Not a Good Listener?

If you never mention something and never even hint at it then how can you call someone a bad listener for not knowing that about you? This is an even more ricockulous claim when the trait you are promoting and deriding me for not knowing is exactly the opposite of all of your stated claims and past examples of behavior. Maybe you're just self-conscious and need to have more confidence.

Slightly Ludicrous

And I don't mean that it will sorta-pimp your ride. For that matter, why don't we all vote in every country's elections, because we are all neighbors? I do understand why people would fear a McCain presidency, bombs are much more likely to be flung willy-nilly with him. I mean willy-nilly in every sense of that term, McCain seems like the kind of guy who would bomb someone who questioned his willyness.

Big Day Ahead

I have a big day ahead of me: an interview, take a bike ride, pay my rent. And there was something else that I wanted to do, but I just can't remember it. I know I can leave my mp3 player at home, since I have all of the Fallout 3 songs playing on infinite repeat in my head. If I didn't like Ella Fitzgerald-ish music, I would be going mad. MAD I TELL YOU MAD

I don't think I have it in me to play an evil character though. What's the point, when the DC Wasteland has so many already? It would be harder but the satisfaction of taking on the entire slaver enclave of Paradise Falls would be absent. I went freaking caveman on those assholes. They thought they could stop me from rescuing their captives. It's kinda sad, really. I talked my way into the camp, did the research, talked to the captives, and tried to figure out the finesse way to sneak them out of there. I couldn't figure it out, though I know it has to do with the patrol pattern. After watching for about 30 seconds, I just said, "Fuck finesse, they're SLAVERS. They don't deserve mercy." So I whipped out my minigun and rickrolled those bastards toward their final judgement. The criticals involving explosive separation of body parts are EXTREMELY SATISFYING. You can watch some examples on that link.

Fallout Blackout

I may have overindulged.

I have been a little busy lately. I have an interview next week. I have been helping a friend move. I have been ranting about the bus line in my neighborhood again. I have somehow been exhausting myself so that every time I wake up, I feel like going back to sleep.

Anyway, I am trying to write something about the latest flare of violence in Goma, DROC, but most of what I have written so far turns into a hopeless diatribe. Also, I owe some music posts to the internets for WRN. Which has always sounded like a goofy radio network. We should work on some podcasts, due to come out with the return of Monday Goldberg Theater.

OMG ZOMBIES!

Best gift ever!

Surprised Clif Hasn't Caught "Googely Eye" Bachmann on This Already

I know, I know. It's a CNN video and they don't seem to play very well when embedded(maybe that's just me), but the amazing level of crazy on display is worth it. I don't know whether I am glad that I don't live in Minnesota's 6th Congressional District because that would mean being neighbors with the dupes who voted her in, or if I wish I did live there so I could vote against her. On the one hand she can constantly cast votes supporting a radical right-wing agenda, but on the other she's not roaming around town preaching on street corners and scaring children with those googely eyes.

Obfuscations

I have played a lot of games in my life. As a child the games were more pedestrian in nature, involving the simple purchase and sale of properties and moving your piece around the game world, contained completely within the bounds of the playing board, with the goal of comaplete and total financial ruin of your brothers and cousins. I have played games strangely based on expressions of rage-inducing empathy during the play, particularly at moments when you had just screwed your opponent-brother out of any chance of winning. I have even played a game loosely based on a mutual experience of strategy and skill, but invariably devolved into a game of how many fake rules I could coerce my opponent-brother into obeying. We played card games, the rules of which are equally as impossible to remember now as then. Many relatives lost all hope of playing a friendly game of anything with such a diabolically cunning mastermind, or so I saw myself when manipulating rules to suit my hand. Go fish! became an all out struggle for supremacy, the opening moves full of subterfuge and bluster while the endgame was strikingly more physical.

As I grew older the games became slightly more unusual as did the rules sets. Games involving legions of monsters marching around a strange hexagonal universe were enjoyed as much as games wherein the pursuit of success was secondary to hampering all chance of success by your fellow players. The supplied rules sets became far more complex and the simple lies and coercions of the past were insufficient to secure a victory, as even I was utterly flummoxed at times by the inherent systems of this era's games. I learned to become one who would take the time to learn all of the rules and then pursue aggressive means of enforcing penalties upon my brother-opponent. When questioned, I always offered to let my opponents read the rulebooks, but when the rules set truly approaches book length, most will simply give in rather then settle down with a cup of tea and an afghan and peruse an arcane tome for clues as to why my legions could move against a box tile, but his could not. It had something to do with native lands. I learned that masterful cheating must always seem reasonable, and yet still leave your opponent completely hosed.

Given my rather flagrant history and flamboyant imagination, you might think that I developed a habit of crafting intricate new interpretations of rules all working to a singular goal: total domination of my brother-opponents. Sadly, the elder brother-opponents had many more years of experience in game-rule manipulation and younger brother-opponent quickly developed and interesting defense: apathy.

I began to move to games that had no measurable means of success and even more rules. Rules that required multiple books, with actual spines. I found myself reading more and more, learning combinations of rules that could work to my advantage and yet still be completely within the legal realms. There were many such games and many such days spent attempting to redefine victory not against some loathsome creature sent forth from the bowels of imagination but victory against the very imagination itself. I collected playing aids in the form of multitudes of dice, in the hopes that certain dice would gain me certain advantages in play. I became superstitious about color, shade, and warmth of my dice. If I could not successfully manipulate the rules to my advantage, then I would manipulate my playing to my advantage. All the while having no appreciable idea of the goal of these desires.

I played an uncounted variety of sword and sorcery games, and even more uncounted versions of these games. I played Western games, involving playing cards and dice. I played science fiction games, the more deadly to my character, the more I enjoyed them. I learned one constant among all the games I played: more books means more rules. Eventually, the human mind would reach a storage limit and carefully compartmentalized rules sets would become jumbled and slowly mingle in the mind of the players. Rules would meet over drinks, share a dew laughs, stumble drunkenly to a room in the hotel upstairs, and then awkwardly run out a few hours later, only to discover the following month that a new rule was growing inside. A rule that made rather a lot of sense when you think about it, I wonder why we hadn't been doing that before. It was in these spaces that I learned to allow my fellow players to breed rules, as they were far less likely to find fault with me if they had written the new rule. Could I really be blamed for buying the new handbook? After all, it was their idea to read it. I gradually moved away from manipulating rules to wholesale manipulation of people.

Despite this rather...miscreant behavior of mine, I like to think that I only wanted to have fun. To that end, I knew that there were some games that should be avoided at all costs. Some games had rules sets from which there was no recovery. fulsome once tried to interpret set of rules from a venerable institution that were an attempt to simulate a realistic system of combat against popular, fictional aliens. The designers had forgotten two things: nobody cares much about realism when the creatures you are shooting at explode acid, and that a mind is a terrible thing to lay waste. fulsome currently resides in a lovely, double-width refrigerator box in Berkeley, California.

Monday's Penny Arcade inspired this post.

Holiday Bake-Off: Confection Confessions

Yeah, um, so...

I ate most of my cookies, as did Super Secret Awesomegirl and my family.

What can I say? I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL.

This time, I might actually send them out, or I might just talk mighty amounts of trash. AGAIN.

In any event, my cookies will rock your face and melt your mind.

Uh...You've Probably All Seen This Before

Disdain

League of Democracies? What the hell is wrong with the UN? Oh, right, Republican'ts think the UN is only obstructing America's interests abroad. What a jackass.

My Internet is Out Again

I have an appointment with another Comcast techician tomorrow, but in the meantime I offer two pearls of wit and wisdom: don't get Comcast, and really don't get Comcast.

Father Genius said that it is nice to see American exports rising, even if it is only financial woes. In case you were wondering where I get it.

Binge Blogging: One Question About Bailout

Why did they eliminate Mark to Market? As far as I understand, by changing this accounting requirement the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act basically ensures far less transparency in banking system. This seems like a bad idea. I am not an economic genius, having only taken one basic course in microeconomics, and would gladly appreciate serious comments and opinions.

Given the sarcastic bastards that consist of 95% of my readership, I doubt we'll see anything useful show up in the comments. My blogging name is freaking Chuckles after all.

Possibly Better Than Tina Fey

Why I Missed the SPX

Cuz I was freaking exhausted after working with Habitat For Humanity in NE DC. I put asphalt shingling up for one whole day and I am glad that I am not a roofer. I would have liked to have met John Campbell because his comics are great.

I will probably be doing another Saturday in November, but the really cool thing is that the Habitat project is kinda booked up with volunteers on the weekends. I doubt the same is true about the weekdays, but this genius needs to get some employment.

Totally Tarantula Tuesday: Trying To Avoid Terror and Trembling With Rage

A little tarantula humor on this Tuesday morning, full of dread, woe, and WTF*. A lot of people have asked me about my tarantula. They ask me questions like can you cuddle it? Does it show you love? Do you feel any sympathy? Are you sure you're not psychotic? What sex is it? To answer all of these questions, I have to respond with, who needs love?

Except the sex question. I don't know or particularly care what sex, or gender!, my cohabitating arachnid is. Knowing the sex of my roommate would not change my behavior toward it. If it is male, I would go out and buy it spider porn and give it some quiet time. If it is female, I am not going to give it 60% of the crickets I had been giving it.

We got an understanding. We respect privacy.

*I want more information and to thank mdhatter.

It's not the drop, it's the sudden stop at the end...

I thought $700 billion bought financial security? I guess the dollar really has been devalued these days.

What's the Difference Between a Pitbull and a Hockey Mom?

Hockey moms lose debates.

And what is with Gwen Ifill's moderating? She let Palin wander wildly off topic three or four times: (examples not entirely accurate but you get the picture)

Governor Palin, what's your position on gay marriage?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"

Governor Palin, what's your position on the economic situation today?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"

Governor Palin, people claim that you have been sucking on the teat of big oil, how do you repsond?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"

Governor Palin, Alaska is one of the biggest recipients of federal aid, how do ou respond to that?
"HOLY SHIT BARACK OBAMA WILL RAISE TAXES!"

When you choose to answer the question you want to answer, not the one asked as Governor Palin did last night, you are not showing leadership and tenacity, you are dodging the issue. She didn't show anything other than her ability to sink back on tired, old Republican't bullshit when cornered. The NPR analysis after the debate was pretty toothless, unless they were being sarcastic.

When the expectations of your performance are simply that you show up and look pretty, things have downhill. The Vice Presidency requires more. Well done, Joe Biden. I was not a fan of you, but now will be.

I had a video I was going to include in this post, but it was removed from YouTube. Oh well.

Two Reasons to Attend Wet Wednesday Writer's Workshop Featuring The Genius

"I'm not saying it's in a bad neighborhood, but the glass will stop a 7.62 round from three feet."

"I don't know if I love her, but we're watching Project Runway together."

Oh Dear Lord

As if millions of gamers cried out and were silenced BY HORRENDOUS BEATINGS.

New Campaign Signs

I did not make this poster, but I wish I had. More available at Print The Truth.

Strolling in the Gloaming

We've been having hurricane affect weather in the District this weekend. This put a bit of a crimp in my plans to help my church's annual yard sale, but we forged ahead and did well enough in spite of some deity's decision to drench us in a downpour.

After spending both Saturday and Sunday in various stages of damp exhaustion, I finally made it home around 6 pm on Sunday. The sun was poking out between some rather impressively threatening clouds which were stalled in the precipitation negotiations, and I could see mist rising out of the trees near the river. I decided to take a brief jog to a favorite vista that is hidden by the crowding foliage along the bluffs above the Potomac River. I didn't mind the drops, the burrs, or the mud. As I reached the gap in the trees, I saw a lovely cascade of pastel colors, most of which I remain unable to identify. The clouds were a mix of dark grey and pink, the sky faded from blue to afternoon yellow. The tops of the clouds shined bright gold, and the mist oozed up from the river gorge enviously.

Tonight, I took a walk to clear my head and curl my hair in another foggy evening. I walked down to Canal Road, and the world might as well have ended at the river bank. Walking back up the bluff, the mist over the reservoir was banded. A dark lower layer brooded over the floating mats of gooseshit, and flocks of gooseshitting geese. There was an oddly light swath of fog above the dark that caught my interest. Perhaps it was an artifact of the streetlights and stoplights behind me but the fog seemed to have a dim inner glow from about twenty feet to thirty feet in the air. Alien exhaust fumes, or just some pedestrian reflection of the white-green glow of the streetlights. Above this, a few stars glinted through the thin clouds expressing absolute apathy to me, my job search, my love search, or John McCain's plans to ruin America.

The Candidates Debate...Something

I surprised myself by watching about 95% of the debate last night.* I was a little disappointed by the whole spectacle. I thought that it felt more like two people actually getting into it, unlike previous debates, but there really was no clear winner. Depending on your favoured candidate, I think either party could really call this a win and I am sure I am not alone in hoping that it had been a more deliberate thrashing.

I have become rather intolerant of McCain's voice, however, so that is one unexpected outcome of the debate. Most of his speech's have been rather dull or stumbling, and he has spoken in an even tone, despite tripping over his words at a biker rally or sounding bored while attempting to describe the common person's woes.** When McCain was speaking last night, he sounded whiny, but that may just be my bias against people that want to screw me over and continue the failed policies of our current Moron-in-Chief.

I was starting to get really frustrated with Obama until he began hammering back at McCain, somewhere around twenty minutes or so into the debate. I was hoping he would pound McCain's "experience" in foreign policy a little more, and was very pleased when Obama flat out said that McCain had been wrong about Iraq,*** in every way possible. I hoped that Obama would fight back against this bullshit claim that we are "winning" in Iraq, when we have heard no definition of what "winning" means or when we hope to achieve that, much less how we hope to reach that.

On a separate note, I was also disappointed to hear that the Vice Presidential Candidates would only be having one debate. I would like to give Biden a chance to prove that he isn't as much of a chundernozzle as I think he is so far. I would also love to watch Palin lose.****

*About the same percentage that McCain has voted with George W. Bush. That's some maverick.

**Where's my heiress? If only I could follow the McCain Economic Recovery Plan.

***Uh...remember these? Google was probably the most effective way to search for them.

****How do you not know what the Bush Doctrine is? What the hell have you been doing for the last eight years? Watching the news with the sound off, too?

From the People That Brought You Indy 4

A prequel to I Am Legend? Why the hell would you...for a bunch of people that so completely missed the point of that story, I...lord help me, I give up. I just give up.

Exhausted

I have been busy as hell all week. I am helping to get my church's yard sale ready for this Saturday. It might rain, but it might not. We're going ahead with it no matter the rain or lack of it.

I also went out to see an Air Guitar competition on Tuesday night after class, more on that later tonight with pictures. And met some friends on Wednesday night to listen to a DJ do a funky set at Saint Ex. I have been networking my ass off everywhere I go.

My father sent me a link to a video of Richard Trumka, Secretary-Treasurer of the AFL-CIO, giving a speech about racism and the election from July. I like it, so I hope you will, too:



Incidentally, this is also the weekend for Baltimore Comic Con, and for the fifth year in a row, I have given my time to my family's church instead of going to meet some of my favorite web cartoonists. I'm broke anyway.

About as Good an Explanation as We are Likely to Get

The recent economic troubles/disaster/shitstorm/totalfuckingidioticlunacy in song. And in color.

And WTF? Is Yahoo running a nostalgia special on the news from 1950 through 1989? That quote from Putin that keeps showing up in Call of Duty 4 about "...those who fear the Soviet Union are right, and those who miss it are insane..." (paraphrased) apparently was an admission of insanity on his part. If this keeps up, I expect to be informed that I have to go back to grade school in Romania and have my Tiger electronic game stolen by the Secret Police again.

Not Much of a List Fan

You know how some people do those lists of shit? Like top five desert island albums, or top five desert island books, or top five desert island hot babes? I am not usually one to make a list but 13 tops them all.

I knew a bad thing would happen if I let myself watch House.

Not The Peeps You Were Looking For

Apparently, this video cruised the tubes a while back but I missed it. The destruction is rather sublime. The expressions on the bunnies rather quickly turns from happiness to abject horror and the experience can tingle the creepy parts of your mind.

I found this on Aurgasm.

Perhaps I Shouldn't Rely Solely on the Daily Show

I completely missed the news of the embassy attack in Yemen yesterday.

The Battle is Enjoined!

The Corn Refiner's Association has struck back against those fighting the forces of over-sweetening and accidental obesity. They have commissioned at least one commercial and an informational website. According to the commercials, high fructose corn syrup comes from corn, is all natural, and is just as bad/good as sugar and honey. Let's break these claims down individually.

"High Fructose Corn Syrup Comes From Corn"

Yes, indeed corn syrup does come from corn. However, this is almost like saying that meth is clean because it is made with bleach. While I don't put either meth or high fructose corn syrup in my body, if I had to choose I would choose the corn syrup over meth any day. Parents of small children may disagree with any distinction between the two.

"All Natural"

According to the website, HFCS is...

considered a natural food ingredient under the U.S. Food and Drug Administration's definition of the term “natural.” Under FDA rules, “natural” means that “nothing artificial or synthetic (including all color additives regardless of source) has been included in, or has been added to, a food that would not normally be expected to be in the food.”

By this definition, gasoline is natural, too. That must be why we don't need factories to make the stuff, or to make HFCS. I wonder if you can get organic HFCS.

"Nutritionally the Same as Sugar or Honey"

The chart on each page reinforces this claim. The ads claim that as long as HFCS is used "in moderation" HFCS is just as healthy as any other sugar. This may actually be true, I am willing to concede this point. Let me be clear: I admit that HFCS is just as good or bad for you as any other refined sugar and honey. Except for the teeny, tiny problem of actually trying to use this stuff in moderation. HFCS is in freaking everything: like apple sauces, almost all non-diet soda and fruit drinks, coffee flavor syrups, beef, yo momma, etc.

According to the USDA, high fructose corn syrup accounts for roughly 41% of all caloric (nutritive) sweeteners consumed in the U.S.

True, but corn sweeteners--including HFCS, glucose, and dextrose--account for over 50% of all sweeteners shipped in the US, according to that table the website mentioned. (You have to open a spreadsheet from the USDA to find Table 49.) The funny thing about the honey claim is that we aren't consuming nearly as much honey as we do HFCS. Only 148,000 tons of honey was shipped in 2007. Almost 11,000,000 tons of corn syrup was shipped in 2007. I guess this must be what the Corn Refiner's Association calls moderation.

I was suspicious of the claim that only 40.1 pounds of HFCS were consumed per year, per capita. The chart is clear about this, despite my completely anecdotal suspicion. We purchase about 50 pounds of the stuff per year per capita, but let an estimated 20% go to waste (uneaten or spoiled or etc), according to Table 52. This means that we are wasting 20% of our soda purchases every year. I have a friend whose mother will open a soda and drink a few swallows and then put it back in the fridge and twenty minutes later, she will open a new one and repeat the process because "she just wants a little drink, not a whole one." This boggles my mind and fills her fridge with 30 or 40 half empty sodas a week, which all go stale before anyone else gets thirsty. These are also diet so they don't count, therefore everyone everywhere drinks every drop of soda and eats every pound of HFCS they purchase. 20% seems kinda high to me, but I am not an expert working for the USDA. I have wasted corn starch plenty of times making some non-Newtonian fluids and those are always cool, so maybe 20% isn't so high...except corn starch isn't corn syrup.

One regular soda a day is horrifically bad for you. Diet sodas aren't so great, either, with all that salt.

Despite all this blathering on about HFCS, I have only one reason for disliking HFCS beyond the health reason: it tastes terrible. Sodas and fruit drinks with made with cane sugar taste more refreshing to me. Cane sugar straight off the cane is soooo much better than corn syrup straight from the jar, especially when you go to the Latino grocery store and buy it in a bunch and then chew it like tabacco and sit around the pool. If you can get past the woody texture to the sheer buzz and flavor of the sap, cane sugar is brilliant.

Next week in wild, quasi-scientific rambling: if men are often red/green colorblind, are rare women blue/yellow colorblind? I once convinced an ex-girlfriend's father that this was the case, despite having never heard of it and having done no research whatsoever. I just wanted to convince a well-respected lawyer that a total fabrication was the truth.

Blog Delays

I am having trouble typing because I keep hurting myself while playing Guitar Hero. Fuck you, it's fun. Except for the pain.

Do Not Blog About It

This is me not blogging about something about which I don't know anything: Raven is wearing a funny t-shirt that probably doesn't refer to something about which I know nothing at all.

I Got a Job Offer!

In addition to numerous job offers to SELL INSURANCE FROM YOUR HOME AND EARN THOUSANDS EACH WEEK!!!, I received this job offer that sure looks like a nice opportunity to become a Nigerian scam spammer:

Greetings! Our company is registred in the Careerbuilder company. We have reviewed your resume and are eager to inform you that we are ready to offer you a vacant position

If you are intrested in getting the job in our company please reply this email.

We looked through your skills and became sure that you correspond to our requirements.

Job scheme will comprise the following:
1. You receive payments from our customers (By checks, Money orders e.t.c)
2. Than you fill forms with details of received payments in your Internet Office
3. Transfer money to our main office by requested methods.

Your earning will be 8 % of the amount of each completed payment please answer this message with your Сontact Infomation and Attach your Resume to e-mail.

Additionally we are going to effect you $1500 as your salary at the end of each month.

This job will allow you to:
- Get financial independence working only 3-5 hours per day;
- Get additional free time;
- Efficiently work at home;

General requirements:
- Willingness to take the responsibility to set up and achieve goals;
- Ability to create good administrative reporting;
- Prior customer service experience is a good benefit;
- Internet and e-mail skills; Experience in online work;

In addition we will be able to offer you $ 2500 as a monthly payment after completion of the trial period.

In case you are interested in the position, please register at our web site and get there futher instructions.

IF YOU WISH TO JOIN OUR TEAM PLEASE REPLY THIS EMAIL.

There are a few red flags in this message, let's see if I spot them all. First, numerous misspellings. Second, ALL I WOULD HAVE TO DO IS SIT AROUND COLLECTING MONEY AND SENDING IT ON FOR A CUT!? SWEET! Schyeah, right. Third, the company name is not listed at all. Fourth, it came from a gmail account.

Synergy in Mind and Webcomics

In college, I was a...scattered individual. Since becoming a more focused, or perhaps coherent is the proper word,* I have either lost the desire or need to attend late night visitations to the wildebeest carcass, or gained the ability to find dead wildebeest wherever I roam and regardless of the hour. Since I am on my second pot of coffee, I doubt that even regular "readers" understand what I mean when I talk about wildebeest, but any regular "viewer" of Animal Planet will understand. Clearly, I am talking about eating pancakes at four in the morning simply because you want some maple syrup, or you have perhaps more sinister motives.

In the days shortly after leaving the hallowed halls of learning, I longed for a return to the clarity of pancakes consumed in the hours between dusk and dawn. I sought out fey circles and other shrines to the gods, followed other strung-out seekers in a communal quest for late-night, grease-induced visions. Despite all attempts to reach that odd plane of mental and physical union of process that was once achieved with ease, I remained lost and listless. I could not regain my impetus for inquiry. I drifted thus, hungry and syrup-deprived. I wandered the country. Penniless and desperate, I eventually made my way back to the Manor and suffered the tender ministrations of my parents until I could stand and walk once more.

I was grateful for their help but anxious to be moving again. A lifetime of travel has left me unfit for settlement for periods longer than one or two seasonal cycles of our lonely planet. I moved on, and took residence in an underground hovel. It was there that I began to suffer the full withdrawal from my former habits. During the agonizing hours of the night, the cravings for sweet syrup and fluffy griddle cakes pounded through my being and shook me to the core. I lay awash in pain. As the months ground slowly on, I found that I could sense that missing clarity floating just out of reach, just behind the next door, on the edge of memory. In a still, cool, fall night, I finally grasped that strange and wonderful process of mind while strolling the empty sidewalks. There was no hunger within, no maple syrup on my chin to guide my vision. There was only the solitude of a city sleeping while I and perhaps others walked the barren alleys and avenues. Since then, I have been able to summon this inspiration when desired, and I am better for it, though I doubt the world would agree.

There are many other reasons for visiting the IHOP or profane IHOP-equivalent at such an early, or late, hour. Perhaps you have an allergy to the food offered by your institution. Perhaps you are an insomniac. Perhaps you have a term paper due and need some coffee and carbs. Perhaps you really appreciate Mrs. Butterworth in a way your friends would never understand, should they find out. Perhaps you have a wager about the number of teeth the waitress has. Perhaps you feel a need to have every menu item once in a semester, due to some bizarre form of gastric OCD. Perhaps you have even stranger, eldritch reasons for visiting an Interdimensional House of Pancakes.

I might have said too much. I can feel the influence of weird energies on my mind, and I think I may have given the beast too much food yesterday evening. The crickets do not sing, for the hungry, hairy beast hunts in the dark. Be wary.

* Condensed? Concentrated? Distilled? Aliquoted?**
** Now that there is a truly old inside joke.

Move Over Pam Atlas, Sarah Palin VLogs the Campaign

Hilarious.

I am not really one of those seriouspants bloggers, nor am I really funny, but I know what I like and I like these videos. Sarah Palin also has her own website here.

Another Day, Another Pile of Shit Falls on a Republican't Somewhere

I have been fired for far less than the shit that has been falling squarely on the shoulders of my ideological opponents. You can read more about these incidents, uh, pretty much anywhere. I'll be busy looking for a new job.

In the meantime, what the fuck was Lindsey Graham doing advertising on FDL? I wish had been able to grab a screen cap of that.

The Genius Versus The Atlantic Ocean: 0-1

In a press release dated September 1, The Genius alleges that the Atlantic Ocean did knowingly, and with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, assault The Genius over the course of two days. Suffering from blunt force trauma to the skull, a hyperextended knee joint, and a twisted foot, The Genius claimed, "Those fucking waves are being way too fucking rough. I'm gonna go sit in the sun and ache."

The Genius is alleging that on two occasions within ten minutes, the Atlantic Ocean and its partner, The Wind, created surf conditions that initially appeared to be fun and not at all dangerous but caused inflicted serious pain and injury to the person of The Genius. Furthermore, The Genius alleges that the harm was deliberate due to the apparent lack of injuries sustained by "all the other fucking people and all the damn kids" on the beach in the general vicinity of The Genius during these heinous attacks on his person.

In an interview on the morning of September 2, The Genius stated, "I'm fucking sore and this is really gonna screw up my basketball and bicycling schedule. Fuck that whole ocean with a rusty pinecone."

The Genius is seeking compensation for pain and suffering in the amount of 1,000,000,000 dollars, plus medical expenses and legal fees, or 100 years of unclaimed sunken pirate treasure, aka booty, from the Atlantic Ocean.

Lessons From My Father: Number X+2 or 3 or 438

During every election cycle that I pay attention to, I remember the 1988 elections. I remember watching the Democratic National Convention during sweltering heat in an A-frame house in Wisconsin while my brothers had fun outside because I thought we were required by law to watch these things.

I remember wondering who the shit are all these old men and why isn't Jesse Jackson speaking more? Jesse Jackson was the only person I had heard of before that night.

I remember wondering, how does the rest of the country survive through this interminable extravaganza? Damn it was boring, but I was worried I would get arrested if I didn't watch it.

I also remember my father's briefcase. He had a soft-sided, tan briefcase that he carried to work in Bucharest. I went looking through it once, because I was hoping to find nuclear materials or Romanian state secrets or something cool like James Bond in that briefcase. Instead, I found a bumper sticker stuck to the unpocketed-side of the briefcase. That bumper sticker read, "Lick Bush." I remember thinking this was rather underwhelming. Being the age at which American children read a lot of old-timey but timeless novels like Tom Sawyer, I thought nothing of this sticker although I did wonder why it was on the inside of the briefcase. I had learned that summer that Republicans exist and are the problem and support George HW Bush, so I figured that maybe they wouldn't like my father's proud admission that he would make Bush say, "uncle" or something.

When I was voting for the first time, I remembered this bumper sticker and laughed out lout while I was standing in the booth. Two little old ladies shuffled over and asked if I was ok. Just proud of my dad, that's all.

Randomly Posted Random Songs

Here's a taste of the music playing while I search for a new job and write my novel:

Aimee Mann - Thirty One Today
These United States - Burn This Bridge
Billy Idol - Untitled track from Cyberpunk
Johnny Cash - I Still Miss Someone (from At Folsom Prison)
Empire of the Sun - Walking on a Dream (downloaded from Fluxblog)
Jonathan Coulton - Re: Your Brains
Lejeune - Kubasaki Ha'i
Thievery Corporation - Indra

Fantasies Involving Pregnancies

Okay, I could have phrased that title better.

I know a lot of women right now who are pregnant, or are recently un-pregnant and pushing around little, mewling wads of balogna in strollers. Not one of these women has ever gone full-Rambo and taken out a room full of ninjas, however. That would be pretty frigging sweet, even if I had to fend off the rival ninja gang as well.

Permits, Tests, and Lessons Learned

So I am teaching my brother how to drive. He has taken driver's ed classes, and is now working through the 60 hours of supervised driving required by the state of Maryland. I understand my father a little better than I did before this experience. Jebus Monte Crisco, I think I have lost a few years off my life. So far the best part has been:

Me: "Just turn right here."
Brother: "It says Do Not Enter."
Me: "Ah fuck it, just go, what are the chances a cop is around?"
Brother: "I don't wanna break the law."
Me: "Just fucking go already."
Cop: "Why did you just drive through that Do Not Enter sign?"
Brother, smiling a shit eating grin: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake, I'm just trying to pick up my wife and I wasn't sure which way was for the buses and which for the cars."
Me: "It was my fault, I gave him bad directions. I don't drive and walk everywhere, so I didn't even notice that was a Do Not Enter sign."
Cop: "Well, you just make sure you obey the signs in the future."
Brother's Wife: "What is going on?"

hee

Heaping Loads

So, I think I am being audited.

Fuck.

Shouldn't be too hard, since I don't have any money. And never have had any money. The IRS probably just wants to tell me that I shouldn't have filed late for the years that I filed, but they owed me money in those years anyway. There are days, and then there are days.

UPDATE: Turns out they want more money for self employment taxes and fees for 2005. HAHA! The jokes on them! I'm broke, bitches! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

DC: Now With More Bullshit Statistics

Somewhere, I heard that the DC population is getting close to 60% female. This seems about right given my daily experiences. There is an alleged correlation that DC should have more single women. Lemme just tell you all this right now: that's a crock of shit.

College Revival Comics

I am not a guy to get stressed out about much of anything, and this is also a contributing factor to much of my current situation. However, much of one of my previous situations, when I was in college, could be explained by this picture for sad children. This joke is so much more inside than anything 3Bulls can come up with, I doubt even fulsome gets the joke to which I am referring.

For those of you that don't know, it wasn't that funny a joke anyway. The comic is way funnier than the joke, it just has an added reference layer for me and maybe two or three people out there.

Do you gmail-using-people ever have that moment where you are typing in a name in the "To" box and a name comes up and you have no fucking clue who that name's person is? I have somewhere around three thousand names in my contact list apparently and I think I know maybe ten of them. Every time I write an email without slapping the reply button, I find names in my so-called contact list that belong to no one I can remember. Apparently, I chatted with them maybe? I bet they were on that ultimate frisbee team I tried last summer (what a disaster, no one plays for fun, it's all about the win and fuck that shit). Or maybe they are friends of other people that have mass emailed me and know they have spread to my contact list like some sort of gmail STD? That is a lot ruder than I mean to be to these probably nice people (or email addresses), but the metaphor is apt, like if I send you an email, you are know in correspondence with everyone I've ever emailed. Hope you have virus protection, because my gmail account gets around, lemme tell you.

New Source of the Funnies

While apparently volunteering my time, I found The Cincinnati Dealer.

So, So Wrong

Yeah, I am not even allowed to discuss Diebold voting machines with my brother. I can already fell the bile rising and the anger bubbling. I need to distract myself.

Oh! Hey, there's a release date for Warhammer: Age of Reckoning: September 18th. OOOH! And there's also pictures for sad children.

That Thing Where You Do That Thing?

Do you ever do that thing where you laugh or hurt quickly while reading something and look up suddenly wanting to share the moment with someone who you totally know will appreciate it but then you realize that you can't share that with them because you did something that totally changed the nature of your relationship and you are not allowed to share things like this with them anymore?

Yeah, A Softer World does that to me on a regular basis, but none so much as this one.

Now I feel kinda bummed out.

Other Other Hobbies

So I will finally be binge-blogging all of my various new musical experiences over at Well Rounded Nerds. It should be interesting. To at least one of you. It may even draw dontEATnachos out from seclusion, but it is unlikely to draw even a pageview from fulsome.

Other Hobbies

Apparently, I've been confusing the cry of a red-tailed hawk with the cry of a blue jay. Whoops.

Hobbies And Wikipedia

I was strolling around Wikipedia* and looked up some information on one of my hobbies. I was looking at a page and then wondered what the discussion page looked like. People sure do get snippy over a crappy army that my titan would roll over in two turns.

Pictures of the painting process of that titan are coming soon. If I care about something, that means you care about it, too. That is how this whole bloggio thing works, people.

*STROLLING, not trolling. I never mess around with pages because I just don't have enough tolerance to deal with the people that seem to care about their little corner of the wikiwebtubenet.

New Target Acquired

I must have one of these morsels of hot awesomeness before the year is dead:


A quick search of the interwebs turned up this Yelp page, unfortunately Chowhound did not contain any pertinent information. I would have spent more time there, but I am overcome with a craving for bacon-wrapped meat articles. Also, I am still experiencing a Baltimore high from an awesome crab cake sandwich, of which I only got two bites and lust for more. Sadly, Henninger's is closed on Sundays and Mondays but damn that was a good crab cake at Jimmy's.

Morally Objectionable

President Bush should probably just quit while he is way behind and phone in the rest of the year. We should be so lucky. Instead, Bush has decided to reinvent health care to include a doctor's right to refuse to perform any action deemed "morally objectionable." There goes that oath. Let's all play a game in the comments (pretty much guaranteeing that AG will ignore this), wherein we all describe horrible situations where doctors refuse treatment because they determine that the treatment is "morally objectionable."

I'll start: a bitter ER resident decides that he won't treat a crack addict's pneumonia because the resident decides it would be morally objectionable to let the addict live.

I am sure that we can all invent some scenarios that are less extreme and yet generate as much anger.

BBC Needs Some Proofreaders

This is exactly why you have proofreaders:

The Death Zone

Expedition organisers only learned of the avalanche after a group of climbers arrived back at the mountain's base camp on Saturday evening.

The mountaineers included Koreans, Pakistanis, Nepalis, Dutchman and Italians, reports say, but exact details remain unclear.

They at an altitude known as the Death Zone, where oxygen levels are not high enough to sustain life.

I keep writing all these really awful jokes here, but eleven people died doing something I will never attempt and I am trying to reconnect with the human race, so I keep deleting the jokes. The view must be amazing, and all the more so for the struggle.

CNBC Claims Oil Prices Plunge!

While watching some news this morning, I saw a moment of stupidity on CNBC. This is a perfect example of one of the problems of mass media. The ticker on the bottom of the screen starts with "OIL PRICES PLUNGE!" and you have some talking heads saying some crap about Iran backing down, campaign rhetoric, and the record high of $157 (this may not be correct) per barrel of crude oil. I wondered how low the price had plunged, expected it to be below $100 per barrel due to the use of "plunge." Thirty seconds later, the ticker says "OIL BRIEFLY DIPS BELOW $120/BARREL."

That doesn't really seem like a plunge, but it is close to one-fifth of the price of a barrel at the height, providing I heard that one guy correctly. However, that price is still double what people were calling an expensive barrel of oil a year ago. Remember when people were predicting total financial collapse if the cost of oil hit $80/barrel? Fucking crap, you newsies never learn. You should all read this book.

Newspaper Websites: You're Doing it Wrong, Washingtonpost.com

To: Washington Post
Attention: Web Editor and General Management
Re: www.washingtonpost.com

Your website sucks. It sucks almost as much as the guy I saw last night on Clara Barton Parkway driving a fucking Firebird with a bumper sticker that read "Back Off My Nutz" and with a pair of the plastic testicles hanging from his bumper. You might wonder why The Genius has laid a claim of suckage upon thine internet personage, and I'll tell you: your require some bullshit login for every damn article.

When I click on the link for this story about the hippo losing his home, I want to read the article and not see some useless fucking login. I would not mind logging in to peruse your archives, but I am sick and tired of having to log in to view the content of every podunk website out there.

It's also a frikking jumble. I am a web savvy genius and I find it hard to locate information that I want on your website. You need to clean that shit up. You have only three columns, which is good, but when I think I have reached the bottom of the page, the "Diversions" scroll bar, I haven't. There is a ton of content below that bar, but I was fooled and you can bet others are. Clean it up. Kitchen sinks should be left in the kitchen.

You're a national newspaper. Report national news and do it well. Leave the local news to the various Gazettes around town.

On a final note, your movie critics are terribad. Hire me instead, I can guarantee that I will at least watch the entire movie and won't write from the perspective of a balding, jilted journalism major.

Better Said By Others

There are some times when it is best to let other people speak for you. In a foreign country, when complementing you, or when dealing with the police. Every now and then, I find something that sums up a lot of my feelings about a subject that maybe I hadn't even been thinking about or maybe just hadn't been able to elucidate verbally, but this Fart Party comic pretty much sums up the way I feel about DC: it sorta sucks a whole lot and then I stumble upon a brief moment that reminds me of all the reasons I live here.

I went to a show last night and had a good time. I converted $37.65 worth of nickels and dimes into a cab ride (STUPID ERRATIC METROBUSES!), a new CD, and the entrance fee to Stella Schindler's CD release show at the Velvet Lounge.

In an announcement that is news to no one, I am really behind in some album reviews. I will have to get those done this weekend since I was called out by dontEATnachos a few weeks/months ago.

Current Homework Projects

I have to design a series of art pieces for a hat store for the class in design and layout that I am taking at the USDA.* Apparently the computer lab is open on Saturdays, which is nice because I don't have hundreds of dollars to slap down for Adobe's Creative Suite 3. I just might spend all day in the lab tomorrow working on my project but also working on some movie posters in the style of the Master, Myers87.

I could have done a tattoo parlor or body piercing shop and may still choose that because my hat store ideas are pretty lame. Well, so are my tattoo and piercing lounge ideas. Some day, I hope to be able to match the brilliance of dontEATnachos:


* Yes. I am actually taking a class at the United States Department of Agriculture. They have a graduate school.

Fort Reno Again Tonight

Cuz, fuck you, it's free. Should providence keep the rain away, I will see Kid Congo Powers, The Shirks, and Girl Loves Distortion.

I couldn't locate a website for The Shirks. I am somewhat surprised by this.

This Totally Tarantula Tuesday Brought To You By My Unconcious Mind

This post probably brings an altogether and impressive layer to phoning it in, but since I am not mo-blogging this, we'll just call it all even. Some of the most brilliant posts on 3Bulls aren't even written, they are dreamed. They aren't even written by the whoever-knows-how-many-contributors to 3Bulls. This is of course totally appropriate for their oeuvre and possibly even their under. I hereby present to you five posts straight from the horse's apple AKA my dream state:
Hugo Weaving, Bruce Lee and Hope Chest
Jeff Kober and James Gandolfini
Indira Gandhi and Paul Rudd
Stephen Colbert and Helob
The Best Cast of Law and Order and my friend E

US Air Guitar Finals Tickets On Sale

Don't be a cobnugget and miss out. The US Air Guitar Championships are in San Francisco at the Grand Ballroom. Get over your stupid "I'm too cool for air guitar even though I totally do it" attitude and buy tickets, chundernozzle. Take pictures, maybe even movies. Make me horribly jealous.

If you don't, I'll just resort to arching you, on the internet and possibly in real life. I may not have moppets, but I do have henchpersons. Even if I'm no longer allowed to call them henchmen due to the conditions of my parole and certain court rulings.

Things I've Missed

So...I've been away from the blogs and the general interweb for a long time. I've been wallowing in the fictional worlds of warcraft and warcraftier and neither are healthy places for the unemployed and those prone to extended pity parties. I've also been playing Supreme Commander in case anyone cares. Of course you don't, forget I said anything.

Anywho...

I just heard about Dr. Horrible and his sing along and normally I hate musicals but I'll give this one a chance. I may have to download iTunes finally. I have avoided this for the same reason I avoid facebook and myspace and all those other sites: everything requires a separate damn password and login and wants all sorts of information about The Genius and his life. I don't mind people knowing about my life or whatever parts of my life that I choose to reveal on my blog, but keeping track of all the damn logins I have all created all over this system of tubes is a pain in the ass. Also, I don't have any damn money and I would just be tempted to spend notmoney on songs that I probably won't be able to find on iTunes anyway. Although, I did hear that The Moderate has some songs on iTunes "which just screams legitimacy" in the words of Jim Dempsey.

I have also begun enjoying The Guild, (FOR WHICH I MEANT TO THANK MDHATTER!!!) which I know sounds a lot like a heroin addict talking about how much he loves a twelve step program and methadone. Don't bother trying to click that link, their bandwidth has been obliterated by a link from Penny Arcade and it will probably be a week before that site is up again.

Bob Novak is an Asshole

Bob Novak claims that he didn't have any idea that he had hit an elderly man in a crosswalk when he was finally pulled over by a bike messenger. That's a load of horseshit. Every car I have ever hit with something while I was in a crosswalk and the driver failed to yield has reacted with surprise or anger. One cobag stopped his car in the middle of the intersection and yelled at me that I had better not ever touch his car again. I told him that he better yield to pedestrians in the future or he was going to kill someone.

Given this clearly empirical evidence, Bob Novak is a lying asshole cobag. Which we all knew a long time ago for his role in the Valerie Plame affair but I digress.

Thanks for the tip, Super Secret Awesomegirl!

The Celebration Schedule

Why have a birthday party when you can have a week long series of events in your honor?

Monday night - Fort Reno with Pup Tent, North of Canada, and RaRa Rasputin.
Tuesday night - Iota with The Moderate, Brandon Butler, and The Wax Standard.
Wednesday night- Class with Our Instructor and Adobe Creative Suite 3. I will probably play Guitar Hero until my arms cramp after class.
Thursday night - Fort Reno with Statehood, Imperial China, and Tsarina. (What's with all the commies this week? It's like a tribute to my childhood!)
Friday night - Guitar Hero and libations at Le Maison du Smartass.

If you can't make it to these events, I expect epic gifts in the mail. If you don't know my mailing address, just guess. Someone will end up happy.

In yet another public calling out, I have found three bands that have been around for a while that fulsome would probably like, if he weren't married to his job and his cable television:
Death By Sexy (don't judge a band by their goofy name)
Screen Vinyl Image (kim k. even kinda looks like fulsomegirl, too)
The Apes (Although I am not sure about vouching for a band that doesn't have a guitar, given my predilection for air guitar and guitar hero)

The Dark Knight

It's been a busy week. I have been productive but Friday is shaping up to be rather unproductive. I don't know how I'll be able to function tomorrow. Too many late nights for The Genius. I just saw The Dark Knight and I can only say this:

DO NOT WAIT FOR THE DVD RELEASE.

More artful discussion after I wake up.

Somebody is a Cancer

Happy birthday, dudeguy. He's a quality guy, even if he does eat the occasional corpse after sexing it up.

And if he doesn't get that reference, I am going to look mighty strange.

The Push

My tendons flex and ache, the muscles retort painfully to my insistent ministrations. The letter and conversation ring loudly in my lobes, bouncing around my skull. I trot down the narrow trail and concentrate on my footing while I attempt to force the distracting thoughts from my conscious mind. Breaking out into the dim light of the wider path, I run as fast as I can through the tall weeds and thorny bushes. My feet catch on vines and I nearly stumble. I push forward, faster.

There is no breeze. There are no birds. There are no bugs. There are no planes crashing through the sky. The highway noises are muted. There is only the letter and conversation, shaking for attention, while my mind calms and my body pushes faster. The only wind I feel is an ephemeral zephyr created solely by my strange desire for more speed.

The letter was pleasant and polite. A material response to my hopes at last. Despite the crushing disappointment it carried, the letter was a response, which is an improvement. I run on.

I measure my time by the distance between telephone poles. I pass the third pole and keep running. The fourth and fifth pass before I notice. I stop at the sixth and walk for the seventh. My parents' voices rise above the pounding of my heart and the intake of breath. They worry, this is only natural. They will always worry. I will always give them reason to worry. The tide of our relationship is controlled by a cycle of security and uncertainty that I feel powerless to change. Security seems too close to comfort, and comfort is far too near settlement for me to enjoy. Uncertainty brings adversity and chaos, inspiration. I run until there is only the overgrown trail, the encroaching darkness, and me.

Microsoft and Zone Alarm and Comcast

So Microsoft's recent malicious software removal tool (or whatever) is a piece of crap and won't work with Zone Alarm's firewall. I haven't been able to do anything since Tuesday because I was unable to get on to the internet to check it out and the library's connection is slow enough to drive any sane person mad.

I have been visiting with visiting friends. That was less stressful than I thought it might be. Anyway, I'm back again and will be finishing some excellent posts.

Soul Searching or Moping?

The two are oddly similar.

Fireworks and Me

Good Idea: Playing with BB guns, .22 rifles, and 12 gauge shotguns before drinking anything with alcohol.

Bad Idea: Playing with explosives after drinking alcohol.

Result: I think I lost some hair and I have a few burns on my hands, but I still have all of my fingers and toes. I also have some strange bruises, and an odd welt in my hairline.

It was a hell of a party.

How Dare They?

Wall-E…supposes that the human race of the future will become a flabby mass of peabrained idiots who are literally too fat to walk.

Shouldn't we be so successful that all Americans can be fat and lazy now? Aren't we the best nation in the history of the universe, ever in all creation, for all time? How dare Pixar and Disney suggest that Americans are anything but fat, lazy, and all consuming!

In all seriousness, while I may have my own struggles with the ease of over-caloricating and the general lack of effort needed to live in the US, I don't agree that we are a lazy people. Shit, most people are lucky to get a full ten days of paid vacation a year and goddamn blessed if they are actually able to take those vacation days. This is not a great indicator of an lazy workforce, but ask yourself how many nights you have worked late and put in tons of overtime for your office without any direct compensation for that effort.

Or maybe that is just me and my bosses.

Staples of small-town conservative life such as the small farm, the “atomic family,” and old-fashioned and wholesome entertainment like “Hello, Dolly” are looked upon by the suddenly awakened humans as beautiful and desirable.

As an editor, I take issue with the use of scary air quotes. The quotation marks around atomic family are entirely unnecessary. The marks around "Hello, Dolly" are appropriate but whether that film is wholesome is another matter. After all, don't those gheys like show tunes? Are "Wall-E" and Patrick Ford promoting the insidious homosexual agenda?

You Want My SAT and ACT Scores?

Huh?

This is the first time in at least five years that any employer has asked for those scores. I am no longer certain of my ACT score, except that I remember doing considerably better on that test than on the SAT. I am pretty sure I got a 1210 on the SAT and I think I got a 31 on the ACT. Or maybe a 29? That was...thirteen years ago. Or twelve.

In any event, what the hell is the point of asking for a potential employee's SAT or ACT scores when you require a BS or BA? You are not hiring any high school graduates, so how would tests from at least four years prior, and much education prior, help an employer determine whether you are worth interviewing? GRE or LSAT scores I could see being a very interesting number, but high school scores seem so pointless.

Another Odd One

I had a dream in which an ex-girlfriend and I were solving crimes. I was mute and she had to interpret my gestures and various frowning expressions to the audience of assorted officers of the peace. At one point, we ran through a subway tunnel. I may have shot at a suspect. Thinking about it, this dream is rather allegorical for our relationship. Except for the subway tunnel and the shooting.

Maybe that represents my pursuit of love and the self destructive nature of my heart? The tunnel could represent my fumbling approach to emotions and the shooting would then symbolize my ill-advised manner in which I attempt to emotionally involve myself in my relationships.

Or I could have been thinking about the X-Files movie trailer I saw before Wanted, which I saw with my ex-girlfriend. Don't even get me started about the cobags who brought a child younger than 4 to that movie, or the other cobags who let them bring the child into the theater. Fuck it, next time I wait for the damn DVD. The movie sucked, too. The scene my companion found most amusing was ripped off of Equilibrium.* I kinda feel bad for Timur Bekmambetov because there were a lot of great touches in the movie but there were some aspects that were just plain dumb. A fraternity of assassins named The Fraternity. Really? Was The Order too close to that movie about witchcraft titled The Order? Also, a fraternity with Angelina Jolie isn't exactly a fraternity. I guess frarority still sounds fucking dumb. Why not go with The Weavers? or The Fate Guys? or the Curving Bullet People Who Also Sometimes Go All Matrix And Jump From Tall Building to Tall Building Despite Their Being No Indication or Support of This in The Context of The Movie?

Ok, I have to admit that just about every action scene was frigging cool, kinda the way Ultraviolet wanted to be, but the suspension of disbelief was ruined by some of the goofiness of everything. The director does have a singular sense of humor that really brought a shine to some parts (the "I Quit" scene) but also took away from other parts (Morgan Freeman saying "fuck" or "motherfucker" is not enough).

Anyway, it should do well enough to avoid turning the director into a pariah, which is nice because I really liked Night Watch and Day Watch.

* I don't really mind that it was ripped off, I just want to sound cool by pointing it out.

Frustrations with the Lack of Loss

I have been sticking to my exercise routine and have recently upped the duration and exertion in each session, but I am still frustrated with the lack of progress on my problem areas. My problem areas being every part of my body except my forehead, forearms, hands, and feet. I don't really need to lose any weight in any of those areas. I am seeing some funky veins and stuff on my forearms, but my gut and thighs still belong to a McDonald's Lifetime Eatcheivement Award winner. This is very disappointing.

I have heard that you lose weight from the extremities inward, but could we get with the program, belly? Perhaps the Pork Snorkels of the Past are to blame but I think the blame lies solely with my easy willingness to play World of Warcraft for twelve hours at a time. Or Supreme Commander. Or Call of Duty 4. Or Fallout 3, when that releases. Or Warhammer: Age of Reckoning, whenever that hits the streets (estimates place it at early 2012).

So I have altered my diet a little and continue working out. What else am I going to do besides look for a job? Porn gets pretty old, or so I'm told, and that isn't much of an exercise.

Advanced Product Testing for Geniuses: Phillips Senseo

I was recently given a Phillips Senseo that I think was not used at all by the previous owner. I have no particular love for espresso, but I am not one to look a gift coffee maker in the spout. I did not receive a manual, but I am pretty sure that I have all the parts. After checking it over for any extraneous grime and finding none, I spent a few minutes attaching the random plastic piece, which my friend had said was a vital part, to the reservoir. I put the drip tray and coffee mug rack on the base of the machine. I placed the filter in the top and tried to close the top. Everything slotted together and the top closed without any exertion on my part, so I figured that I had assembled it properly. But will it brew?

I plugged it in and filled the reservoir to the double shot level. I placed a coffee "pod" in the space that I had been told was appropriate and closed the top. I looked at the three buttons on the front and tried to determine the proper course of action. My old coffee maker, a piece of Krap from Krups, has a power button and nothing else, not even an auto-off function. Three buttons was a new and strange world of brewing. The large middle button had the universal power symbol above it, the circle with a vertical line, so I hit that first. A red ring started flashing around the button and I thought, "oh crap, now I have to send this back to Microsoft and demand a refurbished model." The machine also begin making a sound that was not dissimilar to my dishwasher starting up. I waited a few seconds to see what would happen and then pushed the double shot button to the right of the power button. The symbols for the double shot and the single shot button, on the left of the power button, were the same as the reservoir, an outline of a teeny little espresso cup for the single serving and two single shots next to a mug for the double serving. The dishwasher noise stopped when I pushed the double button and then the red ring began to flash rapidly.

Wishing I had the manual, I hit the double serving again. Nothing happened. I checked the reservoir and saw that half the water I had poured in was gone. Hmm. I then filled the reservoir to the top line and slapped it back on. I tapped the double button again. Nothing. I hit the power button and the red ring started blinking slowly like it did the first time. A much more muted hum emanated from this strange machine. I waited for about 30 seconds before realizing that I better put a mug underneath the spout. I cleaned a coffee mug and placed it on the fancy tray under the spout. I hit the double serving button again. The machine began to hum and whirr again and then creamy espresso began to pour out of the spout. SUCCESS! I am indeed smarter than a sexy espresso machine!

The coffee itself is pretty good. I wonder if the pod will be good for a second cup. I wouldn't mind trying some of the flavors, but I will have to see what I can find in my neighborhood stores. That is the limiting factor with this machine, the funky coffee pods. The pods contain grounds in little filter packs, like coffee ravioli or tea. I would prefer to be able to use some espresso ground Mayorga coffee from the Marvelous Market across the street rather than trust an online store. I like to smell a coffee before I buy it because I like to think I can smell something other than coffee and the packaging.

Anyway, here are a couple of other people's opinions but I doubt these are as cool or as smart as mine as they are not Geniuses:
Randy Glass
Epinions (also has instructions, should have looked at that earlier...)

More Great Music Coming to DC

Birds & Batteries are coming to Washington, DC on July 1 at the Red and the Black. I will be there. You should be, too.

I will also be at the First Mondays show at Iota on July 7.

Listing

I start the fourth class in my editing certificate program tonight, so I'll look even better on paper than a I do now. So that's cool.

I am suspending my World of Warcraft account after the Fire Festival.

I am upping the intensity and duration of my daily work out.

I am still looking for a new job. If you know any workplace that is looking for an editor or proofreader, let me know. I will move anywhere. I can survive in any country on the planet, possibly even those countries that are actively hostile to Americans.

I have lost some weight. How much, I don't know because I refuse to bend knee to vilely oppressing scales.

I am pissed about Battlestar Galactica's broadcast schedule. The executives at SciFi can eat a shitty hot dog.

I saw a cool show about hot dogs last night. More on that later.

I have been making tomato soup from scratch. Kinda fun.

I have been eating a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches with that tomato soup.

I have been drinking some pretty damn good coffee that a former coworker smuggled into the US from Ethiopea for me.

I have not been playing enough Guitar Hero.

I have been listening to some amazing music that really brings me down to the level at which I usually sink before rising again, higher than before.

I am indeed a fucking phoenix. I do not mean that when fucking, I rise again and again, though that would be kinda cool, if tiring. I mean that I crash and burn more frequently than (bad airline) and lie broken for a period of time of length as yet undetermined and then shoot up like a shooting up thing, to soar at heights previously unreached.

They Be Stoleded My Frenz!

It kinda sucks when friends move away. You can't hang out anymore and they never call you back. Sometimes, they even get restraining orders.

Anywho, friends ask me to help them move and I frequently return the favor. I have noticed that the more chaotic and unprepared my friends are to move, the more food they have left over for me to take. SCORE!

The Beast Within

My brother calls them the wolf hairs, the dark hairs that grow out of strange places or hairs of unusual length from otherwise normal patches. Eyebrows begin to lengthen as the old hairs fall out and are replaced by bizarre cilia that loom over and menace the remaining hairs, as if these mere hairs were but lonely, sarcastic, video store employees. I believe there may be frequent exchanges of milk money.

There are the other patches of wolf hairs. They creep and crawl and slither their way across my body. I recently conducted and extensive survey, utilizing all of my archaeological and primatological techniques, and was amazed and frightened by the results. While I am not Greek, I find myself contemplating forgoing sweaters in the next winter season.

There are odd patterns in the patches. If I stare at them too long, I begin to notice scripts and symbols. I can almost make them out. I think that one is a star and then that one might be a ... oh no.

That Poor Old Chicken

What is the song that has the lyrics:

...so he poured hot water up and down its leg,
and that poor, old chicken laid a hard boiled egg?

Anyone know or is this too Americablog-gy and NRO-y to ask other people to do my research for me?

Did I forget to eat again?

It's been an action packed day full of calls to insurance organizations, job hunting, blogging, Incredible Hulk reruns, Supreme Commander, and forgetting to eat anything. I didn't forget to make a pot of coffee. And people wonder how I am losing weight. It might have something to do with the work-outs I have been working, but I think the frequent omissions of regular meals is a larger factor. I just get busy and forget to eat. Probably isn't too healthy. meh

Promised Poop Shoot: Cooler Than You Music

In the days before blogs, there was memepool and True Porn Clerk Stories. I was definitely a cooler-than-you video clerk in my clerking days and I doubt this list will fail to confirm that. I would frequently subject the suburban families to music that was just way too cool for them. I did get a few grimaces and annoy one father by suggested that he accompany his 16 year old daughter to the shows she wants to see at the Black Cat. He was willing to admit that he would have snuck out of the house to see his favorite bands as a kid, but that I should shut the hell up and just rent him Flubber.

1. Roofwalkers - Tear Down the Tents: Formerly named Pagoda. I have not seen them live yet, but I am sure I will at one of the First Mondays in the next few months.
2. Lejeune - New Best Friend: The singer's voice is a little nasal for my taste, but the music is interesting. I like their songs over all, especially "Replaced by Robots."
3. The Vita Ruins - Alien: Cool beans.
4. Rose - Regarding the 11th: Better break-up/heartbreak music than The Frames.
5. Thao Nguyen - Like the Linen: Another person that I have recommended to a couple ladies who have all loved her music.
6. Georgie James - Cheap Champagne: Catchy and fast. Pretty much describes most of their songs.
7. Le Loup - I had a dream I died: Not exactly a CDC candidate but the music is great.
8. These United States - Diving Boards Pointed at the Sky: Despite some notable hosers deciding not to go to their San Francisco show, I continue to proclaim this band to my friends. Even if my friends are losers.

Well that's that. I need to get a new job so I can have more income to spend on music.

*I accidentally hit post when I had only written half of the title. I contemplated leaving the post as it was because I thought it was a funny joke but decided it was more mehta than meta.

So Yeah

Once again, I have failed at my bloggy duties. I have about 17 half-finished posts which I expect to finish tomorrow. I wouldn't believe me, either.

Expect at least a musical poop shoot tomorrow morning.

Kathleen Better Sign The Waiver

I can't promise that she won't get arrested while on my Cobagitation Tour next weekend. We'll hit the White House, AEI, CEI, the Capitol Building. We could even hit the offices of some lobbying firms if she feels up to it. I need to do some research and get some big sheets of sign-quality paper. If anyone else is interested in joining the tour, drop me an e-mail.

Zimbabwe Goes Even Further Overboard

I hope everyone involved in this incident recovers and that the entire country can come back to some sort of stability. I would be willing to bet hard currency that my parents know people involved. Crap.

Air Guitar Related News

C-Diddy was in tonight's episode of Law & Order: SVU! He played a lab tech discussing GHB in the episode titled Consent from 2001. I was about to go to turn off the television when I noticed him. What a coincidence.

DC Air Guitar Championships Wednesday, June 4th

I have a ticket waiting for me. If you aren't there tomorrow, you're a damn loser.

930 Club

US Air Guitar

The National Finals are on August 8th in San Francisco. Buy your tickets as soon as possible, that will sell out. Don't be a fucking cobag and miss it for two years in a row. You know who you are.

Chumps.

Pop Ren!

Pop Rennaissance left a comment! Perhaps we will see updates to his myspace page and the western delegates of the newly reformed Cookie Democracy will attend a show.

Oh Shit They're Back

When I was couch surfing at one of my brothers' apartment in Oakland, I learned a lesson in patience and suffering. My brother lived in a loft building within spitting distance of the rebuilt Highway 80, near the off-ramp for 880, I think. If you had the windows open, you were subjected to an aural assault of zooming cars, downshifting trucks, and struggling transmissions. A fine, black grit would drift in and settle on any still surface. This detritus of the road consisted of tire dust and engine exhaust. If the wind was right, this foul breeze would blend with the odors of the coffee roasting factory down the road and the vending machine pastry factory next adjacent to the former building in which I suffered. These strange mixtures warped my senses and I was unable to enjoy a cup of coffee while I rode the foam in Oakland nor have I eaten a vending pastry since.

All of the previous was minor compared to the upstairs neighbors. The floors of the lofts were hardwood, as it was a converted warehouse, and the heathen bastards residing in the apartment above were kind souls and take in every dog they saw abandoned on the highway. These dogs would bark and yowl, yip and growl, whine and howl all the live long day. These dogs would scrape and scramble across the hardwood floor in a pack and it was difficult to retain my Zen-like calm at being an unemployed college dropout. In addition to the noise, the new dogs to the pack would urinate on the floor or disrupt the collective water sources and liquids would percolate through the ceiling into my brother's unit. This was bad but it was not the worst for these neighbors had another bad habit.

The upstairs neighbors also liked to watch the TV at volumes one does not hear outside of assisted living facilities full of stubborn old biddies who don't want to turn on their hearing aids because the batteries will run down. I can recall a night, within a month of the premiere of The Two Towers, when I was watching The Fellowship of the Ring on television at the same time the neighbors were. I heard a strange echo and checked the speaker connections and settings. After checking everything, I realized that the echo was coming from upstairs. I wasn't hearing an echo of the TV and stereo output, I was hearing the echo of the the neighbor's system upstairs. I muted our television and was able to continue watching the movie with the sound muted and not miss any of the audio. My brother walked out of his room and asked me to turn it down during one of the commercials that was particularly loud. When I explained the situation, I recall him looking at the ceiling and saying, "oh, those assholes." This was not the worst.

One of the upstairs neighbors broke a leg shortly before The Dog deposited me in Oakland. The genius got the idea that rolling around his apartment in an office chair would be easier than limping around on crutches. I imagine that all the dogs would be more likely to stay away from a careening chair than a disabled guy hobbling around on sticks. Their hardwood floor and the eighteen foot ceiling in my brother's unit created a lovely acoustic effect that magnified the rumbling noise of the neighbor's office chair into an earthquake sensor affecting and insanity inducing clatter. If the man in the poem had hear such a clatter, he would have called the National Guard to complain about the tank division that had landed on his lawn. This was not the worst.

These upstairs neighbors were also artists. One of them worked with canvas, paints, and textures. The other worked with rocks, chainsaws, and power drills. I can not be certain, but I think he dropped a chunk of rock on his leg shortly before I slouched into town. Every morning at 9:15 am after his leg had healed enough to work, he would open the throttle on his chainsaw and get to work. He would hack and carve and make such a racket. The chunks of stone would slam onto the ceiling with a mighty thump. The drills would whine and scream. The dogs would bark and howl. I was never able to sleep through this clamorous creation process. Could I reasonably ask them to be quiet? This was his sole source of income as far as I knew, and despite my newfound propensity for art criticism, I also felt that as an unregistered and unpaid tenant of the building, my concerns were less likely to improve the situation as they were to improve my immediate need for a new residence. The situation could not have been less accommodating to sanity but I suffered through it and would bitch, moan, and complain as soon as I found a sympathetic ear. I hope that I was humorous in my retelling of the trials of Job but I doubt it.

These trials are now more than five years in the past. I have moved past and through the shattering cacophony into a mind of peace. I tell you all this now not as a warning to those that might move into that residence but as a warning to those visiting my current residence BECAUSE I THINK THESE FUCKERS MOVED IN UPSTAIRS! I woke this morning to a pounding, clattering, thumping such as I have not heard since the stonecarver in Oakland. This time it shall be different. This time I will not sit nor stand for the aural abuse. HAHAHAHA THIS TIME I HAVE A HAMMER, JACKASS! AND ALL OF MY PROBLEMS LOOK LIKE NAILS!

I Might Be On To Something...

I bet that if I wrote a movie about three brothers that were the owners and sole employees of a landscaping company and had Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, and Gerard Butler as the stars, speaking with their native accents, I would make a killing. Literally. Women would explode while watching this movie.

Incidentally, I think I know a woman who already has her tickets for the Wolverine movie.

One Friday night while I was still working at the video store, a couple of recently single women, or married women on a ladies night, came into the store looking for a movie to watch with a couple bottles of mediocre wine. They wanted a movie that was entertaining but not too girly. There was something in their voices, something that tickled the dark reaches of my mind.

I pulled Beowolf & Grendel off the shelf and said, "it's a little gory and a little odd, but it does have Gerard Butler running around in a loincloth or shirtless for most of the movie."

"Who's Gerard Butler?" they asked.

I pointed to his picture on the back of the box and they both said, "oooohhh" like they hadn't had decent sex for longer than should be legal.

The next night when one of them returned the movie, she slid it across the counter as if it were some illicit substance, looked me in the eyes, and whispered, "thank you." By the time I recovered, she had left.

Unstimulating Simulations

I am working on a monstrously thorough post for Well Rounded Nerds about video games but I feel safe that I can throw this tidbit out into the internets:

The fishing mechanic in the World of Warcraft has got to be the best simulation of any activity ever. It is boring as hell. I would post a screenie but I wouldn't want to cause any bodily harm. My ears bleed when I try to level fishing.

Middle Ground

I know two people who act like all of their interactions must be as cordial as every interaction between Israel and Palestine. The only difference between these two friends of mine and that conflict is that my friends can work shit out, if only they would grow the fuck up.

Seriously, GROW THE FUCK UP.

Disposable Income Dreams, #XN-3892

I would totally build one of these. If I knew a damn thing about electronics and had a workshop. That table beats the hell out of my homemade bed platform/storage trunk/bookshelf. The table has probably also produced more happiness and euphoria than my bed, too.

WAIT

Phone Inspirations

Has the term "jumped the shark" jumped the shark?

It Works, So I'm Stealing It

How about Ask A Genius? I'm also kind of a bastard, ask most women in DC. Besides, I could use some inspiration.

Here's a Confession For You, Or Me

I have a man-crush on Psych.

I uh yeah um so

COMPLETELY UNRELATED UPDATE: I made some pb&js for lunch. After eating the sandwiches and wondering why they tasted a little funny, I realized that the peanut butter was more than two years old. I feel awful but have to go off to class in an hour.

Poeticly Licensed Justice

Life goes on in a rather similar fashion to much as it ever has.

I am trying my hand at wingnut poetry. The above sentence is a good example of pointless complexity. It could say everything it says with only three words: Life goes on.

I Feel Victimized

Someone opened the dryer door on my last load and did not restart the cycle when they closed to door. The time ran out and I had to pay for another dryer cycle. I am not amused.

Time To Face Facts

The results from the two primaries, the largest remaining Democratic ones, assured that Obama would widen his lead in pledged delegates over Clinton, providing him with new ammunition as he seeks to persuade Democratic leaders to coalesce around his campaign. He also increased his lead in the popular vote in winning North Carolina by more than 200,000 votes.

1735 vs 1602 in pledged delegates. Check out those calculators.

The most important aspect, more than numbers and calculators, is how this struggle is dividing the Democratic voters. Look at the vehemence and unkindness of the comments in my previous post. This race has been important for America but it is now over. Vastly more people support one candidate. The discussion of the candidacy has become divisive. We're squabbling while our political opposites are consolidating their support. We need unity in order to clarify and promote our ideals to the greater voting public and win in the fall.

Speechifying

Man, I sure hope Obama is able to back up his words when he kicks the shit out of McCain in the fall.

Apparently She Said Yes to More Than We Thought

Jennifer admits to something fascinating over at Sadly, No. I've always known she was freaky.

Could Everyone Stop Being Cobagz?

I sincerely hope that this is some sort of innocent misunderstanding but the history of our country and our elections does not support my hope.

This has spoiled my day.