I am Latrell Sprewell and I will strangle you

I am back. I did not have much to say but I came across something that appealed to me. Realize that I am a student of professional basketball and history so that is the context today. Well, it seems that there is a report out of Milwaukee that Latrell Sprewell is being investigated for sexual assault. He was an NBA player though he did not play last year. He is in his mid 30s and had lost a step. Anyway, he was in a snit because his team, Minnesota, would not pony up 7 Million a season for him to play. Anything less was an insult and how could he feed his family. This was a guy who was "thrown" off the Golden State Warriors for trying to strangle his coach (PJ Carlissimo).

Anyway, the report said that he and a 21 year old female were having consensual sex aboard his yacht (this was the same yacht, on which he threw a punch, breaking his hand, at the face of one of his guests, whose wife had gotten watersick and puked on the yacht) when he began to strangle her. The police allegedly observed red marks on her neck. It is all so clear now, Sprewell was not trying to harm his coach but wanted to sex him up. It was just a bit of foreplay or rough sex. It is all so clear now.

That has to make PJ Carilissimo feel much better. Ciao!

Of Mail Order Brides and Surfing

I am back. Today, my thoughts have turned to mail order brides. Can you see a woman "buying"/renting a man? Just the concept of the mail order bride. Can you find "happiness" online or by post? I figure that Canada Post has enough trouble just delivering my mail, and my address is on that shit, how are they going to be able to ensure "my" bride arrives and has not been folded, spindled or mutilated (that is my "job" by the way and why I need them to arrive pristine and appear virginal). How much does it cost to "mail" a human being and how do you pack that?

I am not sure where that came from or why. I just went with it. I am learning that I should not fight those bursts of insanity and just ride them out. It is like neural surfing. It is obviously as close as I will ever get to surfing the ocean. The biggest difference is that when you fall off neurally there is no danger of your board smacking you on the head, concussing you and leaving you to drown. Well, that and no worrying about getting attacked by a shark. You just ride the wave of thought. You fall off your board when you fight it. That only leads to concussion and ending up as shark feed, or a water bloated corpse. I have gone from a thrilling water activity to death in only one simple step.

I am not afraid to surf, I just do not live near an ocean. That is something I do not like. Yet, I have never lived seaside for any length of time, so what the hell do I know? I may just go out and become an environmental activist. I know the pay is lousy but I do get to take an extreme position and hug trees, so I have that going for me. Sorry to leave you all hanging like this but I gotta go. Ciao!

Of Coat Racks, Bone Racks and Phyllis Diller

I am back. I did not post on Friday. How is that for obvious? Before I begin, I want to send a shout out to my sister. It is her birthday today. Of course, I have not told her about this blog nor does she have the address, so....then again, neither does my brother, mother, wife or any family,just friends. I have been honest about my family, in as much as it seen through my eyes, but there is still some fear that they would neither understand or see the humor in things they do as I see it. Anyway, Happy Birthday to my little sister.

I did have one thing that I forgot to mention last week regarding "The Aristocrats". The movie had Phyllis Diller. That is all. No really. She scared me. It was the fact that the camera showed her face and from the neck down. She was in a sleeveless or short sleeved number. That is not a good look for her. She has to be about 200 years old if she is a day. The plastic surgery on her face makes her look a lot younger than her 200 years but her neck and arms, blahhh!

That was a sight I could without. It looked like she was just a head on an accordian. There were so many folds of flesh. So much excess skin that she could fit Rosie O'Donnel inside her skin with her and it would still be loose. I think that Rosie would really like being inside Phyllis as well.

It was a sight. She is some kind of bone rack. It is like a skeleton, no muscle, covered with too much skin. Kind of like when Tom Hanks turned back to the young Josh Basner at the end of "Big". Only instead of clothes hanging on him/her, it was skin. Yet another image permanently burned in my brain. How the hell do I sleep at night?

Ciao!

"The Aristocrats" - an example of the larger truth

I am back. I wanted to mention that I watched "The Aristocrats" the other night. For those of you who do not know, it is a documentary style movie, done by Penn Jillette of Penn and Teller fame, on a bunch of stand up comedians doing an old, disgusting joke called the Artistocrats. The point of it is, it is not the joke but the set up.

My wife did not enjoy it. She found the joke as told to be disgusting. That is the point. It is the joke tellers version of free form jazz. The only things that are necessary is the set up and the punchline. The stuff in the middle can be improvised. That improvisation comes from the darkest part of the brain and is full of disgusting, degrading and illegal activities. It always involves lots of bodily fluids, any and all, along with gross acts of indecency that decorum forbids me from listing them here. Then you end with the punchline "the Aristocrats".

The joke itself is not that funny. I mean the punchline is not really funny but when you break the joke down, it becomes apparent that it is all in the set up. It is the journey and not the destination that is the important thing. It is like that in life. The destination is known (and non too pleasant in my eyes since it is the unknown, though religious ideas of an afterlife aside, be honest with yourself it is a matter of faith and not fact, which is okay) so the meaning and fun can only come in the journey.

The damn movie spoke to me in a profound way. Funny how the message came in a disgusting, but thoroughly funny, medium. It was a movie that spoke too a larger truth. It also had some great telling of the joke and breaking it down by some of the best stand up comics of my generation including George Carlin, Gilbert Gottfried, Paul Reiser and Larry Miller. It was good and that is all I will say about it for now. Ciao!

It is official, I have an Amish fetish

I am back. Did I offend anybody with my Mennonite porn idea? I certainly hope so. I find the Mennonites and Amish rather quaint. They may have it right. Work your ass off all day by building barns and plowing the field, then plow the wife's field by night. I mean it does not leave much time for fun sin, like Internet porn or even baudy talk.

I do not know where I am going with this. I guess an afternoon in St. Jacobs can make a guy think. Then again, equating corn brooms with cool really makes me think, or is that wonder. I am starting to think that I have a bit of an Amish fetish. I was thinking of getting the wife the black dress and bonnet. I would have the requisite beard sans moustache, hat, black suit with white shirt and come up with some biblical name (like David is not biblical) like Ezekiel (call me Zeke for short).

That reminds me, way back when, when we were discussing names for our yet unborn child, we thought of naming the lad Ezekiel. The idea of little Zeke sounded so cute. Then it really dawned on me, to name your son Zeke was to condemn him to a life of whittling on the porch and a lot of spitting. That would have just been cruel. I am a lot of things but cruel is not one of them. I may be nasty but I prefer to screw up my kin the old fashioned way, slowly and over time. Naming the lad Ezekiel would have sped up that process. Needless to say, he is not a Zeke.

That is almost as funny as my brother putting the kibosh on our neice's potential name (our sister's child) by saying that Emily is a fat girls name (no offense to any chick's named Emily out there). Well, all of sudden, Emily was out and Emma was in. (There is a thing for "E" names in the family due to our father, who you should all meet one day, but not too soon because I need the readers).

Back to my Amish fetish. I could see myself nailing my wife, nailing, I am such a romantic, against the buggy while the horses watched. How cool would that be? I guess it would be cooler to do it in front of the corn broom maker, while he is making his corn brooms. The wife would have to be naked but I would insist she keep the bonnet on. Ohhhhh baby! I am done, literally, I should go clean up. Now the keyboard is getting sticky, WTF! I thought the idea of puke in my keyboard was bad but this has taken it to a new level. How do I explain this to the service geeks at Best Buy? That is my problem not yours. Ciao!

Crystal Meth Teeth

I am back. Nothing interesting has occurred in the last little while. I know that has not stopped me in the past from ranting about something but I am mellow today. I guess there is just not nearly enough caffeine coursing through my veins. I guess this is the time that I should consider an amphetamine or crystal meth habit. Then again, seeing the pictures of the mouths of crystal meth addicts really puts me off trying that shit. Besides, I figure like cocaine, I would enjoy it too much.

Have you ever seen the teeth of crystal meth users? That is one ugly habit that eats away at your teeth. It would be kind of like drinking Coke and holding it in your mouth for a month. I know that is not easy but I will give five bucks to anybody who can do it and prove it to me. (Nice subjective and nebulous definition, so try collecting you toothless git ). It is brutal. Any drug that causes you to lose teeth (or have them sort of melt away) like that is NOT for me. Give me my heroin or hillbilly heroin any day.

I am listening to Green Day presents American Idiot with the lad. He is into Green Day. We are listening to "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and a comment has just been made. "Dad, you swear a lot but not as much as Billy Jo Armstrong (singer of Green Day)". That says it all, I think.

I guess not because I have more to say. I was reading that hailstorms have destroyed the basil crop near Genoa, Italy. There will be a shortage of pesto now. That is too bad because how can a paste of basil, garlic, pine nuts and parmasean cheese be bad. I could spread that stuff over just about anything and eat it. Hmmmm, that gives me an idea.

Well that is all for today. Ciao!

I have heard it said that Corn Brooms are cool!

I am back. I wanted to update you all on a forgotten image that I did not write about on Thursday. I bring you back to the hair stylist (read barber) downtown who needed the back of head cut down to remove the shoulder length hair. What I should have mentioned, but forgot at the time, is that I have not seen a hairstyle like that since Ben Franklin was flying kites near Philadelphia. That should bring the image home to you all.

On to new business. The wife, it is always the wife, wanted an outing to St. Jacobs. It is in the heart of Mennonite Ontario. We went on Sunday. It was interesting, though I am not sure why. It was a mindless and uneventful drive to and from. As we pulled into a parking spot on the main village street, my wife spies the place where they make corn brooms. She then exclaims to the lad and myself, "We can see them make corn brooms. That is cool!"

Let's stop this right now. Equating the making of corn brooms with cool??!!!!! I had to call her on that one. In fact, I keep quoting Rufus Wainwright "If making corn brooms is your idea of really cool...." If corn broom making is cool, then I am the most LAME and UNCOOL dude you will ever meet. If that is the case, I will stay away from cool. Can you see Fonzie making corn brooms? I know I cannot, so corn broom making cannot be cool.

It gets funnier. We get back home and the wife tells one of her friends about the day trip. She asks about corn brooms. What is wrong with these women?

My wife wanted to point out the buggies, men in black and women in black with bonnets to the lad. She wanted to see a barn going up. though I think that is the Amish (that is all I recall from Witness, anyway). I had to remind her that those Jesus fearing folk would have been doing their church day of rest and all. That is why there were no buggy sightings.

We did see three older ladies in black with black bonnets strolling the main street as we driving away. It was then my turned askew. I mused to myself about the availability of Mennonite or even Amish porn. I guess to "make it" would take electricity so it may be out of the question. Then again, Mennonite porn may be just a live sex show featuring Mennonites or the Amish. Then again, the thought of seeing Jebiddiah naked, except for his socks and the silly beard without the moustache (think C. Everett Koop), just does not do it for me.

Now I have to wonder if there is a Mennonite/Amish fetishist out there. I am thinking that there must be. Given Kelly McGillis in the aforementioned Witness, it would not be that unusual. She was one hot Amish chick. She also starred with Han Solo himself, Harrison Ford. That was before she was psycho Tom Cruise's love interest in Top Gun. Or was it after? I know I am looking at 1985/6 as my frame of reference.

Back to the Amish/Mennonite fetish, ohh baby, take off your bonnet. Do it slowly! Ohhhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! That hits the spot! Yes! Yes! Yes! Sorry, honey, I am sure that will come out of your dress. By the way, my name is Isaiah! Ciao!

Cauldron of Funk

I am back. I saw Stinky Guy at Mayfair today. I did not spend much time near him so I can honestly say I did not smell him. I did see him when I was going to shower. I thought that I saw his head as he was sitting in the hot tub or whirlpool. After my shower, when I was changing, I saw him already dressed and knew it was him in the hot tub. I do not think that I will be going into that hot tub for a while. It must be a Cauldron of Stink. No, it is a Cauldron of Funk.

Cauldron of Funk would be a great name for a band, though. If anybody uses it, I expect the proper credit, money. Have a great weekend and Ciao!

The post with no name

I am back. I have seen some more weirdness this week. I was able to shadow a mediator on two mediations. The first of which should have been simple but turned out to be very unique, once in a lifetime type of an experience. It was rather disturbing when put in context. I cannot get into it, though.

I was downtown yesterday and walked by a barber shop in the concourse of an office building. The dude cutting hair was balding. It was one of those horseshoe things with hair on the side and back but none up front or on top. His hair in the back was down to his shoulders. It was either good for the Armando comb forward or variation on the mullet, except with no hair up top. In any event, it mixes the two styles of hair that annoy me. It was not a good look for anybody. If a dude who makes his living by clipping hair looks like that, what confidence can you have in his ability to cut your hair? I realize that it would be difficult for him to cut his own hair and the question I am asking is more about his personal style not matching the image that he needs to portray as a man practicing the tonsorial arts.

I caught a headline "Tigers attack in northern Sri Lanka". I got excited at first thinking that the people of northern Sri Lanka are getting attacked by LARGE jungle cats. Then it dawned on me that it was the Tamil Tigers and their on going battle against the Sinhalese and Sri Lanka. Not as funny that way, pretty sad, actually. Will that one change? I do not know.

There was somebody who stunk out in public today. I will not say where. I will not say who as I do not know. The body was odor was just plain rank, though. Man, is it so much to ask and expect people to shower regularly? Fuck!

That is all. Smell you later. Ciao!

Suffocates in manure? Can it be?

I am back. Whoever is hacking into my site here, please, stop it! With that out of the way, I was struck by something in the news today. Some 19 year old dude died by suffocating in a large manure pile (pit?) when his tractor fell in. That is one of those workplace accidents that is just freaky. I can think of a million ways to go, but not once did I consider suffocating in shit. How does the family explain that one to others without the urge to snicker. They did lose a child and that is not funny. Yet, when adding "suffocating in manure/shit", the funny factor raises its inappropriate laughter head. Just ponder that scene.

The weekend was okay. We had the family of one of the lad's friends over for dinner. The boy, my son's friend, has tried to sleep over before, but he was not quite ready to do it, for what ever reason. It was not, nor is it, a big deal. Dinner was lovely, with my wife preparing and me doing the barbecue. We had shrimp, only it was a Costco jumbo bag of shrimp. We spent too long taking the shells off those ugly buggers and sticking them on the skewers. They were good but there were WAY too many. I guess I have barbecued shrimp for another dinner. There are worse things, like reading this banal shit.

Sorry for boring you with the boring details of my life. Hell, I lived it and it was boring. Thankfully there was alcohol to make it appear more exciting than it was. Either that, or it distorts my sense of time enough so that I do not realize how innane my life actually is. I would say "has become" but I do not think it has really changed in twenty years. I do not recall if it was Thoreau or Voltaire who wrote of men living lives of quiet desperation. It is true, though, given my trips to Mayfair, it may lives of stinking perspiration. The jury is still out on that one.

Fidel Castro is improving. It is good that the 80 year old dictator has some tyrant life left in him. Keep fighting the good fight, Fidel. We miss you. Your people miss you. They may be hungry but at least they have Florida type weather, so little need to worry about heating the shack in the winter.

I have noticed that you do not see enough children named Chester these days. Where are the Ethels, Berthas and Beulahs hiding? Just wondering. Ciao!

The post with no title

I am back. I have gotten nothing done today. Again, why should this day be any different from the last, oh, ten years. It must be summer, because nobody is around, on my schedule. They are all out of town. It is frustrating in as much as I do not control it. Oh well, I will have to live with it and make the most of it. Carpe Diem!!!

The lad returns home today. That should be fun as I am nearly ready go and retrieve him. I am curious to hear about his three days away. Of course, at least seven hours will have been spent on a bus, in transit, which is not the best thing, but until I get that damn teleportation machine up and running properly, it is just the way it is. I am excited. That should last for about five minutes and then I will be on to the next feeling. That is life with me.

It has become readily apparent that the lad is too much like me. When ever pressed for an opinion about something, be it a movie, food, song, etc., he invariably replies "it was okay". He will not commit to heavily to anything. I love that. I do that as well. I just found that whenever I told my grandmother that I liked something she made (food), I would have it in spades. This occurred even when I was just being polite. Bella, how much fucking chopped liver do you think I need or want? Really.

I have learned from that. That is why the answer turned out to be "okay". It says nothing hurtful and means that there is no impetus to getting more. I do however miss my grandmother's cherry cheese cake, sponge cakes, struedel and bagels. Of course, she stopped with the struedel and bagels when I was young. She liked making them for my uncle Dave who has been dead since 1980 (not to mention Bella has been dead since 1994, late 1993, really). The bagels took a lot out of her, so I got a lot of the cheese cake in my teenage years. I could never understand why something so tasty would cause my guts to churn and rather unhealthy smells to eminate from certain body orifices. Damn undiagnosed lactose intolerance, be gone with you!

I have carried on those answers with my mother in law. If I were to compliment her cooking or a dish she made, I would first be lying and second would see no end to that dish. It would serve me right for lying to save her feelings. It would be the nice thing to do, but only serve to force me to eat that crap (it is not that things taste bad, but they are overcooked and tasteless, so it is like cardboard (same color, too) without the good texture). It would not be the kind thing to do as she would go about her life thinking that her cooking were wonderful. She already does that because of my father in law. He has the palate of a Tasmanian Devil, though, so there is not much to be read into that one. I mean the man likes his steak cooked to leather. Heathen.

How do I get the lad away from this and get him to open his mind. I have played tricks on him to get him to eat things he would not choose on his own. Yes, I lie to him. I know it is the only way. He has to clear his mind, but he sees his mother judging with her brain (on no sensory evidence and in a world of denial and avoidance of truth or reality), so that idiotic (I am not judgemental, just mental) mindset is modelled for his pleasure. Oh well, I will just have to use those brainwashing techniques I have learned. A little sleep deprivation may be good for him.

Gotta Run, Ciao!

Something is missing

I am back. The lad is at day camp but is away on a three day overnight (2 nights). He left yesterday. It is freaky. Something is missing around here. I have spent time, extended, away from him, but I have been away, he was at home. This time he is away and I am at home without his daily presence. It takes some getting used to.

The wife is completely insane. She was chomping at the bit to call the camp to find out how things are going. Then she asks me if she is nuts. I guess the crazy acorn does not fall far from the crazy tree, or in the case of in laws, the crazy orchard. It is not just one crazy tree but whole crazy forest, complete with crazy squirrels.

Anyway, I told her that "no news is good news". The camp would call only if there was a problem, so no call means no problem. That calmed her down a bit but so did speaking to her friend whose son just came home from two weeks of overnight camp. I still wonder why she needs somebody to talk sense into her. Why can she not calm herself down? Why does she not see that her neuroses makes the lad nervous, yet she cannot factor herself out of the equation? Those are rhetorical questions, by the way, and I do know that we have not studied rhetoricals here, so they will not be on the quiz at the end of the posting.

That is all for today. I mean it is good. The world has not come to an end. The Fed paused its rise of interest rates. What can go wrong? Haha. Ciao!

Neighbourhood Watch or Who is Watching the Neighbors

I am back. I was away for our long weekend up here in the Great White North. I was not physically away, but does that really matter? Even when I am "here", I may not be "here". In any event, it was a long weekend, or so they say. It is one of the good things about this country. They gave us an official statutory holiday on the first Monday in August. My American friends do not have this, of course, they do have January and February stat Mondays in Martin Luther King Jr Day and Presidents Day. Then again, we get Boxing Day, which I have never really understood but it is British in origin, so that says it all, like steak and kidney pie or blood pudding.

It was a pretty uneventful weekend, though the lad slept out at a friend's house on Saturday. We went for dinner with the parents. It was a place in Kensington Market, which is full of alleys and a lot of ethnicities in the city, here. We went to a place called Super Market. It could best be described as a tapas place with a Pan-Asian flare, though a couple of dishes (grilled calamari, squid to those who do not know, and the beef dish) came with chimichurri sauce, which is sort of an Argentine parsley pesto. The food was fabulous and I could not tell you what I preferred, though the others really liked the mango salad, which had that great combination of sweet mango and chili heat.

We then went for ice cream. Why am I telling you all of this? I do not know but follow me. I had a Chocolate Chili scoop. It was a rich chocolate and as the full chocolate flavor and cold, ice cream creaminess disipated I was left with the chili heat. It was an interesting sensation.

On to yesterday, I had to get gas (fucking over a dollar a litre, or close to four bucks a gallon, how is that for conversion). On the way home, I pull off a main street to a side street. The sign said "Neighbourhood Watch Community". Just then some dude pulls out of a driveway on his bicycle, without looking, and drives slowly down the middle of the road. He does not so much as fucking look behind him. He should be able to hear me as I had the CD player cranked (AC Newman, The Slow Wonder, fucking amazing). I am then left to wonder whether he was looking for his neighbor to watch for him. Then again, the sign said Neighbourhood WATCH, not fucking Neighbourhood LOOK. In any event, I did not hit him, but I was so fucking tempted.

My life consists of constantly fighting my anti-social tendencies. One day, I am sure to give into the temptation and then all of you better watch out. Then again, I do not know when that day will be, so I am like a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode!! GAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just had an attack, but I am better now. I figure that I can tamp down the anger. I just hope the latch on the old rage door maintains. Gotta hit the streets. Ciao!

I am frightened

I am back. I have just frightened myself on an existential level. I am shaking, okay, I lie I am not shaking. I do, however, have the lights on. It is as if I see light or the electricity working (then again, typing this post is proof of electricity) all is well, or at least, it brings me back to the here and now. I am now thankful for the present (hope that it is real, but even if it is all an illusion, delusion?, it is just as enjoyable, the feelings, or not). Here is the reason why, interspersed with a whole bunch of asides. You are getting the full roadmap of this sensation as I take you to a story I just read.

Here is the headline: Object Survives Being Swallowed by a Star

Long before the Bible's tale of Jonah being swallowed by a whale, a small wannabe star has emerged intact after being engulfed by a neighboring giant star, scientists say.
The victim was a brown dwarf, a failed star too small to sustain the nuclear reactions that ignites regular stars. The purpetrator was a red giant, an ancient star that once resembled our Sun but which puffed up to enormous size after its hydrogen fuel was depleted. The red giant has since expelled most of its gas into space and transformed into a dense, Earth-sized star called a white dwarfs.

Here we have one star eating another star (it is a star eat star world out there will be the new saying instead of dog eat dog). That is pretty cool and even cooler that in star terms (cosmological) we have a star eating another star and it being crapped out in tact (or like finding an undigested dog or human limb in the stomach contents of a gutted great white shark). It also gives new meaning to the term "Brown Dwarf" when you view it that way. The red giant is "expelling most of its gas into space", which is the analogy to belching and farting, Just imagine the whole scene. It is kind of funny. Damn, I am either really immature or so beyond the earthly plane, I am just really unsure which one it is, or if they are mutually exclusive options.

Although too small to become a star, the brown dwarf was still big enough to avoid vaporization when it was engulfed.

Well, good for the brown dwarf. I swear, I think I am writing about people in the most politcally incorrect of ways, which I really do enjoy. I hope it is provoking somebody out there. I am channeling Lenny Bruce.

But there's another reason the brown dwarf survived. Scientists think the failed star sped up its companion's red giant phase, the way enzymes speed up biological reactions while remaining unharmed. When it was engulfed, the brown dwarf amassed matter from the red giant's gas envelope, which it then radiated off into space. By doing so, it shortened its companion's red giant phase dramatically.
The brown dwarf's reprieve from destruction is only temporary, however. Its orbit is slowly shrinking, and in about 1.4 billion years, it will be close enough for the white dwarf to siphon gas from surface. When this happens, the brown dwarf will slowly shrink in mass, while the accumulating matter on the white dwarf will trigger massive thermonuclear explosions called novas every few years.

Cool, celestial fireworks! Now here is the part that has me troubled, er scared.

In about 5 or 6 billion years, what happened in WD 0137-349 will repeat in our solar system. Our sun will run out of hydrogen and become a red giant, expanding until its diameter is about the size of Earth's orbit. Unlike the brown dwarf, however, our planet is not expected to survive-at least not in its present form.
"It's an ongoing debate whether the Earth will be swallowed up or not," Burleigh said. "But what's for certain to happen is that the Earth's atmosphere and seas will be boiled off. Even if it doesn't quite get engulfed, Earth will be pretty much lifeless."
Several million years after the red giant phase, our Sun will shrink and become a white dwarf. At this point, the orbits of Jupiter and Saturn will double or even triple since the new white dwarf anchoring our solar system will be much less massive than our Sun is now.
Planets farther out might not be so lucky; they could become untethered and float off into interstellar space, Burleigh said.

We are fucking doomed in 5 or 6 billion years! Figure that boling off the Earth's atmosphere and seas occurs in 3 or 4 billion years, that does give me much time to complete my mission here. I go from the thought that the Earth will be gone in 5 billion years and realize that it is so far off that I will be dead (not a pleasant thought at the best of times). I then look to the present and wonder if we will last that long. That is the depressing thought, but then again the real fear I had was me not existing and world being gone. It is my own life that concerns me and why I was shaken. I mean even the life of the whole planet is too abstract a concept for me to grasp, like 5 billion years away.

Anyway, I am better now that I have shared that journey with y'all. Ciao!

The Hollywood Crazies

I am back. I will be brief. I did forget to mention the outburst of Mel Gibson the other day. Now, he is looking to take the top spot in the Hollywood Crazies section from Tom Cruise. Here is a dude, sorry, DRUNK dude, who gets caught driving while drunk. The essence of the outburst is that is all the fault of the Jews. I do recall those damn Jews holding his head back, pouring booze into his mouth (he loves upside down margaritas, apparently), forcing him to swallow and then putting him in his car, turning on the ignition, pointing him in the "right" direction and then putting the car into gear.

That is right! Drunk fucking actor blames Jews for his drinking and driving. In vino veritas. In wine there is truth. How true. Mel's true colors are showing. Anti-Semitic bastard, sorry drunk anti-Semitic bastard. Now I am glad his family was slaughtered in Mad Max. I used to feel sorry for him, but not now. He can go fuck himself, assuming the Pope would allow such a thing.

I did not mean to get on a religious rant here, but that last thing the world needs now is that kind of intolerance. It is not enough that Hezbollah uses fanciful claims to justify doing Iran and Syria's dirty work, causing pain to Lebanon in the process, but now we have another Hollywood Crazy spewing his brand of bullshit about the world, or his interpretation of the world.

I am glad I got that off of my chest. I forgot to mention that I went out with Willie and JLC two weeks ago. We had some drinks and nibbles. It was a most fun evening. I had forgotten how much I enjoy spending time with those two dudes. The ideas fly but you never know where they will land. With that said, ciao!

Extreme heat beast profundity, film at 11

I am back. I have to say that it is rather hot and steamy out there now. I do not mean that in a good way, either. That is some hot air that you can cut with a knife. Again, I have to say the feeling of my scrotum sticking to my thighs is rather uncomfortable. By the way, in this mode I have no thought filter, so I do tend to write whatever thought pops into my head. It is kind of like ADHD, except oh, shiny thing.......

It was just some tin foil blowing by the A/C grate. Nothing special, but where was I? Oh yeah, genitals sticking to me body and not in a good way. Sorry for the graphic, personal nature of things but that is just the way it is.

I was thinking about the date and the heat. I was struck by something. I recall a hot August 1st, similar to this back in 2002. It was a Thursday. It was also my brother's wedding day. That day was spent in the air conditioned house and then set off in the afternoon for pictures. Thankfully, they were done indoors in air conditioned comfort. If they were to be done outside, all the pictures would have been of a damp me, brother, brother in law and brother's brother in law to be. It would not have been pretty, which being guys is a good thing. I suppose I have to call him to wish them a happy anniversary.

How mundane is that? It has to be the heat. It is frying (or is that steaming) my brain. I would lubricate it but drinking the brain juice on a day like today is not a smart move. It is just a necessary move. I guess I just posted to let the world know that my nut sac is stuck to my leg. How profound is that? Keep cool and ciao!