"He's off and flying as he guns the car around the track, he's jamming down the pedal like he's never coming back, adventure's waiting just ahead!" - Theme from Speed Racer
High speed stunt driving has always been a hobby of mine. For me, the e-brake isn't just for parking, and heel-toe is a verb, not two nouns. I like the challenge presented by road friction, and that euphoric feeling that only comes from pushing a car sideways through a curve.
As you can imagine I enjoyed the experience I had yesterday when, while traveling in the far left lane at speeds well above the posted limit on a thoroughly moistened segment of Route 9 in Cromwell, I was suddenly faced with an errant, and, might I add, very sudden, bucket. This bucket was casually hanging around in the center of my lane, leaving me with three options: either swerve right into the other lane and possibly collide dramatically with a tan minivan full of pre-teen soccer practice and snacks, swerve left to the shoulder which wasn't so much a shoulder as it was a four foot of bank snow and ice, or gun it and give the bucket what for.
I chose left. I still feel that this was the right decision, even though my rear tires caught the slick of the shoulder, which left me rowing my way out of a high-speed Swan Lake. Fishtailing at 80 miles an hour on a busy stretch of highway during rush hour is not for the faint of heart, but it is one hell of a rush for those in search of high-octane kicks. The deep rumbling noise as your car, from the driver door to the taillight drags along all that snow and ice, while nerve-splitting, lends a textured, musical quality to the moment. But that mild assistance from the snow bank allowed me to pull out of the slide victorious, and without losing much speed. The only evidence that I was ever there is the snow under my door handles and the flat spot on the snow bank.
What did I learn? I learned to trust my instincts, and also that any sudden dramatic change of direction at highway speeds is as good as any roller coaster and much, much cheaper.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Social Networking No Longer Cool
"Why do you think I let you get away with all the things you say to me?" I Like You, Morrissey
Your opinion matters - and not in the sense that sensitive people care about it. It matters because somewhere in a boardroom full of half empty fast food containers and dogeared pornography lie legions of greasy goons, drooling over your social networking profile because they can now make money off of it. Facebook is about to let advertisers buy your "likes" and republish them the your friends.
Do you like the kinky stuff? Good News! Now Facebook is going to tell your Mom. Think that Viagra is keen? Now your girlfriend knows about your boner medicine. Big-time racist? Johnson and Johnson is going to tell all of your black friends.
It kind of makes sense that Reese's Pieces would be able to hitch a ride on your Thumbs Up, but this is completely outside the spirit of hitchhiking. It's supposed to be a free ride...
Your opinion matters - and not in the sense that sensitive people care about it. It matters because somewhere in a boardroom full of half empty fast food containers and dogeared pornography lie legions of greasy goons, drooling over your social networking profile because they can now make money off of it. Facebook is about to let advertisers buy your "likes" and republish them the your friends.
Do you like the kinky stuff? Good News! Now Facebook is going to tell your Mom. Think that Viagra is keen? Now your girlfriend knows about your boner medicine. Big-time racist? Johnson and Johnson is going to tell all of your black friends.
It kind of makes sense that Reese's Pieces would be able to hitch a ride on your Thumbs Up, but this is completely outside the spirit of hitchhiking. It's supposed to be a free ride...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
State of the Union - Subliminal Cookies
"My dear girl, have you ever noticed that the human race is divided into two distinct and irreconcilable groups: those that walk into rooms and automatically turn television sets on, and those that walk into rooms and automatically turn them off." - Raymond Shaw, The Manchurian Candidate
I didn't have the stomach to watch the State of the Union address last night, nor did I have the heart - everything I know about it I read second-hand this morning. This puts me in a unique position to provide real expert analysis - any clown who watched it last night would have been distracted and disillusioned by the Smoke and Mirrors. So here goes...
The main point to take away from the speech is this: If we want to continue to be America, we have to address the China Issue. Right now, 80% of the Chinese are all holed up in factories over there stuffing cookies with subliminal fortunes that contain encrypted messages telling us to eat more, do less and outsource everything - it seems those lucky numbers are much more diabolical than we had initially thought. And they are artificially deflating the price of big screen TVs to prevent us from engaging our frontal lobes, limiting abstract thought.
Initially, China's tactic to overthrow the US was to fatten us with MSG to slow us down, then dominate - think Red Dawn, but with Jackie Chan - but the FDA squashed that. But now with these Subliminal Cookies, we are truly at risk. Once we grow lethargic enough, they will send in the Robots and we will all be doomed....
I didn't have the stomach to watch the State of the Union address last night, nor did I have the heart - everything I know about it I read second-hand this morning. This puts me in a unique position to provide real expert analysis - any clown who watched it last night would have been distracted and disillusioned by the Smoke and Mirrors. So here goes...
The main point to take away from the speech is this: If we want to continue to be America, we have to address the China Issue. Right now, 80% of the Chinese are all holed up in factories over there stuffing cookies with subliminal fortunes that contain encrypted messages telling us to eat more, do less and outsource everything - it seems those lucky numbers are much more diabolical than we had initially thought. And they are artificially deflating the price of big screen TVs to prevent us from engaging our frontal lobes, limiting abstract thought.
Initially, China's tactic to overthrow the US was to fatten us with MSG to slow us down, then dominate - think Red Dawn, but with Jackie Chan - but the FDA squashed that. But now with these Subliminal Cookies, we are truly at risk. Once we grow lethargic enough, they will send in the Robots and we will all be doomed....
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Nobody Likes an Arsonist
"Hold tight wait till the party's over, hold tight we're in for nasty weather, there has got to be a way..." Burning Down the House, Talking Heads
Deciding not to burn someone's house down is very freeing, even if they really deserve it. Usually it's the better decision to make, if for no other reason than stress reduction - knowing that you will soon be inconvenienced with such things as creating an alibi, making sure you don't leave any evidence, etc... it can wind you up a bit.
The easing of the burden is a lot like getting good news, which is strange and I guess ironic, because it is also good news for the person who's house you're not burning down - so it's also bad news for you. So in that respect, you're only solace is in the fact that they don't know that they should be happy. Such is life.
It's nothing like, say, punching someone in the nose. That's a bit more direct and confrontational, and the results are typically more immediate. But mostly it's only good for a night or two in jail, which keeps risk low so it isn't that big of a deal. It doesn't take as much dedication, so the payoff is less meaningful. Of course, on the flip side, nobody likes an arsonist.
Deciding not to burn someone's house down is very freeing, even if they really deserve it. Usually it's the better decision to make, if for no other reason than stress reduction - knowing that you will soon be inconvenienced with such things as creating an alibi, making sure you don't leave any evidence, etc... it can wind you up a bit.
The easing of the burden is a lot like getting good news, which is strange and I guess ironic, because it is also good news for the person who's house you're not burning down - so it's also bad news for you. So in that respect, you're only solace is in the fact that they don't know that they should be happy. Such is life.
It's nothing like, say, punching someone in the nose. That's a bit more direct and confrontational, and the results are typically more immediate. But mostly it's only good for a night or two in jail, which keeps risk low so it isn't that big of a deal. It doesn't take as much dedication, so the payoff is less meaningful. Of course, on the flip side, nobody likes an arsonist.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Appalachian Tactical Sasquatch
"You're gonna need a bigger boat..." Brody, Jaws (1975)
First it was a mass bird death, then a fish die off, now it's coming for our delicious cows. There's something out there, and it's stalking and killing very specific things. But what is it? Are people next? If so, what kind?
I have many theories of what it could be, but none can be tested, so we must wait and see. One theory is that a race of Tactical Sasquatch - a mix between monkey-wrenching hill people and the North American brown bear - have emerged from the Appalachians and are bent on destroying small portions of the continent's ecosystem.
Other theories include: this is the Tea Party's answer to global warming, or perhaps a delayed effect of one of Nikola Tesla's experiments from long ago. But I suppose the most likely candidate is the reverse-Noah apocalypse. Somewhere out in the farthest reaches of the Atlantic, beyond the visibility of the most sophisticated spy satellites, there is an enormous sea-faring vessel who's decks are littered with thousands of carcasses, all organized, in piles, down to the letter: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. The ship is Captained by an agitated Dennis Hopper, who is awaiting a great flood to repopulate the lands with the rotting flesh and bones of every kind.
First it was a mass bird death, then a fish die off, now it's coming for our delicious cows. There's something out there, and it's stalking and killing very specific things. But what is it? Are people next? If so, what kind?
I have many theories of what it could be, but none can be tested, so we must wait and see. One theory is that a race of Tactical Sasquatch - a mix between monkey-wrenching hill people and the North American brown bear - have emerged from the Appalachians and are bent on destroying small portions of the continent's ecosystem.
Other theories include: this is the Tea Party's answer to global warming, or perhaps a delayed effect of one of Nikola Tesla's experiments from long ago. But I suppose the most likely candidate is the reverse-Noah apocalypse. Somewhere out in the farthest reaches of the Atlantic, beyond the visibility of the most sophisticated spy satellites, there is an enormous sea-faring vessel who's decks are littered with thousands of carcasses, all organized, in piles, down to the letter: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. The ship is Captained by an agitated Dennis Hopper, who is awaiting a great flood to repopulate the lands with the rotting flesh and bones of every kind.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Hanger - An Epidemic
"Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf..." - Duran Duran
I arrived home yesterday and Jenny's car was in the wrong spot. Irritated, I parked my car and went inside where she spoke sternly at me about a missing ingredient to the Macaroni and Cheese she was preparing, which she then left me to finish making as she stormed off. While we didn't realize it in the moment, The Hanger had taken hold.
No, I'm not talking about what holds your clothes in the closet or some crude back-alley abortion tool. The Hanger I refer to is a contraction of the words Hunger and Anger... and it is Strong in us, for when we get Hangry, there is nothing that can get in our way that won't be smashed. The dog cowers, the neighbors whisper, we bare our teeth.
But is Hanger a legitimate excuse for bad behavior? Is it possible that Tunisia's Jasmine Revolution is just a result of Hanger gone unchecked? Are the poverty-stricken really just a class of angry bums?
I arrived home yesterday and Jenny's car was in the wrong spot. Irritated, I parked my car and went inside where she spoke sternly at me about a missing ingredient to the Macaroni and Cheese she was preparing, which she then left me to finish making as she stormed off. While we didn't realize it in the moment, The Hanger had taken hold.
No, I'm not talking about what holds your clothes in the closet or some crude back-alley abortion tool. The Hanger I refer to is a contraction of the words Hunger and Anger... and it is Strong in us, for when we get Hangry, there is nothing that can get in our way that won't be smashed. The dog cowers, the neighbors whisper, we bare our teeth.
But is Hanger a legitimate excuse for bad behavior? Is it possible that Tunisia's Jasmine Revolution is just a result of Hanger gone unchecked? Are the poverty-stricken really just a class of angry bums?
Thursday, January 20, 2011
How to Pass Out on the Coats
"Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight, sweet Prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." - Horatio, Hamlet
So you've decided to pass out on the coats - congratulations on your exciting new decision! Passing out on the coats is often the next logical step in the progression of a dinner party or other social gathering, but sometimes figuring out the proper approach can be difficult and confusing. Use this guide to identify when, and more importantly how, to pass out on the coats.
How to pass out on the coats:
Passing out on the coats is not to be taken lightly. Exercise Caution - you never know when a beloved pet or errant handy might interrupt the slumbering you. It is recommended that you drink a great deal more than you had initially intended before deciding to pass out on the coats. And don't get weighed down by heavy food, try to approach the situation with an empty stomach. A helpful tip is to mix it up - try drinking something you don't typically drink, like champagne. Varying from your typical beverage of choice will trick your body into misjudging your tolerance, allowing you to bypass certain mores that may inhibit you from passing out on the coats.
If at any point in the evening you start to slur your words, keep at it, you are on the right track. You may even choose to Chase the Green Dragon* to increase your chances of passing out on the coats, although doing so is not without it's risks. You may find that you have a difficult time locating the coats, or forget your goal altogether. Remember: Passing out at the toilet is a much different experience than passing out on the coats.
When to pass out on the coats:
Typically, in any type of gathering, as a party progresses past it's apex there is a natural lull in the activities beyond which the four S's occur: Sex, 'Scape, Sinister and Sleep. If by this time you haven't paired off with a sex partner, left the party or engaged in malicious and/or mischievous behavior - you could probably use a nap. Seize this golden moment!
When NOT to pass out on the coats:
Any time before midnight. While people are having intercourse on the coats. If you are wet or otherwise covered in food, drink or other party debris. If you are currently vomiting. If you are prone to bed wetting. If the coats are fur. If the coats are on hooks. If the room is spinning. If you think the ground is lava and therefore mustn't be stepped on.
Always respect the coats. You never know when the coats may belong to a close friend or relative. They may even be your coats. Please pass out on the coats responsibly.
*Drink until you puke.
So you've decided to pass out on the coats - congratulations on your exciting new decision! Passing out on the coats is often the next logical step in the progression of a dinner party or other social gathering, but sometimes figuring out the proper approach can be difficult and confusing. Use this guide to identify when, and more importantly how, to pass out on the coats.
How to pass out on the coats:
Passing out on the coats is not to be taken lightly. Exercise Caution - you never know when a beloved pet or errant handy might interrupt the slumbering you. It is recommended that you drink a great deal more than you had initially intended before deciding to pass out on the coats. And don't get weighed down by heavy food, try to approach the situation with an empty stomach. A helpful tip is to mix it up - try drinking something you don't typically drink, like champagne. Varying from your typical beverage of choice will trick your body into misjudging your tolerance, allowing you to bypass certain mores that may inhibit you from passing out on the coats.
If at any point in the evening you start to slur your words, keep at it, you are on the right track. You may even choose to Chase the Green Dragon* to increase your chances of passing out on the coats, although doing so is not without it's risks. You may find that you have a difficult time locating the coats, or forget your goal altogether. Remember: Passing out at the toilet is a much different experience than passing out on the coats.
When to pass out on the coats:
Typically, in any type of gathering, as a party progresses past it's apex there is a natural lull in the activities beyond which the four S's occur: Sex, 'Scape, Sinister and Sleep. If by this time you haven't paired off with a sex partner, left the party or engaged in malicious and/or mischievous behavior - you could probably use a nap. Seize this golden moment!
When NOT to pass out on the coats:
Any time before midnight. While people are having intercourse on the coats. If you are wet or otherwise covered in food, drink or other party debris. If you are currently vomiting. If you are prone to bed wetting. If the coats are fur. If the coats are on hooks. If the room is spinning. If you think the ground is lava and therefore mustn't be stepped on.
Always respect the coats. You never know when the coats may belong to a close friend or relative. They may even be your coats. Please pass out on the coats responsibly.
*Drink until you puke.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
My Recent Driving Explained
Passing and swerving, passing and swerving...
These days, when I head out on the road I'm ready for battle. I wear highly tactile leather gloves even when it isn't that cold out, and thin-soled soccer shoes for sensitivity. Yes sir, I am ready. Now that there's snow, the roads are teaming with assholes - assholes as far as the eye can see.
For some reason, these bastards don't understand the importance of knocking the snow from their car's roof. They could just be lazy, but I'm fairly certain that this act is mostly a cruel joke committed by some viciously amoral confrontationalists. Particularly the ones in SUVs.
But I'm not one to get my feelings hurt - why should I feel bad when a fifty pound sheet of snow hurtles from the roof of some rogue Explorer and explodes on my windshield? I'm already on it. Whether snow is flying off the roof or not, I will be there, swerving at these assholes at speeds well in excess of the posted limits. Passing and swerving, passing and swerving.
I suggest you do the same - they are easy enough to spot, their white roofs sticking out conspicuously. Pull alongside the offending vehicle. Once you're about half way in front of the other car, sharply jerk the wheel and enter their lane. Don't worry, they will react - and in these times of weather, they probably won't even blame you.
Stay vigilant.
These days, when I head out on the road I'm ready for battle. I wear highly tactile leather gloves even when it isn't that cold out, and thin-soled soccer shoes for sensitivity. Yes sir, I am ready. Now that there's snow, the roads are teaming with assholes - assholes as far as the eye can see.
For some reason, these bastards don't understand the importance of knocking the snow from their car's roof. They could just be lazy, but I'm fairly certain that this act is mostly a cruel joke committed by some viciously amoral confrontationalists. Particularly the ones in SUVs.
But I'm not one to get my feelings hurt - why should I feel bad when a fifty pound sheet of snow hurtles from the roof of some rogue Explorer and explodes on my windshield? I'm already on it. Whether snow is flying off the roof or not, I will be there, swerving at these assholes at speeds well in excess of the posted limits. Passing and swerving, passing and swerving.
I suggest you do the same - they are easy enough to spot, their white roofs sticking out conspicuously. Pull alongside the offending vehicle. Once you're about half way in front of the other car, sharply jerk the wheel and enter their lane. Don't worry, they will react - and in these times of weather, they probably won't even blame you.
Stay vigilant.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Hard Luck in Middletown
"Some people go to church on Sundays, others they pray at home. You tell them that there ain't no God, that they're better off standin' alone...." - Social Distortion, Bad Luck
Early in the morning, before the Priests woke up for their weekly battle against the modern age, we gathered in the Shadow Room in Middletown. Maybe this is why the Priests are having such a hard time - this group of thirty or so would rather be holed up in a bar with black plastic covering the windows at 6:30 am on a Sunday than even remotely consider going to a church.
Sure, it sounds gritty and romantic, but this wasn't beer drinking time at all - this was grueling labor. Getting the scene just right, prepping the players. Making sure we could say Action when the price talent arrives...
So, for the second weekend in a row we splattered the walls with blood, discharged firearms within city limits and abused ourselves in profound and life-changing ways. At the end of the night I put on some BDU pants, a blank white mask and a knit hat, then stormed the bar to murder a well-known Professional Wrestler - but nobody in Middletown thought any of this was odd.
Early in the morning, before the Priests woke up for their weekly battle against the modern age, we gathered in the Shadow Room in Middletown. Maybe this is why the Priests are having such a hard time - this group of thirty or so would rather be holed up in a bar with black plastic covering the windows at 6:30 am on a Sunday than even remotely consider going to a church.
Sure, it sounds gritty and romantic, but this wasn't beer drinking time at all - this was grueling labor. Getting the scene just right, prepping the players. Making sure we could say Action when the price talent arrives...
So, for the second weekend in a row we splattered the walls with blood, discharged firearms within city limits and abused ourselves in profound and life-changing ways. At the end of the night I put on some BDU pants, a blank white mask and a knit hat, then stormed the bar to murder a well-known Professional Wrestler - but nobody in Middletown thought any of this was odd.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Your New Sign - Octopotamus
There is a thirteenth sign of the Zodiac, but it's not what you think...
There's something about looking at a chart and letting it decide who you are and tell you what to do that people naturally like - people are born followers, this is why society works. Breifly, our beloved and sage Zodiac chart was twisted, leading people to make drastic lifestyle changes overnight, including but not limited to reversal of temperament and sexual orientation. And of course, now it's bullshit. A lot has happened in the past two days.
The supposed new sign is called Ophiuchus, which is pronounced Octopotamus. You'd think it'd look like a hippopotamus with the tentacles of an octopus (which, ironically, is what I will eventually render for the logo of this blog), but no, it's a man fighting a snake.
I personally love the idea of a man fighting a snake as the new sign, imagine the potential pickup lines at the local Swingles:
Scenario 1:
Woman asks man: "What's your sign?"
He responds: "A man fighting a snake."
They have sex.
Scenario 2:
Man asks woman: "What's your sign?"
She responds: "A man fighting a snake."
Man runs away, for fear that his penis will be fought.
But no one is focusing on the Ugly Truth, which is that there really is a thirteenth Zodiac sign, and it's called Judas. This means that we're a mere 30 pieces of silver and a kiss away from getting racked up. Betrayed by the stars... yet another sign of the Apocalypse?
There's something about looking at a chart and letting it decide who you are and tell you what to do that people naturally like - people are born followers, this is why society works. Breifly, our beloved and sage Zodiac chart was twisted, leading people to make drastic lifestyle changes overnight, including but not limited to reversal of temperament and sexual orientation. And of course, now it's bullshit. A lot has happened in the past two days.
The supposed new sign is called Ophiuchus, which is pronounced Octopotamus. You'd think it'd look like a hippopotamus with the tentacles of an octopus (which, ironically, is what I will eventually render for the logo of this blog), but no, it's a man fighting a snake.
I personally love the idea of a man fighting a snake as the new sign, imagine the potential pickup lines at the local Swingles:
Scenario 1:
Woman asks man: "What's your sign?"
He responds: "A man fighting a snake."
They have sex.
Scenario 2:
Man asks woman: "What's your sign?"
She responds: "A man fighting a snake."
Man runs away, for fear that his penis will be fought.
But no one is focusing on the Ugly Truth, which is that there really is a thirteenth Zodiac sign, and it's called Judas. This means that we're a mere 30 pieces of silver and a kiss away from getting racked up. Betrayed by the stars... yet another sign of the Apocalypse?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Milk and Eggs
Crazed citizens, violence...
Tuesday night was a wholesale frantic rush - I just wanted a spark plug for the snowblower, but I got so much more. I bore witness to no less than fifteen individual beatings, maimings, robberies, acts of larceny and hit and runs. It was a rough night.
The cause of all this general mayhem and martial law was, of course, the prediction of a small bit of weather, which whipped the public in all of the Northeast into a Milk and Eggs Frenzy. Women wrestled on tiled grocery store floors all across the state over the last gallons of long-expired milk, armed criminals coordinated raids on gas stations and stuffed their pockets with loose eggs and fistfuls of wadded slices of enriched white bread.
The whole Milk and Eggs mentality belongs to a Grand Old Mythology of long ago that still perpetuates. This is the same Grand Old Mythology that supports the old neo-mystical notion that LSD would expand consciousness and somehow unlock the answers to All This that have been embedded in the mind all along - which is like saying that the top floor of a building is already there, we just have to build up to it.
Tuesday night was a wholesale frantic rush - I just wanted a spark plug for the snowblower, but I got so much more. I bore witness to no less than fifteen individual beatings, maimings, robberies, acts of larceny and hit and runs. It was a rough night.
The cause of all this general mayhem and martial law was, of course, the prediction of a small bit of weather, which whipped the public in all of the Northeast into a Milk and Eggs Frenzy. Women wrestled on tiled grocery store floors all across the state over the last gallons of long-expired milk, armed criminals coordinated raids on gas stations and stuffed their pockets with loose eggs and fistfuls of wadded slices of enriched white bread.
The whole Milk and Eggs mentality belongs to a Grand Old Mythology of long ago that still perpetuates. This is the same Grand Old Mythology that supports the old neo-mystical notion that LSD would expand consciousness and somehow unlock the answers to All This that have been embedded in the mind all along - which is like saying that the top floor of a building is already there, we just have to build up to it.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Hard Luck in Waterbury
Another weird weekend - on the set of Hard Luck with a Hip Hop guru from Hollis, Queens...
The city of Waterbury is architecturally immune to snow removal, or at least negligent. Cars moved at unnatural angles with no traction to speak of. Pedestrians, overwrought with emotion, unable to identify snowed-over landmarks or read street names threw themselves into oncoming traffic. Bums foraged for warmth, the wind having blown away their newspaper blankets. Nine AM on a Saturday, this city of filth looked strangely clean... quiet.
Inside the Palace Theater, it was another situation altogether. From the street, it looked empty - but walking through the front doors, something was happening. Lights everywhere, casually dressed people behaving professionally. Men in evening wear and out-of-context hats posed for the enormous production camera which shot dramatically up - from the floor. All this against the backdrop of a long-gone style and glory - the Palace. A fitting name for such a place of carved wood and high-gloss marble - a gold tooth in the ghetto.
Later, shots would ring out in a suburban basement, there would be blood everywhere, the hum of a snow blower and the banal bark of a foamed-mouth dog would elicit murderous rage and contemplations of poisoning from even the most mild and stable of us as we sat in the kitchen and tried not to move or talk... But there in the Palace Theater, all was smooth and easy.
The city of Waterbury is architecturally immune to snow removal, or at least negligent. Cars moved at unnatural angles with no traction to speak of. Pedestrians, overwrought with emotion, unable to identify snowed-over landmarks or read street names threw themselves into oncoming traffic. Bums foraged for warmth, the wind having blown away their newspaper blankets. Nine AM on a Saturday, this city of filth looked strangely clean... quiet.
Inside the Palace Theater, it was another situation altogether. From the street, it looked empty - but walking through the front doors, something was happening. Lights everywhere, casually dressed people behaving professionally. Men in evening wear and out-of-context hats posed for the enormous production camera which shot dramatically up - from the floor. All this against the backdrop of a long-gone style and glory - the Palace. A fitting name for such a place of carved wood and high-gloss marble - a gold tooth in the ghetto.
Later, shots would ring out in a suburban basement, there would be blood everywhere, the hum of a snow blower and the banal bark of a foamed-mouth dog would elicit murderous rage and contemplations of poisoning from even the most mild and stable of us as we sat in the kitchen and tried not to move or talk... But there in the Palace Theater, all was smooth and easy.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Best Of WWMD! 2010
It was a crazy and tense year. Many things happened (vague). Initially I was going to do a top 5, but I could barely cut it down to 10... Here's the top ten posts of 2010 so that you may relive the excitement (in descending order of greatness):
10 - Licking Doorhandles - Notes on the repercussions of denied heath care.
9 - I Inadvertently Voted Unicorn - An account of my harrowing attempt to vote in the mid-terms.
8 - Unethical Science - Marketing/science experiment for Wendy's.
7 - How to Karate a Cyclist - Get rid of unwanted bicyclists.
6 - Giving Stuff to People in Person - Exciting new alternative to email.
5 - TSA Sexual Revolution - National Opt Up Day, and other airport hijinx.
4 - Tampax Ipad - The world's most distracting feminine hygiene product.
3 - Advice for My Nephew - A little sage advice for a young man.
2 - Pocket Kanye - The world's first travel sized Kanye West.
1 - So You've Just Been Pulled Over - Just a little key advice to keep your neck out of the noose.
10 - Licking Doorhandles - Notes on the repercussions of denied heath care.
9 - I Inadvertently Voted Unicorn - An account of my harrowing attempt to vote in the mid-terms.
8 - Unethical Science - Marketing/science experiment for Wendy's.
7 - How to Karate a Cyclist - Get rid of unwanted bicyclists.
6 - Giving Stuff to People in Person - Exciting new alternative to email.
5 - TSA Sexual Revolution - National Opt Up Day, and other airport hijinx.
4 - Tampax Ipad - The world's most distracting feminine hygiene product.
3 - Advice for My Nephew - A little sage advice for a young man.
2 - Pocket Kanye - The world's first travel sized Kanye West.
1 - So You've Just Been Pulled Over - Just a little key advice to keep your neck out of the noose.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Everything's Coming Up Milhouse
The world may be ending, but it's never looked so good...
Things may not be as apocalyptic as I had first thought - perhaps this mass avian splat is just a Divine Wind, or some kind of indicator of economic recovery. When I heard that several quality pieces of legislation (911 Health Care, Extended Unemployment, DADT Repeal, etc...) were passed in the Zero Hour of 2010, I suspiciously expected the worst. But maybe good news is just Good News. Next thing you know they'll be handing out 50" plasma TVs to everybody.*
So I'm going to have to revoke yesterday's advice to Go Limp. At the time it was completely accurate and logistically sound. But it is a new day, so to that end heed this revised advice for 2011: Knives Out. It is time to dominate opportunity violently - this will be the year of the Great Windfall. The only way to get yours is to run headlong into the fray, with no fear in your heart, screaming ancient guttural battle cries.
* I've been told mine is in the mail.
Things may not be as apocalyptic as I had first thought - perhaps this mass avian splat is just a Divine Wind, or some kind of indicator of economic recovery. When I heard that several quality pieces of legislation (911 Health Care, Extended Unemployment, DADT Repeal, etc...) were passed in the Zero Hour of 2010, I suspiciously expected the worst. But maybe good news is just Good News. Next thing you know they'll be handing out 50" plasma TVs to everybody.*
So I'm going to have to revoke yesterday's advice to Go Limp. At the time it was completely accurate and logistically sound. But it is a new day, so to that end heed this revised advice for 2011: Knives Out. It is time to dominate opportunity violently - this will be the year of the Great Windfall. The only way to get yours is to run headlong into the fray, with no fear in your heart, screaming ancient guttural battle cries.
* I've been told mine is in the mail.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Sky is Falling
"And behold, and, lo, in the midst of the throne and of the four beasts, and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God sent forth into all the earth." - Revelation 5:6
Okay, so 2010 is kaput - but what does 2011 have in store for us? Well, if recent news [1] [2] is any indicator, Boiling Blood Floods and Plagues of Locusts are in order. Is this the End of Days? Was the Mayan Calendar wrong? Is it possible that 5,125 years ago, someone made a slight clerical error that lulled us into thinking that 2012 was the bad egg and we have an Extra Year?
My advice? Go limp. The world is about to grab at you and shake - and any struggling will be construed as Resisting Arrest, and you Will take the fall. Strange days are coming. Captains of industry will beg on their knees after the poor, who will, of course, rise up and form rabblous violent goon squads who's only currency is Grievous Bodily Harm and who therefore cannot be bought.
Sound bad? Not really... sounds like the early 70's corporate espionage to me. Just burn your pay stubs and carry a wooden umbrella... you'll do fine.
Okay, so 2010 is kaput - but what does 2011 have in store for us? Well, if recent news [1] [2] is any indicator, Boiling Blood Floods and Plagues of Locusts are in order. Is this the End of Days? Was the Mayan Calendar wrong? Is it possible that 5,125 years ago, someone made a slight clerical error that lulled us into thinking that 2012 was the bad egg and we have an Extra Year?
My advice? Go limp. The world is about to grab at you and shake - and any struggling will be construed as Resisting Arrest, and you Will take the fall. Strange days are coming. Captains of industry will beg on their knees after the poor, who will, of course, rise up and form rabblous violent goon squads who's only currency is Grievous Bodily Harm and who therefore cannot be bought.
Sound bad? Not really... sounds like the early 70's corporate espionage to me. Just burn your pay stubs and carry a wooden umbrella... you'll do fine.
Monday, January 3, 2011
2011 - Thunderdome
"Me order! Me Master! Me run Bartertown!" - Master, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome
2010 went out with a meager wisp of smoke, and I can't say I'll miss it. Don't get me wrong - it was a strong year in a number of ways, but by the end it was like buying a fifteen dollar ticket to beat your head against a premium cinder block wall. It could have been worse, though. If 2010 went out with a fight, it would've been like getting into the cage with a rabid ferret - mysterious and elusive, the ferret wins every time. Yep, we could be ending this year with a 7 gauge short bevel needle full of rabies serum in the belly.
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