shame the big one.

Frankly, I don't see how this strategy can possibly fail. It's the one thing that trumps everything else. The one thing Quayle didn't have.

Edwards is playing the schlong card big-time, and heaven help the rest of the field in 2012. I see him forcing a showdown, switching to Independent. The only hope the Big 2 will have is if they can pony up the goods for public inspection.

I don't know what Obama's packing, but if indications are faint, Barack might need to cede the field to Hillary for the good of the party.

Understated Incredulous Comebacks #1

"I respect your ability to think so."

The Dangers of Ostensibly "Classy" Overspellings

Ordinarily, I very much enjoy these Britishized alternate spellings. I think they add a certain effete touch of class (or perhaps "classism" is the accurate term), to just about every word they grace with their arbitrary, superfluous vowel flourishes. Will you do me the honour of this dance? My ardour for you colours my cheeks. To say nothing of words like "aluminium," "foetus," and "faeces." Spellings like these can class up just about anything!

But therein, I think, lies the danger. A danger that a lot of us may be missing out on, here: some things simply should not be classed up with fancy spellings.

I'm referring specifically to the word "paedophilia."


If we spell it in this high-toned fashion, we risk glamorizing it. It sounds like it's happening in outer space or something - something dignified and scientific! Absolutely not acceptable. Spelled the proper way - "pedophilia" - it resumes its proper aspect: low, grubby and disgusting. To spell it paedophilia dignifies it out of all proportion - makes it sound like something the Ancient Greek Philosophers might have looked kindly upon!

A bad example, perhaps, but my point's clear I believe. When something is so completely disgusting, it needs to be spelled out as unglamorously as possible.

I don't know who to go to on this, honestly, but I think something can and should be done.

Monday, January 25, 2010

For Shame #3: An Ongoing Attempt To Improve My Grocery Habits Via Shameful Exposure

Holy shit! I went and got groceries and forgot to blog about it. Sorry - I got all distracted, is what happened.

But I need to get not distracted - that is, if I'm serious about the process. Because how am I supposed to keep my food buying habits healthy and on the up-and-up, without the public shame factor? I need to get and keep disciplined on this one! So far, I'm seeing very little progress even with all the effort I've put in. I need to keep pushing.

So Here's What Have We Here:

I got fresh vegetables: white onion, green & yellow bell peppers, and (red) tomatoes.

I got tangerine juice and grapefruit juice, 64 ounces of each I believe. Odwalla is the best, next to DIY.

I got "B-DIA SMKH". I have no idea what that is, but it's on the receipt.

I got deli ham and deli swiss, for use in making omelettes and other dainties.

I got an apple pie. It was NATIONAL PIE DAY, alright!!?

I got a rather cryptic item indicated only as "GROCERY" "$3.99"

Hm. Not sure what that was either. Oh yeah! I bet that was those chips that wouldn't price - Kettle Chips Sweet Onion. I stood there like a dork for like, four minutes while the cashier ("Emily," if the receipt is to be believed) kept trying to flirt with me, and people piled up awkwardly behind my ludicrously tiny cart. Finally somebody came by and said to her: "$3.99" - what a relief to get out of there.

But what a hypocrite, as well. "Flirting" indeed! Any time someone accuses me of flirting, I was only being friendly! Ergo, the same applies here. Emily was only being friendly. Trying to make the best of a bad situation. One aisle open, all those shoppers trying to push through, blocking it up like platelets coagulating in a pinprick wound. She's at the front, doing her best - but she can't memorize every damn item in the store! She needs help with that. She even asked me - "do you know how much these were?" Shoot, like I care what chips cost. I just wanted the chips!

Anyway, I don't want to talk about it. See you next time on For Shame: The Spectacle Of The Modern Grocery Dilemma.

EDIT: I also got beer. Widmer's Winter Seasonal, known aptly enough as: "Brrr".

Mundane Monday Thought #1

If everyone who hated their job put their jobs into a big pile, and then they all stood around and looked at it a while, and then each of them picked up the job they wanted from the pile - man, number one, I bet there'd be a shitload of jobs left sitting in that pile, still. At the end of that process.

And number two, I don't want to be the one to have to figure out how to feed all those people! Nobody is as critical of lunch as the disgruntled.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Something Odd About This Blog

Something odd about this blog. I feel like I can be proud of each and every individual post! Yet somehow, I'm ashamed of the whole.

It's one of those greater/lesser parts-sum deals.

Thought of the Day: Dig In!

I'm always prepared to eat my words. What could be more delicious?

Open Dream Journal #69: Weird, Nonlinear Pt.2

Rarely does an installment of Open Dream Journal have a Part 2. One would assume that this would be a continuation of the same dream, in a later dream. Sadly, cool as that would be, that's not the case this time! I was absently reading PART ONE, when it hit me that I'd forgotten to describe a very vivid detail of the dream that was quite thrilling at the time, but that in the rush of describing the flow of the dream, I must just have decided to glossed it over in favor of focusing on the main action. But it was a striking detail, and I think it does need to be included: a brief description of how I boarded the supersonic black-ops jet.

I grabbed my special harness and strapped it on, tightening all the straps and fixing the closures as I ran up to the roof, where I vaulted up and stood on the special raised platform, and waited, scanning the skies. There it was! A black, sharp-angled speck, angling down from the sky trailing a long bungee-cable with a hook at the end of it! The jet rocketed by overhead at its minimum speed, and a second later the guided hook slammed into my chest, lifting me off my feet as the hook self-fastened into my harness perfectly - as advertised! - and the now taut wire propelled me over the treetops, after the jet.

I reverse-rappelled up to craft, the crew scooped me in through the backside hatch and then we were off. Supersonic THROTTLE-DOWN! Discarding my harness, I settled in for a dirty martini and a smooth trip - at least, until those damn UFOs attacked.

Man, I didn't even get into the details of how the UFO attack was repulsed! That was pretty cool too, but really - a story in itself. Maybe save it for a Pt.3.

I can't believe I skipped over all this important stuff! I must really have been in a hurry to get to the art museum part.

Yesterday Was Pretty Sweet

Not that I did anything major. That's what made it so sweet!

I tell you, I'm not the sort of person who has any trouble sleeping. Normally I'm fine with anywhere between 5 and 16 hours of sleep per day, and I just go to bed when I'm tired - I'm not going to sleep if I'm not tired! And then I wake up when I have to go in for work. If I wake up early, I go in early!

But sometimes, my sleep cycle will get all messed up, like with this flu. Man, when I'm down for the count with something nasty, I will sleep ALL DAY, to the extent that I can pull it off! My goal is to sleep right through that nasty sick funk. My little me-ules don't need my conscious mind directing the battle efforts! They know what they doing.

But the thing is, all that clock-disregarding sleeping straight through to the point where you have to get up and groggy around a bit before you can sleep again - when you finally do get well, your body is like on Pluto time. I spent the next week and a half trying to get back on Earth time, let alone California time!

Yesterday was the last of the trouble. I woke up at seven, and groaned in complaint. I didn't want to be up at seven! I could see out the window - more gray and rain, after a week of the same. Why was I up? I could sleep in. It was Saturday! I could get 8 or ten hours if I wanted! Recharge the batteries, pay back the 'sleep debt' after a week of fives! I didn't need to settle for that five hours. But one reason I never really have trouble with sleep is, I don't really stress over it or try to force it - eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired I always say!

So I was about to get up and go do something constructive, since I was awake anyway, when suddenly I said screw it. IT'S FUCKING SATURDAY. No FIVE HOUR BULL-SHIT! And so I did something I haven't in years: put on Genesis Genesis like I used to, low in the background to lull me to sleep, and tucked myself back in.

I woke up at 10:30am, the sun was shining. I kid you not, after a week of rain - I walked out under towering clouds riven by wide rents of blue, and the sun beaming all down through to warm my grateful face.

Then I took off up the mountain, perchance to see the sea. Places to go, and people to be. Or one person to be, actually, but man I was glad to be feeling like him again! Hate being sick and out of sorts.

Today I woke up just as easy and beautiful as you please, back in harmony with nature and God and all things.

Sleep's important, y'alls! I'm not sure I have any practical advice to offer on that score, but it sure is important.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

A Cautionary Tale, But One With An Unsatisfying Moral

I ask you: how many times have I ever deliberately left my car door unlocked? NOT ONCE! Well, maybe about a dozen times, if I was just running into the house and back real quick. But to leave the car unlocked in a parking lot? When I'm going in to get groceries? No way! NOT ONCE!

So the one time I do - guess what happens. Just guess! That's right. I get back to the car, and I swing open the door, and there's some dude there, sitting composed as can be in the passenger seat! Looking out his window - as if it were really his. Vaguely hippiesh in seeming demeanor and mode of dress, but pretty clean-cut and unthreatening. I couldn't understand what had happened! Was this a new kind of hitchhiking? Had I inadvertently signaled in some way? By now, he had turned to regard me placidly. Well, I had to ask.

"Dude - why are you in my car? You're sitting right where I need to put the groceries."

"It's a hatchback - plenty of room back there." He was unruffled, and his tone seemed maybe as if he shouldn't have needed to point that out. As he said "back there," he did one of those deliberate "swing my eyes in the indicated direction" moves.

"Good point. Dude - why are you in my car? I mean, I'm already leaning in here with these bags, I was not expecting to find you here!"

"From that angle, you can easily shift course to the backseat - just swing those bags between the front-seat gap. Here, I'll help guide the bags back." Which he did.

I'm an easy-going guy, but I don't mind telling you I was getting a little exasperated, even with my groceries now well-stowed. "Dude -"

"My name's Gregg. You can call me Gregg."

"Gregg - " (don't ask me how I knew 2 g's at the end - some dudes, you can just tell) "- why are you in my car?"

I was not going to give him anything additional this time to respond to, to divert away from the main question. I could already tell that was a pet trick of his.

"Dude...your door was unlocked."

I knew it.

Throw Your Arms Around Me, Again

Love this song.

How many versions of this song am I going to post?!

Several more, I should expect. At least several more.

"And though I disappear from out of view -
you know I will never say goodbye"

Vinyl: Magic Hat Brewing Company

Vinyl: Magic Hat Brewing Company

EDIT: Dang it! I thought that "share" button would embed the video. What kind of "share" button is that? It's just a link to their site!

Oh well. Disregard. I haven't tried the particular beer, either. But I liked the ad for it!

EDIT2: Of course! It's on You-Tube. Easy:

Old-timey-sounding music, old-school hands-on stop-motion...hey, I bet I know who'll like this! FULL-SCREEN that sucker.

I Have Had Herpes, Syphilis, Gonorrhea, and The Other One.

In a previous life. Thank God!

Taught me a lesson or two about promiscuity, too, I don't mind telling you. That lesson or two being: DON'T.

That's for the kids at home.

Man, I had a really hard time that time out! After oodles of previous previous lives scott-free and easy without blemish - POW! All of them! The whole jackpot in one pull! Let me tell you, it was no fun from that point on. By the time 1918 rolled around, I didn't mind being swept sweetly away by that spanish flu epidemic too much. Kind of a relief, really.

Oh, and if anybody ever tells you that getting it once means you're immune after that? Don't you believe it. That's a myth. I fell for that one, and the very next life, I got them all again. DAMMIT!!

I guess that was the point where I learned my lesson, technically. There's too much stuff out there floating around these days! You have to be careful, it ain't like ancient Mesopotamia where you could just go crazy on the steppes. And I didn't luck out with any spanish flu epidemic that second time, either! Nope. I hung around forever. My first and only experience with senility. MAN, what a weird feeling.

I hope I never get that again.

YES! My Memory RULES!! Right Again.

I was totally right! After all that - that song was Toad The Wet Sprocket!

Man, WAIT 'til I tell her! Gin Blossoms my ass!

Who the hell was even disputing with me on this? Who would have the bad sense...? The song came on...we were both there...I remember that. I forget where it was we were, but we were both there. Then the song came on, we were both like..."this song is good! Who was this?"

At first, we were both sort of looking to me to answer that one. But I had a hell of a time getting it! Then we both started trying, and then after an agonized minute or two dragging brains for corpses of dead bands, tossing out wild candidates, suddenly she lit up with triumph: "Gin Blossoms!"

"No. It's not Gin Blossoms."

"YES IT IS! It's totally Gin Blossoms."

"No, I know the song you're thinking of, but this isn't them."

"This is Gin Blossoms. My brother had the album."

"Did he have at least one other album besides the Gin Blossoms? Because this song was on that other one."

"This is the Gin Blossoms! The same album as their other song! I remember the video!"

"Isn't. Trust me."


Suddenly it hit me - "TOAD THE WET SPROCKET! SECOND ALBUM! Dulcinea." Wide grin. I knew I'd come up trumps!

"It's GIN BLOSSOMS!! I don't even like Toad The Wet Sprocket!"

"This doesn't even sound like Gin Blossoms!"

Deadly eyes: "It's Gin Blossoms."

"Fine, fine. It's Gin Blossoms. You beat me fair and square - got your answer in first."

She was happy with that! Beaming, very insolently. As if in an unspoken gloat for half the whole rest of the evening. Took my clear sarcasm as a concession!

Sarcasm always bites me on the ass - people have an impossible time believing I'm not sincere. Totally bit me on the ass. Meanwhile, today, as of right now, brace yourself in your seats because I've been able to conclusively prove I was right. I looked at the damn album I cited, and sure enough: I was right. Because it was right there. It was indeed Toad The Wet Sprocket. NOT Gin Blossoms! Man, wait 'til I tell her. NOW who's the gloating, insolent one? Can't wait to see her face.

I can't even picture her face. Shoot! Who was this? Or even, where did it happen - what were the circumstances? I'm sure if I could recall the one I could get the other.


Dulcinea was in fact their fourth album, but still, I'd nailed the artist. My memory is damn hard to prove wrong.

Friday, January 22, 2010

People Are Like Suns

The thing with fan-made videos is, know what. You decide. I don't want to push or unduly sway.

Sometimes there is no official video, or they've disabled the embedding for bandwidth reasons or something. There's something, though, about all these random people - humans, really, there's no other way to describe them - in combination with this song.

"Science will enable us to be crystal-clear, to make diamonds from the shifting sands...

better take all the love that you've got, in a single hand"

- Crowded House, "People Are Like Suns"

A theology of me

I believe in myself, but only because I consider myself the most logical explanation.

I believe in myself, but I believe I long ago drifted off and stopped paying attention or caring. I'm a Meist.

I don't believe in myself. I'm an ameist.

I don't necessarily believe in myself, but I believe in something. Just not necessarily "me" as people stereotypically describe or define me.

I'm not sure what you'd call that.

Guess How Many Of These Are Me?

Oh man. The way back machine! I just stumbled across this. I wish these were dated. I remember doing it, but I don't remember when or why. This is from years long ago, by now. What the hell was I doing and/or was my problem?

Anyway. See if you can spot how many of the usage suggestions on this The SportsCenter Altar / Phrase Listing catchphrase usage page are in fact ME! The catchphrase in question is "Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk."

That didn't all happen at once, either. It just kept building on over months.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

From Now On, I'm Just Going To Say Fing

From now on, I am just going to say "fing." No apostrophe! I took the apostrophe out. No "f'ing." Not "effing." "Fing." Like, rhymes with "Ling" or "Jing"?

No more fing around. I'm just going to come out and say it!

"This is fing ridiculous."

"You fing asshole!"

Actually that second one might need a tweak.

Get Ready: 3D Is Coming Right At Us!

There's a lot of talk about 3-D, 3-D movies being released in theaters, doing great business. It's the next wave. If not the next wave that will actually break, it's definitely the next wave for the beachcombers to stand, shade their eyes and squint at, making appreciative comments while it's still just a tell-tale swell on the horizon. 3D is here to stay, in a major way! - or it soon will be, or at least we assume so. And not just in your local cinema, either. Feverish explorations of potential home-theater 3D technology - all with various practical difficulties, associated drawbacks and expenses - are well underway. While the home entertainment industry searches the fringe of the cutting edge for ways to put a product together that can be mass-produced and priced within reach of where the people will pony up, we're left waiting - cardboard two-tone cellophane glasses in hand, waiting for the promised glut of 3-D options to slake our thirst for entertainment that jumps out at us.

Well I say, sometimes it's not about peering ahead, yelling years down the road and telling the future to get a move on, already. Sometimes it's a matter of looking in the other direction! Taking a step back, and finding a creative solution in some forgotten, old-school technique.

I saw Shakespeare's King Lear done once in 3-D, and let me tell you it was masterful. The effect, I mean! The play itself - look, we all understand the limitations there, which in this case were pretty pronounced. You couldn't understand the gist of what they were saying, hardly. The characters would speak with great feeling and enunciation, but only every third word or so is still English! It would have benefitted from a serious re-write, just for understandibility's sake, but that would violate some sacred cow or something so of course we can't have that. But all that's beside the point - the 3-D itself, and the whole visual presentation in general, was utterly realistic. It looked great. No special glasses!

The visual space that can be depicted in true 3-D is always going to be bound by the constraints of the format. This particular display, they pretty much had to confine the action to a space about 40 feet wide, 30 feet deep and 20 feet high. This constricted the action somewhat, but they managed to adapt what they were doing to fit within it. All told, I was very impressed.

It's a technique that I think shows a lot of promise to wow and amaze.


Feeling a little overwhelmed by all your many, many comments that crop up on your blog posts? You love comments! You love each of your commenters (except for, you know, that one guy). You want each to feel individually responded to. Well, that's where I come in! To pick up a little of your slack. I Will Respond To Your Comments For You!

Yes, it's time to offer another Feature/Service. Here at Consider Your Ass Kicked!, we here at Consider Your Ass Kicked! can never be standing still, because it's about moving forward. It's not about standing still.

(Technically, it's all about doing the hokey pokey - no one's arguing otherwise).

So put in your dibs in my comments queue here, in this post! FIRST DIBS FIRST SERVED! I'm not going to do more than one of these at a time - my focus is on focus, and quality. You put your dibs in, plus the deets we need to work out a pre-scheduled arrangement. Tell me which one post next week you'll be wanting me to handle your comment-answering duties for - just pick a week-day next week that works for both of us (I'm fine). Identify which post, either by title, topic, or (if you want it to be a surprise) post time (INCLUDE TIME ZONE if not PST!), (and then you can just "forward schedule it" to hit at that exact time! This will also give you time to come up with a suitably juicy post - you don't want me sopping up on a second-rater! This is your one chance for me to SHINE! Set the stage, is all I'm saying).

VERY IMPORTANT: If you don't include the deets I need, if the post I'm supposed to do can't be clearly pre-identified (by day plus either title, topic, or post time) than I'm sorry, but I can't accept your bid! I will have to move on to the next one.

If yours is the winning (first-submitted-acceptably) bid, I'll give you the confirmation right there via comment reply. Then all you have to do is sit back and watch me work. At the end of the appointed day, I will come in, like any other commenter a bit late to the party, and nonchalantly run down the whole gamut of whose gone before:
@MySpaceinvader - it's true what you say, and funny as well, but have you considered the legality?

@Patrice Peaubert - I love your name! The funniest blognames are the ones deliberately picked to sound like a real name, only with just that faintly ridiculous over-the-top sing-songyness that tips you off that it's a true creation. But if it were your real name, what blessings for those who know you! They could say things like "Hello, Patrice Peaubert." (Mentally, I'm pronouncing that PO-BEAR - if I'm wrong, I don't wanna know!)

@JimmyLinguistic - is that like JohnnyMnemonic? Seriously, JimLing, I get what you're saying here. And who wouldn't want to come off as the big hero in that situation? Especially right there in front of her parents! I'm feeling for you man, but sometimes you just have to "declare victory and depart the field" as they say. You can't depend only on others for your validation.

@blockheed - LOLZ!

And so on, and so on. People will be like - "Who's THIS asshole?? Why is my comment being handed off to some scrub to answer?" It will be a treat! Now, those above are all just made-up examples, but clearly you see where the knack is at - and I GOT IT. And I would KEEP gettin' it. I would sit on that post like a gitmo marine on fence duty. Respond back to each incoming wave, at the end of every day for a period of a full week (I mean working week, OK? five working days). All I'd ask is in return is, respect the guest shot OK? Don't undermine me. If you want to come in and "get yours" afters, cool. I mean, if I didn't do a good enough job - COOL, that's fine! Do it! But you know, keep a lid on it during if that's okay, until my stint's run dry? It's just being respectful. Thanks.

One-time only offer. Void where appropriate.

Quit Explaining.

One time a buddy of mine goes, "Quit explaining yourself, man! It makes you sound guilty."

My response was in the affirmative: "I don't give a damn how I sound! My purpose is not to seem."

Later on, though, I realized we were both right. But what am I going to do about it? I need to be clear!

It's more important to be clear than to seem clear.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

My Favorite Pie Chart

Favorite Pie Chart
Thanks to

That's right. I just thanked the government. People crap and whine about taxes, but "s" on that! For my money, the government does a good job.

Given the available/interested labor pool.

EDIT: Whoops! Correction - sorry, I forgot one:
Favorite Pie Chart 2

That's better. That's accurate. Now I want to bake a pie to those exact fillings and proportions.

You can have the crazy slice.

EDIT2 1/24/2010: Damn it! I forgot PEACH! I'm not going to redo all that now. Just make the mental adjustment to your picture, figuring I like peach better than I like apple when I'm in the mood for it, and a little less than blueberry or cherry when I'm not. That would've been hard to chart out properly anyhow.

You Call Me Too Nice? Pt. 2: It's Not That I'm Too Nice...'s that I aspire to be too nice.

The difference there can be deadly. Fair warning.

I Like To Hand-Make Gifts, And People Love To Get 'Em!

But too bad, people! My hand-made gifts almost ALL go to me. I'm one selfish self-gifter. And the care I put into it just demonstrates how much I care! How generous with my own time I am, and what a cheapskate.

But it's cool. When I give myself a gift, it's the thought that counts.

Over the weekend I made myself a burlap snuggie! I'm kind of into comfort, kind of into discomfort.

National Pie Day! This Coming Saturday, Jan. 23rd!

Holy crap!

No wait, I mean -

Holy pie! Thanks to Elliott at Cheesehead Displacement Syndrome for the timely reminder that this coming Saturday is NATIONAL PIE DAY!

I love pie. I am going to plan my whole day around pie! I am going to eat nothing all day that day except pie. I will have pie for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and between-meal snacks!

Who knows, maybe I'll even break out the cutting board and pie pan, roll out the Crisco, and whip up my famous light-as-a-wisp-crisp-crust Pickle N' Onion Pie! Sweet hunks and chunks of gherkin. Tart fucking cocktail onions. Greenish-gray sugar-sauce.

Set that bad boy on the windowsill to cool.

If like me, you'd like to read more about National Pie Day, then click on this link!


I'm about to click on it now, and go have a read-through myself. Hey wouldn't it be weird if we're both reading it at the same time? That's some kind of digital coincidence!

Now everybody, when you're done reading, I urge you: go make pie-based plans. Big day coming up.

The Only Way to Prevent Sexual Harrassment Is to Make Workplace Sex Mandatory.

I'm cogstobbled that I'm the first person to recognize and suggest this. Demystification! That's what happens when you dive right in and stop demonizing and getting all weird about it. That's all it takes! People will realize, "hey, this is no big benefits everyone, it contributes to teamwork and morale, and the bottom line is: it's part of the job." Once that right, positive attitude is introduced and enforced, suddenly I bet your complaints drop by 100%.

It could be managed flexibly. There could be pre-approved blocks of time, and areas set up, there could be trainings scheduled, there could be group meetings - look, as long as each company steps up to manage their responsibility in this area responsibly, I think government's proper role in this could be reduced to just making the requirement known, and then leave the specifics up to whatever responsible policy gets drawn up. Though a real prude might accuse me of advocating a bit of a libertine stance here, if you look closely at my track record it's clear I'm far more of a libertarian than a libertine - and I am all about telling Big Government to take a hike. As long as the problem is getting solved, we can solve it for ourselves. We're all adults, here, right? I don't think we need Big Government to come butting in, telling us exactly when and how and for how long we have to have sex with our co-workers. I think we can all figure that out for ourselves, based on what our place of employment tells us.

But the bottom line is now. For too long, the irritation, fear and outright unease surrounding this issue has gone on long enough! It's time we all got serious about tackling the problem. And you're not going to tackle it by sweeping it under a hat.

Let's schedule a meeting.

Word of the Day: Autopsychoeroticism

I wonder if one mindfucks one's self, what do you call that? Autopsychoeroticism?

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

The Adventurous Chef Returns!

Every now and then, I'll do something like I'll take a ham and cheese sandwich, that someone else has made, that I've purchased for lunch but that I failed to eat - having not had a chance at lunch that day - and I will take that sandwich home with me and do something like make up some chili relleno batter (you know, the egg batter that you'd use to coat up a chili relleno with the cheese, and the chili inside? or is it the cheese and the relleno), and slap a sliced-longwise, layered relleno (or is it a chili?...okay, damn, I looked it up: it's a poblano pepper) or rather, a poblano pepper, cut up lengthwise and set across the outside of the sandwich, and then batter up the whole sandwich and deep fry it!

Every now and then, I do something like that...and it works out brilliant. Just brilliant. Hot and delicious, cheesy insides with ham like a monte cristo, only the relleno aspect just makes it swing savory mex instead of sweet greasy spoon.

Now, I've never actually done that, exactly! But you know, things like that. I was just using that as an example. I've done other things, that came to me in a similar bolt of inspiration. And worked out pretty well!

As opposed to my famous boiled sandwiches. To be fair, they were really more par-boiled. But it turns out, even that...bad direction to go.

Quote Of The Day: Career Advice for the Incomprehensible

"Maybe Word Verification should try writing a novel. He's always saying such creative things."

- Jorg Wobblington Lopez

The House Seems Pretty Buttoned-Up Tight!

There do not appear to be any leaks of any consequence. Home sweet home and dry!

I don't think this is the "first real rain" since I moved in, but it feels like the first real storm, so, kind of reassuring to see my little house of sticks stand up to the huffing and puffing, without getting its wads of roof-wattle all knocked loose and me running around under the dripping ceiling like a distraught cartoon homeowner pig with my big dutch oven, trying to catch water drops in its generous basin.

I've been there, man! It's no picnic.

Ok. This little piggie went to work.

You Call Me Too Nice?

You call me too nice? You think I'm TOO NICE?

F*** you.

Come try to submit a comment on this post, if you think I'm too nice! Your shit will not even be posted. Come trying to step to me with that "too nice" shit - I will get all arbitrary on your ass. You will be waiting all week for that one to postup! Then you'll drift off, whining about your First Amendments being abused. Well who the hell deserves it, if not for you, PAL! Coming around here, trying to talk about some "Too Nice."

Too Nice.

I'll smack the word nice from your mouth while you say it! It will fly out from your mouth in a Comic Sans Serif font, cartoon letters flying in slow-mo, to shatter all sad on the cobblestones in a bad computer-animated segue: "NI**" -crash! Tinkle.

I'm not saying I'm not nice! Now, I'm not even saying I'm not DAMN nice. I'm not saying I shouldn't be entered in the damn Nice Olympics, because I'd bring my country back Bronze or BETTER in that shit if I were. In fact I would medal in ten events. I am THAT nice. I'd be the new Bruce Jenner of nice, and if you recall, the old Bruce Jenner of nice was...Bruce Jenner. Shit.

I'm just saying, where the hell do you get off with "TOO" nice? How can a dude even be that? Shit!

Shit, I said. Shit.

"Too nice," as if it were possible.

Awoken By Hail.

Crap, that wind was weird-strong. My little dwelling buffeted, a wee ship, tempest-toss'd!

SWEET! Another hour plus a half to sleep!


H. From A View To A Kill - this one does not make the list on merit. I'm only putting this on here because I have never seen it, I've seen every one of the others, and it has Christopher Walken. Now if only the excellent theme by Duran Duran had a little more cowbell in it, this could have gone as high as F.

G. Goldeneye - the fun is back. The sex is back. The cool is back. And all without the cloying, winking clownishness that characterized the execrable excesses of the worst Moore films (there were some solid entrants in the Moore series - their absence from this list notwithstanding! The best of Moore's were solid, but not great). Don't fault Dalton for his films, either - he embodied a cold, cool fury and mental toughness that was a revelatory take on the character. Dalton's first film was decent; Dalton himself superb. His second film was a weak Steven Seagal movie. Then: cue darkened theater as the previews roll. Cue sliding rifle's-eye following a striding, sharp-dressed man. Cue gunshot to your head. Cue man walking casually forward, until you see who it is. "You were expecting someone else?"

Cue thunderous cheers.

Man. That was the single most rockin' spontaneous crowd response to a teaser trailer I ever saw, and unless my memory fails me, that was the entire trailer. Brosnan was Bond. No more foreplay.

F. Above The Law - sharp criticism from all critics at the casting of an American in the role, but Seagal's breakout, taciturn turn as 007 silenced just about everyone. I don't see what the big deal was - at that point, there had already been a Scot, an Australian, and an Englishman. Since then, there have been Welsh and Irish Bonds. The role makes the rounds of subjects, commonwealthers and former colonials - I think it's a sweet, inclusive policy! We all of us English-speakers would love to have a chance to send a representative, to step up and defend and so maybe perhaps, pay back a little of the vig on the debt we owe to the Crown and its associated Country for birthing the mother tongue that glides so trippingly from between our lips. Only poor Canada's out in the cold! Perhaps "they got next." Long as he's not French-Canadien.

E. Goldfinger - what? GOLDFINGER comes in at number E?!!?!?! Yes. Deal with it. I love this movie as much as you do, and probably way more than the next guy. It is the Perfect Bond Film. It crystallized the form, and hard as this is going to be for some of you to take, even given a film that perfectly embodies what a Bond Film is...there are ways to exceed that mark, simply by succeeding in more transcendant, perhaps less-mannered ways, as a film. So. This is more than the perfect Bond film, it is perhaps the ultimate popcorn movie. It set the measure and the mode not just for later Bonds, but really, for all other spectacular rogue(-ish), lone(-ish) hero actioners to follow for a good, long time. Great movie. Certainly if this list were about "influential" - there can be no argument that Goldfinger would be #A with a bullet on that list. For those of you not familiar, "influential" is kind of a pissy little criteria that critics like to concern themselves with, and argue about - it's not important.

D. Tomorrow Never Dies - about the only thing I don't like about this is the title. I make no bones: Brosnan is my favorite Bond. The fact that this is his highest entry on the list is down to the fact that while most of his vehicles are majestically sturdy, and deliver the thrills and the fun, and even the (alternate-universe) believability - they don't quite pierce the celestial heights. This thing, though, is still a knockout. It never stops. The here-­for-­just-­this-­one-­insane-­garage-­car-­chase-­scene supercar gives the greatest entertainment value in film history ever for a paid product placement (backseat driving indeed!). The stakes of the conflict, the trajectory of the story, and the stunts and action are all top-notch. The one-liners suck, but I'll say this once here and for all Bond films: they always suck. Bond's one-liners suck. Part of Bond's character is that he suffers a fit of utterly off-putting goof-dumb humor, as a sort of psychological coping mechanism right after killing someone. It's some sort of fleeting fugue state. It doesn't mar the movie as long as you get that context, and it certainly can't mar one as powerfully constructed as this. Next to Brosnan - always the MVP of his films - top honors in terms of next-most-important-element go to two supporting players: Jonathan Pryce's media ubermogul makes a different kind of supervillain entirely, and his whole plan/scheme/operation - while idiotic - is carried off well enough to pass for genius-idiotic. Are you looking for an actor who can make snivelling arrogance menacing? Pryce's agent is in the book. But the shock and the difference that drives the heart of this film is Michelle Yeoh. Every bit as deadly, every bit as cool and competent as Bond, Yeoh is the sort of foil slash adversary slash love interest that Halle Berry wishes she could have pulled off in Die Another Day. The sparring (literal and otherwise) between Yeoh and Brosnan strikes sparks of charm, exasperation, and ultimately an incredulous sort of respect. Neither can believe the other is that good. Some of Brosnan's double-takes are priceless! This chick is his equal.

C. Casino Royale - do you know why they call it a Casino Royale? Because of the metric system. They wouldn't know what a Casino Quarter-Pounder is. This thing is all-different. This one spirals well outside the mold of previous Bond films. It's a great movie. I think it possibly is the best film on this list - I mean as pure film, setting aside the expectations, comforts, and conventions of Bond Film. It does everything you want a Bond movie to do, yet it doesn't feel like the others. You end up enjoying the difference, even if you kind of miss what's missing on some level. Still, there is no knocking this film: not on any level except nostalgia. It's a hell of an action movie. The romance is sweet, tragic and not-quite-overplayed. The concussive succession of endings after endings thrills, leading up to perhaps the single most sangfroid/schadenfreude satisfaction denoument of any Bond film (do the others even have those? This film's whole structure is out the window! To excellent effect!). They called it a reboot, but if so, it was a reboot with a new OS. Craig rewrites the role, making it his own - yet credible, satisfying, true to James Bond. This is, for the first time, a James Bond who is driven to be James Bond. That is itself his goal and his mission. To become what he needs to be to save the day - to save the world, if it should need saving. He's deeply uneasy with the price of some things he sees he'll have to do to get there. His is blinding ambition, yet somehow also utter selflessness: his ambition is all to do what must be done. His cockiness is that he thinks he can do it. Thinks, but not knows. Every other Bond, even Connery in Dr. No, walks into the film secure in it. Swaggering a bit, with a built-in backstory of "Hurm, I've been saving the world for some time now." It's just part of the character. This Bond walks into the flick aching for it, dying (or killing, rather) to prove himself. Essentially, to become himself. He knows what he is, and what he's capable of. He knows he has it in him, and he knows he's going to need it - everything that's in him and more, plus luck, to win out. He may not know for sure he can pull it off, but he knows he's the only one who can. So he does what he has to, he becomes what he has to become: Bond. James Bond. Craig's Bond shows us a man racing his own death to immortality - he practically electrocutes himself with his own performance. Not too fucking bad for a first outing, huh?

B. On Her Majesty's Secret Service - This film, together with the one above and the one below it, are the only Bond films that feature Bond engaged in anything that remotely resembles espionage. But in that regard, this one leaves the other two standing. Check it: Lazenby's Bond goes undercover as a gay Scotsman, to infiltrate the supervillain's mountain fortress. A gay Scotsman. Everybody else's Bond just shows up at the door wearing a tux: "Hi, I'm James Bond, you'll be my supervillain for the evening. Mind if I come in so you can capture me for awhile, before I ultimately defeat the hell out of you?" In the following film (Diamonds Are Forever), Connery returns as Bond, and at one early point pulls a neat switch - killing some thug, but putting his own wallet in the corpse's pants. He needed to pose as the thug to get next to the femme fatale, in order to get next to the villain. Neat trick, but here's the kicker: she pulls out the wallet, checks the ID and turns white - telling Bond: "You just killed JAMES BOND!" (we charitably assume it was not a photo ID). Now, this is not one of your savvier femmes fatales, up on the dossiers of all key British Intelligence field agents. Definitely no. The impression I got was that in this universe, James Bond is a world-famous superspy. A world. famous. spy. That's what I call cognitive dissonance. Even if they do keep his photo out of the papers, he ought to be shot as incompetent for walking up to villians introducing himself all the time. OK! End tangent: On Her Majesty's Secret Service is as far from Diamonds Are Forever as you can get. It stints on none of the first-rate thrills, fights and set-pieces, but as it surges through its motions we see a different sort of Bond: not just human, but mortal. Lazenby's performance is funny, charming and believable enough undercover; laconic, unruffled and iconic cool when the mask drops - but there's blood in his veins. The denoument features the first real moment of believable emotion from Bond that I can recall - the only time I ever nearly* cried for James Bond, might I add - and with Moore coming in, the last real moment of believable emotion for a long time. Not that Moore's a bad actor. I believe the producers told him to act like such a goofy tool. Not his fault. Watch "The Saint" - Moore could have been much better in the role, if the attitude upstairs hadn't gone in the crapper. In a related note, those who've looked closely have observed that Diamonds Are Forever is in fact the first of the Moore-era Bonds, in everything except the lead actor. Although You Only Live Twice showed disturbing signs of incipience.

A. From Russia With Love - The second of the Connery Bonds. Sandwiched between the highly-entertaining but uneven exercise in over-the top supervillainry that was Dr. No, and the no-looking-back, paradigm-defining extravaganza of Goldfinger, this film stands out for a different reason: it is recognizably set on Earth. James Bond's mission - to get his hands on a critical Soviet decoding machine - actually sounds like something a spy might do. The gadgets are for the most part all within the achievable edge of then-modern technology, and most of them are really neat spy gear (as opposed to ho-hum sci-fi superspy gear). The way Bond builds his relationship with his local contacts, and his wary circling with the female double-agent who set the whole plot rolling, are well done, believable. This is my favorite Bond film for all sorts of reasons - how the realistic elements go so well with the emergence of some of the later classic Bondisms (this film is where SPECTRE first steps into the light) but mostly because it's my favorite Connery performance. He had it down pretty much already in Dr. No, sure, but here he really hits his stride and all the right notes. He's a man doing a job, a pretty grim and awful job really, but it needs to be done, and...well, you might as well enjoy your work! Connery sells you on Bond's genuine fondness for, if not perhaps attachment to, his bluff, chummy confederate - a Turkish intelligence chief who's turned his section into a thriving family business - and to his beguiling accomplice-of-dubious-loyalties (played by Daniela Bianchi who, by the way, gives us the most beautiful, smoldering and winsome of all Bond's femmes, fatale or otherwise). Top-assist honors must go to Robert Shaw as Bond's main adversary: not a supervillain! But a cold-blooded thug. A brutal killing tool, a blunt instrument but by no means a dull one, sent by shadowy evil powers to not only kill Bond, but to steal the code-breaking machine, and frame British intelligence for it in a deliberate attempt to precipitate a cataclysmic global showdown of East vs. West. Shaw is murderous, devious, and frighteningly competent. There is no doubt he is insane, but he's definitely one of the high-functioning kinds. A believable threat who sets nary a foot wrong on his crooked path, Shaw is the closest thing Bond gets to an "opposite number" until 006 comes along, decades later. Well...eventually Shaw's super-thug does set a foot wrong, because: SPOILER!

Bond kills his ass.

Hm. Observant Bond watchers will note that the above SPOILER! applies just about every time out of the box, vis-a-vis each film's main antagonist. With two conspicuous exceptions, that I can think of! Both of them falling within the Top C of this list. Coincidence? Yes.

Once would have been happenstance.

Thrice would have to be enemy action.

I'm Not Into Guessing Games, By The Way.

I'm really not. Partly, because I suck at them. And partly because when I say it out loud, it's got an agreeably self-righteous ring to it that can't help but reinforce the sentiment!

But mostly because I suck at them.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Just So You Know. Just In Case You Didn't.

Adequate hydration is the key to unlocking the body's metabolic potential.

Semi-Intriguing Overheard Insults


It may have been how she said it, but man. I was semi-intrigued!

I hasten to add, I was not the one being addressed. Nor was there any apparent prom or prom-like situation occurring anywhere in the vicinity. Which was what made it so intriguing! Partly.

Partly intriguing.

Profiles In My Own Courage

So what do you do when you're stirring your soup, gazing dreamily into the saucepan as steam begins to rise and the beef and vegetables swirl in schools through their rich, glistening red-brown broth, when suddenly something terrifying whirls up from the deeps and into view for two horrifying seconds! - your mind unable to look away from it! Your eyes unable to identify it! - before it rolls and sinks back into the depths from whence it vomited unspeakably forth! I mean some object or thing so odd, so uncanny, that after it vanishes, you - freed from paralysis - stagger back gasping. Your spoon slips from your spasming hand, and describes a high, tumbling arc that lands *plop* in the sudsy dishwater! What do you do, in that case?

Well I will tell you what I do, or rather: what I did.

First I retrieved the spoon and gave it a good rinsing-off, of course.

Next I stirred, very carefully, the now-roiling boil of broth until the visibility began to clear, somewhat. I also lowered the heat. I stirred. I stirred. I even scooped around and around, getting everything moving in near-vertical circles instead of horizontal ones. I dared the thing to come forth again! And then, when it refused, cowering in some deep, ever-shifting corner, I made up my mind.

I poured the still fiercely-steaming soup into a bowl - eyes vigilant. Nothing. So I made up my mind.

I sat down and resolved to eat that soup. Bite by grim bite. Do you know what that's called? Do you know what that exemplifies?


I screamed a little when I saw it again, about halfway through the bowl. Luckily, the soup had cooled a bit by that point! I got a little soup everywhere, in the confusion. But I'd cornered the damn thing, and I chased it around a bit more with my spoon, and fished it out. It was a really weird-shaped hunk of potato, that had a piece of sallow, yellowy-orange carrot embedded into it, in a way that made it look like something out of Satan's worst nightmare. I gave it a good look. Then I got up, balancing it in the spoon, walked to the kitchen door, stepped out into the garden and pitched that thing out, far as I could! Pitched hard, at the stars. It's probably still flying.

I wasn't going to eat that freaky thing.

Tips On The Observance of Federal Holidays: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

Just a tip: if you work at (or patronize) a company that is open today, it is not necessarily necessary to seek out those of your co-workers (or those workers) who may be of ethnic African ancestry and pointedly wish them a "Happy MLK Day!"

It may even be looked at as inappropriate. Now, it's perfectly understandable for anyone to be very touchy in a situation like this! Forced to work, on a Monday that everybody else has off. Your best move might be not to say anything at all.

Nonetheless, I here in my capacity as We Here At Consider Your Ass Kicked! have zero qualms about wishing all of you, all of my readers - and indeed: the very World Entire - a very happy and very appropriate Dr. Martin Luther King Junior's Birthday. Now, as many of you know, that man had a dream, and we followed it.

Keep it up now. Keep it up. Know any racists? Please feel free to tell 'em happy MLK Day, from me.

The "Dang Disclaimer" - Not-So-Short-As-It-Used-To-Be Version. RETIRED. Mon Jan 18 2010 - Fri Aug 29 2014 R.I.P.

Two things to note. First: this blog's contents are freighted heavy with the anthological. Many posts you see here started as a cut-paste from something I typed someplace else. Either some dang dissertation that I thought should be collected here, or else a turn of phrase I made that I liked, and thought "hey, expand on that later!" I post those into Drafts. Later on, half the time I have no idea where I got it from. It's like a forgotten letter from the subconscious! But if you know me from anyplace else, and/or we've ever exchanged words, and you've ever seen a neat turn of phrase pop out in another context - well, it may well turn up here, too, eventually. It may emerge in a changed form, and probably turned towards a completely different point. That's not to diminish whatever other point it made before! Its point was either made or not - one way or the other, its job was done. Then, later, I needed it for something else - and there it was! Ready to hand.

The second thing you need to know: the entire blog Consider Your Ass Kicked! is fiction. "Fiction" is the genre. If you ever buy one of those books that includes the understated cover blurb "A NOVEL" under the title, be aware that in at least 75% or better of those books, the author does include some details, events, or facts that are true, that are based on or inspired by something that actually happened, and often these are things that happened in that author's own life. Don't be fooled! That novel is still fiction. Those true details were only included to help the story. The technical literary term for what they are after there is: verisimilitude.

Now of course, a blog is in no way up on the high literary plateau that the novel occupies! I wouldn't imply otherwise. But since most blogs are nonfiction, I find it pertinent to point out this one isn't. The novel merely serves as a convenient, high-profile example of the fiction genre - a good comparison for me to draw. And when I go to pains to point out that the novel is fiction, that's not a slight or a smear! I'm not trying to say novelists just make shit up to put us on, and amuse themselves chuckling into their sleeves while counting the money rolling in as the credulous public laps up page after page of totally invented malarkey!

Anyone who levels a charge like that probably needs to schedule one of those big lit-up tube-chamber brain-scans. It would make a riveting episode of "House." I wouldn't be surprised if they turn up a mutant extra ass-cheek taking up brainspace in the cranium! And who knows, maybe there's a procedure for that.

Previous versions of the "Dang Disclaimer"

Here's the better, less snide, medium version: medium version AKA previously known as "the short version."

Here's the long version (not recommended): the long version

Not Having Any Tattoos At All Is The New Having Tattoos!

Nah! No - no, it isn't, I was just kidding.

Spooked you for a minute though, didn't I?

Things That I've Never Done That I'll Never Do

Things I've Only Done Once

There's only one thing that I've only done once, but it's of a sensitive nature that I can't really discuss here.

Things That I've Never Done

"The Ass" - yes, that is exactly what I mean. Not in any shape form or configuration. Nobody's ever asked me to do it, and believe me I wasn't going to bring it up! I mean, as much as I am a great admirer of the buttocks, the idea of, to put it delicately...well. Probably too late for trying to put it delicately, so let's just put it frankly and say there's really way better places to put it. Capisce? I mean yeah, I understand some guys go nuts for that. No, to say that I understand is not entirely true. I don't understand. I don't care to understand. It's an act whose appeal I leave to others to appreciate. Let's leave it at that.

Hard Drugs - I smoked pot once. It was awesome, but after I found out later that it was really oregano, I just felt like a fool. I don't know why. I didn't pay for it, it wasn't my oregano.

Grand Theft Auto - either one.

New Order Concert - boy oh boy, though. Would I? YOU BET! Unlike some of the other items on this little list, this is one I'd be champing at the bit to rectify. If only it were possible.

Kissed A Dude On The Lips - relatives excluded, of course. And by relatives, I do include by marriage as well as by blood. Naturally.

Divorce - never done, but if I ever do, I want one of those big, showy ones. Not too traditional, though - something more fun and offbeat. Oooo! Maybe with the ceremony performed in a hot air balloon!

Ahem. I think that'll do. A nice list. A nice representative sample.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Hey! Everybody Remember MC Frontalot?

It was a while ago at this point, but he did "Which MC Was That?" Anyway, I heard he's about to tour again and looking for a booking agent, so if you're a booking agent (not some scrub or wannabe but a bonafide, now!) here's your chance.

I should say, I'm not frontin', I don't know the guy. I just saw the call for help on Dr. McNinja dot com and then I myself felt the call - the call to try to help out a fellow MC, you know, to help spread the word. We're a loose and diffuse fraternity but the solidarity's tight as a noose nonetheless when what's said needs to come get done.

Details Re: MC Frontalot Seeks Booking Agent

EDIT: upon actual inspection, that vid is a fan-made vid and not an official version, apparently. So that might explain a few things about it. For instance: at one point it displays MC Frontalot's dexterity as 18 which, no offense, is at least five points too high right? But I'm keeping it up anyhow, because the sound quality's better than on the live clips.

For Shame! #2 Pt.2

I should mention on these, in re the previous post, and the "For Shame!" series in general: if I'm at the supermarket and I buy deodorant, or shampoo or soap or something - I'm not including that in the list when I post it. It isn't pertinent. The focus is nutrition. What kind of deodorant or shampoo that I buy, or how often I buy it, is none of anybody's god-damn business.

Also, if the recurring feature has the desired effect, and I start to reform my ways to healthier ways, and I decide to keep it going for a while - I don't want a year to go by and then somebody says, "This dude has not bought any soap or shampoo in the past year! He must be the dirtiest dude ever!"

See, again, that's not the purpose or the focus. It's nutrition here. I don't need any shame-help on hygiene. I look, smell, feel - and for all I know, taste - great already. I keep it clean, on that you may be assured.

It's true I didn't actually buy any deodorant, or shampoo or whatever on that last trip, but that's neither here nor there. I wanted to nip the possibility of misinterpretation in the bud.

For Shame! #2

This is the second in my ongoing attempt to shame myself into buying healthier groceries, using the well-known and socially-accepted exhibitionistic power of blogging to exert a big-time coercive, corrective pressure on what I buy. If I know in advance that all my groceries are going to end up right there for the world to see, then maybe I'll start to think, "hey - maybe I should be putting some effort into thinking these purchases through? Perhaps everything I buy should be bought for a reason. Perhaps the reason should be: Eat healthy, FOOL!"

My inner harangues always slide into a Mr. T voice at some point.

Anyway, here it is, the tale of the tape - the receipt tape, that is. I guess that's not really tape. But it tells its tale all the better for it! And without further ado, that very tale, to which I allude:

Geez. That's not really a "build-up." I don't know what that was. I'm sorry. It's just, some dude posting his groceries...this is not exactly gripping material. I guess I'm a little guilty of trying to "punch it up" a little, or rather, of failing to do so.


Let's See What Have We Here:

French Berry Lemonade, and French Lemonade. I like a non-alcoholic, non-plain-fresh-delicious-water beverage every now and then, and these are not too sweet! Nice.

Corn Flakes. I only got these because last time, I didn't realize the box I had was about empty, and I had a big thing of milk I bought last time specifically to eat the Corn Flakes with! But it's all good outcome, because I love Corn Flakes. Especially when I'm in that mood.

Thomas' English Muffins. I got two packs of these! That's a lot of muffins. It was buy one get two. I almost left the other behind, because do I need that many? But from my standpoint, that would be like throwing it in the trash, and in a world where people are starving, that's just more human cruelty than I personally want to contribute to. Better to take that extra pack home with me. If I don't get around to eating it in time - hey, birds starve too! I'll lend 'em a hand, via a hand-crumbled stale-muffin handful of crumbs, or rather twelve muffins' worth of. The resultant tweets will be bird-language for "YUM! Thanks, ape!"

It's not an insult! Birds just think we're apes. They don't know. Can't tell the difference! It's not racist, they just have such tiny brains.* Besides, to a bird, an ape is a highly-evolved higher organism - so it would be a compliment, if anything. They would look up to that ape, in wonder, saying "man, those apes are advanced! How do they do that, with the bananas? I wish we birds had that level of advancement." And we in turn look up at the birds in flight, which to them, seems so easy.

Campbell's soup: 3 cans chicken noodle, 2 cans Chunky chicken corn chowder. I only got these because all week with the flu, I was like "man! I'm glad this isn't a cold or I would totally be out of my mind not having any chicken soup in the house!" Because that's what you want, with a cold. But with a flu, you don't want that! You just want maybe some saltines. Which I did not have.

Saltines. No explanation necessary for these, I would hope.

For that matter, enough with all the justifications! I think I'm taking that "every purchase should have a reason" thing a bit too literally.

Loaf of bread. Which of course, was the reason I went back in the first place! "This time, we didn't forget the gravy!" Sorry - I didn't get any gravy, I'm just making a literary allusion.

Frozen Belgian waffles. I love these! Just as waffles, but also, I might be making burgers this week. You may scoff, but these make awesome "edgy" nontraditional, confrontational, in-your-face BUNS! And it's not only about the shock value either. Those waffle pockets are as if they were custom-designed ketchup traps. And the cross-beam construction makes them sturdy enough to stand up to the thickest, juiciest patty you can grill.

King Kelly brand orange marmalade. What a great-looking product this is.


What a great-looking product that is. I don't even like marmalade! I'll let you know how it tastes.

I should mention, the only reason I got the english muffins in the first place was to go with this sweet-looking marmalade. Although it goes without saying that I love me some english muffin. But I like to put something on it, though.

Challenge (brand) butter. For the muffins. I mean, I had butter already, but not enough for all those fucking muffins I had to get, once they laid that "get one free" guilt trip on me!

I think that's everything. I think I got everything, too! Except damn. I meant to swing through the fresh produce section, "pad my stats" a bit health-consciousness wise. I mean, I do do that often, and not to pad my stats either! I love fresh produce. But usually it's to cook with. I'm not in a high-gear "cooking things" phase, right now. It's cyclical. Lately I may eat out more, but when I do, it's healthy! My home stuff, again, only lately, I've been going more for spartan. Spartan meals.

So anyway. I don't know that I did much better than last trip, but it's an in-process process.

I only went back to the store so fast because I forgot the bread last time. I can't live in a house without bread. Bread is highly symbolic of food! A house without bread is a house of want. Of course, in addition to being symbolic of food - it is food.

Even better yet! Another reason to keep it in the house.

Natural Disasters: Always Better On Tape

This video is great! There are others posted from the same building. Yay for Orwell! No one got hurt.

I love that first guy! He's like - Batman, on the scene! He kind of runs into the frame, stops, strikes a stance, assesses his chance, exits stage left with cape and mask billowing! "Follow me to safety, citizens."

Um. Actually I'm not sure that's Batman. Batman doesn't talk like that. Much. It's because of that awful bronchitis he has, or whatever is making his voice so raspy-thundery these days. It probably hurts a little, so it would be hard to be so jaunty about it, to the citizens. He's not a dick or something, he's brusque 'cause it hurts to talk!

Anyway, screw Batman. Let's see some real-life heroes in action!!!:

If only all security cameras had a little sign under them that said: "FOR COOL-ASS YOU-TUBE EARTHQUAKE FOOTAGE PURPOSES ONLY", no one would ever complain about being surveilled at work. Because of course it has to stay on all the time! People can't predict earthquakes.

And dogs most likely can't be trained to turn on cameras instead of bolt, when their doggy sense starts tingling as if to say: "high-tail it out of there, Sophie!"

Thanks to Alice at SlyBluePink for the link!

Quote of the Day: Well Okay, Then!

"I'd explain it to you, but it doesn't make any sense."

When I Die, I Want an Irish Setter

I've always wanted an Irish setter. Such a beautiful dog! But I got into a series of long-term relationships with preexisting, incompatible pets, and now the place I live in - I love it, it's perfect for me! But, no dogs. So you see my problem.

It gets worse, though. Because I've been suffering through various intermittent crises of self-confidence as well. And with all that going on, can I handle the commitment and the responsibility, to take that on and be loyal to it, and deal with all those joys and concomitant hassles?

But if I die, no problem! I don't have to worry about any of that! So when I die, I want an Irish setter.

He would lie patiently by my graveside, gazing lovingly up at the tombstone of his dear master - engraved with this dedication: "Here Lies Blah blah Blah, Loving Master to His Good and Faithful Dog Shamus." And under that: "GOOD BOY, SHAMUS"

The scene it presents is quite touching, you must admit. I'm almost forced to bring a tear to my eye, one misty tear. Poor me! I'm all dead and shit. I didn't deserve such a fate. But then also - alas, alas for my faithful hound. His doggie heart's broken.

Oh, I'm not too worried about Shamus. Somebody'll feed him. Look at those big sad eyes!

Maybe part of the bottom of the tombstone could be fashioned into a protruding dog dish.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Misfortunate Quote of the Day

"Misfortune favors the ill-prepared."

Actual Verbatim Transcript of Forthcoming Conversation from Tonight's Cocktail Party

A: "Reality doesn't exist."


A: "Wha - ?"

Cee (from nearby): "What's incredibly great news?"

Be: "He's saying that racism doesn't exist, and the holocaust never happened!"

A: "I didn't say that! That's not what I said, I said reality doesn't exist!"

Be: "Ohhhhh...I get it. You were kidding, then."

A: "Dolt."

Be: "Solipsist!"

Cee: "Real enlightened, guys."

Did You Ever Wonder #1: The Big Can Theory

Originally this thought intruded on my thoughts as I was looking at the various contents of my plate of "country breakfast." But pretty soon after the notion took hold, it expanded to cover the whole universe. See if it doesn't do the same for you.

Did you ever wonder: what if everything all came out of the same can? What would that be like?

Except, once you really start thinking deep about it, the truth of it is: it did.

Except there was no can.

How many times did I just blow your mind?

Pursuing Those Elusive Personal Demons

I don't know if I have any! Personal demons?

I picture them like guardian angels. Maybe it's the red dude on the other shoulder! He's your personal demon, right? You'd think so. But from context, as the term is used, one finds otherwise. Sad to say.

The term as it's used in the living language seems to refer more to abstractions, such as sex addiction, or the intravenous injection of hard drugs. Well, I guess, maybe technically those aren't abstractions. Heroin's a pretty concrete situation when you're slapping that rubber dealy around your upper arm muscle, flappin' at the crook of your arm trying to find an unmined vein. But to call something like that a demon has got to be at least some sort of...personification, some sort of metaphor, some sort of...oh yeah, duh! Some sort of demonization. And there's no point demonizing something if you're not going to picture it as a little dude with horns!

So I don't get why we can have guardian angels and nobody conceives of or depersonifies them as like, weird specific virtues, but yet your personal demons aren't even ever really meant or conceived of as little red dudes! It's kind of racist. It's racist against angels and demons both. For how can there be the light, without the shadow?


That's a pretty deep point. I like to make those as often as I possibly can.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Personal Anecdote #243

I used to have a girlfriend, ex-girlfriend now, she would say the saying: "hunger is the best sauce." She liked that saying. We were kind of foodies, I agreed with the saying myself - it's got a lot of truth to it! But at one point (sometimes I need to stop what's about to come out of my mouth) she said that saying, right? We were eating dinner, and also coincidentally going through a phase. And I just chimed back, with a pregnant pause and a pointed look: "Yeah I know! And celibacy is the best aphrodisiac!"

She took it all personal. I thought it was a funny rejoinder! Anyway.

We broke up a few years after that. We didn't really like the same foods.

Warning: Sense Doesn't Work On Some People

Sense doesn't work on some people. Some people are impervious to it. Nothing to worry about in a major way! Don't put your guard up, assuming everybody's like that, just, you alert for it. Try to be aware, maybe learn how to spot it early rather than late.

Could save you some wasted effort!

He's An Alcoholic. Don't Even Buy His Denials! Who's Available For An Intervention?

Man...I just tried to drink...the phone.

That's a serious sign you need to either open up another bottle of beer or call a halt to the whole process.

I get a little distracted, playing music, tend to drink pretty freely since I sing pretty loud, so, you know. That's "thirsty work!" But you got to pace yourself! Beer is friend. You lean too hard on that friend...suddenly you're like, flagged for life because of alcoholism. You never want to take a step down that road, right? So you take a break, you're like - I just drank two beers in rapid succession, there. And they were delicious! But maybe cool it a minute, maybe hold off on opening that next bottle.

Breathe a bit.

I can nurse a beer like I was Florence Budweiser-Nightingale if I'm at a party, but when I'm playing I get kind of hyped up a little, prone to a good strong pull or two between every song and then that'll eat up a bottle pretty quick. So yeah, definitely: take a break! Hold off on that next bottle. Breathe. Sing another song or two.

But in the meantime, right - don't try to drink the phone. It just looks bad. Good beer is not interchangeable. You just can't substitute the nearest handy upright object.

Tips, tips for musicians and beer lovers. I'm a pretty good guy to go to for all sorts of tips.

Anyway, enough practice - enough warmup. Time to go play.

Another tip: save room for the free beer. Free beer is better* than "my beer."

Those Last Two Posts Rocked!


Just the other day I was all whining about some "out of ideas." And then I reel off a couple GEMS like that! One, two! The "Ex-Isle" reality show tv premise, and my Rap Personae Roll Call - these are top-notch, some of my two best posts! I mean - no, not some of my two best posts, more like, two of my...some best posts. Only a little less faint-praise than that. I don't want to blow my bugle too hard before the benefit of hindsight kicks in and and the full legacy of these two posts becomes fully apparent through the fully-ripened eyes of history, posterity, what have you. That would be premature.

Still, for the time being, on a provisional basis I set these two posts like trophies on the mantle, proud and shiny. My chest is all puffed out. I guess it just goes to show you!

And if it doesn't go to show you...I'll know the reason why. And on top of that, if it doesn't go to show you, I'll SHOW YOU SOME MORE.

Yes, feeling a bit brash lately. No more flu! Got a song in my heart and a guitar-pick in the top right "secret pocket" of my Levi's 505s. Fender medium, it says.

Fender medium. That's me. I am a Fender medium. I summon SPIRITS through that sweet pickin' lute o' mine!