Tuesday, May 31, 2005
One more thought about suicide in PEI
I am back. I had another thought brought to my attention about PEI changing the hours of their suicide prevention help line to 9-5 (I assume that is Atlantic Time by the way) and it the government has since backed down from that idea. It is this. Why don't they just use some sort of automatic suicide triage system. For service in English, press 1. For those contemplating suicide press 1. For those who want to chat, press 2. Finally it gets you to either a human voice or better, a recorded message. How would that work? That is all for today, ciao.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Supermarkets, or why write when I have nothing to say
I am back. I have to mention the sights, smells and sounds of the local supermarket. It is a veritable microcosm of society all rolled within the parking lot and aisles of the local supermarket. You can see it all there, and then some.
It all began with a long drive through the parking lot, looking for a parking space. That was ten minutes of my life that I won't be getting back. At least the tunes in the car were good (Arcade Fire for those interested). It was sunny so it was not too bad until I got stuck by some wide ass pedestrian. She seemed to think that walking in the middle of the row, with a car moving behind her, was a good idea. All she had to do was move to the side, that I could have waited for, but no, she has to walk down the middle. I was starting to wonder what was the proper speed at which to launch my Matrix into the crack of her more than ample ass. Anybody with an answer to that question, any engineers or physics teachers out there, please let me know. I guess it really is akin to how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
I finally found a spot, not in somebody's ass, and parked the car. I got me a cart and went in to the supermarket. There were actual people there. I am picking some cherries when I am jostled by the purse of some older woman, there with her husband. She is squeezing into pick cherries and strikes me, accidentally I think, with her purse. Does she say anything? Of course not, I am like a fucking mannequin to her. Then she starts bitching to Saul, her poor husband, that she feels she is wasting her time as SHE will not be eating the cherries. I almost lost it. I won't be eating the cherries (I am not a fan of fruit with its or seeds that I have to deal with. I subscribe to the lazy guys guide to fruit, I do not like food I have to work for, which explains why eating is well down on my list of things to do. I like ribs but the thought of getting my hands all messy eating them, turns me off. I got that one from my father, unbeknownst to me, as his friends loved to take him to eat ribs to watch him try to eat them with a knife and fork. No wonder I am so screwed up, but I digress.) The old biddy did not hear me bitching to her or Saul about that. I was tempted to "accidentally" toss one of my cherry rejects in her general direction (she did come up to my arm pit, which will lead me to another observation).
I gather my produce and I am picky. I am now beside the produce stocker (stalker?) and I notice that he, like many of my fellow shoppers out there in supermarket land, has no problem leaving the house without deoderant. I am struck by the smell of this guy. I am not sure if the fruit is rotting in the display or he his. It is like stinky guy at the club, whom I have not seen in a while (I guess when I said "smell ya', later" he got the message). I was struck by the juxtaposition of opposites here. They are trying to sell fresh produce but their employees are a little too ripe to be displaying. I was considering hosing him down with produce hose but thought better of it. (Why is it always "better" when I don't follow my darker impulses? I am thinking that I have to do something like that, but I need somebody with a camera to catch the scene on tape or digitally record it, that way the State has good evidence with which to prosecute me). It seems to me that the owner of the supermarket has a vested interest in how his employees smell. I mean there is no reason for him to smell like that unless his uniform needs a good cleaning and which case just DO IT!!!
I have hit smell and sight. I did see something else that struck me in a funny sort of way. There was an Islamic couple. He was dressed in his loose fitting, white, cloth garb including turban type thing on his head. She was in a black burqua complete with eyeslit. I thought it funny in a Western black hat/white hate, bad guy/good guy way. It just seemed to signal that in their culture men are good and women are bad or evil. What is up with that? I guess anything to justify an "honor" killing.
That is all as I am boring myself right now. I hope all my American friends had and have a great Memorial Day. It is beautiful here so I may actually venture outside just to feel the sunshine on my face and hope to avoid the dreaded melanoma. On that happy note, ciao.
It all began with a long drive through the parking lot, looking for a parking space. That was ten minutes of my life that I won't be getting back. At least the tunes in the car were good (Arcade Fire for those interested). It was sunny so it was not too bad until I got stuck by some wide ass pedestrian. She seemed to think that walking in the middle of the row, with a car moving behind her, was a good idea. All she had to do was move to the side, that I could have waited for, but no, she has to walk down the middle. I was starting to wonder what was the proper speed at which to launch my Matrix into the crack of her more than ample ass. Anybody with an answer to that question, any engineers or physics teachers out there, please let me know. I guess it really is akin to how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
I finally found a spot, not in somebody's ass, and parked the car. I got me a cart and went in to the supermarket. There were actual people there. I am picking some cherries when I am jostled by the purse of some older woman, there with her husband. She is squeezing into pick cherries and strikes me, accidentally I think, with her purse. Does she say anything? Of course not, I am like a fucking mannequin to her. Then she starts bitching to Saul, her poor husband, that she feels she is wasting her time as SHE will not be eating the cherries. I almost lost it. I won't be eating the cherries (I am not a fan of fruit with its or seeds that I have to deal with. I subscribe to the lazy guys guide to fruit, I do not like food I have to work for, which explains why eating is well down on my list of things to do. I like ribs but the thought of getting my hands all messy eating them, turns me off. I got that one from my father, unbeknownst to me, as his friends loved to take him to eat ribs to watch him try to eat them with a knife and fork. No wonder I am so screwed up, but I digress.) The old biddy did not hear me bitching to her or Saul about that. I was tempted to "accidentally" toss one of my cherry rejects in her general direction (she did come up to my arm pit, which will lead me to another observation).
I gather my produce and I am picky. I am now beside the produce stocker (stalker?) and I notice that he, like many of my fellow shoppers out there in supermarket land, has no problem leaving the house without deoderant. I am struck by the smell of this guy. I am not sure if the fruit is rotting in the display or he his. It is like stinky guy at the club, whom I have not seen in a while (I guess when I said "smell ya', later" he got the message). I was struck by the juxtaposition of opposites here. They are trying to sell fresh produce but their employees are a little too ripe to be displaying. I was considering hosing him down with produce hose but thought better of it. (Why is it always "better" when I don't follow my darker impulses? I am thinking that I have to do something like that, but I need somebody with a camera to catch the scene on tape or digitally record it, that way the State has good evidence with which to prosecute me). It seems to me that the owner of the supermarket has a vested interest in how his employees smell. I mean there is no reason for him to smell like that unless his uniform needs a good cleaning and which case just DO IT!!!
I have hit smell and sight. I did see something else that struck me in a funny sort of way. There was an Islamic couple. He was dressed in his loose fitting, white, cloth garb including turban type thing on his head. She was in a black burqua complete with eyeslit. I thought it funny in a Western black hat/white hate, bad guy/good guy way. It just seemed to signal that in their culture men are good and women are bad or evil. What is up with that? I guess anything to justify an "honor" killing.
That is all as I am boring myself right now. I hope all my American friends had and have a great Memorial Day. It is beautiful here so I may actually venture outside just to feel the sunshine on my face and hope to avoid the dreaded melanoma. On that happy note, ciao.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Gentlemen (and ladies) start your engines!
I am back. Again, I am struck by shit I have found on the Internet. I wanted to hit upon the local supermarket, yet better things keep coming up (pardon the pun, but you will understand soon enough). I came across two things between yesterday and today that I just had to share with y'all.
The first is that the FDA and Pfizer are reporting about forty cases of blindness in users of Viagra (see about the pun in the paragraph above). Now I am not sure if that is a real dilemma, hard cock and blindness or limp dick and being able to see it. I am thinking that it does conjure the image of blind guys staggering around with hard ons using them as white canes, assuming the use of Viagra by a Caucasian. It is just the sick image I am getting. I am also thinking that it could bring a whole new meaning to the term "beer goggles". This is a way that really ugly women could get laid (I know that the last statement could be construed as offensive, so if you are offended by it, Fuck Off!). Think about it, guy with a hard on that won't go away and a desire to use it, cannot see, perhaps anything goes.
The second is even worse in some ways. There is a company in Japan that is now making and selling panties with GPS built-in. You have to see the website (forgetmenotpanties). The testimonials are a scream. In one, a father, who bought the deluxe version, with biometric sensors that measure heart rate and heat as well, for his teenage daughter. This way he knows where she is and if she is getting hot and heavy with a guy, he can call her on her cellphone and put an end to that. Of course, that only works until her boyfriend gets her out of her panties. The other testimonial has a husband who suspected his wife of cheating on him, tracing her and her panties to a motel room with one of her work colleagues.
The minimum price (GPS alone) is $99 US for a pair of panties (they are cotton and rather stylish but no thong style, which is too bad). That seems rather pricey but I guess in terms of wanting to spend you time tracing your wife, girlfriend, daughter or any other female you want to have the panties, it is priceless.
I would say that I have a lot of time on my hands and even I do not have the time or desire to trace my wife's movements via her panties. Though, I do have to say this may be one of the greatest uses of modern technology. How many "honor" killings is this technology use going to lead to? That is just a thought. The heavier thought is the use of GPS chips in cell phones and PDAs, Big Brother will be watching. Thankfully, as a bit of a neoLuddite, I will not be found, unless I use my bank card, credit card or computer. Oh well, I guess my life on the run starts.....NOW! Ciao and have a great weekend.
The first is that the FDA and Pfizer are reporting about forty cases of blindness in users of Viagra (see about the pun in the paragraph above). Now I am not sure if that is a real dilemma, hard cock and blindness or limp dick and being able to see it. I am thinking that it does conjure the image of blind guys staggering around with hard ons using them as white canes, assuming the use of Viagra by a Caucasian. It is just the sick image I am getting. I am also thinking that it could bring a whole new meaning to the term "beer goggles". This is a way that really ugly women could get laid (I know that the last statement could be construed as offensive, so if you are offended by it, Fuck Off!). Think about it, guy with a hard on that won't go away and a desire to use it, cannot see, perhaps anything goes.
The second is even worse in some ways. There is a company in Japan that is now making and selling panties with GPS built-in. You have to see the website (forgetmenotpanties). The testimonials are a scream. In one, a father, who bought the deluxe version, with biometric sensors that measure heart rate and heat as well, for his teenage daughter. This way he knows where she is and if she is getting hot and heavy with a guy, he can call her on her cellphone and put an end to that. Of course, that only works until her boyfriend gets her out of her panties. The other testimonial has a husband who suspected his wife of cheating on him, tracing her and her panties to a motel room with one of her work colleagues.
The minimum price (GPS alone) is $99 US for a pair of panties (they are cotton and rather stylish but no thong style, which is too bad). That seems rather pricey but I guess in terms of wanting to spend you time tracing your wife, girlfriend, daughter or any other female you want to have the panties, it is priceless.
I would say that I have a lot of time on my hands and even I do not have the time or desire to trace my wife's movements via her panties. Though, I do have to say this may be one of the greatest uses of modern technology. How many "honor" killings is this technology use going to lead to? That is just a thought. The heavier thought is the use of GPS chips in cell phones and PDAs, Big Brother will be watching. Thankfully, as a bit of a neoLuddite, I will not be found, unless I use my bank card, credit card or computer. Oh well, I guess my life on the run starts.....NOW! Ciao and have a great weekend.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
What a day, what a day.
I am back. I was going to go into a raving on supermarkets, or more precisely people in my local supermarket. I will save that for another moment. I have more fun with real news. Two stories caught my eye for different reasons today.
In the first, a British couple, male aged 20 and female aged 17, were severly burned when their homemade lightsabres exploded. They were taping a mock lightsabre duel between Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. They had made their lightsabres using flourescent light tubes filled with liquid fuel. The obvious things are they should not be allowed to breed. This is natural selection working its magic. If it were two guys, geeks into Star Wars, I would wonder what the odds of them breeding were, but as it is a male and female, it seems to me that this incident becomes a poster case for state sterilization. I know that it is cruel but give me a break. You make your own lightsabre (that is bad in a geeky sort of way), fill the thing with liquid fuel (it is a painful accident just waiting to happen) and set about going into a mock duel (holding glass tubes filled with liquid fuel, no less). An explosion occurs (I am shocked!) and the participants are burned. The only way this gets better is if they were wearing polyester clothing, just so it would melt. We must cull the stupid out of the human herd and this is nature's way of doing it.
The second story is that in Prince Edward Island, Canada's smallest province with only about 137,000 people and a lot of potatoes, as of June 1st the suicide prevention hotline will only be in service from 9-5. There you have it, if you are in PEI and want to kill yourself but are looking for some help to stop the urge, then make sure it occurs during business hours. The fact is that the hotline receives about 1400 calls a year with only 50 from people contemplating suicide. Doing the math, about 1,350 people a year call just to chat. The hotline costs about $30,000 CDN a year to run, so this will be money well saved. Poor Anne of Green Gables, if she has a notion to off herself, she had best hope it happens during business hours, in the light of day.
Anybody who knows anything knows that the voices don't come out, or at least can't be heard, until the sun goes down and darkness fills the sky. Somebody has to take those PEIers to task for this. My wife had a good idea, she says that somebody should kill themself and then sue the government for taking away the suicide prevention hotline beyond business hours. I thought that it is a good idea except for the small fact that once you are dead, assuming that it was a successful suicide attempt and you are not the type of pathetic loser that cannot even get killing yourself right, you cannot sue. Something about no longer being a person or having standing (in fact it is more lying there dead ala Weekend at Bernie's if you want to have some fun as a corpse).
PEI did finally put a price on a human life, though, and in PEI it is apparently around $30,000 CDN a year. That be all for now. Ciao.
In the first, a British couple, male aged 20 and female aged 17, were severly burned when their homemade lightsabres exploded. They were taping a mock lightsabre duel between Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. They had made their lightsabres using flourescent light tubes filled with liquid fuel. The obvious things are they should not be allowed to breed. This is natural selection working its magic. If it were two guys, geeks into Star Wars, I would wonder what the odds of them breeding were, but as it is a male and female, it seems to me that this incident becomes a poster case for state sterilization. I know that it is cruel but give me a break. You make your own lightsabre (that is bad in a geeky sort of way), fill the thing with liquid fuel (it is a painful accident just waiting to happen) and set about going into a mock duel (holding glass tubes filled with liquid fuel, no less). An explosion occurs (I am shocked!) and the participants are burned. The only way this gets better is if they were wearing polyester clothing, just so it would melt. We must cull the stupid out of the human herd and this is nature's way of doing it.
The second story is that in Prince Edward Island, Canada's smallest province with only about 137,000 people and a lot of potatoes, as of June 1st the suicide prevention hotline will only be in service from 9-5. There you have it, if you are in PEI and want to kill yourself but are looking for some help to stop the urge, then make sure it occurs during business hours. The fact is that the hotline receives about 1400 calls a year with only 50 from people contemplating suicide. Doing the math, about 1,350 people a year call just to chat. The hotline costs about $30,000 CDN a year to run, so this will be money well saved. Poor Anne of Green Gables, if she has a notion to off herself, she had best hope it happens during business hours, in the light of day.
Anybody who knows anything knows that the voices don't come out, or at least can't be heard, until the sun goes down and darkness fills the sky. Somebody has to take those PEIers to task for this. My wife had a good idea, she says that somebody should kill themself and then sue the government for taking away the suicide prevention hotline beyond business hours. I thought that it is a good idea except for the small fact that once you are dead, assuming that it was a successful suicide attempt and you are not the type of pathetic loser that cannot even get killing yourself right, you cannot sue. Something about no longer being a person or having standing (in fact it is more lying there dead ala Weekend at Bernie's if you want to have some fun as a corpse).
PEI did finally put a price on a human life, though, and in PEI it is apparently around $30,000 CDN a year. That be all for now. Ciao.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
For those who enjoy Canadian politics or is that Polly ticks?
I am back. I am not so sure why I am back today. I just have nothing to say. There I said it. I am without speech or really without any intelligent ideas. What is in the news these days. Damn there is so much to rave about but I just do not have the heart.
Here is an idea. Up here in Canada, a Conservative Member of Parliament, who is a good looking 38 year old woman, Belinda Stronach, who did run her father's billion dollar auto parts manufacturing business, Magna International, switched parties out of "princible" to take a Cabinet post in the Liberal government and prevent the fall of a minority government. She was called many things including a whore and prostitute in the political sense. This caused a great commotion in the press. How dare she be called a "whore" or "prostitute" said the feminists and politically correct amongst us.
They are correct. Calling Belinda Stronach a whore is a disservice to the real whores whose reputations should not be sullied with Ms. Stronach's unprincipled grasp at power. You have to call it as you see it and as I see it is if it were a matter of principle for her then why did she vote with her party days before switching parties? It would be principled if she left the party and sat as an independent. I mean she does not NEED the money. She took a Cabinet post in exchange for crossing the floor. She sold or rented herself out, if that is not being a whore then I do not know what is.
Let me say, that I have nothing against her. But in hearing her press conference her grasp of the English language is rather scary. I do not begrudge her birth right or how she has lived her life, but I cannot stand the spin and self deception. If you are going to cross the floor as she did, have the balls to be honest with yourself and your constituents. She was not honest but then that should put her right at home in the Liberal Party of Canada and the Cabinet of Paul Martin.
There, there was an almost cogent argument. That is all for today. Ciao
Here is an idea. Up here in Canada, a Conservative Member of Parliament, who is a good looking 38 year old woman, Belinda Stronach, who did run her father's billion dollar auto parts manufacturing business, Magna International, switched parties out of "princible" to take a Cabinet post in the Liberal government and prevent the fall of a minority government. She was called many things including a whore and prostitute in the political sense. This caused a great commotion in the press. How dare she be called a "whore" or "prostitute" said the feminists and politically correct amongst us.
They are correct. Calling Belinda Stronach a whore is a disservice to the real whores whose reputations should not be sullied with Ms. Stronach's unprincipled grasp at power. You have to call it as you see it and as I see it is if it were a matter of principle for her then why did she vote with her party days before switching parties? It would be principled if she left the party and sat as an independent. I mean she does not NEED the money. She took a Cabinet post in exchange for crossing the floor. She sold or rented herself out, if that is not being a whore then I do not know what is.
Let me say, that I have nothing against her. But in hearing her press conference her grasp of the English language is rather scary. I do not begrudge her birth right or how she has lived her life, but I cannot stand the spin and self deception. If you are going to cross the floor as she did, have the balls to be honest with yourself and your constituents. She was not honest but then that should put her right at home in the Liberal Party of Canada and the Cabinet of Paul Martin.
There, there was an almost cogent argument. That is all for today. Ciao
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
If I am being bored, I will bore you
I am back. It was a long weekend up here in Canada, so I really could not get to my computer to have any fun yesterday. I did have a story to tell about my weekend, though, it may be construed as nasty and mean. To know me is to know that I have trouble with people who talk a lot but say absolutely NOTHING. I am not fond of incessant chatter especially when it is useless, boring and uninteresting. I guess interesting incessant chatter is not chatter but like listening to Gilbert Gottfried.
Anyway, I think that it was my weekend of being around those who are compelled to talk but are unable to either read verbal cues, ignore them and their audience, or are completely incapable of listening. What did I do to deserve that this weekend? I am not sure, but if that is the worst that I get from Karma, then I must be living a charmed or good life.
It all began Friday, at the outlaws for dinner. My wife's aunt, mother in law's sister, was there with her husband (idiot), daughters (I like them) and granddaughter (one year old, so what's not to like). We are having dinner and then the conversation, it really is more like a monotonous, boring, life sapping, monologue of the minutae of her mind (blah! In fact, I think I said my first "kill me, now" when I walked in the door and heard her voice). She asks her daughter to tell us all a story about her new nanny. As the story is being told, the aunt keeps adding more pointless detail. There is nothing like making a dull story take even longer to tell, at which point I usually get up and leave (I am rude, but if I don't like a movie, I get up and leave, and believe me this is worse than any movie I have ever walked out on, the worst part is that she is stealing time from my life that I will never get back, I could be watching paint dry and it would be less pointless and mind numbing). I am finding the voice to be worse than fingernails scrapping a chalkboard.
We get down to watching some Jeopardy! and the final round is upon us. It was bad enough that my father in law got confused during a commercial and could not seem to comprehend that the show had gone to commercial, but the aunt was in full blown idiocy. The final question had to do with keys given by the French to George Washington by Lafayette. They were keys to the Bastille by the way. Anyway, I draw a blank but that is beside the point. The aunt says, "We were in Mount Vernon, but I don't remember any keys. You should have seen the beds." I nearly lose it, I have to walk out of the room.
Obviously she seem to think that I or anybody else in the room gave a fuck that she had been to Mount Vernon. What the fuck do the beds have to do with keys or the fucking clue? I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK where you have been and whom you have seen so shut the fuck up!!!!!!!! She did once say something and I shut her down, so she says "I was just making conversation." (that is a lie, since conversation by its very nature is about bringing ideas, listening and then coming to a "new" and synthesized idea and she does not listen, so....). I replied that she should try doing it, making conversation you sick folks, with her mouth shut. I am not sure if that went over well, but what are they going to do, start a war of wits, they have no ammo, so I am not afraid of them.
Then on Saturday, I am out with my wife, her friend and her friend's husband. He is a nice enough guy and treats her well but he drones on and on and does not let you get a word or idea in edge wise. Again, it would not be so bad if it were interesting but it is not. I was trapped in this listening hell, trying to be polite (I damn my parents for instilling this politeness thing in me) and just fighting the little rage filled man inside me who just wanted to yell, "Shut up already! I have heard you and I KNOW where this story and monologue goes and I want to get off, now!" but I cannot do that because I do not want to create a rift between my wife and her friend.
This all would not be so bad except for the fact that I am sure I get no credit for holding my tongue on the homefront. I have to repress my natural inclinations for honesty and no self deception to maintain peace for my wife (what do I care about familial wars when it is not my family) yet she thinks it is expected because she would NEVER open her mouth. The problem with her line of reasoning is that she would NEVER open her mouth but would think nothing of complaining about things to me. In the end she would do nothing and views it as a virtue. To me that is the vice as how are things supposed to change? Am I supposed to deal with the frustration by HOPING these people get the message telepathically? I mean the cannot read my fucking body language, how can I/she expect them to read my mind?
Geez, thanks I am in rant form now. I thank you for letting me vent and bend your eyes (if I were speaking it would be ears). Ciao.
Anyway, I think that it was my weekend of being around those who are compelled to talk but are unable to either read verbal cues, ignore them and their audience, or are completely incapable of listening. What did I do to deserve that this weekend? I am not sure, but if that is the worst that I get from Karma, then I must be living a charmed or good life.
It all began Friday, at the outlaws for dinner. My wife's aunt, mother in law's sister, was there with her husband (idiot), daughters (I like them) and granddaughter (one year old, so what's not to like). We are having dinner and then the conversation, it really is more like a monotonous, boring, life sapping, monologue of the minutae of her mind (blah! In fact, I think I said my first "kill me, now" when I walked in the door and heard her voice). She asks her daughter to tell us all a story about her new nanny. As the story is being told, the aunt keeps adding more pointless detail. There is nothing like making a dull story take even longer to tell, at which point I usually get up and leave (I am rude, but if I don't like a movie, I get up and leave, and believe me this is worse than any movie I have ever walked out on, the worst part is that she is stealing time from my life that I will never get back, I could be watching paint dry and it would be less pointless and mind numbing). I am finding the voice to be worse than fingernails scrapping a chalkboard.
We get down to watching some Jeopardy! and the final round is upon us. It was bad enough that my father in law got confused during a commercial and could not seem to comprehend that the show had gone to commercial, but the aunt was in full blown idiocy. The final question had to do with keys given by the French to George Washington by Lafayette. They were keys to the Bastille by the way. Anyway, I draw a blank but that is beside the point. The aunt says, "We were in Mount Vernon, but I don't remember any keys. You should have seen the beds." I nearly lose it, I have to walk out of the room.
Obviously she seem to think that I or anybody else in the room gave a fuck that she had been to Mount Vernon. What the fuck do the beds have to do with keys or the fucking clue? I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK where you have been and whom you have seen so shut the fuck up!!!!!!!! She did once say something and I shut her down, so she says "I was just making conversation." (that is a lie, since conversation by its very nature is about bringing ideas, listening and then coming to a "new" and synthesized idea and she does not listen, so....). I replied that she should try doing it, making conversation you sick folks, with her mouth shut. I am not sure if that went over well, but what are they going to do, start a war of wits, they have no ammo, so I am not afraid of them.
Then on Saturday, I am out with my wife, her friend and her friend's husband. He is a nice enough guy and treats her well but he drones on and on and does not let you get a word or idea in edge wise. Again, it would not be so bad if it were interesting but it is not. I was trapped in this listening hell, trying to be polite (I damn my parents for instilling this politeness thing in me) and just fighting the little rage filled man inside me who just wanted to yell, "Shut up already! I have heard you and I KNOW where this story and monologue goes and I want to get off, now!" but I cannot do that because I do not want to create a rift between my wife and her friend.
This all would not be so bad except for the fact that I am sure I get no credit for holding my tongue on the homefront. I have to repress my natural inclinations for honesty and no self deception to maintain peace for my wife (what do I care about familial wars when it is not my family) yet she thinks it is expected because she would NEVER open her mouth. The problem with her line of reasoning is that she would NEVER open her mouth but would think nothing of complaining about things to me. In the end she would do nothing and views it as a virtue. To me that is the vice as how are things supposed to change? Am I supposed to deal with the frustration by HOPING these people get the message telepathically? I mean the cannot read my fucking body language, how can I/she expect them to read my mind?
Geez, thanks I am in rant form now. I thank you for letting me vent and bend your eyes (if I were speaking it would be ears). Ciao.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Short and strange
I am back. I was going to reprint a story I came across yesterday but I do not want to bore you with the details. The upshot is this a Russian lake disappeared recently. Apparently, it was a large enough lake that there are numerous commercial fisherman with nowhere to fish. It may have all sunk into a hole and into the ground watertable, fish and all, leaving these poor folk with nothing but a large ditch of mud. Picture that one. The best was a quote from some woman who wanted to blame the Americans.
Those damn Imperialist bastard Americans! They come in the dead of night and steal our lakes. They just back up the U-Haul, load the lake water, fish and all, into the L'il Lugger, and take it away with them. Don't you dare think of defaulting on those IMF and World Bank loans, those Americans play hardball!
My head shakes when I think of that conclusion. We all know it was the work of the Canadians. We Canadians want to corner the market on the world's fresh water. We are devious bastards from the north (it is that damn Viking influence). Of course, given how the old Soviet system degraded the air, lakes and people (a little Chernobyl anybody)(these were the people who brought the world the Trabant, the East German automobile that I believed ran on coal, and they burned that cleanly hahaha!) would we really want their fresh water. It is more stagnant, stinkingly deadly water.
One man's, or old Russian lady's treasure, is another man's junk, or polluted waterway. Thanks for the fun. Ciao.
Those damn Imperialist bastard Americans! They come in the dead of night and steal our lakes. They just back up the U-Haul, load the lake water, fish and all, into the L'il Lugger, and take it away with them. Don't you dare think of defaulting on those IMF and World Bank loans, those Americans play hardball!
My head shakes when I think of that conclusion. We all know it was the work of the Canadians. We Canadians want to corner the market on the world's fresh water. We are devious bastards from the north (it is that damn Viking influence). Of course, given how the old Soviet system degraded the air, lakes and people (a little Chernobyl anybody)(these were the people who brought the world the Trabant, the East German automobile that I believed ran on coal, and they burned that cleanly hahaha!) would we really want their fresh water. It is more stagnant, stinkingly deadly water.
One man's, or old Russian lady's treasure, is another man's junk, or polluted waterway. Thanks for the fun. Ciao.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Why oh why?
I am back. I had another vexing thought (I think that I am throwing around the word "vex" just a bit too much lately, but what can you do?). Why is that the favorite mode of aliens examining humans is the anal probe? What do they hope to find poking around a human's body through the asshole? I am just confused by this. I mean if they want to know what I eat, just fucking ask. I do not need a probe up the ass to tell you what I had for breakfast. Of course, that assumes I remember what I had for breakfast, let alone where.
That gets to me to wondering if my father in law's doctor is really an alien. I mean with all those "colonoscopies" and "polyp removals" it sounds an awful lot like anal probing. I may be on to something here. Then again, I may just be a moron or at the very least a guy who has finally broken with reality. I have to stop listening to those damn voices.
I should become a mad scientist. I think it would be cool to devote my life to trying to take over the world with some diabolical scheme. At the very least, my life would have greater meaning. I do not want to sound like I am having some sort of existential crisis (I am but I have been in this state since I was at least six, I just do not recall much from before that). I figure ANY purpose, even it is evil, idiotic and wrong, is better than ennui (look it up) and the feeling of no purpose. Good that thought just passed, back to fun.
For the mad scientist gig, what would I need? Lab coat. I wonder if it is better to have a clean, pristine lab coat (I think that would make me look more like an anal, damn if that is not the recurring theme of this post, scientist) or one that is wrinkly and splattered with stuff (I am thinking about blood, human, animal, either way, or chemicals, I mean a urine stained lab coat says "homeless" scientist and that would get me neither respect nor fear. It would get me an uncomfortable embarrassment but that is pretty far from the effect I am going for here.)
"Crazy" or "zany" hair style. I mean to really look the part I would need a proper hair don't. It is usually some variation of unkempt hair. The look really depends upon the texture of the hair, so those with coarse, wiry hair (like pubic hair on your head) would have that hair all over look (think Einstein). It is one of those things that with mad scientists, they have neither the time nor inclination to really put time into making their hair look nice. I do wonder how they were as children, listening to their mother's yell at them to comb and/or brush their hair. This may be where a comb over can come in handy. I will conduct a focus group of two (wife and child) to get other traits.
Rubber Gloves and/or dirty hands. I guess that obsessive hand washing is not a trait of mad scientists. Rubber gloves, I am hoping that Playtex gloves were not what was meant, because that is just silly and looks more housekeeper like than mad or science.
Black, wiry eyebrows. Again, it is back to eyebrows and I would use the same reference to pubic hair here. I guess Brezhnev would have had that good mad scientist look that you need. Come to think about it, he did have the mad, ruthless and diabolical stuff down pat. Just ask the people of the Soviet Union and all their "happy" satellite states.
I heard such terms as "old", well that is a matter of opinion. Would a "young" one actually be an overachiever? He went mad at such a young age, when I was his age I was still sane (or is that just less driven). I am not sure about that one.
Scrawny. I guess eating comes down on the list. You would have to be obsessed with the end prize, world domination, so eating would not seem so important. You could eat when you achieved the stated purpose. I could go the scrawny route for my art. I am willing to make that sacrifice.
All in all, I say this mad scientist thing could be doable for me. Any thoughts? Tomorrow, nutty professors. Ciao.
That gets to me to wondering if my father in law's doctor is really an alien. I mean with all those "colonoscopies" and "polyp removals" it sounds an awful lot like anal probing. I may be on to something here. Then again, I may just be a moron or at the very least a guy who has finally broken with reality. I have to stop listening to those damn voices.
I should become a mad scientist. I think it would be cool to devote my life to trying to take over the world with some diabolical scheme. At the very least, my life would have greater meaning. I do not want to sound like I am having some sort of existential crisis (I am but I have been in this state since I was at least six, I just do not recall much from before that). I figure ANY purpose, even it is evil, idiotic and wrong, is better than ennui (look it up) and the feeling of no purpose. Good that thought just passed, back to fun.
For the mad scientist gig, what would I need? Lab coat. I wonder if it is better to have a clean, pristine lab coat (I think that would make me look more like an anal, damn if that is not the recurring theme of this post, scientist) or one that is wrinkly and splattered with stuff (I am thinking about blood, human, animal, either way, or chemicals, I mean a urine stained lab coat says "homeless" scientist and that would get me neither respect nor fear. It would get me an uncomfortable embarrassment but that is pretty far from the effect I am going for here.)
"Crazy" or "zany" hair style. I mean to really look the part I would need a proper hair don't. It is usually some variation of unkempt hair. The look really depends upon the texture of the hair, so those with coarse, wiry hair (like pubic hair on your head) would have that hair all over look (think Einstein). It is one of those things that with mad scientists, they have neither the time nor inclination to really put time into making their hair look nice. I do wonder how they were as children, listening to their mother's yell at them to comb and/or brush their hair. This may be where a comb over can come in handy. I will conduct a focus group of two (wife and child) to get other traits.
Rubber Gloves and/or dirty hands. I guess that obsessive hand washing is not a trait of mad scientists. Rubber gloves, I am hoping that Playtex gloves were not what was meant, because that is just silly and looks more housekeeper like than mad or science.
Black, wiry eyebrows. Again, it is back to eyebrows and I would use the same reference to pubic hair here. I guess Brezhnev would have had that good mad scientist look that you need. Come to think about it, he did have the mad, ruthless and diabolical stuff down pat. Just ask the people of the Soviet Union and all their "happy" satellite states.
I heard such terms as "old", well that is a matter of opinion. Would a "young" one actually be an overachiever? He went mad at such a young age, when I was his age I was still sane (or is that just less driven). I am not sure about that one.
Scrawny. I guess eating comes down on the list. You would have to be obsessed with the end prize, world domination, so eating would not seem so important. You could eat when you achieved the stated purpose. I could go the scrawny route for my art. I am willing to make that sacrifice.
All in all, I say this mad scientist thing could be doable for me. Any thoughts? Tomorrow, nutty professors. Ciao.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I am vexed, help de-vex me, please
Guess what? I am back. Today, I am finding myself vexed by something, something so inane that it is keeping me up at night. I was watching some old Surreal Life crap with Charo. My question is what the fuck did she ever do to become famous? I mean she is not really famous but she is a "C" class celebrity and it appears to me that she is a celebrity for being a celebrity.
I know about that Koochie Koochie bullshit. I remember her on the Love Boat. I mean anybody who was anybody was on the Love Boat in the 70s. I can being glad that I had friends so that I no longer had to stay home watching that crap on a Saturday night while back in junior high school. I know, good Canadian boy that I am, I should have been watching Hockey Night in Canada, but the Leafs, though in the height of the Sittler/Salming years (I did watch them all the time) would only break my heart. I am thinking as a Leaf fan, I should become a Cubs fan, too. I figure that way I can have misery year round and just go from one miserable sporting existence to another, but I digress...
What the fuck is "Kootchie! Kootchie!" anyway? It is not like she was attractive, even back in the day (of course, that is just my opinion). Her lips looked like collagen injections gone bad, really bad (see Meg Ryan at present), though given the time I think those were natural. They arrived about ten minutes before the rest of her. You could have used those lips as a billboard.
I know she played some classical guitar. I saw her do it on the Love Boat, and Aaron Spelling would not allow one of his television shows to lie to us po' folk. But what was she doing so that she ended up on Love Boat. Please do not tell me it was that "Kootchie! Kootchie!" shit. Again I ask what that was all about. Did that pass for titillating back in the 60s and 70s? Have I been so jaded by the upfront sexuality of the present, that I can't figure this out?
I really need help with this. I mean I cannot even blame the inventors of Molly Ringwald for this. Besides, Molly had "normal" lips, I mean nicely pink and pouty in a teenage way. Who is this Charo and why is she here?!!!!
That is all for today. ciao.
I know about that Koochie Koochie bullshit. I remember her on the Love Boat. I mean anybody who was anybody was on the Love Boat in the 70s. I can being glad that I had friends so that I no longer had to stay home watching that crap on a Saturday night while back in junior high school. I know, good Canadian boy that I am, I should have been watching Hockey Night in Canada, but the Leafs, though in the height of the Sittler/Salming years (I did watch them all the time) would only break my heart. I am thinking as a Leaf fan, I should become a Cubs fan, too. I figure that way I can have misery year round and just go from one miserable sporting existence to another, but I digress...
What the fuck is "Kootchie! Kootchie!" anyway? It is not like she was attractive, even back in the day (of course, that is just my opinion). Her lips looked like collagen injections gone bad, really bad (see Meg Ryan at present), though given the time I think those were natural. They arrived about ten minutes before the rest of her. You could have used those lips as a billboard.
I know she played some classical guitar. I saw her do it on the Love Boat, and Aaron Spelling would not allow one of his television shows to lie to us po' folk. But what was she doing so that she ended up on Love Boat. Please do not tell me it was that "Kootchie! Kootchie!" shit. Again I ask what that was all about. Did that pass for titillating back in the 60s and 70s? Have I been so jaded by the upfront sexuality of the present, that I can't figure this out?
I really need help with this. I mean I cannot even blame the inventors of Molly Ringwald for this. Besides, Molly had "normal" lips, I mean nicely pink and pouty in a teenage way. Who is this Charo and why is she here?!!!!
That is all for today. ciao.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
I was thinking.......or was I?
I am back. I had a thought but it is gone now. In any event, I was thinking that it would be cool if the Vikings were still in charge of things. I mean they did do a lot of pillaging and shit, but at least you knew where they stood on the issues of the day. I mean if you could not rape and pillage it, it just was not worth the time. That is the attitude that we need more of today, instead of any politically correct, multicultural bullshit laws. I am not going on a xenophobic, anti-foreigner, rant. It just seems to me that I can accept our differences but there still has to be some sort of Canadian or American "standard" of accepted behavior.
Another thought occurs to me, too. If I were living in an Arab country where they condone or at least excuse "honor" killings, such as the West Bank, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, etc., I would just go on a killing spree. When caught, though I am not sure how long it would take, I would claim I was just avenging the honor of my family. I would just tell the authorities that those that I killed gave my mother the stink eye or something. I think that they would understand because who doesn't want to kill somebody who gives your mother the stink eye.
Which gets me on another topic. We had dinner with my mother, my siblings, their spouses and children on Sunday. After dinner my three year old nephew was playing with the plastic tool set that belonged to my son. At one point he takes the plastic utility knife and tries to stick it up Reggie's, my brother, ass. Now, there must be something wrong there but what do I know. I try to stop him and this little kid looks at me and says, "I'm gonna kill you!"
I would be mortified if I were even half way normal. All I thought is that I have heard that before, but never from somebody so young and never from somebody who has not had to spend an extended amount of time with me, alone especially. It was a first for me there. He did threaten the same to Reggie over dessert, which did get him a time out (or technical foul as Reggie and I both "T"ed him up) after having the chocolate removed (surgically?) from his face. I am not sure what the time out did for him but I am thinking his parents, my sister and brother in law, should cut him back to one cup of coffee a day. It can't hurt.
Another thing the kid does is run, head first into my or Reggie's ass. I am afraid that with his head down, he is going to get his head stuck up somebody else's ass. I would love to be the emergency room doctor that has to extricate my three year old nephew from his uncle's ass. Try explaining that one with a straight face. Hell, try removing the "growth" from Reggie's ass with a straight face. I am thinking that they would end up going to a clinic in a skiddly part of town just to avoid the press. "It was a million to one shot, doc. Million to one!" I guess you would really need an Assman (rear Admiral or proctologist) to do the job.
That is Tuesday for you. Ciao.
Another thought occurs to me, too. If I were living in an Arab country where they condone or at least excuse "honor" killings, such as the West Bank, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, etc., I would just go on a killing spree. When caught, though I am not sure how long it would take, I would claim I was just avenging the honor of my family. I would just tell the authorities that those that I killed gave my mother the stink eye or something. I think that they would understand because who doesn't want to kill somebody who gives your mother the stink eye.
Which gets me on another topic. We had dinner with my mother, my siblings, their spouses and children on Sunday. After dinner my three year old nephew was playing with the plastic tool set that belonged to my son. At one point he takes the plastic utility knife and tries to stick it up Reggie's, my brother, ass. Now, there must be something wrong there but what do I know. I try to stop him and this little kid looks at me and says, "I'm gonna kill you!"
I would be mortified if I were even half way normal. All I thought is that I have heard that before, but never from somebody so young and never from somebody who has not had to spend an extended amount of time with me, alone especially. It was a first for me there. He did threaten the same to Reggie over dessert, which did get him a time out (or technical foul as Reggie and I both "T"ed him up) after having the chocolate removed (surgically?) from his face. I am not sure what the time out did for him but I am thinking his parents, my sister and brother in law, should cut him back to one cup of coffee a day. It can't hurt.
Another thing the kid does is run, head first into my or Reggie's ass. I am afraid that with his head down, he is going to get his head stuck up somebody else's ass. I would love to be the emergency room doctor that has to extricate my three year old nephew from his uncle's ass. Try explaining that one with a straight face. Hell, try removing the "growth" from Reggie's ass with a straight face. I am thinking that they would end up going to a clinic in a skiddly part of town just to avoid the press. "It was a million to one shot, doc. Million to one!" I guess you would really need an Assman (rear Admiral or proctologist) to do the job.
That is Tuesday for you. Ciao.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Everybody Loves Raymond??????
I am back. I say that in case you were wondering. Well, tonight is the series finale of "Everybody Loves Raymond". I can tell you that I don't love Raymond. The show got annoying to me about five or six years ago. Is it just me or is that show just not funny. It is kind of like junk food. You eat it, or watch it, because it is there and there may be nothing else on (how desperate am I that I would not just shut off the television and read or talk) but in the end you take nothing of it with you. You are just empty for the experience. I then realize that I just "lost" a half hour of my life and nobody is going to give it back to me.
I was thinking, or what I am trying to pass off as thought, that if scientists are worried about flooding as the polar ice caps melt, then why not just put a bunch (a big bunch) of sponges and Bounty paper towels (the quicker picker upper) into the oceans. That should pretty much absorb the excess. Even if the coastal areas flood, I figure that just means closer salt water beaches for me, so that is pretty cool.
That is the thought for the day, I can no go back to sleep. Ciao.
I was thinking, or what I am trying to pass off as thought, that if scientists are worried about flooding as the polar ice caps melt, then why not just put a bunch (a big bunch) of sponges and Bounty paper towels (the quicker picker upper) into the oceans. That should pretty much absorb the excess. Even if the coastal areas flood, I figure that just means closer salt water beaches for me, so that is pretty cool.
That is the thought for the day, I can no go back to sleep. Ciao.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Friday the 13th, ahhhhhhh!
I am back. I figure to make this short and weird. Well...short, anyway. Back to the eyebrow thoughts of the other day, I was thinking of growing my eyebrows into a great, big unibrow. Is there anything quite as scary as the fluffy unibrow? It is bad enough on a man, but on a woman it is something beyond the freakshow and frightening.
That brings me to a story or at least a memory, which is not as bad as having to think of my wife's aunt "getting it on" with her husband. Excuse me as I wretch a little at that thought. I am back as the tears in my eyes have cleared. There used to be a bagel place on Eglinton called Bagel Bar, it has since been swallowed by the House of Chan. This place made great bagels but to call it dirty would be a disservice to anything dirty. Gimpel, the owner, would have had to burn the place down and rebuild from new to get it up to dirty. I was forbidden by my father from getting him his coffee or tea from there. It was believed that Gimple never cleaned the coffee carafes, or at least it tasted that way. The best was his way of sticking his thumb in a styrofoam cup of tea to squeeze the tea bag with his bruised and scabby thumb before pulling it out and putting on the lid. You have to love takeout. Of course, I did not care, since I was not drinking it so, of course, I would hit Bagel Bar for coffees if I was pissed off by my father. I guess I am not all that different than that guy who when angry would piss in the coffee pot at work. I do have standards so I would not do that.
Anyway, I go into Gimple's place for lunch one day and notice this women at the counter. She is older, by which I mean she was somewhere between 40 and 200 years old, with dark brown hair and a red dress. As she turns to look at me, I am struck by two things, her full red lipsticked lips and her even darker brown eyebrow. Yes, eyebrow! She took the time to put on lipstick and a nice dress, but obviously missed the fact that she had one, big, fucking eyebrow! Wow, did I lose my appetite. I don't think that I ate for a week after that. I could not hold down solid food. Blahhhhhh!
I would draw a picture for you but think of Oscar the Grouch only flesh tone and less fuzzy and with bright red lipstick on. Gahhhhhhhh!!
Let us all make a blood pact now, No comb overs and no unibrows. I am thinking that I have issues with body hair. Have a hairless weekend, I will try as well. Ciao.
That brings me to a story or at least a memory, which is not as bad as having to think of my wife's aunt "getting it on" with her husband. Excuse me as I wretch a little at that thought. I am back as the tears in my eyes have cleared. There used to be a bagel place on Eglinton called Bagel Bar, it has since been swallowed by the House of Chan. This place made great bagels but to call it dirty would be a disservice to anything dirty. Gimpel, the owner, would have had to burn the place down and rebuild from new to get it up to dirty. I was forbidden by my father from getting him his coffee or tea from there. It was believed that Gimple never cleaned the coffee carafes, or at least it tasted that way. The best was his way of sticking his thumb in a styrofoam cup of tea to squeeze the tea bag with his bruised and scabby thumb before pulling it out and putting on the lid. You have to love takeout. Of course, I did not care, since I was not drinking it so, of course, I would hit Bagel Bar for coffees if I was pissed off by my father. I guess I am not all that different than that guy who when angry would piss in the coffee pot at work. I do have standards so I would not do that.
Anyway, I go into Gimple's place for lunch one day and notice this women at the counter. She is older, by which I mean she was somewhere between 40 and 200 years old, with dark brown hair and a red dress. As she turns to look at me, I am struck by two things, her full red lipsticked lips and her even darker brown eyebrow. Yes, eyebrow! She took the time to put on lipstick and a nice dress, but obviously missed the fact that she had one, big, fucking eyebrow! Wow, did I lose my appetite. I don't think that I ate for a week after that. I could not hold down solid food. Blahhhhhh!
I would draw a picture for you but think of Oscar the Grouch only flesh tone and less fuzzy and with bright red lipstick on. Gahhhhhhhh!!
Let us all make a blood pact now, No comb overs and no unibrows. I am thinking that I have issues with body hair. Have a hairless weekend, I will try as well. Ciao.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
What to say, what to say
I am back. Did ya miss me? I missed all of you. By all I mean all one of you. Hell, I don't even read this shit. Of course, it is constantly running through my brain. I have to remember to NOT listen to the voices, but sometimes they can be so compelling. Drive into the light!!!!
Here is the story of Crappy Tire, aka Canadian Tire. I like these GE indoor flood light bulbs for our pot lights. I have had trouble with their light bulbs before and complained. I had a single 25W globe bulb not work when I put it in new. Now, I may or may not have (I admit nothing) dropped the thing before installing it. Anyway to make a long boring story a shorter boring story, I got $20 in coupons for "free" GE light bulbs. To me that could be a business, I pay $3 for 4 bulbs, use three have one dud, and get coupons for $20 in merchandise. Sweet! in my pathetic little world.
Okay, I run into this problem again, though this time I did not drop them for certain, when a bulb burns out in the kitchen. I go to replace it but the bulb sounds like there is something loose in there. Sure enought, it does not work, but the other and last bulb I have works. I call GE to complain and the customer service woman and I play some phone tag for a couple of days. She is very nice when I get in contact with her. There is a file on me, I am thinking that is not a good sign. Anyway, she sends me off more coupons as again the deal is sweet. I pay $2.50 for a bulb that does not work and get $20 in merchandise.
I go to the Crappy Tire at Lawrence Square, or is that Felony Square, to get the bulbs. I grab three boxes of two bulbs and head to the cash. I hand the coupons to the cashier. She looks at them and says she has never seen those before. Somehow she seemed to think that I actually cared about what she had seen before. I need to know her fucking life story? Then she says that I am supposed to send them into GE. I look at her and say, "NO. You are." I am thinking at this point that if she is correct then why didn't GE just send me twenty bucks, but nevermind. Anyway, she stares at the things for another minute, shrugs her shoulders and tells me she does not know what to do. I looked at her, said "Unbelievable!" and told her to forget it.
Now, I am sitting in the fucking dark typing this! I cannot go back there. I grew up in retail. That kind of service was unthinkable to me. I would never have done that and that is the standard I hold all cashiers and clerks to. Now, I have to find a different Crappy Tire to buy my bulbs from or find those GE bulbs elsewhere. Why does life have to be so hard?
I didn't say it was a good or interesting story. I just said it was a story. So from the darkness, I wish you all a fine time. I will admit that this thread just sucked big time. BTW, I am only kidding about the "life being hard" stuff. It is not a big deal, but once I turn off this computer I can guarantee I will walk into some furniture that I could not see. I guess that will be my fault and I cannot blame some cashier at Crappy Tire, then again maybe not. Ciao
Here is the story of Crappy Tire, aka Canadian Tire. I like these GE indoor flood light bulbs for our pot lights. I have had trouble with their light bulbs before and complained. I had a single 25W globe bulb not work when I put it in new. Now, I may or may not have (I admit nothing) dropped the thing before installing it. Anyway to make a long boring story a shorter boring story, I got $20 in coupons for "free" GE light bulbs. To me that could be a business, I pay $3 for 4 bulbs, use three have one dud, and get coupons for $20 in merchandise. Sweet! in my pathetic little world.
Okay, I run into this problem again, though this time I did not drop them for certain, when a bulb burns out in the kitchen. I go to replace it but the bulb sounds like there is something loose in there. Sure enought, it does not work, but the other and last bulb I have works. I call GE to complain and the customer service woman and I play some phone tag for a couple of days. She is very nice when I get in contact with her. There is a file on me, I am thinking that is not a good sign. Anyway, she sends me off more coupons as again the deal is sweet. I pay $2.50 for a bulb that does not work and get $20 in merchandise.
I go to the Crappy Tire at Lawrence Square, or is that Felony Square, to get the bulbs. I grab three boxes of two bulbs and head to the cash. I hand the coupons to the cashier. She looks at them and says she has never seen those before. Somehow she seemed to think that I actually cared about what she had seen before. I need to know her fucking life story? Then she says that I am supposed to send them into GE. I look at her and say, "NO. You are." I am thinking at this point that if she is correct then why didn't GE just send me twenty bucks, but nevermind. Anyway, she stares at the things for another minute, shrugs her shoulders and tells me she does not know what to do. I looked at her, said "Unbelievable!" and told her to forget it.
Now, I am sitting in the fucking dark typing this! I cannot go back there. I grew up in retail. That kind of service was unthinkable to me. I would never have done that and that is the standard I hold all cashiers and clerks to. Now, I have to find a different Crappy Tire to buy my bulbs from or find those GE bulbs elsewhere. Why does life have to be so hard?
I didn't say it was a good or interesting story. I just said it was a story. So from the darkness, I wish you all a fine time. I will admit that this thread just sucked big time. BTW, I am only kidding about the "life being hard" stuff. It is not a big deal, but once I turn off this computer I can guarantee I will walk into some furniture that I could not see. I guess that will be my fault and I cannot blame some cashier at Crappy Tire, then again maybe not. Ciao
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
The comb over, why?
I am back. I noticed something as I got out of the shower this morning. If I can say nothing else good about myself, I have impeccable oral and bodily hygiene, so I have that going for me, which is nice. Of course, it is not as nice as having total consciousness on my death bed, but I guess you have to caddy for the Dalai Lama, himself, to get that. Sorry, too much of a Caddyshack reference. I digress. Where was I.....Oh yeah, the shower. I get out and notice that my hair is thinning, who is kidding who-I am losing my hair, on my head but I seem to have a new growth on a patch of my back just below my neck. What is up with that?!!!!!
Why is that, at least with males, we lose the hair on our heads but gain hair on parts of the body that really do not need it, like the back, ears and nose? Why is that? I am thinking that given the fine texture of my hair and the fact that it grows arrow straight, not a wave or curl to be had, that I should be happy with the hair I have at 40, and I am, but that still does not explain the hair on the back situation. I just do not understand that.
This got me to thinking about really growing out my eyebrows. I could try to go for that Leonid Brehznev look. Lenny Brehznev was leader of the Soviet Union from about the mid 60s until he got a "cold" in 1982/3. I did find that being leader of the Soviet Union and catching a cold at the same time was fatal. I mean those Soviets must have had some sort of supergerm that would give their leaders colds and they would die. Anyway, he had some great brows. First off, he those thick, furrowed brows that made him look like a Neanderthal or CroMagnon, then add two thick, hairy caterpillars and you have his brows. I often noticed that he had the longest eyebrows I had ever seen, except for some creepy Slavic dude I saw at a soccer game at the old PNE in Vancouver back in 1977. I was thinking that if Brehznev did not have a good head of hair, he could have used his eyebrows for a good comb over, or is that comb back, covering his forehead (which was the size of a fucking billboard, damned if his head was not bigger than Ted Kennedy's melon). Those were eye brows, man!
This got me to thinking of this waiter at an engagement party I attended a dozen years ago at the Inn on the Park. Armando, that was the name on his name tag, had a unique comb over. Instead of the side comb over, his came from the back of his head. He had a great part in the back of his head with the hair coming forward into some sort of "Vulcan" widow's peak. In fact, in seeing this "style" in the mirror, I think that the widow hurled herself over the peak so as to not have to be associated with this hair don't at all. I could not help but stare. Did he have some sort of thing on his mirror at home that leads him to believe that he looked good that way?
What sort of self deception do you have to go through to actually believe that yes, with this comb over, it looks like I have a full head of hair. I am one handsome devil. Let the ladies beware, I am on the prowl. Why did he just not go for the balding guy pony tail? Obviously he had enough hair for the full back to front comb over, so a pony tail would have been doable. Of course, it would be just as funny as a mullet. Damn, I giggle like a little girl every time I think of the mullet.
What was up with that comb over? What is up with any comb over? I mean it is like closing your eyes and believing yourself to be invisible. Since you cannot see, obviously others cannot see you. I am sorry, I just do not have the necessary ability for self deception to allow me to attempt the comb over. Not that I am better than those with that, but I am.
Now, get back to your real lives. Ciao!
Why is that, at least with males, we lose the hair on our heads but gain hair on parts of the body that really do not need it, like the back, ears and nose? Why is that? I am thinking that given the fine texture of my hair and the fact that it grows arrow straight, not a wave or curl to be had, that I should be happy with the hair I have at 40, and I am, but that still does not explain the hair on the back situation. I just do not understand that.
This got me to thinking about really growing out my eyebrows. I could try to go for that Leonid Brehznev look. Lenny Brehznev was leader of the Soviet Union from about the mid 60s until he got a "cold" in 1982/3. I did find that being leader of the Soviet Union and catching a cold at the same time was fatal. I mean those Soviets must have had some sort of supergerm that would give their leaders colds and they would die. Anyway, he had some great brows. First off, he those thick, furrowed brows that made him look like a Neanderthal or CroMagnon, then add two thick, hairy caterpillars and you have his brows. I often noticed that he had the longest eyebrows I had ever seen, except for some creepy Slavic dude I saw at a soccer game at the old PNE in Vancouver back in 1977. I was thinking that if Brehznev did not have a good head of hair, he could have used his eyebrows for a good comb over, or is that comb back, covering his forehead (which was the size of a fucking billboard, damned if his head was not bigger than Ted Kennedy's melon). Those were eye brows, man!
This got me to thinking of this waiter at an engagement party I attended a dozen years ago at the Inn on the Park. Armando, that was the name on his name tag, had a unique comb over. Instead of the side comb over, his came from the back of his head. He had a great part in the back of his head with the hair coming forward into some sort of "Vulcan" widow's peak. In fact, in seeing this "style" in the mirror, I think that the widow hurled herself over the peak so as to not have to be associated with this hair don't at all. I could not help but stare. Did he have some sort of thing on his mirror at home that leads him to believe that he looked good that way?
What sort of self deception do you have to go through to actually believe that yes, with this comb over, it looks like I have a full head of hair. I am one handsome devil. Let the ladies beware, I am on the prowl. Why did he just not go for the balding guy pony tail? Obviously he had enough hair for the full back to front comb over, so a pony tail would have been doable. Of course, it would be just as funny as a mullet. Damn, I giggle like a little girl every time I think of the mullet.
What was up with that comb over? What is up with any comb over? I mean it is like closing your eyes and believing yourself to be invisible. Since you cannot see, obviously others cannot see you. I am sorry, I just do not have the necessary ability for self deception to allow me to attempt the comb over. Not that I am better than those with that, but I am.
Now, get back to your real lives. Ciao!
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Another day, another story about cannibals
I am back. I have another cannibalism story that I came across. What is with my fascination about these stories. I swear that I do not search them out, they find me. Here is the story.
Cannibal fantasist gets 13 years for murder
BERLIN (Reuters) - A Berlin man who killed a music teacher and stored his victim's body parts to satisfy cannibalistic fantasies was convicted of murder Tuesday and sentenced to 13 years.
Ralf M., 41, confessed to stabbing Joe R., 33, with a screwdriver during a sexual encounter at his apartment in Neukoelln in southern Berlin.
He then cut up and stored body parts in his fridge, but was in the end too disgusted to eat them as originally planned.
The Berlin court concluded the accused, known in the German media as the "cannibal of Neukoelln," was psychologically disturbed and had developed increasingly pronounced human flesh-eating fantasies over the years.
The prosecution had sought a sentence of almost 15 years for the killer, an unemployed painter, but the court handed down a lesser sentence on the grounds of diminished responsibility. It also ordered his temporary confinement in a psychiatric clinic.
The killer's defense lawyer claimed his client had been influenced by the case of Armin Meiwes, the "cannibal of Rotenburg," who created a worldwide media sensation after he confessed to killing and eating a willing victim in 2001.
Meiwes was convicted of manslaughter in 2004, but faces a retrial on a murder charge later this year.
Like Meiwes, Ralf M. met his victim via the Internet, but unlike the Rotenburg cannibal he deceived the man about his true intentions, the court said.
On my first glance, I thought it was the same German cannibal story but it is a different one. This can only lead to one conclusion, Germans love David Hasselhoff and eating each other. I am not sure what else to draw from this. The other thing that is important to remember if you are going to Germany to eat somebody, you must be open about your true intentions. Deception will not be condoned. I mean once you kill and start eating somebody, you cannot bring them back. What's done is done. However, there is an element of decorum here. Be truthful about your intentions and it is not so bad to eat somebody.
Speaking of Germans, I was thinking, how about that "new" Pope. I hardly consider a 78 year old to be new, so... Joseph Ratzinger! Ratzinger? Didn't he play Cliff Clavin in Cheers? What they couldn't name George Wendt as pope? He has got to be pissed. I mean Ratzinger got to do a voice in Toy Story and Pitney Bowes commercials, where is George Wendt? He needs a gig and this is one of the better gigs going. Huh, that was John Ratzinger? Nevermind.
The interesting thing, or conspiratorial, thing is that way back when some Irish bishop with the name Malachy prophesized all the popes until his end of the papacy (he did this back in the 1000s or 1200s). Anyway, Ratzinger is the second last pope of the prophecy. Given his age, I wonder how long until we hit the "last" pope. Is Armageddon around the corner?
This just in....Apparently a great way to stop a baby from crying is to shake it vigourously. It is just a thought. I was thinking that when somebody else's baby is crying unconsolably in a public place that it be okay to shake the parent. It is just a thought. Going to run now, ciao.
Cannibal fantasist gets 13 years for murder
BERLIN (Reuters) - A Berlin man who killed a music teacher and stored his victim's body parts to satisfy cannibalistic fantasies was convicted of murder Tuesday and sentenced to 13 years.
Ralf M., 41, confessed to stabbing Joe R., 33, with a screwdriver during a sexual encounter at his apartment in Neukoelln in southern Berlin.
He then cut up and stored body parts in his fridge, but was in the end too disgusted to eat them as originally planned.
The Berlin court concluded the accused, known in the German media as the "cannibal of Neukoelln," was psychologically disturbed and had developed increasingly pronounced human flesh-eating fantasies over the years.
The prosecution had sought a sentence of almost 15 years for the killer, an unemployed painter, but the court handed down a lesser sentence on the grounds of diminished responsibility. It also ordered his temporary confinement in a psychiatric clinic.
The killer's defense lawyer claimed his client had been influenced by the case of Armin Meiwes, the "cannibal of Rotenburg," who created a worldwide media sensation after he confessed to killing and eating a willing victim in 2001.
Meiwes was convicted of manslaughter in 2004, but faces a retrial on a murder charge later this year.
Like Meiwes, Ralf M. met his victim via the Internet, but unlike the Rotenburg cannibal he deceived the man about his true intentions, the court said.
On my first glance, I thought it was the same German cannibal story but it is a different one. This can only lead to one conclusion, Germans love David Hasselhoff and eating each other. I am not sure what else to draw from this. The other thing that is important to remember if you are going to Germany to eat somebody, you must be open about your true intentions. Deception will not be condoned. I mean once you kill and start eating somebody, you cannot bring them back. What's done is done. However, there is an element of decorum here. Be truthful about your intentions and it is not so bad to eat somebody.
Speaking of Germans, I was thinking, how about that "new" Pope. I hardly consider a 78 year old to be new, so... Joseph Ratzinger! Ratzinger? Didn't he play Cliff Clavin in Cheers? What they couldn't name George Wendt as pope? He has got to be pissed. I mean Ratzinger got to do a voice in Toy Story and Pitney Bowes commercials, where is George Wendt? He needs a gig and this is one of the better gigs going. Huh, that was John Ratzinger? Nevermind.
The interesting thing, or conspiratorial, thing is that way back when some Irish bishop with the name Malachy prophesized all the popes until his end of the papacy (he did this back in the 1000s or 1200s). Anyway, Ratzinger is the second last pope of the prophecy. Given his age, I wonder how long until we hit the "last" pope. Is Armageddon around the corner?
This just in....Apparently a great way to stop a baby from crying is to shake it vigourously. It is just a thought. I was thinking that when somebody else's baby is crying unconsolably in a public place that it be okay to shake the parent. It is just a thought. Going to run now, ciao.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Happy Mother's Day?
I am back. I do want to wish a belated happy Mother's Day to all those mothers out there actually reading this thing (I figure the number to be less than one, but what do I know). It was a beautiful weekend here, weather wise. I was out on Saturday driving around, windows open and Curis Mayfield blaring. I actually started to play my Curtis Mayfield CD (Move on Up) after I heard some early 70s Stevie Wonder (Superstition) and recalled how I tend to pair early 70s funk and soul with warm, sunny days. It works for me anyway.
I was tooling around doing errands, I could give you details but I did not really care about my interactions buying bagels so why should anybody else? Anyway, I was driving down Marlee Avenue when a couple of things struck. The first is that Marlee is one butt ugly stretch of road. The small strip plazas with apartments above the retail store fronts have never been associated with nice architecture, but I really took a good look. My mistake, it is no wonder that I spent most of my adolescence avoiding that street. I used to think that it was because my father would always take it, with me in the back seat, to get us from his store, on Eglinton, to Lawrence so we could pick up the Allen to get home. I never understood why he did that, then. I did not particularly like that street then, but at least time was on its side as it was the late 60s. There I was in the store delivery vehicle, a beautiful Dodge Dart. My father just loved those Darts back in the day. For a man who had a great sense of the aesthetic in terms of surrounding himself and his home with fine art, no furniture mind you, he really could not give a shit about the "car" that would represent his business. Then again, he was not out in it delivering medication and ice cream so why should he car if the driver liked the car. It had to go and that was it.
The Dodge Dart was the most utilitarian of cars. It was Chrysler "K" car of its day. The slant 6 engine would run forever. In fact, I am sure that the engines in those cars will out last us all. The body, of course, would just start to fall apart. So there he, or the driver, was driving a tank without doors or fenders. My father was not one to keep things together with duct tape. By the 70s he was no longer into sharing the delivery car between business and pleasure, so he got into GM cars. These were nicer looking but he would end his days with a Jaguar, so he did progress.
Anyway, it took me too long to figure out why he went home via Marlee and that it was because the Eglinton-Lawrence stretch of the Allen had not opened at that time. Of course, Marlee has aged since then and it shows and I think that was my point before going off on a tangent or trip down my personal memory lane, later I may take you all on a trip down mammary lane, but only if you kids stop acting up. If I have to yell one more time, I am turning this car around and we are all going home! Wow! That was a flashback. I may explore that one later this week.
In my travels down Marlee on Saturday, I saw a sign outside a hair salon offering Brazilian Wax for $45. It got me to thinking, given the eunuch story from last week, about waxing my ball sack. I am not sure why I was thinking about it but I was. I should be embarrassed by that, but if I was would I be sharing it here? I was thinking that the pain would be exquisite. I mean it is not enough to have warm to hot wax dripped or spread on the sack but then to have the wax RIPPED off taking the hair with it. Wow!!! I feel the pain now. It reminded me of an interview with an actor. When asked how he cried on cue, he said he would pull out a nose hair. I must be a moron because for some strange reason, I tried it. The bastard was right, this moron cried.
I figure that the pain from having the hair from nutsack yanked out, would cause me to cry a river. I have to say that I was lying about crying. I was raised a stoic. I do not cry from physical pain. I swear a lot but I do not cry. Then again, a smooth ball sack may feel nice. I could then get some frilly silk underwear. Then again, if I did that I may never leave the house. Should I show my pearls?
As I got closer to home, a more wonderous thing occurred. I have been driving for twenty five years and I saw something that I had NEVER seen before. I have seen people accidentally or drunkenly drive on the sidewalk for a bit, but never this move. I am heading south looking to make a left turn, while at the intersection ahead of me a northbound car is getting set to turn left (Marlee is a two lane street, though wide). The car behind the northbound car passes on his right. The cunt driving, that is the only way to describe her after her disregard for anybody or anything, passes on the right by driving along the sidewalk for a good three car lengths. She had all four wheels on that sidewalk. I have never seen anything like it.
I have driven with some aggressive drivers and never been involved anything like that. What kind of world are we living in? I really have to keep stuff handy that I can hurl at these people or their vehicles as they pass by me. Oh well, that could be a story for another day.
I am glad you stuck around to see me write about my balls again, though. Ciao!
I was tooling around doing errands, I could give you details but I did not really care about my interactions buying bagels so why should anybody else? Anyway, I was driving down Marlee Avenue when a couple of things struck. The first is that Marlee is one butt ugly stretch of road. The small strip plazas with apartments above the retail store fronts have never been associated with nice architecture, but I really took a good look. My mistake, it is no wonder that I spent most of my adolescence avoiding that street. I used to think that it was because my father would always take it, with me in the back seat, to get us from his store, on Eglinton, to Lawrence so we could pick up the Allen to get home. I never understood why he did that, then. I did not particularly like that street then, but at least time was on its side as it was the late 60s. There I was in the store delivery vehicle, a beautiful Dodge Dart. My father just loved those Darts back in the day. For a man who had a great sense of the aesthetic in terms of surrounding himself and his home with fine art, no furniture mind you, he really could not give a shit about the "car" that would represent his business. Then again, he was not out in it delivering medication and ice cream so why should he car if the driver liked the car. It had to go and that was it.
The Dodge Dart was the most utilitarian of cars. It was Chrysler "K" car of its day. The slant 6 engine would run forever. In fact, I am sure that the engines in those cars will out last us all. The body, of course, would just start to fall apart. So there he, or the driver, was driving a tank without doors or fenders. My father was not one to keep things together with duct tape. By the 70s he was no longer into sharing the delivery car between business and pleasure, so he got into GM cars. These were nicer looking but he would end his days with a Jaguar, so he did progress.
Anyway, it took me too long to figure out why he went home via Marlee and that it was because the Eglinton-Lawrence stretch of the Allen had not opened at that time. Of course, Marlee has aged since then and it shows and I think that was my point before going off on a tangent or trip down my personal memory lane, later I may take you all on a trip down mammary lane, but only if you kids stop acting up. If I have to yell one more time, I am turning this car around and we are all going home! Wow! That was a flashback. I may explore that one later this week.
In my travels down Marlee on Saturday, I saw a sign outside a hair salon offering Brazilian Wax for $45. It got me to thinking, given the eunuch story from last week, about waxing my ball sack. I am not sure why I was thinking about it but I was. I should be embarrassed by that, but if I was would I be sharing it here? I was thinking that the pain would be exquisite. I mean it is not enough to have warm to hot wax dripped or spread on the sack but then to have the wax RIPPED off taking the hair with it. Wow!!! I feel the pain now. It reminded me of an interview with an actor. When asked how he cried on cue, he said he would pull out a nose hair. I must be a moron because for some strange reason, I tried it. The bastard was right, this moron cried.
I figure that the pain from having the hair from nutsack yanked out, would cause me to cry a river. I have to say that I was lying about crying. I was raised a stoic. I do not cry from physical pain. I swear a lot but I do not cry. Then again, a smooth ball sack may feel nice. I could then get some frilly silk underwear. Then again, if I did that I may never leave the house. Should I show my pearls?
As I got closer to home, a more wonderous thing occurred. I have been driving for twenty five years and I saw something that I had NEVER seen before. I have seen people accidentally or drunkenly drive on the sidewalk for a bit, but never this move. I am heading south looking to make a left turn, while at the intersection ahead of me a northbound car is getting set to turn left (Marlee is a two lane street, though wide). The car behind the northbound car passes on his right. The cunt driving, that is the only way to describe her after her disregard for anybody or anything, passes on the right by driving along the sidewalk for a good three car lengths. She had all four wheels on that sidewalk. I have never seen anything like it.
I have driven with some aggressive drivers and never been involved anything like that. What kind of world are we living in? I really have to keep stuff handy that I can hurl at these people or their vehicles as they pass by me. Oh well, that could be a story for another day.
I am glad you stuck around to see me write about my balls again, though. Ciao!
Friday, May 06, 2005
I forgot
I am back. I forgot to wish all my Mexican friends, of which I have none, a happy Cinqo de Mayo. I always wonder when Cinqo de Mayo is. I did come across a funny posting from yesterday at "Love Me or Blow Me, Either Way" which is at www.legakimbo.blogspot.com . It is offensive yet somewhat funny. He has taken to calling it Stinko de Mayo, which I find funny, but then again, I am juvenile and farting to be funny. Take it all for what it is worth.
I have no news stories for you today. I am staying away from anything that smacks of news and going to hide under the covers. After that eunuch story, I am keeping a close eye on the "boys". I do not want them getting too far away from me for fear of losing them. I just thought that now if somebody asks that Indian dude if he keeps his balls in his wife's purse, he can truthfully answer "yes, what's it to you?" I only bring that up because when I was day trading that was Andy Friis's favorite line to me.
Andy was about 25 (1996) and being paid to trade. His rent here was covered so he was really living the life. He was also an excellent trader. However, he did not have his own money at risk nor was he married with a child on the way (we knew we were having one soon after I started, or we would just take one, I mean, how attached can a mother be to a newborn, it is not like it has been around a while and had the chance to really become an important part of her life yet) so it was always easy for him to comment. It always cracked me up that was where he would go when I hesitated. It is as if impulse control problems are manly but if you control your emotions and try to think something through then you are compared to a eunuch. It seems to me that cutting your balls off is far more rash a move than anything that I can think of, short of sticking my penis in the wall outlet just to see how it feels. (It sort of tickles by the way, but don't take my word for it, try it yourself).
I have decided to work blue in this from now on. I just cannot control myself. It is sort of like Tourette's Syndrome, only my tics come out in type. Fuck! Bitch! Slut! Cunt! See I cannot control it. Now look at the words I chose (or did they choose me), makes me wonder if I have a misogynist side after all. I will let you all ponder that one.
That is all for this week, unless I can find something funny or it hits me. Now, I have created the scenario where I will be out tomorrow and some clown will punch me in the head. Damn clowns! Which gets to thinking about my favorite clown, demented clown that is, John Wayne Gacy. You may remember good old John Wayne Gacy, clown by day, mass sodomizer and killer of young men by night. When they arrested him they found a bunch of missing young men in floor boards and walls. They were of course dead, killed by the clown himself. The funny thing is that I bet you did not know that sodomized young men make the best insulation. This is what was need to keep the house warm on those cold Chicago winter nights.
I do not recall if I did my John Wayne Gacy rant thing in an earlier posting. He was a good serial killer, though. One of my favorites. Apparently, Ted Bundy had a child with his prison "wife" (I do not mean some fellow prisoner, either) whom he married and impregnated while he was in prison but before his execution. Somehow, I felt the need to explain him fucking his wife before he was killed as if anybody out there is could not figure that one out. So think about it, the demon spawn of Ted Bundy may be out there.
That is the happy thought for the day and weekend! Have a great one! Ciao!
I have no news stories for you today. I am staying away from anything that smacks of news and going to hide under the covers. After that eunuch story, I am keeping a close eye on the "boys". I do not want them getting too far away from me for fear of losing them. I just thought that now if somebody asks that Indian dude if he keeps his balls in his wife's purse, he can truthfully answer "yes, what's it to you?" I only bring that up because when I was day trading that was Andy Friis's favorite line to me.
Andy was about 25 (1996) and being paid to trade. His rent here was covered so he was really living the life. He was also an excellent trader. However, he did not have his own money at risk nor was he married with a child on the way (we knew we were having one soon after I started, or we would just take one, I mean, how attached can a mother be to a newborn, it is not like it has been around a while and had the chance to really become an important part of her life yet) so it was always easy for him to comment. It always cracked me up that was where he would go when I hesitated. It is as if impulse control problems are manly but if you control your emotions and try to think something through then you are compared to a eunuch. It seems to me that cutting your balls off is far more rash a move than anything that I can think of, short of sticking my penis in the wall outlet just to see how it feels. (It sort of tickles by the way, but don't take my word for it, try it yourself).
I have decided to work blue in this from now on. I just cannot control myself. It is sort of like Tourette's Syndrome, only my tics come out in type. Fuck! Bitch! Slut! Cunt! See I cannot control it. Now look at the words I chose (or did they choose me), makes me wonder if I have a misogynist side after all. I will let you all ponder that one.
That is all for this week, unless I can find something funny or it hits me. Now, I have created the scenario where I will be out tomorrow and some clown will punch me in the head. Damn clowns! Which gets to thinking about my favorite clown, demented clown that is, John Wayne Gacy. You may remember good old John Wayne Gacy, clown by day, mass sodomizer and killer of young men by night. When they arrested him they found a bunch of missing young men in floor boards and walls. They were of course dead, killed by the clown himself. The funny thing is that I bet you did not know that sodomized young men make the best insulation. This is what was need to keep the house warm on those cold Chicago winter nights.
I do not recall if I did my John Wayne Gacy rant thing in an earlier posting. He was a good serial killer, though. One of my favorites. Apparently, Ted Bundy had a child with his prison "wife" (I do not mean some fellow prisoner, either) whom he married and impregnated while he was in prison but before his execution. Somehow, I felt the need to explain him fucking his wife before he was killed as if anybody out there is could not figure that one out. So think about it, the demon spawn of Ted Bundy may be out there.
That is the happy thought for the day and weekend! Have a great one! Ciao!
Thursday, May 05, 2005
More weirdness from around the globe
I am back. I found another story for you all. I just find these things or perhaps they find me. There are those amongst us, and I may be one, who believe that there are no coincidences. All things happen and occur for a reason, we are just not all privy to the reasons or the meaning of the connection. It is a tenet of Buddhism (whatever the spelling may be, ahhh I'll just use the spellcheck) that there is a connection between all things. Everything is interconnected in some way. I think that there is some truth to that belief, but I find my reasoning is suspect.
I figure that the interconnectedness thing occurs but we are just not always capable of "receiving" and understanding the connections and their meanings. I guess that comes with enlightenment. Achieve that and you have achieved it all.
I know this is all very well and good but where is the weirdness, notwithstanding the author. Here it is for you, but I just got sidetracked there by something that struck me. You were just along for the ride. Here is the story:
Absent husband returns home ... as a eunuch
NEW DELHI (Reuters) - An Indian man who left his wife and two young children two years ago shocked his family when he returned home as an eunuch, wearing garish red lipstick, the Asian Age newspaper said Thursday.
After a fight with his wife, the jobless Nabiullah left his family in Hathipur town in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh in the summer of 2003 to look for work, the paper reported.
During his absence, he got himself castrated and became a eunuch, earning money by singing and dancing, a common form of employment among India's ostracized community of eunuchs.
"I was always fond of singing and dancing, but felt suffocated in my body as a man," Nabiullah was quoted as saying.
His wife, Shama Parveen, fainted when he returned home late last month and now wants a divorce.
"I cannot live with this eunuch and subject myself and my children to social ridicule," she was quoted as saying.
Doesn't that end all? I mean I can understand desparate but not so desparate that I would cut my balls off!!!! He CUT OFF HIS BALLS! (I had to yell to get your attention) That is taking some drastic measures. Either that or he really wanted to be a juggler, only now he is juggling with no balls. (hahahahaha) Please let me know if somebody actually can see themselves doing something remotely like that. I guess it makes being a "cutter" child's play or it is X-treme Cutter work, either way it is not my bag (I mean that both figurativly and literally).
Oh yeah, I forgot to shudder about that thought. I know what it is liked to get kicked there and I figure cutting the boys off has to hurt at least ten-fold. OUCH!
Now his wife's reaction is justifiable. It also answers that age old question, which is worse an unemployed husband or one with no nuts. See, I have something going for me, but I digress. I do not need funny comments, these events just occur. What the fuck is wrong with us humans? I cannot see any animal feeling the need or desire to have himself castrated. I guess he "fixed" his wife, or she fixed him, no he fixed himself and as a result, her. Also, when did becoming an entertainer become a job of ridicule. Should we go make fun of the "stars" of Bollywood and Hollywood?
Actually, that is not a bad idea when I think about it. Does anybody really care about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (except for the two of them)? Actually, that was the topic of conversation at the outlaws' last Friday evening. My wife's aunt brought it up, so I left the room to choke on my bile and avoid hearing anything that would set me off. I need to refill my Valium, I am just too on edge. I am really off on a tangent right now, so I will come back now.
I guess his death would have been less shameful to his family, or wife, at least. Wow!
I found another funny one here.
SOFIA (Reuters) - A Bulgarian who dipped his hands into a popular public fountain in central Sofia was electrocuted because of faulty insulation in the fountain's lights and pump, the news agency FOCUS quoted prosecutors as saying Thursday.
The death of 33-year-old Veselin Petrov late Wednesday has spurred authorities into ordering rapid checks of other fountains in the Bulgarian capital, FOCUS said.
Other people in the Bulgarian capital had reported receiving shocks from the recently opened fountain but no action had been taken, the news agency added.
Check other fountains? D'ya think? I am thinking it was to be a tourist draw to Sofia. Come see and feel the Shock fountain! Every fifteenth visitor gets a free electrocution! (sort of brings to mind the posted odds on the big slot machines in the casinos in Las Vegas, a 96% payout type thing) I guess on the scale of crappy vacation spots that would rank up there with the Rusted Barbed Wire Playground in Albania. It is funny, though. As Homer Simpson (it is sad that I am quoting a cartoon character, but the writing is top notch) once said, "It is funny because I don't know the guy" or "It's funny because it's not me." It is good either way.
That is today's ravings, though they may be less ravings and more pithy observations, or less than that. Keep your heads held high and ciao!
I figure that the interconnectedness thing occurs but we are just not always capable of "receiving" and understanding the connections and their meanings. I guess that comes with enlightenment. Achieve that and you have achieved it all.
I know this is all very well and good but where is the weirdness, notwithstanding the author. Here it is for you, but I just got sidetracked there by something that struck me. You were just along for the ride. Here is the story:
Absent husband returns home ... as a eunuch
NEW DELHI (Reuters) - An Indian man who left his wife and two young children two years ago shocked his family when he returned home as an eunuch, wearing garish red lipstick, the Asian Age newspaper said Thursday.
After a fight with his wife, the jobless Nabiullah left his family in Hathipur town in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh in the summer of 2003 to look for work, the paper reported.
During his absence, he got himself castrated and became a eunuch, earning money by singing and dancing, a common form of employment among India's ostracized community of eunuchs.
"I was always fond of singing and dancing, but felt suffocated in my body as a man," Nabiullah was quoted as saying.
His wife, Shama Parveen, fainted when he returned home late last month and now wants a divorce.
"I cannot live with this eunuch and subject myself and my children to social ridicule," she was quoted as saying.
Doesn't that end all? I mean I can understand desparate but not so desparate that I would cut my balls off!!!! He CUT OFF HIS BALLS! (I had to yell to get your attention) That is taking some drastic measures. Either that or he really wanted to be a juggler, only now he is juggling with no balls. (hahahahaha) Please let me know if somebody actually can see themselves doing something remotely like that. I guess it makes being a "cutter" child's play or it is X-treme Cutter work, either way it is not my bag (I mean that both figurativly and literally).
Oh yeah, I forgot to shudder about that thought. I know what it is liked to get kicked there and I figure cutting the boys off has to hurt at least ten-fold. OUCH!
Now his wife's reaction is justifiable. It also answers that age old question, which is worse an unemployed husband or one with no nuts. See, I have something going for me, but I digress. I do not need funny comments, these events just occur. What the fuck is wrong with us humans? I cannot see any animal feeling the need or desire to have himself castrated. I guess he "fixed" his wife, or she fixed him, no he fixed himself and as a result, her. Also, when did becoming an entertainer become a job of ridicule. Should we go make fun of the "stars" of Bollywood and Hollywood?
Actually, that is not a bad idea when I think about it. Does anybody really care about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (except for the two of them)? Actually, that was the topic of conversation at the outlaws' last Friday evening. My wife's aunt brought it up, so I left the room to choke on my bile and avoid hearing anything that would set me off. I need to refill my Valium, I am just too on edge. I am really off on a tangent right now, so I will come back now.
I guess his death would have been less shameful to his family, or wife, at least. Wow!
I found another funny one here.
SOFIA (Reuters) - A Bulgarian who dipped his hands into a popular public fountain in central Sofia was electrocuted because of faulty insulation in the fountain's lights and pump, the news agency FOCUS quoted prosecutors as saying Thursday.
The death of 33-year-old Veselin Petrov late Wednesday has spurred authorities into ordering rapid checks of other fountains in the Bulgarian capital, FOCUS said.
Other people in the Bulgarian capital had reported receiving shocks from the recently opened fountain but no action had been taken, the news agency added.
Check other fountains? D'ya think? I am thinking it was to be a tourist draw to Sofia. Come see and feel the Shock fountain! Every fifteenth visitor gets a free electrocution! (sort of brings to mind the posted odds on the big slot machines in the casinos in Las Vegas, a 96% payout type thing) I guess on the scale of crappy vacation spots that would rank up there with the Rusted Barbed Wire Playground in Albania. It is funny, though. As Homer Simpson (it is sad that I am quoting a cartoon character, but the writing is top notch) once said, "It is funny because I don't know the guy" or "It's funny because it's not me." It is good either way.
That is today's ravings, though they may be less ravings and more pithy observations, or less than that. Keep your heads held high and ciao!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Jackals in the yard
I am back. I wake up this morning, which is always a good way to begin the day. I mean if I don't wake up, I am thinking that the day may not be going so well, but of course, that has never happened to me. Be that as it may, I wake up and open the blinds in the bedroom. The bedroom faces east and our front yard. I notice that our next door neighbors have pitched a white slipcovered sofa and loveseat.
I was thinking that if I added a table in front there it would look like an outdoor cafe. I was thinking of adding my own touch to their garbage and turning it into a piece of art. Art that would be picked through and hauled away before municipal garbage collection tomorrow. I guess it would be more of a performance piece, which given the proximity to a curve in the road could be hazardous. Then again, I have often thought that part of joy of watching car racing (F1, NASCAR, IRL, CART it makes no difference in terms of the thought) was the anticipation and dark hope for a crash. I mean nobody wants to see somebody get hurt or killed but the spectacle of mangled metal could be rather exciting. It is like an applied physics demonstration. I figure a performance piece like that there could cause somebody to miss the curve and meet the concrete light standard, which could be bad, yet an interesting spectacle.
Anyway, as I observed when we pitched crap from the basement, things started to disappear. First, I notice that the slipcovers were removed and gone. Easy come, easy go, since those could be cleaned, I think, and would be rather portable. Next, I notice some guy checking out the cushions and really having a good look, though he is on foot. I have to say that it drizzled a bit while they were outside, exposed, so I was not shocked when the guy did not sit on cushions or sofa to check for comfort.
I look again a half hour later and notice that the space is empty. I did not hear a truck or car stop to pick the stuff up. I look further and see some guy walking away from the houses carrying the sofa above his head. It looked a bit like an ant carrying a crumb from a cookie. It was pretty funny, but I do not know where he was going. I do not know if he had a truck or van nearby and if he got both pieces.
If you leave anything outside, in front of your house here, the jackals will devour it. It is like a pack of hyenas. There is nothing left. Like a hyena, they will even eat the bones, not just the rotting flesh from the bones. It is quite a sight. Hyenas, jackals and those picking through other's garbage or refuse.
That is all that I have for you today. Ciao.
I was thinking that if I added a table in front there it would look like an outdoor cafe. I was thinking of adding my own touch to their garbage and turning it into a piece of art. Art that would be picked through and hauled away before municipal garbage collection tomorrow. I guess it would be more of a performance piece, which given the proximity to a curve in the road could be hazardous. Then again, I have often thought that part of joy of watching car racing (F1, NASCAR, IRL, CART it makes no difference in terms of the thought) was the anticipation and dark hope for a crash. I mean nobody wants to see somebody get hurt or killed but the spectacle of mangled metal could be rather exciting. It is like an applied physics demonstration. I figure a performance piece like that there could cause somebody to miss the curve and meet the concrete light standard, which could be bad, yet an interesting spectacle.
Anyway, as I observed when we pitched crap from the basement, things started to disappear. First, I notice that the slipcovers were removed and gone. Easy come, easy go, since those could be cleaned, I think, and would be rather portable. Next, I notice some guy checking out the cushions and really having a good look, though he is on foot. I have to say that it drizzled a bit while they were outside, exposed, so I was not shocked when the guy did not sit on cushions or sofa to check for comfort.
I look again a half hour later and notice that the space is empty. I did not hear a truck or car stop to pick the stuff up. I look further and see some guy walking away from the houses carrying the sofa above his head. It looked a bit like an ant carrying a crumb from a cookie. It was pretty funny, but I do not know where he was going. I do not know if he had a truck or van nearby and if he got both pieces.
If you leave anything outside, in front of your house here, the jackals will devour it. It is like a pack of hyenas. There is nothing left. Like a hyena, they will even eat the bones, not just the rotting flesh from the bones. It is quite a sight. Hyenas, jackals and those picking through other's garbage or refuse.
That is all that I have for you today. Ciao.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Just another observation
I am back. Another observation or thought occurred to me. They just come to me. It is almost like my observation of the people you see sunning themselves on nude beaches being people that should keep their clothes on. If you see somebody wearing sandles with socks, invariably English will NOT be their first language. There is a bit of a qualifier though, and it is this. If the sandles in question are Birkenstocks and socks are grey and wool, then English may be the first language but they will be loony leftists in which case, though they may use English, they WILL be speaking a foreign and absurd language, though it may sound like English. You will, of course, have to trace out what they say.
Another thought came to me, too. It was a while back at a dinner at my in laws' house. My wife's aunt was there and I guess she was talking, (I think this is done because silence obviously scares these people, they have never met a silence that they did not want to fill with banal and inane monologues)[was anybody listening?] about somebody (never about ideas, always about people in the suburbs, who should remain there) and sex. Her line was "I like to get laid just like the next person..." I thought about that and I still cannot get that image out of my head. I have tried alcohol, Valium, pot, LSD, PCP. I would rub a magnet on my head to disable my brain but that damn image of her aunt having sex with the uncle is burned in my brain. I need help with that one because the thought is putting me off sex. I think that I will become a monk or monkey. If I were a monkey, I could throw my feces at people. I could do it now but then that is just "crazy" and dirty. As a monkey it is not considered psychotic behavior.
That was the observation and I must go. Ciao!
Another thought came to me, too. It was a while back at a dinner at my in laws' house. My wife's aunt was there and I guess she was talking, (I think this is done because silence obviously scares these people, they have never met a silence that they did not want to fill with banal and inane monologues)[was anybody listening?] about somebody (never about ideas, always about people in the suburbs, who should remain there) and sex. Her line was "I like to get laid just like the next person..." I thought about that and I still cannot get that image out of my head. I have tried alcohol, Valium, pot, LSD, PCP. I would rub a magnet on my head to disable my brain but that damn image of her aunt having sex with the uncle is burned in my brain. I need help with that one because the thought is putting me off sex. I think that I will become a monk or monkey. If I were a monkey, I could throw my feces at people. I could do it now but then that is just "crazy" and dirty. As a monkey it is not considered psychotic behavior.
That was the observation and I must go. Ciao!
Monday, May 02, 2005
T'was the day after May Day
I am back. Yesterday was May Day. That is the day for the workers. It is the one day when we, the workers, can dream of throwing off the yoke of capitalist oppression. After the revolution comes we will then live in a workers' utopia. That is enough of the Marxist dream. Actually, I see it as more of an opium induced dream but what do I know?
I know that the whole Marxist system is/was destined to fail from the very beginning. I mean the fatal flaw is so simple to see, yet is always glossed over by advocates of Marxism. The irony is that where Marx called religion the opiate of the masses, the modern day advocates of Marxism cling to the doctrine with a religious fervor. Their beliefs cannot be shaken regardless of REALITY. Damn thing that physical evidence and inductive reasoning, I mean if it does not support what we WANT to believe then scientific method MUST be WRONG, it cannot be our beliefs that need to be reexamined. That is just too damn painful and smells of intellectual and ego work.
The fatal flaw is that Marx in his infinite wisdom to come up with a system or framework for the interworkings of people within a society, an equitable society at that, disregarded the one thing that is most germaine, people and human nature. The crazed old man factored out humanity from his system of humans. It boggles my mind why others cannot see the problem. A real example of this is how governments the world over play around with their tax codes in order to change human behavior. They will raise taxes on cigarettes which increases their costs and gets some people motivated to quit smoking.
That is but an example. However, I have found that those espousing left wing economic policy seem to get it all wrong. When questioned about the use of Marxism or socialism in the old East bloc, the answer was always that the system was right but those administering were the problem. That was true, but it always assumed that they could do better, that they understood people or mass psychology better. WRONG!
I am reading this and as fascinating as I find it, I think that I may be boring anybody who has read this far. I apologize and will quit the Commie talk. I will end that point with this thought but it is safer to disregard any system that protends to regulate a society that does not take into account human psychology, as it is something designed for people so you cannot very well factor them out of the thing, can you?, with any success.
Let's get on with the funny stuff. I wish I had something funny to say today. I am trying to think of stories about my outlaws. They are always funny. I am always struck by the absurd. Like how come you never hear of people with cancer of the hair or finger nails?
Geez, I've got nothing. I paid my taxes. Just change that line to "dues" (yes, that is correct, "I dues my taxes") and add an "I know what a chiral carbon is" and have Andy Meyers whip a shot glass at my leg for "sleeping" on "his" couch or the couch he attempted to stake a claim on when he arrived, sucker, and I am taken back twenty plus years to a drunken road trip to RPI, an engineers university in Troy, NY. Of course, that journey started with two pledges in blindfolds and a near accident on the Gardiner Expressway in rush hour traffic on a Friday in October. Again, there is more information than anybody really wants and only a few actually know where I am coming from here. If you do know, please let me know as I am so lost at this second in time that I am actually typing whatever comes into my head, as if that is not apparent.
Well I do have one that I culled in my travels, here it goes.
Thai Jumbo Queen says fat is beautiful
NAKHON PATHOM, Thailand (Reuters) - In an era of chiselled supermodels and bizarre weight-loss diets a Thai beauty contest celebrated women with a bit of flesh on Sunday when heavy-weight contestants battled for the Miss Jumbo Queen crown.
The annual contest, which aims to raise awareness and money for Thailand's dwindling elephant population, allows full-sized women weighing over 80 kg (12.5 stone) to show weight-conscious Thais that big is beautiful.
This year, 24 women participated in the contest at the Samphran Elephant Ground and Zoo, 40 miles west of the capital Bangkok.
"I want to show people that just because I'm fat doesn't mean I'm any less beautiful or talented," said 18-year-old winner, Tarnrarin Chansawang, who weighed in at 110 kg.
Tarnrarin, a bubbly business student and tuba player from Bangkok, took home several prizes, including a Jumbo-sized trophy and 50,000 baht (680 pounds)
Judges also looked at other talents of the contestants who mesmerised hundreds of spectators with raunchy dance numbers and revealing costumes.
In keeping with Jumbo tradition, a side award for Miss Jumbo Universe went to university student Thanchanok Mekkeaw for weighing in as the heaviest competitor in the pageant at 182 kg.
Now, isn't that a touching story. Again, I am not into the fat thing but that is just me. If that is your thing, then all the power to you. The obvious thing is the "fat" pagent to raise elephant awareness. That is delicious (so was the elephant). I will leave it at that as I am now giggling (Reggie, lol). Ciao.
I know that the whole Marxist system is/was destined to fail from the very beginning. I mean the fatal flaw is so simple to see, yet is always glossed over by advocates of Marxism. The irony is that where Marx called religion the opiate of the masses, the modern day advocates of Marxism cling to the doctrine with a religious fervor. Their beliefs cannot be shaken regardless of REALITY. Damn thing that physical evidence and inductive reasoning, I mean if it does not support what we WANT to believe then scientific method MUST be WRONG, it cannot be our beliefs that need to be reexamined. That is just too damn painful and smells of intellectual and ego work.
The fatal flaw is that Marx in his infinite wisdom to come up with a system or framework for the interworkings of people within a society, an equitable society at that, disregarded the one thing that is most germaine, people and human nature. The crazed old man factored out humanity from his system of humans. It boggles my mind why others cannot see the problem. A real example of this is how governments the world over play around with their tax codes in order to change human behavior. They will raise taxes on cigarettes which increases their costs and gets some people motivated to quit smoking.
That is but an example. However, I have found that those espousing left wing economic policy seem to get it all wrong. When questioned about the use of Marxism or socialism in the old East bloc, the answer was always that the system was right but those administering were the problem. That was true, but it always assumed that they could do better, that they understood people or mass psychology better. WRONG!
I am reading this and as fascinating as I find it, I think that I may be boring anybody who has read this far. I apologize and will quit the Commie talk. I will end that point with this thought but it is safer to disregard any system that protends to regulate a society that does not take into account human psychology, as it is something designed for people so you cannot very well factor them out of the thing, can you?, with any success.
Let's get on with the funny stuff. I wish I had something funny to say today. I am trying to think of stories about my outlaws. They are always funny. I am always struck by the absurd. Like how come you never hear of people with cancer of the hair or finger nails?
Geez, I've got nothing. I paid my taxes. Just change that line to "dues" (yes, that is correct, "I dues my taxes") and add an "I know what a chiral carbon is" and have Andy Meyers whip a shot glass at my leg for "sleeping" on "his" couch or the couch he attempted to stake a claim on when he arrived, sucker, and I am taken back twenty plus years to a drunken road trip to RPI, an engineers university in Troy, NY. Of course, that journey started with two pledges in blindfolds and a near accident on the Gardiner Expressway in rush hour traffic on a Friday in October. Again, there is more information than anybody really wants and only a few actually know where I am coming from here. If you do know, please let me know as I am so lost at this second in time that I am actually typing whatever comes into my head, as if that is not apparent.
Well I do have one that I culled in my travels, here it goes.
Thai Jumbo Queen says fat is beautiful
NAKHON PATHOM, Thailand (Reuters) - In an era of chiselled supermodels and bizarre weight-loss diets a Thai beauty contest celebrated women with a bit of flesh on Sunday when heavy-weight contestants battled for the Miss Jumbo Queen crown.
The annual contest, which aims to raise awareness and money for Thailand's dwindling elephant population, allows full-sized women weighing over 80 kg (12.5 stone) to show weight-conscious Thais that big is beautiful.
This year, 24 women participated in the contest at the Samphran Elephant Ground and Zoo, 40 miles west of the capital Bangkok.
"I want to show people that just because I'm fat doesn't mean I'm any less beautiful or talented," said 18-year-old winner, Tarnrarin Chansawang, who weighed in at 110 kg.
Tarnrarin, a bubbly business student and tuba player from Bangkok, took home several prizes, including a Jumbo-sized trophy and 50,000 baht (680 pounds)
Judges also looked at other talents of the contestants who mesmerised hundreds of spectators with raunchy dance numbers and revealing costumes.
In keeping with Jumbo tradition, a side award for Miss Jumbo Universe went to university student Thanchanok Mekkeaw for weighing in as the heaviest competitor in the pageant at 182 kg.
Now, isn't that a touching story. Again, I am not into the fat thing but that is just me. If that is your thing, then all the power to you. The obvious thing is the "fat" pagent to raise elephant awareness. That is delicious (so was the elephant). I will leave it at that as I am now giggling (Reggie, lol). Ciao.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
