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Monday, 6-30-8
It's Monday,
once again I've run the 380 mile Hell-trek. I am tired, I am
cranky, here comes the bile...
I've got a few
friends that are into auto racing. I'm not even a little bit
interested in watching a redneck drive 500 miles in a circle. But,
I have an alternative solution. If the Daytona 500 was the drive
from the Florida/Georgia border all the way to Key West... I'd watch
that. You don't close the roads and you don't announce the race.
Just pick a date and gather the drivers. First one to the Keys
wins. If Nascar was more like the Cannonball Run, I'd sit and watch
that. Especially if every car had to have a fat sidekick riding
with them.
I can't take a
podcast show serious when they tout themselves as some kind of movie
experts and then they refer to "The Odd Couple" movie as based on
the television show. These are the same people that, when the new
"Get Smart" movie was coming out, they asked, "Is that related to
'Get Shorty'?" I think I can unsubscribe to that podcast now...
"The Breed" has
got to be one of the worst movies I have seen in years. All of the
reviews I read on it say things like, "Wes Craven has done it
again!" and they mean that in a GOOD way. I can't find any trace of
sarcasm in their reviews. Am I the only person on the planet that
thought this movie was formulaic and droll?
We all know
carbonated drinks have regional names. In some areas it is known as
a soda, others as pop and in some places, all cola is simply known
as a coke. But there are regional flavors as well. You won't find
Fanta strawberry in an upscale neighborhood. Back home you can find
birch beer or cherry soda flavors and they are difficult if not
impossible to find down here. Cheerwine was available only in North
Carolina a few years ago but now I found it in a few other places.
Here in Miami it is a challenge to find a beer that doesn't have
lime in it. Everything is piss-water beer with lime. I ordered a
Guinness and the guy looked at me like I just walked out of a
spacecraft. He had it in the cooler though so it can't be all that
unusual. If you're going to drink beer at all, why not taste it?
Why drink yellow alcoholic water?
PT Cruisers and
HHRs are intolerable cars. It seems to be the only models available
at the Jacksonville airport and I've been stuck with alternating
versions of this POS car just about every week since December. The
door lock is exactly where I need to put my arm on the door. It
sticks me EVERY damn time! 1000 miles a week and I'm uncomfortable
every inch of the way. Another issue is that the window controls
are just below the stereo in what pretends to serve as a center
console. Every time I go to roll the window down I reach for the
door where it SHOULD be. I hate these cars!
There is a cop
in front of me and he's doing 67mph in the left lane. The speed
limit is 70. No one is passing him (including me!). What is his
point? Why is he here? Can't I somehow wink him from existence?
When this elephant race finally clears I still have the last 100
miles of South Florida to look forward to. It's like being on a
parade float. You drive real slow and the people sitting on the
side of the road can walk faster than you are driving. Law
enforcement officers are not exempt from the GET THE FUCK OUT OF
THE WAY rule. If you are unable, unwilling or incapable of
driving your car without getting in the way of people that aren't
afraid of their cars, then you need to stay in the right-hand lane.
Cops, ambulances, military convoys, postal workers... NO
EXCEPTIONS! If I'm going faster than you, I should be on your
left. If I'm going faster that you and I am stuck behind you, you
should be in a ditch, on fire, with a steering column through your
chest.
Can anyone
(roughly) my age listen to the Mighty Mouse cartoon theme song and
NOT see Andy Kaufman singing it?
I am really
getting tired of people being allergic to shit. When did we become
so damn weak and helpless as a species? I know and love some people
that have food allergies. These are NOT the people I am talking
about. They have food issues, they deal with them the best they can
and cook for themselves. I'm angry at the people that insist that
the fact that they swim at the shallow end of the gene pool has
somehow become something I need to deal with. Can you imagine
working in a restaurant and having some bitch come in, "My kid can't
eat eggs, peanuts, beef, wheat, milk, beans, fish, soy or anything
with red food coloring in it. What do you suggest we eat?"
My suggestion
is for you to have your kid put to sleep. If you eat anything may I
suggest eating a bullet. Kill your kid and then kill yourselves so
you can no longer breed and contaminate our species.
I know I come
across as harsh but not only are we becoming diseased, remnants of
the human form but we are starting to think we are entitled to
inconvenience everyone around us with our problems. If you are so
fucked up that an ice cream Sunday kicks your ass, don't leave the
house. Ever! People like this died back before the days of therapy
and understanding and empathy. Somehow their genes got passed on
and are now thriving in our world of modern technology. I'll bet
refugees in 3rd world nations don't have food allergies.
Thomas
Jefferson lied to you, not all men are created equal. Do a line-up
in a room. Imagine ten people you know in that line. Equal? I
think not. The idea is that we should strive to TREAT people as
equal but the fact is; I am very different from you through nature
as well as nurture. We are not born identical and the choices we
make in life make us all the more varied. Biases creep in through
ignorance or from learned behavior. You burn your hand on a stove
six or seven times in a row, you'll start thinking of ALL stoves as
hot. But unlike stoves, we don't come from an assembly line. Some
of us are born with food allergies and others are not. That does
not mean that I have to make sure all the food in my restaurant has
to be safe for you to eat.
Wow, I really
went all over the place there didn't I? It's a good thing I decided
not to go into a rant about eugenics. I'd still be typing.
Teresa's laptop
is making the slow march toward death. We got online to look at
what she'll need as a replacement. You can't get XP anymore. Vista
is the only option. And Microsoft is very good about making sure
that Vista doesn't come with MSOffice. And MSOffice doesn't come
with Outlook. So we have to buy a crappy OS and buy the
productivity suite on top of that. But the standard productivity
suite isn't good enough, we need to buy the Premier suite in order
to get what we need. Fuck Microsoft! But there are two good
things that have come from this.
First; Teresa
has FINALLY agreed to let me to load better programs on her new
computer. Firefox/Thunderbird/Open Office etc. She has refused to
try any new programs because she was comfortable with the old ones.
She's still using IE as a web browser for fuck sake! She is not one
to embrace change.
Secondly and
more importantly: when we walked through the Apple store this
weekend (Jerry Sr. finally got an iPod) I did a little dream
shopping. After dealing with today's computer debacle, we decided
that as long as the house sells at the current price and we don't
have any unexpected costs at closing, I'm going Apple sooner rather
than later. Now that the day is close at hand, I have a LOT of
research and learning to do. I WILL make the switch, I just need to
find out all the gritty details that used to be coming "some day".
Ok, I'm out of
crap to bitch about. Unless something drastic happens overnight or
the workload is extremely heavy, I will post an update tomorrow. I
almost have it all written up now but I still need to tweak a few
things. Besides, I wouldn't want to spoil you and give you two
updates in one day...
Thursday, 6-26-8
No, I'm not
eating fast food.
C'mon, I
just want to get back to the room and crash.
No. I am
sitting down and having real food.
Well we
walked to the other end of the airport and found out that Cuban
place was counter service. I tried to get you real food, now you
are stuck with fast food.
No, I don't
want shitty food, I want dinner!
Just get
in the car. See, there's a McDonalds. We can pull through the
drive through and be in the room in less than ten minutes.
No. If you
must force me into fast food, make it something, ANYTHING other than
McDonalds.
You're
the one chain smoking cigars like you are looking forward to throat
cancer. Now you are going to worry about what you eat?
Well, I never
said I was rational. Look, there's a seafood joint that claims it
has the best Paella in town. We'll eat there.
We can't
eat Paella.
Why not? Are
you going to tell me we've just acquired an allergy to seafood?
No,
Leviticus says it's a sin to eat shellfish. You don't want to
provoke any angry deities with grudges against shrimps and clams do
you?
Well now you've
convinced me, we're eating here.
Wouldn't
you like to hit the hotel room first and change into your street
clothes?
No because once
I hit the room I'll stay put and order the crap from room service.
Ok, ok,
I give. Damn, you are persistent...
So that's the
internal conversation that led me to sit here on a patio overlooking
the beach sipping Dominican beers and eating what has indeed turned
out to be some damn fine Paella. You know how you normally have to
pace yourself and ration out the shrimp to last through the whole
meal? Not here baby. I'm not sure I'll have enough rice to go
around with all the shrimp, squid, octopus, clams and oysters.
There might even be too much! I'm coming back to this place. Even
if it's just to symbolically thumb my nose at yet another ridiculous
church law.
I haven't
updated as much this week because I've been busier with work and
I've also been working on another project for the website. Remember
a few weeks ago when I hinted that I might want to do something new
on the site? Well I finally got off my fat ass and did something
about it. Not the site itself, that will still have to wait until I
conjure up the time to work with Wade on it. But what I am
working on I'm dressing up the finishing touches now and after I run
it through someone else's editorial process I'll put it up here.
It's rough and it's raw but if it turns out you guys like it, the
rest will get better. Unless my editor (Teresa) thinks it's crap,
you should see something up here by Monday.
Wednesday, 6-25-8
It is my own
fault. I don't like it but it is my fault. Steve called me and
asked if I wanted to make an attempt at writing the rigging report
for checkpoint Interim C-D. The rigging report is a mammoth
document that has to be perfect. So I spent a few hours writing up
the rigging report and when I had it just about finished I e-mailed
Steve to let him know that I was almost done and I needed him to
send me the serial numbers from the old gear and the structural
analysis report for checkpoint F. He called me and asked why I
needed the data on F. That's when it dawned on me, I wrote the
report for the wrong checkpoint. I was supposed to be writing it
for Interim C-D. Steve submitted the completed report for F while
he thought I was working on Interim C-D. So now, hours later I have
finished the rigging report and I am feeling rather stupid. Well,
it was good practice I guess...
Monday, 6-23-8
Today's pile of bile is brought to
you by the letter X. Okay, may the letter R. In either
case, it's not Disney rated...
An open letter to the woman I was
behind at the airport today:
Dear strange lady in the neon
green micro skirt,
I know you don't know me and
I in no way mean to impugn your mother's maternal skills but I just
felt you may need a refresher course on public behavior. I
know you must have a lot going on in your busy little day, what with
grooming your lap rat and all (or was it a dog?) And from time to
time little things like manners and decorum can slip from your vapid
mind. So with your heavy load in mind, I wish to serve as a
gentle reminder of one of the basic rules most women seem to have
mastered by the time they are twelve years old: Please remember to
wear some kind of underwear when you wear a skirt that is the length
of a common sweatband. ESPECIALLY when you ride the
escalator...
Another little tip if you
don't mind my input so far dear: Please restrain your boyfriend (use
a leash if you must) from feeling you up when you wear this
Lilliputian whore's uniform. Thanks for the free show and all but
really, the escalator ride was long enough to make me feel
uncomfortable while too short for me to join in the fun. The vision
of his hand halfway up your exposed ass is not one I will soon
forget. I attempted to avert my gaze but really, when your eyes are
less than a foot from this kind of action, the damage is done before
I knew what I had seen.
I am an open-minded guy and
might have disregarded the incident as youthful indiscretion, a
little exhibitionism if you will. But I imagine that if you had
intended to make the display public you would have... ah... cleaned
house? Stubble looks good on some things. John Wayne, Sam Elliot
even Don Johnson, but not on your... um... not on you.
Thanks for the view but no
thanks.
Signed,
Anonymous airport guy that
wishes he wasn't there in official capacity so he could have said
something to you without getting fired.
Really, who would ever have guessed
that I would be so upset as seeing something like that?
George Carlin is dead. Sad. He was
my first exposure to "intelligent comedy". I have since found Lenny
Bruce and Bill Hicks but Carlin was always king. I really like
someone who can make me laugh and make me think simultaneously. I
secretly recorded the audio from my dad's VHS copy of "Carlin at
Carnegie" and listened to that all the time. Somewhere around the
time he was talking about the psychotic Rice Krispies you can hear
the kitchen phone ringing because all I did was hold a microphone up
to the TV speaker. I must have been 11 or 12 years old and I was
imitating/memorizing his routine in my bedroom in the basement.
I've been an avid fan ever since. The one thing that kills me is
what I have been calling the "Carlin phenomenon". It is closely
related to the "Weird Al" phenomenon. As anyone who has downloaded
music from a "less than reputable site" will tell you, any dick with
a microphone can record a filk or parody song and put it out there.
If it makes it to the net, someone will label any funny song as
"Weird Al". This happens with e-mails that have any bit of sarcasm
or wit to them. They will be erroneously credited to George
Carlin. This is frustrating because I get 50 e-mails a week about
socio-political issues and all of them are credited to Carlin and
none of them sound like anything he'd say. I guess it means
something to have gained notoriety to the point that people
categorize entire genres as "Carlinesque".
Teresa and I talk all the time about
how all the people we watched or listened to while growing up, will
(or should) die before we do. We've got a running list of people
that we think are going next. George Carlin slipped in under my
radar. Every time we go to see him he looks older but I just never
added him to the list. The next person on my list is Mel Brooks.
Some would say he already died with "Spaceballs".
So in memorial to the great Carlin
all I have to say is; Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker,
Motherfucker and Tits! Yes they are in order and no I didn't
have to look them up. I can quote most of the Carlin canon like
scripture.
Motley Crue.
Still here? Well if anyone is still
reading this, Motley Crue is the third reunited 80's band I've
listened to this month. They just put out a new CD. Actually it
comes out tomorrow but I've been listening to it for a week now.
The Japanese import was released last week and I've been listening
to it with aid from my "special antenna". I wish I could tell you
I'm not a fan but I'd be lying. They are the seminal 80's hair
metal band and I was really into them back then. Their first two
CDs are still in regular rotation on my iPod. I don't own anything
past "Dr. Feelgood" and I wasn't too happy with that release
either. The new title track is good. It sounds like something that
could have come off of "Girls, Girls, Girls". The rest of the CD is
a letdown. Weak and watered down. This band is supposed to make
you want to party, drink, fight and fuck. This CD makes me feel
like I'm one of the last guys left at the bar at closing time. The
smell of stale whisky permeates the air and the floor is sticky with
blood and beer. There are no hot chicks around, just a bunch of old
guys that didn't know when to push away from the bar and go home.
I'll probably buy it anyway because I do like "Saints of Los
Angeles" and I'm hoping the rest of the CD grows on me. I want to
like it. Really I did. I didn't want anyone to KNOW that I liked
it but I was really hoping for a good new Crue album. This
isn't it, I guess we all grew up and the party is over...
So I leave you with my two favorite
quotes about Shakespeare because the bard has been on my mind
recently. When you're stuck for a plot point you go back to see how
the masters did it.
The first quote comes from a podcast
called "Movies You Should See". They were discussing movie villains
and someone mentioned Christopher Plummer as the Shakespeare quoting Klingon, General Chang. One guy argues,
"The fact that he quotes
Shakespeare doesn't make him scary. Hell, every damn character in
'Much Ado About Nothing' quotes Shakespeare through the whole damn
play and there's nothing scary about them!"
The better quote is from a guy who
isn't known for saying much of anything. No, not Silent Bob.
Teller from "Penn &" fame. I read an article about his upcoming
production of my favorite play, Macbeth. "Never read a
Shakespeare play before you see it. That's as hard as reading an
orchestral score without hearing an orchestra play it."
Saturday, 6-21-8
I stopped by
and saw an old friend today. He's been dead since our senior year.
I get by there once or twice a year. I remember the funeral, half
the damn school showed up. I wonder how many really knew him. I
wonder how many remember him now. I wonder how many still visit.
I knew him
well. And while I remember him fondly, my visits have selfish
motivations. I see his name and I remember that it just as easily
could be my name on that marker. By some accounts, it probably
should be. I see his name and I remember that soon enough my name
WILL be on a marker somewhere and that it could happen any minute
now.
Live well, die
when it's time. I can't be bothered to spend any of the time I've
got left scared of death or holding grudges.
So I visit for
a few minutes, clean off the stray grass grown over the edge of his
marker and leave with a smile on my face. I remember some of the
good times with him, like how he could throw a wicked fastball that
would jam your thumb every time. But I also remember that life
isn't a damn savings account. Spend it all when you get it, you
can't save it for later and you can't get any on credit.
Have fun, no
regrets, die tired.
Friday, 6-20-8
Is anyone else
out there tempted to pull a "Dukes of Hazzard" every time you drive
behind an empty car transport truck? Sometimes I wish life were
more like TV.
Thursday, 6-19-8
I'm so very tired.
Physically, emotionally and every other possible way. I don't
want to eat, I don't want to sleep, I don't want to cry, I just want
to cease existing. My brain hurts just from being powered up.
I want to pull the plug and sleep for a week. They call the
government "Uncle Sam". After what he's about to do to my
paycheck I imagine he's the dirty uncle that did a stint in San
Quentin and the family doesn't talk about him very often. Oh
sure, he shows up at the July 4th picnics but no one really talks to
him. I just turned in 83 hours for the week and I'll bet I
don't see a damn bit of it. I'm so tired.
Now I'm faced with a
dilemma; do I spend an expense account paid weekend relaxing here in
Miami Beach or do I make the monotonous drive home to pick up the
mail, weed the mulch, mow the lawn, feed the fish, pack and move the
last of our stuff from the old house, sort through paperwork and
bills, finish wiring the TSA projects and then make the same damn
drive to be back here at 8am Monday? I really wish I had a
choice in the matter. I REALLY wish there was some kind of
reason (NOT work related) that I couldn't go home and suddenly found
myself FORCED to go scuba diving in the Keys this weekend.
Wish, wish, wish... Wishing doesn't get you a damn thing.
I'll feel better in the morning. If I can ever get any
sleep...
Wednesday, 6-18-8
At the end of
the Lincoln Road Mall there is "eine wundervolle deutsche Gaststätte".
This is such a relief for a fat boy like me who has been working 18
hour days and existing on airport espresso and empanadas. I can't
find a good German restaurant that stays open for very long. There
is a decent one in Jacksonville but the menu is very limited. I
found a great one in Myrtle Beach that was incredible but it was
closed the next time I went up there. Heffner and I found two of
them in Orlando but one was closed and the other was burned down.
The one place swears they'll be opening up "any day now". She told
us this every week, for six months.
I have heard a
few complaints about the website. Mostly about how I have pared
down the content and removed a lot of the old links. This is
because I am HONESTLY making an attempt to clean up the site. I
know I have promised you all a cleaner site for a long time now but
I really am making an attempt at getting everything fixed up. This
is likely to be an ongoing thing but the initial changes promise to
be semi-dramatic. All I have to do is get some professional input
and the time to implement the changes. It IS coming, I swear...
It's been
raining all morning here. I woke up around 10 to the sound of
thunder. I actually woke up at 7, 8 and 9 to thunder too but I was
able to ignore it since I didn't get to bed until 4am. It is noon
and it is dark out. The city lights are on and it feels like dusk.
At times the rain comes down so hard that I can barely see the hotel
across the street. I can normally watch the planes land from my
room but the visibility is down to the point that the airport is in
a perpetual cloud and I haven't been able to see it much of the
morning. Lightning pierces the sky with clockwork regularity. The
flashes of light arcing new patterns from the ground to the clouds
just in front of my nose. I love a good storm. It depresses me but
I am happiest when I am down. Strange huh?
When I played
chauffeur to Teresa, Becca and Julia it was during the big heat
wave. I drove them to Pennsylvania and flew home the next day. The
day before we got there it was 60 degree high. We got there and it
was in the 90's. Florida heat and Pennsylvania heat are very
different. Here in Florida everything is air conditioned. NOTHING
has AC in Pennsylvania. The day I left it was back in the 70's. I
hate hot weather yet it follows me everywhere like an abused puppy.
You can curse at it you can kick it you can scream and yell, but it
stays with you for some reason. (No, I don't really kick
puppies...)
The night I was
there we sat out at the fire to cook hot dogs and corn. It was a
hot evening but it's a sin to cook fresh corn in anything other than
open hot coals. We were sitting there talking and laughing when I
heard the rush in the woods behind us. It sounded like a strong
wind blowing through the trees but the air wasn't moving and
something didn't "feel" right. I told everyone to be quiet and
listen. Just then the sound changed pitch and got louder. That's
when I knew it wasn't the wind but a downpour. I slyly gathered up
my gear but stood still. I said, "Listen to that wind" and everyone
was listening. I couldn't keep a straight face and I couldn't wait
to see their looks when the rain hit.
It came down
like a curtain. Everyone was instantly drenched. The girls
screamed and Teresa looked at me and saw the smile on my face. She
knew I could have told them to run for cover in time. I can be such
a shit when I want to be. I love getting caught in the rain. I
always get strange looks from people in parking lots as they scamper
to their cars and I stroll along casually. Something about turning
your face up to the sky and smiling in the rain; it makes me happy.
Plus, I saw the "Mythbusters" show that said you get just as wet
running as you do walking. So the girls ran for the house as I
gathered up the supplies they left behind and walked up to the
house. Every one was drying off but they were laughing. I wish I
had more moments like that in my life.
So I got back
to the hotel early last night (this morning). Normally we work
until 6am but I got back around 3am. Instead of getting some much
needed sleep I wanted to catch up on the news. Of course after that
I flipped through the channels and looked at what else was on. I
really am ashamed at being part of the "MTV generation". Not for
what MTV was but for what it has become. When it first came out I
watched it all the time. We were one of the few families in the
neighborhood that had cable and I watched it every chance I got. I
remember the cable box had a dial on it with 75 channels and when I
heard my Dad come home I spun the dial around real quick because if
he saw the dial was on channel 33 he would ground me from the
television for a week. It was music all the time, a little bit of
music news and back to more music. Then they started doing game
shows and stuff. Now I can't even find music videos on TV other
than on BET. MTV runs these horrible "reality" shows that make me
cringe and feel dirty every time I flip past them. And just when I
see one that is so horrible that it just can't get any worse, they
surprise me. "Hey, we've hit rock bottom! Grab a chisel and keep
digging!" If you want music videos, try YouTube. If you want 50
ways to degrade yourself, tune in to MTV. Oh Martha Quinn, where
have you gone? Please save us!
Another
depressing thought that proves two things. First; I am a geeky
nerd. Second; I am getting OLD!
D&D just
released the 4.0 rule books. I haven't played since 2.0 I
neglected to upgrade when they went to 2.5 and I refused to upgrade
when they went to 3.0 I really liked gaming and I wish I still knew
people that wanted to play, I'd love to get in on a game for the
nostalgia factor. I still have all my 2.0 rule books. So the fact
that I keep up with all of this points to my nerdyness but I really
felt old when I found out that one of the cornerstones of play in
the old game has gone away and apparently it happened quite a while
ago. I listened to a couple of guys talk about the comparison
between "Old school" gaming and the new 4.0 rules. They made the
joke, "Hey kids, ask your dad what THAC0 is." In the gaming world,
I'm a fossil that still listens to 8-Track tapes. They don't use
THAC0 and I wouldn't even begin to know how to play without it. So
that means that even if I found people to play with, I couldn't
play. Ask your dad what THAC0 is? Oh man, Am I really THAT damn
old? Yes, this means that even the geeky parts of my life that I
left behind are still mocking me and making me feel old. Thanks for
that.
Tuesday, 6-17-8
Anyone who says
this world is ugly just isn't looking in the right places. I give
you three examples of supreme beauty:
1. Last week I
drove through West Virginia and as all my passengers slept, I
witnessed the dawn break through the mountaintops.
2. Tonight I
walked outside for a break (thank the gods for good fresh cigars)
and saw the complicated Miami sky. Ebony-black clouds oozing across
the midnight sky, threatening to envelop the near full moon.
Beneath that, the fluffy pink clouds reflecting the city lights.
Heat lightning dancing, intertwined in both sets of clouds.
3. Next week
Teresa and Becca will be returning home and I will see their faces
for the first time in three weeks. I will get to hug them, hold
their hands and see their smiles and that will be the most beautiful
thing of all.
This world can
be so beautiful. It can be ugly too, but I dwell on the ugly way
too much. It's time for a little beauty.
Monday, 6-16-8
I know I've
bitched about it before but now I have a solution. New law:
From now on, all new cars manufactured will have the hazard light
button located in such a place that makes it impossible for the
driver to turn on their hazard lights while driving. Either that or
wired in such a way that the hazard lights won't turn on while the
car is in drive. I am going to KILL the next asshole that waits
until I am directly behind them in the hard Miami rain (in the LEFT
lane none the less!!!) to turn on their flashers and make me think
they are stopped or wrecked. Really. I am going to kill them! Now
that I have offered a viable solution to the problem, I expect the
problem to be solved immediately. Ignorance of the new law will not
be an excuse for non-compliance. Penalty is death. The Emperor of
Earth has spoken.
I spent all
weekend in my garage building the red/green light assemblies for all
the WBIs we are putting in at Miami International. Think about
that, a multi-million dollar contract for Homeland Security/TSA and
I am creating a key component from parts from Radio Shack and Home
Depot. At least there is no duct tape involved. When you go
through airport security and you see the lights that tell the
screener that you are clear or that you need to be detained; I built
that while drinking Scotch and listening to Judas Priest. Wozniak
and Jobs got paid for this kind of shit.
I'm not the
biggest fan of 70's rock. I'm much more a 60's or late 80's guy.
For some reason the big power bands of the 70's don't interest me
much. I appreciate their influence and some of the more interesting
arrangements they put together but Asia, Fleetwood Mac, Boston,
Foreigner, etc... just don't do it for me. I'd rather listen to
Hendrix or Van Halen if I'm in the mood for rock. But, that doesn't
keep me from trying to listen to them. I just picked up the
newest Asia album. It is good. Solid rock n' roll and being
someone who doesn't know the band very well, it sounds like the
stuff I heard in the early 80's. There is one song that is
infectious and has stayed in my brain for the last two weeks.
"Extraordinary Life" is catchy and has a good hook but the part that
stays with me is the lyrics all about how life is good and I could
die tomorrow and have no regrets. I like that. I try to live like
that. Sometimes I succeed, other times I fail. But I keep trying.
Seize the day baby. Carpe Diem.
On the flip
side, it is a little creepy listening to the latest Journey album.
It is a 2CD/1DVD set and available at Wal-Mart for $10 (You get what
you pay for?). The first
CD is all new material. Listening to it I can't believe how much
their new lead singer sounds like Steve Perry. The CD sounds like
something they would have put out 25 years ago. The second CD is
all their old songs re-recorded with the new singer. If I though it
was creepy listening to how much the new guy sounded like the old
guy before, this is just disturbing. There are enough minute
differences to tell that this is not the old recording but it really
sounds like a "take 2" from back in the day. Very weird. Tim
"Ripper" Owens would be proud of the trail he blazed.
A lot of my
writer e-friends say that one of the common reasons people get into
writing is because they read something that got printed and said, "I
can do better than that." A nice sentiment, but what happens when
the opposite is true? I read something this week that made me
think, "I could write for a thousand years and never convey a
thought as beautifully as this." Does this mean I need to stop
writing?
"It was the kind of sunset
that would make even the most prosaic of people pick up a brush and
attempt to paint with oils."
Neil Gaiman is a god.
Thursday, 6-12-8
Ok, I need to
clarify my mess from yesterday. My apologies, I speak fluent
shotgun. Just ask the women closest to me...
Carbon
Offsetters: Granted, you are doing more than most people do and it's
not really you who are the problem. We need captains of industry
and young inventors to accelerate the new technologies. It is 2008
already, where the flying fuck is my Jetson's car!?!?!?!
My employment
with Homeland Security and my close association with the TSA compels
me to clarify that my inquisitive nature about how Hawaii gets its
power; strictly educational. I'm outlining a STORY,
not planning any actions. After reading it back I saw that
"outlining an idea" could be construed in a dangerous way... Yeah,
that's all I frickin need is someone to think I'm a threat
somewhere. Remember folks, I use the voices in my head for the
forces of Good, not for Evil. Even if I wanted to join the Legion
of Doom, I'm too damn lazy to implement any nefarious plans. So I'm
kind of like a weak, lazy armchair-superhero.
WonderTwin
power, ACTIVATE! Shape of; easy chair! Form of; remote control!
Click, next.
It's Thursday
night, I'm unsure of where I'll be this weekend. I think I'll be
here in Miami but there is a chance I'll need to drive to
Jacksonville to custom build some components we need. I won't find
out until tomorrow morning. I'd better find out early enough
because the hotel doesn't get the Sci-Fi channel and if I'm going
home I want to be there before BSG comes on. I was in Pennsylvania
last Friday and I commandeered the television to watch the show.
Gods damn you Jose! You got me hooked on a frakin TV
show!!!!!!!!!! Really, it's a damn cool show. You should check it
out. It's a dystopian military drama set in space. And they shoot
bullets, not laser beams. BSG is carved from a solid block of
awesome!
Ok, gotta go.
Summing up; Comics still suck, your mother is finding a way to
poison the asparagus and exploiting people's belief in the rapture
is a sure way guarantee my seat in their hell, even if I don't
acknowledge its existence. So say we all!
Wednesday, 6-11-8
Ok, so for any
of you out there still reading this crap; here comes the
randomness...
When satellite
radio was first announced I thought it would be a great idea. By
the time it was affordable and viable, I had an iPod and had no use
for radio anymore. Last week I had to drive a rental car without my
iPod. I flipped through the satellite radio channels and was
nonplussed. Then I came across the three 24/7 comedy channels.
There is nothing funny about most comedians, there is no reason to
showcase their mediocre talents on constant feeds. Oh man it was
terrible. Some of these guys just stood up there and moaned and
said keywords. No setup, no follow through, just a bunch of "Beavis
and Butthead" style one liners. Can't we kill some of these damn
people? They are not funny. Neither am I but the difference is
that I don't stand up in front of people and expect to get paid for
my stupid little comments.
Who decided
we'd use the animals to describe things as superlative? The bee's
knees, the dog's bollocks, the cat's pajamas... Who decides this
shit?
The world has
finally come up with a way to stop on-line piracy. Time-Warner
announced that they were looking to set up a "quantity usage"
billing system for their ISP customers. When I heard this I
remembered that T/W is the old AOL and that someone would come to
their senses and remember that usage meters versus flat rate fee is
what killed AOL. But no, some dink at AT&T announced that they were
also looking into the same thing. This will kill the internet for
me. Where all the talk of lawsuits, fines and even jail sentences
was not compelling enough, this will keep me off-line. Forget music
and movies, can you imagine paying by the MByte for silly games like
Packrat? All you people that send pictures in your e-mail will have
to stop that shit. Oh, maybe there's a good side. Less spam? Nah,
there's always a way around it...
I had every
intention of working on the website this weekend. Teresa and Becca
are in Pennsylvania, I had the weekend to myself. I was going to
call Wade and ask him if he could help me load up the blogging
tool. I was going to fix the picture/thumbnail problems. I really
was going to clean this up. But now it looks like I'll be working
in Miami all weekend and unable to get home. So, my crappy website
v2.0 will just have to wait... again.
Driving in
central/south Florida you see billboards for "Ron Jon Surf Shop"
everywhere. Their logo is their name on a surfboard broken in
half. What is this supposed to symbolize? "Come buy our
surfboards, they break in half." I never thought about it much and
now that I have, I don't get it.
You mother lied
to you. She told you that vegetables were good for you. First
spinach turned on you and now tomatoes have joined the dark side.
You mother was trying to kill you. She didn't like you. You cried
too much when you were in your crib. "Eat your vegetables Jimmy,
they'll make you grow big and strong." She knew. Think back, she
never ate the spinach did she?
The assholes
worrying about carbon offsets are the same idiots that are tens of
thousands of dollars in credit card debt and the same idiots that
used to buy indulgences from the Church. Carbon offsetting is a
good way to make you feel better but it does nothing to solve the
immediate problem. Use all you want, pay for it later (maybe) and
don't worry about the overall cost being more than we can afford. I
hear everyone bitching about gas prices and how the oil companies
are making money. Well, they aren't in it for charity. Their
shareholders want to get paid. Today I gassed up at $4.27 a gallon
for the cheap stuff. I don't like it but every time they sell a
Hummer it tells the oil companies, "Go ahead, we'll pay whatever it
takes." And how many of these soccer moms need a 4-wheel drive
anyway?
I lost my
initiative. My moment of opportunity passed me by. WHY didn't I
think of this?
www.youvebeenleftbehind.com
For a $40/year
fee this guy will deliver your personal letters, your final pleas,
your financial records to whomever you wish, six days after the
rapture. These people give 10% of everything they make to a
preacher, why wouldn't they give me $40 a year? Hit the internet,
go global, a few thousand customers at $40/year, retire.
"No one knows when that day or hour will come-not the angels in
heaven, not the Son, but only the Father" and certainly not some
pensioner with a spare $40. So
if it lasts a year or ten years, no one can suspect that I'm a
scam. And if the $40 a year isn't enough money, I have all their
financial records on file so after the rapture, when I am left
behind, I could claim all of their money. There won't be any
bodies, their death won't be declared for seven years after their
disappearance. I really need to look into this. Maybe I can be the
Pepsi to this guy's Coke. Everyone does better with a little
competition.
You always
think of Hawaii as a beach paradise. At least I do, I've never been
there. Is there an ugly side to the islands? How do they get
power? Do they have their own power stations? Are they reliant on
any kind of mainland support for power or fuel for that power? I'm
outlining an idea that involves loss of power and I have to wonder
how Hawaii fits into the grid. Alaska is a whole other problem but
I can get around that one. Hawaii looks like it is going to be
a pain in my ass.
Did you know
there was a female Pope? There may have been a woman dressed as a
man who sat as Pope for over two years. Pope Joan, 855CE There's a
lot of discussion on whether or not she really existed or of she was
a legend. We can't decide if she existed or not, and just 800+
years after we are absolutely, positively SURE that someone else
existed. Hmmmmmmm...
Ok, that's all
I've got for tonight. You can return to your regularly ordered
lives now...
Tuesday, 6-10-8
Burger King's "Steakhouse Burger"
is teh suck! Really, mashed potatoes on my burger? WTF!?
Any coincidence that I've been sick all night?
Monday, 6-9-8
So I imagine it must have
happened like this...
Scene; Hollywood executive
meeting. Large conference table with multiple speakerphones.
Windows looking out over the LA skyline. Executive at head of table
chewing on an unlit cigar. 10 to 15 junior execs trying to
brainstorm for latest movies...
Ok, so we're still recovering from
the writer's strike. We can't write movies for ourselves, which
iconic movies have we not destroyed yet?
Shouts heard from table:
The
Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, My Fair Lady, The Godfather...
Oh, hold on, go back. My Fair
Lady. How can we trash that one?
A nervous Jr. Exec stands up
and gives the pitch:
What about, Cedric The Entertainer
as Henry Higgins who has to teach a poor white trash girl from a
Georgia trailer park how to speak Ebonics well enough to work in a
beauty salon? You know, "The knife in his wife got Bobby Ray
25 to life."
No, that won't work, too difficult
to understand. We'd have to subtitle the entire thing and you know
modern movie-goers have forgotten how to read.
A second Jr. Exec stands up
and gives another formulaic pitch:
Ok, what about a shot for shot
remake that offends fans of the original and maybe we'll get that M.
Night Shamalynalynalyn guy to write a twisty ending.
Murmurs from around the table:
Eliza
marries Higgins instead of Freddy? Higgins marries Pickering?
Oh I like that one, can we get Nathan Lane and Robin Williams?
What about a robot servant? Space monkeys!
Alright, we'll write it later, who have we got open for that one?
Well, all our real actors are busy.
All we've got are the leftovers that can't act but look good on
screen.
Ok, so Kiera Knightly then?
Agreeable
nods from all around the table:
Sounds good. Lock it up, what's
next?
The second Jr. Exec stands back up,
script in hand. He tosses it down the table it lands in front
of the Sr. Exec, title page face up:
Sir,
I have a guaranteed hit here,
"Hamlet 2; Electric Boogaloo".
Oh I like that, get on it. Is Will
Smith available?
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