Robot Exterminator

not very effective

2011-09-19T22:00:00.001-04:00

lovely

2011-09-03T14:49:00.000-04:00

As I was Saying, The 80's RULED, but only sometimes

2011-08-28T14:02:00.004-04:00

Unicorn cars: Rare, American, affordable, manual trans, and easy to work on. Here's a list of them.

Stating with the 80's

Dodge Omni GLH. More turbocharged cars have been brought into this world under the Chrysler brand name, than any other manufacturer, ever. This drive train was available in other (arguably better looking) models, but this was the lightest and fastest. And unlike the next few decades, this machine was mostly designed and built in Detroit, not Japan. Only available with a manual trans, I believe... and even better (and more rarer) the Shelby GLHS added an intercooler. Here's a standard GLH.

GMC Cyclone and Typhoon. Not available with manual trans but being AWD and built for drag racing, you can't really beat having a torque converter. Prices are falling like pants at a Sophist Party. Lots of examples for sale online.

Thunderbird Turbo Coupe and Mustang SVO and i guess, Capri. Only worth while with a stick shift but hard to find. Featured rare for the time turbo, RWD 4 bangers. Not known for reliability or driving straight when throttle applied liberally.

Buick Grand National. Darth Vader approves.

Honorable mention: Dodge Caravan turbo. I wouldn't put much energy into owning/restoring one of these but there's something undeniably cool about a first generation minivan that, with a few mild mods, can walk your average modern sports car. Plus, it's a mini-v with a manual.

The 90's

C4 Corvette ZR-1. 375hp for an option that ADDED $30k to the base price of the car... It was amazing performance in '89 (technically sold as a '90) Luckily for us used ones are now affordable, though I think the price curve has passed its low point and may be heading north. Still easy to find and the digital dash makes me pee my pants with awesome.

Oldsmobile Achieva SCX. featured the highest output version of the GM Quad 4 engine, featuring awesome-to-look-at Camshaft towers. Here's a nice one.

Ford Contour SVT. This car wasn't so rare, except the ricers have latched their value-degrading claws into it, making nice examples hard to find. Seems many ads feature the word "fast" and "furious" somewhere in the text. I don't know much about these mainly because I swore off Ford vehicles early in life, and still feel that way about anything built by Henry's team after 1980 and before 2008.

Speaking of Ford, the Chevrolet Impala SS would allow you and your family to outrun anything made by Ford or Chrysler. featuring an engine with "LT" in the name, hard to find an ACTUAL SS model, unmolested.

Saturn SW2. What? I love wagons. And this one, every so ofter, could be found with a manual trans. The manual trans was mated to the same dual overhead cam, 125hp engine found in all the "2" designated Saturns. Of course, without the auto tranny sapping power and because it weighed, like, 7 pounds, it was a quick little wagon. Also sometimes popular with the tuners. With all saturns, earlier years is better years and not only because they somehow got uglier, later.

ANOTHER Capri? Yes, with even less displacement. People really dig on these things. See my previously cited rule re: Ford

...

What did I miss?

God's away

2011-08-25T21:14:00.001-04:00

A Thesis on Human Suffering

2011-08-04T06:24:00.003-04:00

Now that I have a job, I'm required to devote many hours of my life to soul-sucking life maintenance: things like setting up a local bank account, registering vehicles and sorting the catch all "documents."

My soul was particularly damaged when I tried to register the motorcycle in the state of New Mexico. See, progressive New Mexico has both the tradition, state-run Dept. of Motor Vehicles offices, PLUS privately operated "DMV Express" or "DMV To Go" or whatever. The private places impose a cost premium of say 100% but can get you out the door in like 20min. Unless You are me, trying to register a bike. The thing is, my bike (being from a state where vehicles actually age from things like road grime and shitty weather) has a damaged "Nader Label." On a car this label is located on the driver's door jam, but on a bike, its a sticker near the bottom and susceptible to damage. And even though the VIN is printed on the bike frame, the engine and ANOTHER label, the privately-run, follow-the-rules, high-cost office would not allow registering the bike. They recommended a "level-3" VIN inspection requiring involvement of the state police (never a good idea), multiple return trips and $50 worth of inspection.

Libertarianism fails New Mexico and I declined this option.

I recognized immediately that I needed an office that was a little more gritty. Not a "by the books" rookie, but a gristly veteran that got results, no matter how hard the chief was riding his ass. GOD DAMMIT, THE MAYOR SAYS SHE IS TIRED OF CLEANING UP YOUR DEAD BODIES. I knew I needed the state run offices. I needed to be amongst the people, the offices of the proletariat. THE PEOPLE"S OFFICES.

That's the problem with these God Damn high brow establishments, they have too much time to scrutinize the details. Too much time to live in their own heads, seek the righteous life and seek out the fucking Nader Label. IT WAS THERE, IT'S JUST TORN!

At the state-operated office, I was calm. It was four times larger than the private places and featured maybe ten times as many customers. I was there at lunch and arrived moments before noon. At 1pm my number was called for the first time; #234, this initial trip to the window was merely a vetting process. A simple formality to establish who had the gull to move forward so as to weed the weaker, paper-work deficient, and those who did own the cognitive functionality and delicate touch required in a room full of maniacs like this.

Hours 2 and 3 were trying times. I maintained a zen state, knowing that small inconveniences like this needed to be shouldered for the good of the people's office. In fairness, the whole damn state is like a century old so I suppose some leeway can be given in the "they're still figuring these things out" department. It was saddening however to watch the other people in the room, like animals being beaten with a stick, not knowing what they had done to deserve such harsh treatment or how to make it stop. The blood pressure of the room was so high it made my ears ring.

The situation came to a genesis deep into hour three. I almost didn't notice because I was so calm, having figured out the convoluted digital numbering system that placed my "out of state title transfer" into the lowest rung of plausible execution and as such making me a third class passenger on this Titanic among the strip malls. But I was comforted by knowledge, where my temporary associates were left to wander in the dark, no hope of finding a state I.D. card or English language translator they so desperately needed. But the roof fell in when an employee announced a failure of the licensing system. License renewals, new applicants, I.D. card seekers in the dark- they were all out of luck.

I thought the crowd was going to tear her apart. Literally, just for a moment,I expected to see the mobs full fury. Why weren't they rioting? They had been there for hours, like me, but instead they shuffled out the door, cursing under their breath. CHOOSING to leave, rather than wait, perhaps as a last attempt to take some control back in their lives.

Leaving of course proved most damning, as the system "came back on line" just moments after the last broken soul had given up all hope. (Had there ever even BEEN a system failure? Maybe.)

And that was it. Later, I had my yellow New Mexico motorcycle plate but I was too to appreciate it. What had I just witnessed? Why were those people so defeated? I couldn't stop thinking about abused domestic partners and engorged aneurysms. Why hadn't those people burned that place to the ground?

I got back to work by 4pm. No one commented on my absence.

Let's see what you've got in the bag...

2011-08-01T17:34:00.001-04:00

this makes me strangely happy.

Also, we are very small. Yet also very large. Or something.

Now I have a sad

2011-07-12T20:52:00.003-04:00

The first space shuttle launched in 1981, less than one year after I was born. Through out my conscious life, in the background, on the news and in the papers, there has been the constant roar of space shuttle missions. Now this currently is the last one.

Before the ubiquitous internet presence, I remember being pleasantly surprised in middle or high school when I'd read that a shuttle mission had launched. The best times were when I'd stumble across a Nat Geo (or similiar) article in say the dentist's office, describing the tech behind the crafts. Then in college with the internet at hand, I would eagerly follow the building of the space station, hardly believing it could ever become as large as it did. I wasn't necessarily aware of the mission particulars, other than maybe "adding another module" or "solar panels," but I was always extremely happy to know it was happening. And Extra extremely happy to know they were building a science-lab-trailer-park in the sky. Its hard to describe but I felt warm inside knowing more shuttle launches were coming... like spring times.

Now I have nothing to look forward to, from our friends at NASA.

Here's a good link.

And a wonderful infographic.

comming soon

2011-06-30T16:31:00.001-04:00

Let me summarize:

Still got it

2011-06-21T10:57:00.002-04:00

(okay, so the official video is not available to U.S. youtube users.)

Companies hate makers

2011-06-15T16:15:00.003-04:00

I suppose lawyers are the blame, but I'm not really sure. It might have to do with a general dumb-ing down of America.

Case

Case

Additional examples: Apple plus any company that makes cell phones, including Androids. (iCloud = Fascism)

Everyday I'm hustling

2011-06-15T01:18:00.002-04:00

Being unemployed, I've been too busy with the things I work while unemployed, to document what it is I do when I'm unemployed.

I've been building things. Some things I've made to sell, trying to turn a profit. I haven't been hugely success in making money, but I have caught some eyes. I've also been working on car weight scales, a new battery powered welder, helping a friend bring a turbo car back to life and converting some big old used RC planes to electric. Also, learning how to fly RC planes. Turns out it is little harder than i thought, especially in the New Mexico wind, but foam plane I'm practicing on is easy to glue back together.

All these projects are awesome and whatnot, but I don't have the time to document the work. Come visit New Mexico and you can lend a hand.

Also, I spend a lot of time looking for a job, sending out emails, updating linkedin profiles and the like, but that stuff is just depressing.

the desert

2011-05-30T22:24:00.002-04:00

View Larger Map

I have returned from here. Unfortunately there is no known conventional way to capture the vast scenery, so details will only be relayed in person and at a bar.

i need a job

2011-05-14T23:25:00.000-04:00

Check out these pipes!

2011-05-09T13:27:00.002-04:00

Before presenting the fourth and likely final installment of my Introduction to Albuquerque Series, a brief interlude.

MOTORCYCLE PARTS!

(I know, you're saying something like "I thought you were poor and unemployed..." to which I would say "shut up.")

Turns out I found these rare, Japan-only-aftermarket, light weight and low profile exhaust pipes on ebay. USED!

Here's what came off the bike:

I previously added the black tape, that now looks a little beat up due to the harshness of being moved across the country in the back of a truck. Stock weight, 30lbs.

Here's what It looks like now:

and on the other side:

New weight: 10lbs! Also it looks way cleaner and sounds like awesome grenades. Overall the bike still looks a little too shiny so I may add the black tape to these as well. Also, in the last picture, now that the fat ugly mufflers are gone, the center stand is hanging out under the bike. This is kind of like walking around with your dingus hanging out... Convenient, but really you should do something about it. I'm thinking about removing it to save more weight and give the bike an even cleaner look. (This is where the dingus analogy breaks down)

Albuquerque pt 3: Unemployment

2011-05-05T00:03:00.002-04:00

First, let us reflect on all that we've already learned about Albuquerque.

Why is it that every time I graduate from college, I must then fall into a state of un- and under-employment? I've been in New Mexico over a month and suspect I am no closer to jobiness than, say, a month ago. No matter I suppose, since I would always choose unemployment in New Mexico over Ohio.

On the up side, I've not before experienced the freedom of several weeks without daily classroom or work responsibility. I've been almost overwhelmed with the possible projects I could work on and seem to find myself split between "house," "hobby" and "money schemes."

House projects have been numerous and mostly small, almost always focusing on organization, but I'm currently in the midst of some hardcore staining of naked wood bookshelves.

Hobby projects have mostly been pushed aside or geared towards crazy money schemes. I've taken to selling things on Etsy and Ebay (perhaps more about this later) and I'm trying to get my crazy vehicles scales made, since I think I could sell them for about 4x the cost of parts. Though the big payoff would come from a welder-kit design that may or may not be in the works.

There's so much to do and so much that could be done, it's hard to stay focused. So I put in some work on the projects and the body every day. (Did I forget to mention? I'm not a fat grad student slob anymore, which is nice.)

unfortunately there is a down side and funemployment is not all beer and skittles. Severe cash drought causes of desert of untended hopes and dreams stretching as far as the eye can see. Fireproof race suits sit on shelves while race cars race without me. Light weight, extra wide Miata wheels lean against garage walls waiting for new rubber and naturally aspirated engines go un-boosted. Vacation plans are pushed back, rare/crazy southwest cars are un-purchased and sometimes... cheap beer is drank.

They say Hunter S. T. would pawn his typewriter in thin times, only to buy it back later. Now that I'm an ipad owner, I can certainly see the parallel, but it just doesn't have the same romantic twang. Or something.

It all kind of makes me want to do something like this:

Though I don't think cactus will stack up quite as nicely...

4 the lulz

2011-05-02T14:08:00.000-04:00

Albuquerque pt 2: The cars

2011-04-25T16:01:00.004-04:00

Subtitle: Death and Life of the Euro Sports Wagon.

(pronounced SpÖrts "VA-gun")

From my single previous and brief visit to New Mexico, I knew that the American South West was a good place to be a car enthusiast. I mean, this place has a junkyard pretty much devoted to Cadillacs! Imagine: a place where your large metal machines rust away over several decades, rather than the meager several years I was accustomed to. Sure, the sun will rot the interiors and the dust storms dull the paint... but who cares about that stuff?

I already have a solid mental inventory of the interesting vehicles that live around my house... There's the guy with the new Challenger and New Vette, I think he's a bit unusual here, owning two newer awesome cars and no classics. There's the guy with the Fox Body Mustang and old, minty Mazda 626, plus new Mazda 3. There's the house with the pair of matching, late 90's red Camaros (one with a trailer hitch), plus a vintage Camaro under the cover. Or at least that's what Challenger guy says- I've never seen the cover come off. Then there's the House with the two old VW Beatles, PLUS a new mini and a first gen Miata. Also there's the House with the old Ford Pick up (BRIGHT YELLOW!) and old dodge panel van, both looking about perfect. Anyway, this list goes on.

The only real problem I see with this place is the absence of jobs, or at minimum, jobs for me. I'm surrounded by old and unique cars, many for sale at discount prices and I can't afford to collect them! (Expect updates on the job situation in part 3 of this 4 part series) See, every time I venture into the streets (cyber, e.g. Craigslist, or otherwise) I'm assaulted by a litany of Fiats, Cadillacs and quirky hatchbacks that I NEED to experience. Also, there appears to be a high number of Ford SVT Raptors (think of it as a limited production baja truck) and Dodge Magnums. The Raptors make sense because, well, this is a good place to practice you baja-trucking, but I want to talk about the magnums. Dodge magnums are wagon versions of the Dodge charger/Chrysler 300 platform. (some countries received a Chrysler 300 wagon, but not us).

The magnum is a great car because its big, power, American, and wagon!. You could get it with a V6, a V8 and a BIGGER V8, the last being the SRT model. I would always see them in Detroit, but when it comes to cars, Detroit is something of a rare bird, which is why I was surprised to see so many here in Albuquerque. See the down side is, the magnum was never offered with a manual transmission, which brings me to my second point: The Death of Euro Sport Wagon.

See, the European-style Sport wagon (not to be confused with the Eurosport Wagon) is that traditionally European-made wagon, often based on a sedan platform, featuring decent power and handling and at least OFFERED with a manual transmission. The Physicist has a Euro Sport wagon; A Saab 9-5, turbo charged with a 5spd which offers the best compromise of utility and fun to drive. the problem is, the Saab in question is a 2002 model and getting a bit tired. Plus, being a Saab, it is just this side of impossible to work on. So what can replace it? The European companies (BMW, Mercedes, Volvo, Saab) are still making wagons, but the manual transmission has gone the way of formal dating and sensible shoes. Of the four mentioned, only Saab will still offer a manual wagon this year, but they can't even afford to pay their suppliers. The Magnum has long since gone out of production, making room on the platform assembly line for the new Challenger. This is the winter of my automatic transmission discontent...

And yet...

Hope springs eternal for there are new wagons to be had. Cadillac brings a wagon version of the CTS, available with a 3.6L V6 and, briefly, the manual transmission (though this combo axed next year). Also, revealed at the New Mexico Auto show (which, as far as i can tell, was attended by me and approximately 180 other people) is the new Acura TSX wagon.

It seems that Acura recently released a redesign of the sporty TSX sedan. The sedan, which IS offered with a manual trans, was then followed by a wagon version, which according to the hot Acura booth girl, will almost CERTAINLY be offered with a manual transmission in the next 9 months. {shrugs} She seemed to know what she was talking about.

TSX wagon- as luxurious and sporty as the 9-5.

Also revealed at the New Mexico Auto show, what an interior should look like:

(I wonder what they put for the fourth panel when you have a manual trans?)

Anyway, for now and with my limited resources, I'll be happy with the vehicular selection at hand. I'm not so sure the Miata is a good fit for these vast, wide open spaces, but the motorcycle seems to fit in well. they could both stand to have some forced induction added, what with the high altitude an all (which the Saab HAS!), but that's a battle for another day.

...
somebody should buy this

Albuquerque pt 1: Training

2011-04-19T19:58:00.003-04:00

Now I live at an elevation of 6000 feet. On the other hand, my old training grounds were somewhere in the 600 ft range with elevations changes few and far between. This was not obviously a problem until I arrived in New Mexico and tried to walk. Or ride the motorcycle.

In fairness, grad school left my fitness laughable, so the disadvantage was all mine. Perhaps accounting for this, the cosmic forces chose to relocate me to a great mecca of fitness, with bikers, hikers and yoggers all around. And more importantly, geographically interesting and diverse challenges upon which to bike, hike and yog. Of course "geographically interesting" means "elevation changes." Big 'ems. Now that I've had a couple weeks to hike around and acquaint my calves with the steepness of this place, it was time to get back to running.

Today's run went some thing like this: First, we live on a hill. So upon entering the street, one can run up or down the hill. Unfortunately down doesn't lead anywhere you might particularly want to run to. Plus, there are amazing, mountainous trails that start just 3/4 of a mile away. So you (I) start by venturing up the hill. This is my second attempt at jogging here and last time i made the mistake of running right off, as I would in, say, Ohio. This made me quite useless once I'd reached the trails, so I start today by walking up the hill.

Shortly there is a cross street that travels along the mountain, rather than towards or away from it, so this street is relatively flat. It's the only street I know of in the area that behaves as such, and this is where I begin my run. I'm at almost exactly 6000 feet above sea level and I want to ease my body into the suffering, starting with a flat surface. But soon, another cross street and I turn again, up hill, towards the mountain. This is the road to the trail head, about half a mile up. This is also where the locals with their hiking canes and $5k mountain bikes part their (old school) VW Beetles and (new school) 350Z's. I'm already feeling the uphill/high altitude punch, but I need to maintain the facade at least long enough to pass by these well-tanned, well-to-dos, and make it fully off the pavement.

I've been jogging for near half a mile and it's been a while since I've looked up... But now I'm running in gravely. Noting the change, i look up and see the geography ahead now fills my field view. Some the left extreme to the right and most of the way up, is the mountain. It is the type of grandeur that cannot be captured in a photograph, but It looks something like this: the base (except closer, and bigger)

Now that I've arrived at the mountain, all trails will be, well, up hill. Exhausted, now I take a walking break. As I slow down i realize i have a headache and my calf muscles are burning. And walking up hill is putting extra stress on my knee caps. either way, i continue around the gradual, back path behind Nipple Hill. I don't think that's is the official name, but it is what we know it as. Walking, walking, walking... Finally i reach the crest hind Nipple Hill, meaning a down hill stint and back towards the trail head... TIME TO RUN! (This time is also called "why does it hurt do much when i breath?) Either way running down the hill feels like a breeze, but that might be the 30mph spring time wind, which seems to always be fighting my progress. Now i just need to make sure my feet move fast enough to keep my down hill jog from turning into a down hill stumble.

At this point i like to black out for a while, until I near the house. If I time things right (which i never do) I could arrive right in time to catch the Albuquerque Sun set over the city, as seen from our street. It looks something like (but not quite as good as) this:

still working on a post with substance

2011-04-17T12:57:00.001-04:00

Smell you later forever, Ohio

2011-03-22T13:32:00.003-04:00

I'm pretty sure this steering wheel is more expensive than all the cars I've ever owned... combined. peaking of which, I need a burn out switch.

Anyway

Today, like so much science work before, I finished with the Wright State University by jumping on the bike and riding off, content with the knowledge that justice was served... or something.

While the credits rolled, the viewer are left to wonder, "where will the adventures begin anew?"

(i'm obviously hung over here)

They say Detroit Hustles Harder

2011-03-15T15:46:00.002-04:00

I recently returned for a spell in Detroit.

I tried to print a PDF file that existed only in my gmail account, accessible from my phone. The first print shop (local, independent) was not able to receive and print that file. The second (local, independent-ish) was not willing.

THOSE PEOPLE ARE LIVING IN MAD MAX TIMES.

I was thinking about writing an entire, contrived blog post about this injustice of the printing world, but then I was able to put the experience back into the context of the entire community, and then all i wanted to do was lay down on some train tracks. (Unfortunately, there's no trains scheduled for this month)

How is it that while I'm trying (and failing) to find someone that will take my $600 worth of ipad money, skilled tradesmen are having their tools stolen from their broken work vans at the shitty job sites they're just going to get laid off from anyway?

I mean, Detroit could be worse say, if it's crumbled, burning structures were being swept out to see... Yet somehow this place, completely void of natural disasters, becomes more bleak every time i see it.

Animated: A theme

2011-02-20T16:24:00.001-05:00

eye see

2011-02-16T20:27:00.000-05:00

Enrique Iglesias; Everything he does is so good...

2011-02-03T11:57:00.003-05:00

They say when you're unemployed, looking for a job is your full time job. I've never had a job before where I could show up naked, but always hoped for one.

The Crooked Path

2011-01-13T14:23:00.006-05:00

I can't exactly remember how it happened but at some point during undergrad studies I realized I was obsessed with windmills. The big ones, that make electricity. It makes sense because I've always been fascinated with electricity and technology. Also, cars. Maybe I should talk about that part first; It feels like wheels were my always passion. There was a time in my life when I was absolutely certain I would become a very successful race car driver, the victories of which I would often recreate with my bike. Ironically I don't recall having even seen a car in the act of racing until NASCAR took off in the 90s so I'm not sure how I reached such definite conclusions race car drivers. But Detroit was surely the reason car culture was ingrained in my being; an endless parade of car shows, Autoramas and weekend car meets. The early teen years were spent disassembling (and almost always destroying) anything I could get my hands on and girls were fairly uninteresting and thought I never lost faith in the religion of cars, I stopped thinking of myself as a yet-to-be-racer. Books and aptitude tests, marching band (yes, marching band) and the ubiquitous high school “hanging out” came to the forefront. Plus it seemed I would never escape the hand-me-down Dodge Dynasty of my automotive youth. I had to think of the future (they said) and my older brother was an electrician who he seemed to know everything about the limited technical problems I came across in family garage. So probably around that time I decided I too would know about electricity, like my brother.

Of course it never occurred to me that I might not go to college; We were middle class suburbanites and college was what we did after high school. It scares me to realize how narrow my sights were when I was 17, when I went to college and checked the "electrical engineering" box. Soon I was sinking in the sea of theory, feeling far away from the hands-on world I wanted. When was I going to learn something? College was, of course, full of distractions but during those few sober moments I fantasized about transferring into a technology degree or switching majors... Something more “real.” I pushed forward because I feared facing the world without a degree, imaging a direct link between it and success. I found my joy in other projects, like an ill-fated stint with the solar car team, time spent maintaining the consummate Cadillac (blue neons before neons were cool?) or shooting Crazy Curtis' gun collection.

Time passed, as it does, and I found a groove. My last semester in college was a good time; I was happier than I had ever been, I think. Also I had found photography, a hobby-turned-job and I'm still a little shocked they paid me to do it. But graduation and change were skulking about and my brain was preparing itself for deep thinking, which is about the time sustainable energy took a strong root in my being. It was like a beat in the background of my thinking melody... Some combination of youth-inspired idealism and clinical analysis of the facts deduced that burning oil (a key component in, oh, EVERYTHING we make) was stupid. And maybe because I lived in a snowy, wind-washed tundra, it seemed obvious that giant windmills were the answer to everything.

(Remember that in the late 90's, alternative energy wasn't cool and GM was still selling the EV-1. There was no Green-themed anything. I'm not trying to say that I was ahead of the curve, just that these were logical conclusions arrived at from simple observations of the world.)

The problem was photo journalism- I was enjoying this work immensely and it had become the possibility of a career. I had made connections in the area and was offered a newspaper job after graduation with the promise of a quick promotion thereafter. Here, now, was the pondering my brain had prepared for. Should I continue down the delightful but staving-artist path of photography, or was I to make a career of engineering and the four years of meaningless equations? A battle of logic and deduction raged within and it led to many drunken conversations. One that sticks out in particular happened in a bar with an interpretive dancer /slash/ newspaper writer for whom i took pictures. This was now my fifth year at college and I was old enough to frequent the bars, but most of my live-in ultimate frisbee associates were not. So this was a rare moment, out with small group and I remember it as the first time I was able to fully pull together (in my mind) the reasons why I should be an engineer: Things were being done wrong and I had strong opinions about how they should be different. The interpretive dancer, (with whom I was fascinated... She was so different than anyone I had known in life or at this engineering college) was best at lending an ear and providing sandwiches after bar closing hours. Maybe she realized I had to sort these details out for myself, rather than offer opinions of her own. Later she moved to Canada.

The counter argument came not from within but during more sober conversations with my photography professor, Mike Shupe (Who I tried calling Coach Shoop in reference to the hilarious 80's movie that he hadn't seen, and as such couldn't recognize the brilliance in the name.) Mike would argue that one didn't have to build the system to make the change, but rather a powerful influence came with the photographer who could draw attention to the issues with inspired work. This was a good argument too.

The decision warrants so much more but it was made and I returned to Detroit to be an engineer. I would never admit it then but I'm sure now that I hadn't fully undone the brainwashing of a high school honors program and I suppose that I was always going to move forward with engineering. Either way, this was a hard time and a stark contrast to college. So much so that I had to coin the phrase "The Struggle" to summarize what we were up against. There was a group of us, friends from high school, reunited in a similar situation. I burned easily through graduation money and had a string of short-term minimum wage jobs. There was no Eureka! moment that we all expected and no $60k/yr job befell any of us. I did eventually meet a rare, worthwhile girl an soon after that (maybe because of that) I made it out of my parent's house for the last time. Eventually I had steady work, health insurance and in a bizarre twist of fate would occasionally find myself on job sites with my brother; He was a foreman now and I was doing low voltage fire alarm work. I was happy again but hadn't lost the nagging feeling of missed potential. It had been over a year since I graduated and I was *supposed* to be designing electric cars. I was supposed to be an engineer.

(It was a full three years after returning to Detroit that fortune turned and I landed an interview with Chrysler. I can't recall much from those years living in The Struggle and I think it reflects a painful lack of direction. I've always created a certain open-ended lifestyle but this was a time devoid of goals, short term and long. Sadly I couldn't move forward mentally until I had found a “worth while” job, the search for which had become my white whale. That was a serious period of listlessness and I look back on it as lost time for living. Those years could warrant several additional pages of retelling.

I had a lot of failed interviews for engineering jobs but was learning both how to navigate the corporate interview dance, as well as keep my expectations in check. We had a saying back then, "Never, ever expect anything good to happen. Ever." But this was a rare opportunity. I drove there in my work van, wearing a work uniform and in the parking lot climbed into the windowless back and donned my suit. What followed was several months of follow up interviews, missed jobs and recommendations from one position to another. Its amazing to look back and remember the anticipation desperate want that I would push from my thoughts everyday. I had approximately zero applicable experience and the market was full of engineers but somehow I ended up landing the third Chrysler engineering job for which I interviewed (again, so much more to be told...). I was now a Battery Engineer for Chrysler. A man named Chris Saari gave me the opportunity that would be the defining moment in my professional life; a middle manager at a failing automotive company who hated his job. I was an engineer making cars.

(If you don't love cars and you don't care about being in the center of the universe then I cannot explain to you what it is like to work for the Big Three. I imagine its like what others feel working in the pits on Wall Street or maybe like being in the White House? The design studios, enormous test labs, cars and engines and parts everywhere, on every engineer's desk. Chrysler in 2005 was not a particularly exceptional company as far as car makers went but to me it was amazing. Here was the corporate headquarters and I felt like I was in the middle of something amazing.)

The job was of course not nearly as special or rewarding as I imagined it to be. I enjoyed the rare opportunity to split my time between a desk (I had my own desk?!) the plants that built the cars, the corporate headquarters, the supplier's engineering offices and the battery lab. I also jumped on the chance to take part in the corporate-offered "continuing education." One such class was dedicated to the electric vehicle endeavors at Chrysler; a way to introduce employees (those that cared) to the advanced tech that was being developed deep in the skunk-works of the building. That's when I first learned about the F-cell and when chatting up one of the car's engineers, about the Alternative Energy program downtown at Wayne State in Detroit. It hit me like a lightening bolt! I had forgotten my plan of making things that made a difference and I needed to move forward again. What was i doing tracking quality issues with the same lead acid batteries they've been making for 30 years?

I enrolled in the AET (Alternative Energy Technology) program at Wayne State University, really the only such program in the country. I studied fuel cells and windmills, Fluid dynamics and hydrogen infrastructure. This was what I was supposed to be doing, But more importantly I was now an experiences engineer AND a study of advanced technology. Armed with a sufficiently padded resume I set out for a real "alternative energy" job. I had no idea, no foresight to see that I already had a pocket ace to play for the rest of my career: Batteries.

As it would happen, I found myself in Detroit in the beginning of the vehicular electrification revolution. Every manufacturer wanted electric hybrids and that technology required battery experts. I wasn't an advanced battery technology expert but I had enough experience to get me into North America's only manufacturer of NiMH automotive propulsion batteries. As shocked as I was to be hired at Chrysler, it was even more unlikely that I would get this new job and I don't think I appreciated that fact at the time. Chrysler was not exactly a lucrative job, as I was contract and paid hourly. I don't think I'll ever forget the negotiation I had with the recruiter who landed me the interview with the battery company. Asked how much money I would require, and knowing I should always ask for a healthy raise from my current rate, I quote him a number. Re reflected for a moment and countered “I'm going to ask for $10k/yr more.” and that's what they agreed to pay me. I missed the opportunity to touch the new cars as they rolled down the line or sit in on the meetings the literally created the cars of the future, but I had finally achieved the goal I had set so many years ago. I was designing battery packs that would drive hybrid vehicles; one of maybe a couple hundred engineers in the nation doing such work. This was career end game and I was happy. The happiest I had been since snapping pictures for a living. I even started building my a race car.

Of course change is constant and the company never reached full potential. Eventually it would go the way of most tech companies with lay offs, money shortages and job uncertainty while I grew anxious with my own uncertainties. My accumulated knowledge wasn't strong enough to take me further into the real engineering work, unless I wanted to pull part numbers and file TPS reports. The a for mentioned go at grad school fell short and when the technical side of that fancy new degree program was found to be lacking, shored up with the hypothetical and buzz-word heavy resume fodder that it offered. (I ended with a 16 credit “graduate certificate,” or what I like to call “the associated degree of grad school.) More, batteries it seemed, were the game of a chemistry man and electrical engineers would always be relegated to wire harnesses, HV relays and test equipment. But I had been in the world of electric propulsion for two years and I knew the future of Alt. Energy was power electronics. I'd seen it done and I learned about it from the coworker who had taught me so much about REAL engineering; a man with a seemingly limitless source of energy and who made me realize that there is a distinctly unique kind of person who can design anything, build everything and has the follow through to see completion. He inspired me to reproduce that fortitude in myself, even if it didn't come naturally. I still wanted to make electric cars but it was time for a new path.

I should mention I have observed a consistent and reliable occurrence that in times of discontent or great upheaval, I will somehow and without understanding stumble into the greatest possible of outcomes. It had been nearly a decade since I returned to Detroit and this good luck would come into play again. The battery job was shaky and I was in the “its complicated” phase of relationship, when the familiar but rare and fleeting alignment of worlds occurred. There was another amazing girl and a school that offered a not-at-all-common power electronics degree, plus the possibility of transferring my job to the state that owned the two. This was a more complicated cosmic negotiation and it did not exactly fall into place but I gave an ultimatum or two and proceeded as if all would be splendid. And 4 weeks later I was in OH, living with the girl and studying power electronics.

Graduate school, it turns out, can be challenging; demanding an unsustainable lifestyle. I find myself in the midst of my grandest leap of blind faith, not realizing how much I would give up until it was already gone. Even as I write this I should be documenting tremendous previous work; a battery powered welder and a masters thesis project. A culmination of experience and learning that brings with it a huge sense of reward and achievement, reminiscent of those first days at Chrysler. Or perhaps when I returned to the Detroit Auto show as an adult so many years later, to see my battery in that year's electric hyrbid. But right now I feel drained and anxious and there is so much work to be done. The final scenes in this transitional period, greater than those before and as such, so much more demanding. My vision of the future is fuzzy; unclear as it always is before the next great adventure.

(If I poured through the Robot Exterminator archives I know I could find previously told portions of this story. As I approach graduation and another relocation I can't help revisiting this strange path and again find myself inspired to tell the story, for my own sake, through the filter of my ever-changing perspective.)

***********************************************

These are the good old day
~this girl I know

out for justice

2011-01-11T01:06:00.001-05:00

Waffle dude in the background... He doesn't even do anything.

monogramed wares, a crippled master and your new comrad Sophist

2010-12-26T17:39:00.003-05:00

Its been a while since I rapped at ya'll.

1) I injured myself whilst in the act of being old, bringing back an old Ultimate shoulder injury. Having chosen a life free of clutter (like health insurance), I enlisted the help of an on-base Japanese Masseuse, a Mr. Richard Wagner. Mr. Wagner is about 157 yrs old and looks not at all unlike an American version of the Hunch Back of Notre Dame. I've heard he's a master at setting right muscles, tendons and skeletal ailments and charges just $28 for 45min of therapy/massage/cosmic advice.

After making my way into the fitness club as a "family member" I found Mr. Wagner's room, which i'm fairly sure is a re-purposed janitor's closet. He closed the door to the dimly lit area (accented with big-band jazz and swing instrumental music) and requested that i "get down to my undershorts and lay on the table." (no need to insert gay jokes here). After sizing up my joints and identifying my spine as that which belongs to a daily computer user, he set to work on the shoulder with a litany of Poking, finger stabbing, twisting and general manipulating. He couldn't quite stand up right and one arm seemed a bit lame, but he the hand strength of a retarded monkey. I'm not really sure what happened but when i got there i couldn't lift my arm and when i left, i could. Also, i smelled of eucalyptus and spearmint.

In the end, he didn't exactly make it magically better, but i think the problem lays more in the rotor cuff, and he seems to be a miracle man that focuses on muscles, but i'm still impressed by his encyclopedic knowledge of tendons and muscles.

2) Later, it was Xmas time and in celebration of Santa Claus's Birthday, i was given a set of monogrammed bath towels. I've never had an item that was monogrammed before and I'm quite certain this will eliminate the daily confusion and towel tomfoolery that takes place in the second floor bathroom.

3) Lastly, I learned that my great grand father was Russian. (it's true, it's true.) A random conversation with an aunt revealed that she was tracking the Sophist family's ancestral migration to the New World and doing so required the translation of some Russian paperwork belonging to great granddad. Apparently he was a Russian bloke living just this side of the Polish border when he decided to break east. this leaves unresolved answers, such as the origin of the Polish name and how he lost half his thumb (noted as missing on the immigration paperwork) but i'm working on the answers.

Truck Update pt II

2010-12-02T13:27:00.002-05:00

The blog environment is, fundamentally, still superior to facebook. The blog allows the telling of story with incorporated props like website links and photos. This is the evolving story of the 1988 S10 pickup.

The truck came with a terrible plastic be liner that was warped and generally tacky in all ways. I immediately removed it from my truck and my life, to the good will of my sensibilities.

Underneith, it looked like this:

That's actually not true... At first it was dirty but then i washed and lightly sanded it. The sanding was in preparation for a home-application spray in bed liner. See, the fancy spray in bed liners cost like $400 - $600 dollars, which is damn near as much as i paid for the truck. Your typical DIY kit is something of a roll-on job that's not much more than a thick paint with some rubber chunks, known to easily peel up and fade in the sun. Then i found Raptor Liner (RAWR!)

The Raptor kit is a two-part with a proper hardener, meaning it will cure like the paint on a car. Plus it comes with a little spray gun to hook up to your compressor.

Applying it could make for a whole sub-story, but just know it involved much tape and a lot of black speckles covering the items in the garage. Once applied it took a few days to fully set up and then it seemed to be champion.

I only applied to liner to the gate and floor and forward wall, while using a semi-gloss paint on the side walls. The Raptor Liner seemed to be tough as nails until today when I loaded into the truck a heavy box with screws sticking out of the bottom. This may be an unfair test but the material seemed to chip off in larger than necessary pieces. The freezing temperature may have had an adverse effect but i also suspect poor surface-prep. (could have used a heavier sanding and maybe a primer?) Either way, for the price, it would make a good material to spray, for example, inside a race car or on the bottom of an off-roader.

An besides, it still looks better than the rest of the truck. Plus, i picked up a VERY green steel box with a locking lid for storage. Added benefit: its heavy as hell (making it hard to steal and adding traction in the snow) The next step will be to weld up those holes in the box, ensuring something that resembles weather-resistance.

tuesday

2010-12-01T21:20:00.001-05:00

You're all worthless and weak!

fff

2010-11-29T10:47:00.002-05:00

travel the world with beasts in your trunk: buy a wagon.

(I've been listening to MUCH James Harriet, often while sleeping, so my inner monologue features constant mention of silliness like pouring one’s self a measure and dapper dreadful and champion splendor, all delivered in a perfect english metronome. It's annoying, really.)

fff is something my family invented in the late 80's and stands for "Forced Family Fun."

(one of those three f's is meant to be ironic, James.)

Abstract

2010-11-19T15:04:00.001-05:00

Arc welding machines are large, heavy devices that transform an alternating current (AC) input into a high-current, low-voltage, direct current (DC) output. These machines traditionally require electromagnetic transformers that account for the large size and weight. While the cost of high power silicon devices has been decreasing, the cost of steal and copper required for electromagnetic components has been increasing. This parity has created an opportunity for a cost effective DC switching welder to be introduced to the consumer market. Under the commission of a local welding equipment manufacturer, this study sets out to develop and prototype the electronics necessary for an affordable, portable battery-powered welding machine. The design is implemented with a high current buck switching circuit as well as an assortment of feedback, control and safety circuitry necessary to complete the product. Using simulation, bench validation and the bounds of real world cost limitations, this project will develop a market-ready welder.

Truck update

2010-11-12T21:19:00.003-05:00

Though undocumented, i have been putting a tiny amount of time and money into the ratty rat truck. (Or as some call her, "El Burrito.") It doesn't have much interior, which is how i like it, but I did miss having a light in the cab. So i decided to build a rat rod appropriate LED light using the rear dome from an old bicycle light.

Departing from the norm, I decided to use small, low power LEDs rather than the usual face-melting monster lights that would require fans and heat management and all that noise. Simple components with a nice cap on to add the fancy "Dimming" effect that seems to be all the rage in them cars from this generation.

Then i built a bend arm using a ball-and-lock jiggy from one of those "helping hands" project holders. And because the truck has no head liner, I'm an aspiring weld-master and this is a rat truck, i done welded the mount in place.

And then i gave it a switch.

And now it works like a champ. Sturdy, metal, bright and Low power with 360 degrees of rotation. Made with parts from the basement. Biggity.

Stupid 7

2010-11-12T20:45:00.004-05:00

Stupid 7

Why are fractions of 7 so much harder than the other 8 digits?

1/1 = 1. This gets better, I swear.
1/2 = Half. Its a half. See my point yet?
1/3 = A Third. .3333 forever. Well known.
1/4 = A Quarter. Half a Half. Also Currency.
1/5 = 20% -> 0.20
1/6 = Probably second place to the Stupid 7, but just half a third. 0.17ish
1/7 = WHO THE FUCK KNOWS?
1/8 = Half a quarter. Mental math. 0.125
1/9 = Anything over 9 is that anything repeating. 2/9? 0.22222. Also, a third of a third.

Grad school is almost over. I feel... Different

exciting

2010-10-31T11:56:00.001-04:00

Do the Robot

2010-10-29T21:05:00.003-04:00

Most of you have probably seen this by now.

Holy shit.

Fortunately I'm here to read between the lines for you baby birds. Unlike most robot uprisings, this is a good thing for men.

(Let me roll up my sleeves here and put on my "World's Greatest Chauvinist Pig" trucker cap)

See, once sex bots become as realistic as a flesh and blood woman, it will completely change the man/female sexual dynamic. Hot chick's social value will sink like when one of these damned robots falls into the deep end of the pool, This will be particularly true for annoying and/or stupid girls. Overnight there will be a whole population of women that are no longer subjected to the non-stop, slobbering advances of your average male slob. It will be like Every woman is shifted down two spots on the 10-scale.

But that's not all!

The sociological landscape will thrown into complete disarray in (almost) all the best ways. If they can build a robot that recreates the female body in every way, perfectly (or more likely, better than perfect) Pollution, war, douche-baggery, violence, religious tom-foolery... it will all fall off when your average middle-class a-hole can save his pennies for a few years and by himself a virgin that doesn't require him to don a dynamite vest. What the government SHOULD be doing is subsidizing this research to undercut the market cost of these things and prevent the possible (likely?) riots when that same middle-class A-hole can't afford the thing.

Given a half a generation or so of acquaintance and refinement, and us old guys will become the minority, a rare breed that prefers sex "the old fashioned way" and as such highly saught after in a world gone crazy with sex deprived Alpha females fighting for attention in a sea of sex-bots.

...

what just happened? I think i blacked out for a few minutes.

Which one is the real world

2010-10-13T16:21:00.005-04:00

Editor's Note: I wrote this last week after returning from a weekend of awesome to a the familiar world of bullshit life maintenance. I'm not sure why i didn't hit "publish" then, but i suspect it had something to do with lack of sleep and grad school stress. I eventually finished the labs but didn't do very well on the quiz, but it was well worth the triumphs on the track.

I'm having a hard time focusing my brain back to the mundane day to day activities of the real world. To my brain, I'm still driving; racing a weekend's worth of endurance race. Still wearing a fire proof suit, strapped tightly into a metal box built by the team and I. Driving into corners at maximum speed knowing the brakes that I rebuilt along with the suspension that I installed would probably hold THIS car faster around the corner than any other vehicle around me. This is important information, especially at turn 11 because I also know that this motor is mostly untouched since that day back around the winter of 1993 when some Asian man (or lady) compiled its economy parts and as such, it cannot be relied upon for any manner of acceleration once we hit the front straight. But again, I'll be okay if I just brake later into this turn and carry more speed than everyone else. This late-braking, high speed plan does not of course account for a pink Camaro spinning out deep in the turn I was entering. I don't realize this until I'm approaching 80mph, trying to brake later than an MR-2, and the car a few yards in front of me locked up his brakes. Only slightly panicked, I too stand on my own tired, hot, over sized brakes, immediately seizing the front tires, stalling the engine and wearing two perfectly flat bald spots into the front tires. Turns out I was too busy minding the large, panoramic rear-view mirror for impending rear-end collisions and as such, failed to mind the clutch.

A 10th of a moment later I was coasting past the backwards-facing Camaro, noting it's orientation as the cause of my grief, and restarting the engine so as to take back lost positions.

You see, this story really starts Friday morning, when we leave the house and drive a normal car- a station wagon- 6 hours to the race track. Or maybe it starts thursday night when we pack that station wagon full of gear and tools. Possibly even the summer spent rebuilding the car or the summer before that, but its hard to say for sure. Regardless, the weekend it turns out, encompasses the lion's share of the story and it tells of the technical inspections and the building up of campsites; Cooking food, building fires, meeting up with friends and setting to rotating tires and making last minute repairs. But they are the hours spent in the car that my brain can't undock from; instances Like the one above when the system became overwhelmed by sensory data and in trying to control a world of entropy with shear willpower alone, achieved a meditative state of instantanious decision making. One void of conjecture or even the always present internal dialogue. At what point did my status quo become an impossibly small envelope inches from junk-racecars, throwing myself into squeeling turns two and three cars wide at the very real and very physical edge of grip? And that's the problem, really (if you can call it that): A series of timeless moments on a looped replay fighting for my attention.

We didn't win, per say, but we were the best loser. There was an award and a brief meeting but we were too busy to celebrate. We all had a beer because it seemed like the right thing to do but before I could finish I think it was lost in the confusion of packing up tools and loading a race car. We said goodbye and we drove home, exhausted. I returned to past due lab reports and quiz material that had not been studied. Real life moved in from all directions but the loops in my brain remain. I see them when i'm driving to work in the slow lane and when i'm sitting in a computer lab. And this is why I can't make my brain summarize and report an electronics lab from last week, detailing intricacies I can't quite recall. This is why the work world and the school world have no volume left.

If you're interested you can see the action here, from inside the car that caused the madness. The first paragraph above takes place between the 31 second mark where I can be seen coming into the frame and the 39 second mark where I coast away trying to restart the engine.

A new member of the family!

2010-10-02T15:10:00.002-04:00

As you all know I am a practicing Quiver Full. And as such, once the means were available, i was obligated to increase my vehicle count by one.

His name is El Burrito. (I know, its stupid, but this is what happens when someone watches "Machete" and then strolls up when you're flexing your new wheels. I wanted to call it "old reliable and easy to work on" but it didn't have the staying power of "El Burrito.")

4 cylinders, 5 speeds, 2 wheeldrive and built in 1988. (Though the engine is from 90, allegedly). Counting the Caddy and the Dynasty, this is the 3rd American car I've owned from 1988, meaning that must have been a hell of a year.

Of course the nay-sayers will ask "why would you buy such an absurd vehicle to drive in the snowy winters of OH?" to which i would respond "come closer so i can spit on you."

Reasons you Shouldn't go to Panera Bread...

2010-10-01T18:31:00.003-04:00

...During Breast Cancer Awareness Weekend

This weekend Panera bread will be donating 100% of their profits to some tit-centric organization. Or so I hear. If you're the kind of person that cares about this type of thing, you probably got an email, but i was unaware of this fact before heading out for lunch today.

- Pink Balloons tied to cash registers obstruct menu.
- Cups for water too small.
- Slow service due to abnormally high number of middle aged female customers.
- Pink Strawberry smoothie carries unintended political message.
- A lot of breast awareness talk. No breast awareness walk.

Blogging: Like talking to yourself

2010-09-22T22:02:00.006-04:00

Remember when everyday was spent with your best friends? When did life become devoid of significant human interaction?

...

Wake up alone, have brief words with an animal that behaves like a toddler on Red Bull, exchange mutual looks of confusion. Drive to work, listen to voices from machine. Check emails, read internet, stare at wall.

Idle chatter with coworkers about coworker things; That is, sometimes the things that conservative, engineering-minded, middle-age, middle-class white guys from small towns like to talk about... but most of the time about work. Read internet

Go to lunch, eat alone, read internet.

Go to school, listen to professor, sit silently with a group of soon to be conservative, engineering-minded, middle-age, middle-class brown guys from small towns.

Go home, eat alone, read internet.

Go to coffee shop, exchange hollow pleasantries with barista, do homework alone, read internet.

"Sleep! that's where I'm a viking"

...

My average daily net time in a real-life conversational exchange is surely less than 1 hour, but more importantly, average net SIGNIFICANT real-life exchange is less than 5min, with most days being zero.

I grow tired of the endless cycle of facebook, text messages and email.

Perhaps a crime spree involving a stolen El Camino and a pair of baristas!

He raced to win

2010-09-19T18:56:00.001-04:00

pt II:

FUUUUUU...

2010-09-09T22:32:00.000-04:00

Empty beer bottle it is

(red dog to me right. not much better)

On turning 30

2010-08-23T19:43:00.015-04:00

So you've been burdened with an arbitrary assessment of your oldness, namely, a three in the tens-digit of your age. At times like these its good to take stock and tally the score.

The age test:
1) Hair: Longer than ever
2) Sex: Doing better than highschool
3) Fast cars: Check
4) Rock 'n Roll: Not a Katie Perry fan but Ke$ha's cool...
5) Acting a fool: At least once a week
6) Physical fitness: Why am i always sore when i wake up? (see 2?)
7) Relationship with food: WHY AM I SO SOFT IN THE MIDDLE PARTS?
8) Freedom to run off into the woods: Sure, but it sounds like too much work. Can't I just watch Cougar Town and go to sleep in my comfy OH GOD I'M 30!

Well, there you have it; science, folks and it don't lie. You're acting like a 30 year old. The only solution is a party. Something epic that forever cast a likeness of your youth in the minds of generations to come. It won't be easy but being awesome never is.

First, you're going to need a destination. I choose DC because it was centrally located, offered excellent surroundings and featured access to a luxury apartment. Second and more importantly, you need a crack team of experts to help revisit your youth. This is not about reliving your 20's (remember when you gave hand jobs for grocery money and often spent the night studying in the library?) but instead fiercely focusing on the best parts of life. Rather than blindly carpet bombing and hoping to get luckily, you'll use the wings of experience to carry out a precision strike, hitting only the very best life has to offer. And for this, you'll need people with age and experience but also a flair for crazy.

Our core team consisted of Chesto the Ninja, Stos the Greek, The Physicist, Gay Andrew, C-5 Sally and me, Sophist. This core team was then able to integrate their own, respective peoples, once we were on the ground in DC. The weekend went something like this:

Chesto arrives in Ohio Wednesday night and we immediately start telling lies and drinking beers. We meet up with some locals and entertain them by send a few items into a parallel dimension. Thursday morning we drive east, stopping only in a Pennsylvania J.C. Penny to buy button up shirts so we'll blend in with the DC natives. We arrive just in time to meet the others + extras at a semi-posh DC restaurant. We drink, we eat, we refresh and we retire after a long day of travel, ready to start the weekend.

Friday Chesto, myself and Gay Andrew set off to explore. (Editors Note: As far as i know, Gay Andrew doesn't have an actual alias and is in fact married to a woman. But once a man has grabbed at my crotch more than twice my brains goes about automatically filing him in the following format: {name}, Gay) Are travels would take us to the White House, Lincoln Memorial, various war monuments and most importantly, the Washington Monument, where we would meet The Greek.

Stos the Greek is a mountain of a man: Larger than life and twice as hairy. He lives vicariously through himself, his beard alone has experienced more than lesser men's entire body and he knows this town inside out. Now that the crew was falling into place it seemed obvious that we would strike right for the heart of the city. We made our way to the Pentagon.

HOLY SHIT THEY LET US INSIDE THE PENTAGON. I could tell you about it, but they'd cut my thumbs off. lets just say we lounged in the middle part.

Having penetrated the government's 5-sided center, we rallied and caught up with C-5 Sally (who isn't a figurative Sally but is a literal Sally). The core group was together at last so we grabbed the bag of fancy cigars that someone had gifted us (surely after hearing about our awesome) and made haste for the wood-lined, leather bound cigar bar called Kelly's Back Room. There we drank stiff drink and smoked full bodied cigars. It was Friday night and the weekend was in full effect. A warming happiness swept over us as we lounged, puffed and marveled at how far we'd come. And we still had Saturday ahead of us!

I can't really describe Saturday. It warrants a book. I choose to fall back on lists:

Boob Cup Cakes: I think this will be a yearly birthday tradition now. I. LOVE. CUP CAKES. also, i love boobs. There it is. I'm an adult, and i want a delicious cake product that reminds me of breasts. you know what else? Other people love boob cup cakes too. it's true, even girls. It makes them think about all the great times they've had with their own boobs, i think. Plus, it's a cup cake. Are you writing this down?

The metro: It's awesome until it breaks

Pre-partying: This is where the size of our party became obvious. 12 people? 16? I don't even know but there was more girls than guys and that makes both sexes happy. More importantly, every single person in our group was a rock star. I'm talking above average, good looking, funny, smart and probably trained to kill. Editors Note to the Physicist: In the future, please refrain from offering viewing of my tattoos to anymore strange women. I have a very specific and proven technique that needs to be followed, thus allowing me to negotiate a beneficial arrangement. You can find my work in the "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" section of the library.

Kelly's Irish Pub: They get good you drunk. Also find cell phone morning.

If i had to sum up Saturday, it would look something like this:

Sunday we ate at the Capital City Cafe and revisited the events of the weekend. "Did that really happen?" "Yes."

So there ya go. 30 ain't so bad when you and your friends are awesome.

Fortunately, the madness didn't end there. Following the weekend above was the actual observance of my First Annual 29th Birthday, which happened mid-week. Then there was picking up of the Physicist's new-used car. (I'll give you a hint: its turbo, its a wagon, its got a 5spd, its Swedish and its mine by proxy.) And the week following will find us exploring Oregon and winning at weddings.

After all that I've got that college thing I do.

Editor's Final Note: Since free time is so precious and scattered, i typically write these lengthier posts over a long period, revisiting them until the product is saleable. I was looking back through the archives and realized a few drafts existed that never made it to print. Here's one from the first half of 2009 that I titled "Trying to remember"

Friday
Sending out work reports at 8pm
Live music at bar number 1
Dancing at bar number 2
Arrival of physics consultant
Drinking beer of the month
Going to bed at 4
waking up at 10
Zehnders of Frankenmuth chicken dinner

I'm pretty sure i remember this weekend; Not a bad life. It probably never made it off the drawing board because the stories weren't particularly noteworthy in anyway other than an attempt to document an average good weekend. I Also have one from even further back called "online dating profile" where i constructed an online dating profile that would represent what i WANTED to say about myself, but it was a little too dark for prime time. Maybe someday I'll publish that too.

Its been a while since I've done one of these rambling, multi-topic posts

2010-08-15T00:13:00.003-04:00

Even longer since I've done one drunk. Let's go:

"You can't stop the signal Mal." Wikileaks wins again.

In other news, WTF is going on in Winona? Wildman, Timbo, I'm looking in your directions.

Here's a story. I was cleaning out the garage the other day because I'm all domestic and shit now. (also, she beats me) Basically the final step is using the BFGlf (BIG FUCKING GAS leaf blower). It was supposed to be used to supercharge a ghetto race car, but in the mean time there's no reason it can't be blowing dust off the work bench. Anyway, i came across these:

Apparently this garage is where beautiful things come to die. This explains the 1986 Supra slowly rotting in the driveway.

{single tear}

That's all for this week. Remember kids, the slow sword penetrates the shield

2010-07-24T11:11:00.002-04:00

This is good information to have re: Mexican Gov. and my plan to build a sail boat on their beaches.

emoticon gender benders

2010-07-23T10:45:00.002-04:00

I was on the Playstaion Network (Yes, i play playstation it helps clear my brain STOP JUDGING ME!) and within certain games, people are able to put "tags" in front of their names, limited to 4 characters. You see a lot of interesting stuff ,like the lawnmower

\.=.

The pistol

%"""

all manner of middle finger (which look better in font-type other than this)

o0oo
n0nn

an assortment of male genitalia and female frontal parts

{use imagination}

this week i saw one that didn't immediately make sense. And like a vanity license plate with no vowels, it sent my brain spiraling into a vortex of analysis... I believe it looked somethingng like this:

-32=

I'm quite certain of the lat three characters but the first is a little fuzzy. Something like that, however. After several zetaflops of calculation, a couple beers of lubrication and an hour or so of eliminating digital terrorists, my brain was only able arrive at one conclusion:

Its a transvestite.

I mean look at it. The parts are all there. They're blown out of proportion, not unlike a caricature, but that's what these preteen n00bs are going for, right? And the limit on characters meant the head had to be cut off, but it's all there, man, in black and white, OPEN YOUR EYES.

Of course, in the light of day and away from the passion of the moment, i can see it is also, perhaps, construed as a face.

Here i have redrawn it to include a hat.

<32=

I don't know, maybe identifying patterns in these things is like looking for shapes in clouds.

Okay, here's another one

2010-07-15T15:50:00.002-04:00

I have this friend, let's call him Jennifer. (protect the innocent and all that)

This guy has a lot of random stories but i like the one of the crazy voicemail girl the best. I'm not exactly clear on the details surrounding how it all started but many years ago he got a call on his cell from a number he didn't know. It went to voicemail and this random caller, a girl, proceeded to leave him a voice message as if they were long lost friends catching up and had known each other for ages. Except he doesn't know her. He's sure of it. He doesn't recognize the name, voice, back story or know anyone from that area code.

This continues for years. Like 10 of them, maybe? every so often she calls, often in the middle of the night, he doesn't answer and she leaves a rambling, update of a voicemail. As such, time marches on, he gets married, has kids, he tells everyone about this random woman because its a great story but the phone calls eventually die off. (Did she die of crazy disease? Eaten by lions? run over while hopping on a west-bound trian? who knows) Then, a couple months ago, another phone call. For some reason he decides to answer this time, leading with the quite obvious: "WTF mate?"

Turns out she dialed the wrong number that first time so long ago and at the sound of his voicemail voice, decided to just start talking. From then on she used his inbox as something of a non-permanent diary; A way to unburden herself and recount the ups and downs of the years and whatnots.

We should all be so lucky to have a crazy cell-phone stalker.

Trying to explain: pt 1

2010-07-12T15:21:00.003-04:00

Michigan:

I spent the weekend of the 4th in America's most underrated city, Detroit. I managed to check almost all the boxes necessary for a successful Detroit visit:

Sleep at Stos' house: Check
Harassed by the suburban police: Check
Illegal Fireworks: Check
Royal Oak: Check
Cruise Woodward: Check
Harassed by homeless guy for driving a Miata: Check
Challenged to a stoplight race by pick-up truck: Check
Freeways of construction: Check
Both sides of family: Check
Seedy Strip Club: N/A due to funding
Vehicular maintenance: Check
5am at an all night, private downtown bar: Check
Hanging out with Greeks: Check

Did that just happen?

2010-07-11T20:49:00.003-04:00

Events of the past three weeks have left me struggling to sort out the details of my reality. Did all those things just happen? Did two Yoopers (and their respective lovers) visit Ohio in back-to-back weeks? Was I really at an underground Detroit after hours bar at 5am? Do I spend my day's toiling in a dim lab tucked away in a half-abandoned 80yr old building, tweaking circuits... or did i imagine that part?

Look, there was like TENS of THOUSANDS of motorcycles there. Wait, I have a motorcycle and a convertible but nothing big enough to transport a lawn mower?

How did I break the lawn mower?

When did i get a lawn?

...

I'm almost 100% sure i Kareoked Big Balls by AC/DC.

(Who in an S-10 would try to drag race a Miata? Oh Detroit, I've missed your crazy ways)

From McSweeney's

2010-06-23T20:54:00.001-04:00

There's too much uncertainty in the world these days, too many things we can't count on anymore. That's why I think you'll be happy to hear there's a 100% chance that I'll be taking my clothes off tonight.

We're in the midst of a classic tale, you and I. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl go to Applebee's. Boy exposes himself to girl. Sorry if that's not how dates end in your prudish ivory tower, but this isn't about you, it's about trying to get this night back on track and make things right.

You want to see what thirty-five minutes of elliptical machine a month can do to a man's body? You're about to. You want to cradle me in your capable arms and tell me everything's going to be okay? That can also be arranged.

It's called spontaneity if you're not familiar with the term. Another term you should familiarize yourself with is psoriasis. My inner thighs look like relief maps of South America. Sorry if that makes you uneasy, but life isn't always neatly wrapped up in a little box with a pretty bow. Sometimes that little box has a patchy skin disease that flares up without any goddamned warning.

Fact: you are throwing me more signals than a third base coach who's trying to have sex with me. Fact: I am reading you loud and clear and I'm heading straight for home, unencumbered by garments. Don't let playful euphemisms like that lull you into thinking I'm keeping my clothes on, because that's not an option at this point. Mentally, I'm already very naked. It's just a baby step from here.

Look, no one said dating was going to be easy. The sooner you come to grips with that, the sooner you can let your guard down and start exploring my body like a budding archeologist who just unearthed a terra cotta warrior. A warrior whose armor and undergarments appear to have eroded over time. Whoopsy-daisy.

Enough talk. It's time to check your inbox because there's an invitation to an epidermis party. It's from me. No need to RSVP, you're already here. And so's my body. If you need to brush up on some old biology curriculum, now's your chance because it's about to get anatomical up in here, and I don't have time to explain to you how my body works.

We're moments away from doing the kinds of things we couldn't have done if I kept my clothes on. It's like those final seconds of anticipation before a thunderstorm. But no slicker's going to protect you from this nasty forecast. It's about to rain three to four inches of me. Possibly five, but I can't promise anything.

source

I would buy a t-shirt

2010-06-09T09:24:00.002-04:00

...but if Dues was selling them they'd be $95.00 and only come in one size

sigh

2010-06-05T20:27:00.003-04:00

Yesterday i got this:

from Eric Walkinshaw
date Fri, Jun 4, 2010 at 10:15 AM
subject Fwd: Ohio needs your help...

Mike is right about this one. This is America and if you want to live here, learn English. And the Mexican already know that drunk driving is a crime. The police don't need to advertise it!

An America Patriot

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Mike Jordan
Date: Thu, Jun 3, 2010 at 10:49 PM
Subject: Ohio needs your help...
To: Mike Jordan

If this doesn’t offend you, you are NOT a true AMERICAN!

This is the only one left up as of this evening that I know of...someone tore down the one that was posted across the street from PNC on 741.
I’m guessing it will only be a matter of time before someone tears this one down, I hope so anyway.

This is CRAZY! The last time I looked this was STILL AMERICA!
I was SO furious, I stopped into the Miami Township Police Department and let them know as an American I was totally offended by this and this was unacceptable.
Anyway, I let them no with out any doubt that I was going to posts this and any other images they put up like this on the internet, send it to Congressman Mike Turner and anyone else that will listen.
Also that I was going to get together a group of people an protest the Miami Township Police Department until they took these signs down.

So PLEASE send this to any and everyone you know of that is proud to be an American... Are you ready for this???? Check out the officers they told me to contact to complain to...kinda ironic huh?

CALL THIS OFFICER AND LET HIM KNOW THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE IN OHIO!
Major Di Piezero
937-433-2418.

If you are offended by this as much as I am, please make your voice heard, call and let them know!

Also, it wouldn’t hurt to write Mike Turner as well.
http://www.turner.house.gov/Contact/

As I’ve always said...if no one speaks up, it will only get worse because if you don’t speak up now, one day you’ll wake up and wonder what happened. By that time it will be too late to have your voice heard.

Wake up people...not only did we get the health care shoved down out throats, they will enforce this on us as well unless we stop it!

Thanks
Mike

This photo was taken at the Miami Township Police Department this evening 6-3-2010.

(Sophist says: Imagine a photo here of an ANTI Drunk Driving banner written in Spanish)

******************************************************************
Today i sent this

from Sophist@sophist.address
to Eric Walkinshaw
date Sat, Jun 5, 2010 at 8:24 PM
subject Re: Ohio needs your help...
mailed-by gmail.com

Patriot Eric,

I don't know you and you don't know me, but it seems we've exchanged emails in the past. I've read what you forwarded me here, considered the call to action and would like to offer a counter proposal. Instead of everyone going batshit crazy over a poster, why don't you open your eyes to the shit that matters in Ohio and champion something worthwhile?

Here's a good one:
http://www.dispatch.com/live/content/local_news/stories/2010/06/02/ohio-supreme-court-speed-estimate-valid.html?sid=101

Here's another:
http://gizmodo.com/5553765/are-cameras-the-new-guns

I guess I'm too simple to understand why i should care about a banner on a fence when everyday I'm inundated with examples of stupid and pointless laws born of this mentality; Imagined security from a piece of paper, created because someone's delicate sensibilities were offended. More fuel for a painful bureaucracy and, in other cases, the eroding away of my freedom to be left alone. Or like the two examples above, another nail in the coffin of "Innocent until proven guilty." You know, the stuff that *should* have people rioting in the streets.

Anyway, having found Mike's work insightful and inspiring, I've taken a cue from its originality and decided to forward your email to everyone in my contact list. I've described how you're out of control and need to be stopped and encouraged them to contact you directly so we can put a stop to the madness. I mean, last time i checked, I thought this was 'Merica?

-Patriot (Sophist's real name)

P.S.
My $125 offer for the muffler still stands.

*************************************************

UPDATE!

From: Eric Walkinshaw
Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2010 20:52:20 -0400
To: Curt Zackiewicz
Subject: Re: Ohio needs your help...

Well I'm not surprised that a motorhead like you would be offended by the idea that a police officer can judge the speed of a car by sight. In fact, I agree that the speed of a car can be determined reasonably accurately by a trained observer. Of course, guys like you want to go speeding around in your cars. BTW, I sold the muffer to another clown. Did I mention that I considered most of the MX-5 crowd a bunch of fags?

Ciao

Editor's note: i think i understand now the enjoyment trolls get out of being internet trolls.

Motorcycle Update

2010-06-01T20:25:00.002-04:00

When i first dropped pictures of the reworked bike it was, as it turns out, mostly show and very little go. The carb tuning was a train wreck and required some fiddling that i didn't have the time for. Today i finally stole away enough ticks to put the last couple hours in to get it sorted (turns out the key is ZERO washer spacers). With the insights of people from around the Midwest, it now pulls hard, runs a little less "smooth," often smells of hydrocarbons and in general wreaks of badass-ary.

Here it is without the side cover reinstalled and sporting the tank bag that doubles as a high-speed chest cushion.

It's not exactly where i'd like it to be and at WOT still has the slightest hint of hesitation in the 5 to 6k range but i think i've tuned the carbs as close as these factory parts will allow. In other words, the resolution of the problem is too fine to eliminate. In other, other words, its good enough.

Also, the breather is spewing a bit of oil, the paint on the tank peeled off where it was touching the tank bag (after leaving it out in the sun one day) and the air filters seem awfully loose, though I've yet to lose one with 200 miles of riding. In short: it's completely awesome, full of character and far exceeds my expectations for this project.

I can't get enough of this

2010-05-25T22:57:00.001-04:00

Shopping while ill

2010-05-17T14:31:00.007-04:00

My associate (that is, one of my many, many (and often anonymous) lovers) has left on business for the summer and as a going away present gave me her virus-born cold. (Kisses!)

Without drugs or food supplies, step one was to go out into the world and restock the wolf den. (I am a wolf pack of one now. HOOOWWWLLL!)

I've experienced this intriguing scenario before so I'm not sure why it always surprises me but when I'm stocking up on drugs my ability to make wise money decisions is completely felled. I start by pouring myself into the car and driving through the summer rain to Kroger, because i know if has a Starbucks kiosk and that's the only way I'm going to shake off the NyQuil fog long enough to operate the shopping cart. First (post Bucks) stop: the medicine isles. Immediately my weakened mental state comes into play; Sweet, enjoyable and laughable Ricola cough drops or dirty-deeds-done-dirt-cheap Halls? I take both. Also some pills to loosen phlegm. Then more NyQuil, enough to host a party of Bird Flu patients and also some Advil. Burt's Bees, mouth wash, toe of newt, ankle sling, wart remover, eye drops, what is this... pregnancy test? better throw it in... I'm like the fat man running the bonus round on 80's games show Super Market Spree.

Next the fruit, bananas and strawberries, everything else takes too much preparation. This is when i start making "outside the box" purchases. Freshly baked blueberry muffins? Lady if you take that last package i will LICK YOUR FACE TWO TIMES. I think she can see the virus coursing through the veins in my eyes.

Cereal: Two boxes in case it gets worse and i can't drive myself around later.

Oreos: these are always a 50/50 chance of finding their way into my cart based on an intricate algorithm that considers worldly pulses such as how i've felt the week previous, whether i'm up or down in the fitness battle and how the Asian stock market is responding to the tech sector. Today the tech sector is doing well. Two packs.

Cat food: Do i have a cat or really know anyone that does? No, but it's raining and maybe i'll pass on a stray on the way home... Better get two cans.

Yogurt, ice cream, 300 lunchables, a king's assortment of cheeses, fancy juices, canned soup, sewing needles for acupuncture, leaches, crackers, tissues, and... Potato chips. Never, since college, have i bought potato chips when shopping solely for myself. I'm now acting like a pregnant drug addict and what? they sell ping pong balls in the beer section now? I'm going to have to entertain myself for the next few months.

...

How did i spend $115 on groceries that fail to fill 1/3 of a Miata trunk?

BONUS SAVINGS TIME: There are ants coming out of my laptop. Is this really happening or did I mix NyQuil with DayQuil again?

At lunch today

2010-05-11T12:42:00.003-04:00

For lunch today I was seeking a peaceful, reflective setting with some soul and something captivating to gaze upon. As i work in the Xurbia of the midwest, this is almost unobtainable so I opted for the deli down the street.

I sat in the corner of the corner table with 3 other tables in my section. Slowly, each filled with a couple. The first was two business men wearing loafers and khakis, with blue button up shirts. The noisy one was spouting on about the bad business decisions that someone in the company by the name of Curt had made. Or maybe it was Curt that was going to finally straighten things out. Either way, this conversation continued to catch my attention even when i tried to focus away, due to the audio que. The 30-something noisy one was opinionated seemed to enjoy his own voice and I immediately labeled him as someone i would avoid in the office; weasely. He was speaking to a peer of equal rank but slightly older. He looked more distinguished, with some grey hair, and seemed more reflective and objective, but agreeable enough to keep the conversation moving. I had seen this situation play out in my own life too many times to be interested.

At the second table was a man and a woman, early to mid 30's, with sexual tension. She was a natural red-head with long, slightly curly hair wearing jeans and red flannel. She was naturally good looking but gave the impression of having been raised on a farm or maybe was a tom boy growing up, since her looks were almost entirely a result of good luck and he was way out of his league. He looked and sounded generic; khakis and tennis shoes, a zip up fleece and cookie-cutter haircut. He was slim and unathletic and mostly quiet while she was an engaging, full-bodied speaker. I'm pretty sure he knew he was out-classes too, as he spent the lunch with one hand on his drink and one hand in his pocket (while sitting down!) perhaps constantly searching for his next sentence fragment. They spoke of the other night in the bar, perhaps when the met? I think friends of friends. In the light of day he seemed to offer little, mostly sitting back, staring straight ahead while she was leaning forward and swaying in her chair with the inflection in her stories.

The third table was an older man with an early middle-aged woman. A father and Daughter, I think, or maybe even Grandfather. The old man looked old, weathered, grey and wrinkled. She was considerably younger, but still had his resemblance. They were catching up, but for maybe just a week's time; maybe this was a weekly lunch date? He was intriguingly vibrant for what appeared to be his age. It seems like most people (sometimes myself included, though not on purpose) talk to seniors with a slow and slightly condescending voice but she was almost absent of that (though she did speak a *little* slower and more staccato than seemed natural, she didn't have to dumb-down her vocabulary). They talked about so-and-so's new job and the overtime she wasn't receiving and what's-her-name's failed search through the obituaries for a lost friend. Throughout the conversation I was intrigued by how quickly his mind worked and hoped the same for myself in 60 years.

2010-05-03T11:14:00.003-04:00

Last weekend i attended another wedding. Mostly it was like the others: fancy shoes -> god -> drinks -> food -> drinks -> dancing -> drinks -> {memory not found} -> how did i end up back at my hotel room?

I love weddings.

One noteworthy part was when the non-denominational Christian preacher started quoting the move Rocky, setting the scene up and describing the conversation from each character's point:

Paulie: [talking about Adrian, his sister] You like her?
Rocky: Sure, I like her.
Paulie: What's the attraction?
Rocky: I dunno... she fills gaps.
Paulie: What's 'gaps'?
Rocky: I dunno, she's got gaps, I got gaps, together we fill gaps.

Of course the movie, being more true to life than his sermon, has three additional lines that were left un-said:

Paulie: Are you ballin' her?
Rocky: Hey!
[punches Paulie in the shoulder]
Rocky: You don't talk dirty about your sister!

The real Conan

Last week i found the most awesomest car for sale at a super low price and then the guy decided he wanted to keep it.

...sigh...

Arizona: I'm strangely in love with the idea of states making their own crazy laws about issues that they find regionally important. Maybe i WANT a state in the union where it's legal to walk around with no pants. Just sayin'. For every Arizona there will probably be a "live free or die" state and the pendulum always swings. I'm more concerned about this idea of a homogeneous country the man keeps peddling.

Finally, another of the few remaining good pieces is lost

another 24

2010-04-22T15:40:00.001-04:00

It's all over but the cryin'

Race car blog

for those who wonder

2010-04-12T22:07:00.001-04:00

these are not my works of poetry. They are a product of your turn of the (last) century American slavery. My failure to cite is a direct result of my, well, failing to cite.

would have been a great megadeath song

2010-04-11T22:37:00.001-04:00

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

why not continue the theme?

2010-04-07T20:11:00.002-04:00

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

and now for something completely different

2010-04-05T15:27:00.000-04:00

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

HAHAHAHAHAHA

2010-03-10T17:55:00.004-05:00

Why do my halls echo with the sounds of my crazy, maniacal laughter? Because i've (nearly) finished the bike rebuild!

See, at first it was like this:

And it was fine but then i made a few changes... subtle like. But then this winter i got the inspiration and for a few months it looked like this:

And those were sad times but i did not lose faith... Now I have this:

Holy shit!

Though i'm still missing a front brake line, it feels like i took the chains off an angry dog. The engine is alive now that I've added the lightness and removed the stupid air box. Plus i sprinkled the carb with magic fingers.

(Eyeball those K&N intakes!) But best of all it looks like it's gonna push you down and take your lunch money! It makes me want to put on my leather and go start bar fights!

This is gonna be the best summer EVAH!

{que up the Black Label Society}

today i resume my position as corporate whore

2010-03-08T11:52:00.001-05:00

Brutal

my day

2010-03-05T14:56:00.005-05:00

Today I had to meet with some corporate stooges about some corporate clown-shoing, so it seemed like a rare situation where i should style my hair. My hair, you see, is approaching shaggy because, well, I'm a poor college student and it's how we do.

However, today is also a March day, which means it falls in Mustache March, and certain people insist that i grow a mustache. Of course to let only a mustache grow in would be peder-ast of one, meaning I start rocking the whole beard.

Now my hair is styled and my 5 days worth of George Michael facial hair is kicking. But alas, it's sunny and warm for the firs time in 2010, thus i would be a fool to leave the house without the convertible!

(Here it is, surrounded by the still melting snow)

Top down in a Miata, with a George Michael beard and gelled hair. Suspicious? Yes, but given the benefit of the doubter, one might say, "My, that dapper sports car enthusiast must have a job interview today," and actually believe it... Until the radio started playing Hall and Oats "Man Eater."

And i turned it up.

(Dammit, if Hall and Oats is wrong then i don't want to be right.)

What say you, Mega Shark?

In other news...

Here is a preview of the soon to be released (from the basement) motorcycle, with mad rebuild.

That is all.

(It could have been worse... it could have been this version. I still wouldn't have changed the station.)

I said, there are two types of people

2010-02-19T10:23:00.003-05:00

The ones that watch the madness unfold and do nothing. Nothing! What would Charles Bronson do?!

(Seattle: Maybe not that great after all)

The other type? The ones that MIX THAT SHIT, even if they do look like an old Fat Albert.

(Detroit: Still fucked)

there are two types of people in the world

2010-02-15T13:39:00.003-05:00

People who sit at desks: Cave dwelling, suburban honkies who don't know the score.

People who storm beaches: "Been in the shit," can separate the bullshit from the substance, knows the score.

(of course i realize that not all or even most veterans would necessarily be pro-gay-military... its just a fun human dichotomy)

2010-02-10T00:59:00.001-05:00

Dear Cubicle,

It's fun when an artist shocks you with their prescience. I believe it was you that Henry David Thoreau foresaw when he said that "the mass of men live lives of quiet desperation." I used to tell myself that I would never live a life of quiet desperation; I would scream my desperation for everyone to hear. But you've tamed me. When I'm with you my pupils dilate, my breath falls into calm repetition and my spirit bleeds.

There is not one thing about you that I like. Your steel drawers are joyless, your calendar taunts me and your walls are shabby. Could there be a lazier expression of light than the harsh glow from that buzzing fluorescent tube you keep encased in a plastic grate? I'm Irish for crying out loud. My skin reflects light poorly enough under soft conditions, beneath you I look like a milk-filled jellyfish.

The decorum that my co-workers have hung about your entrance is misguided and cruel. That picture of San Antonio Spurs guard Manu Ginobli doesn't look anything like me. While I do have dark hair, dark eyebrows and perennial two day stubble, I had hoped that this made me look more like Matthew Fox from Lost than a balding Argentinean. And I'm sure it was good fun for them to pin my quote from last week's happy hour on your outside wall, but when I said that "the decade since I graduated college has been nothing but bad news and depressing life lessons," it was uttered in a state of honest sadness, it was not meant to be ironic, hyperbolic or funny in any way.

There are a couple of small comforts that have made short clips of my time with you at least tolerable. I enjoy reading my page-a-day Onion desk calendar, although it was such a crutch against your dogged grind that I burned through the full year's worth of entries in early March. I'm thankful that a cleaning crew comes by dark of night to empty my rubber trash can and sweep up all the crumbs and hairs that accumulate in my keyboard, although I'm certain that they're stealing my mints.

If I hate you so much, why do I spend the waking hours of my prime locked in this terrible relationship? Nobody is forcing me to return to you everyday, it's become a conditioned response to waking up. What if I stopped going? What if I up and left? I could become a Park Ranger and spend my time in the outdoors. Surely I'm qualified to be a Park Ranger, with minimal training I could become quite skilled at telling people to ask their dogs to quiet down. Or I could double-down and dig my way out. If I spent my nights and weekends with you they'd move me into that office with the blinds and the fake plant. I bet I could be happy in that office, gazing upon the landscape print that hangs above my desk and doesn't offend anyone. From there I could look out at you through my glass wall. I could take your new prisoner out to lunch and tell them everything. I'd tell them about how you are, and I'd tell them about what you do.

Sincerely,
Jonathan Easley

My readership has steadilly decreased

2010-01-30T21:58:00.003-05:00

Over the last 8 months it's dropped linearly by 75%. I'd show you a chart, but you're smart folks, you can finger it out.

Here's a report on what's happening:

Also, if you haven't seen the Epic Win FTW website, it often looks like this:

Boom.

Mostly just links

2010-01-23T20:40:00.002-05:00

NIETZSCHE'S
ANGEL FOOD CAKE.

BY REBECCA COFFEY
- - - -
1. Allow the angel to reach room temperature. Then kill it.

2. Kill God. Set Him aside.

3. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

4. Ecstatically whip, as if possessed by a storm-wind of freedom, 1-1/2 cups of excellent egg whites with 1/4 tsp. salt and 1-1/2 tsp. cream of tartar. Continue until peaks are as if raised to their own heights and given wings in a fine air, a robust air.

5. Gradually add 3/4 cup sugar, about 3 tbsp. at a time.

6. You are brilliant.

7. Now, add 1 tsp. vanilla and 1/4 tsp. almond extract, and then sift together 1-1/4 cups flour and 3/4 cup sugar.

8. Blend in God and the angel. Emboldened, add the egg mixture.

9. Gaze into the überbatter. The überbatter will gaze into you.

10. While prancing about in a frenzy of self-satisfaction and anticipation, use a rubber scraper to push the überbatter into an ungreased 10" tube pan, for it is destined to be there.

11. Bake on a lower rack until done, usually 35-40 minutes, while reciting to the upper rack a long, convoluted anecdote about your childhood.

12. Invert the tube pan over a bottle for a few hours. Then impetuously rap the pan. Shout, "Aha!" and slide a knife along the pan's insides.

13. Call what tumbles out a cake if you dare. Call it miraculous even.

14. Eat it. It is delicate, morbid, loveable, and you will die depressed, delirious, and overweight.

(McSweeny's)

Got a gun? You need a gun.

Be sure to check out the updates to the RACE CAR!

I know how this story ends....I'll even update it for 2010 Ferris has a three way with sloan and his sister, the grease ball gets to thrash a ferrari with a head full of coke he found in the ferrari, and in a strange twist of copycat-ism, Cameron dragged out into the field naked, and shot execution style by his iraq war vetern father - pissed not so much about the ferrari but with the cocaine he stashed in it to keep his mind numb to his deranged wife and the shadows that he thinks is hiding the enemy.....

Speaking of awesome vehicles, this carbon fiber super boat got owned. It makes me sad.

(see more here)

you think you're so great 2010? I seen 29 just like you...

2010-01-13T10:44:00.009-05:00

Though i have no misconceptions that i will or even could return to posting with the regularity that i once knew, here's an attempt at something with content:

But first, the WHORES!

I've been thinking about turning 30. It's about 8 months away and i'm starting a mental checklist/reflecting pond so i can sort out what (if anything) it all means. Incidentally it may correspond with the completion of the master's degree (what, you think you my MASTA now?), so i'm thinking "Toga Senior Barrel pt II: Son of Toga Senior Barrel"

Physicist: But who would come?
AS: Yo Momma!
AS: {weeping inside, knowing that her mother *would* come and probably bring a very nice bottle of wine, but people like Yooper Dave, Drunk Roland and Random Slutty Girl #3 would in fact, not be there,)

At times like these i am reminded of the Allegory of the Beer Cave. It must surely be so!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

let's talk about breast cancer awareness. First, let is be known, i love boobs. No, it's true- Love 'em. And even as a lover and occasional manic for breasts, i'm a little uncomfortable by the "tits all out there" direction that breast cancer awareness is taking. See, the bumper sticker said "save the ta tas." At that moment i remember all the weird breast cancer awareness stuff i've seen, like the "i <3 boobs" t-shirts and the facebook bra-color status updates and odd bumper stickers and stuff that tries to draw on some combination of shock and primal love of tits. (The over exposure is probably from all the half-marathons; those things tend to attract people that run "for causes" like jesus and boobs or both , though running for a cause and thinking people should give money to your preferred cause because you did something that makes your life better... that's a whole other rant)

Anyway- what you've got now are excuses for frat guys to where I <3 BOOBS tshits and hot girls to draw attention to their own chests and, well, doesn't it make you feel dirty all over? Not, like, morally dirty- I wouldn't know that feeling, but like used-by-corporate-PR-dirty? Maybe it's because i love breasts so much... it's like a member of my family is being exploited to fund-raise! And if you really belived in the cause, isn't there a level of objectification happening, and are you willing to trade that to sell some T-shirts with your slogan? then again, i could be way off... It's been a while since i've rapped at ya'll and maybe i'm losing my edge.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Finally (the Whores?) and as usual, a recap of last year:

Learned to ski
Visited Vermont
Was tossed out of 7 bars in one night
Ruined my favorite boots
Ran a trail half marathon with a (self diagnosed) broken toe
Learned to weld
Built a race car
Planted a garden
Visited Georgia
Bought a Miata
Drove the tail of the dragon
Learned to Heal-Toe shift
Went to Berlin (2x +good)
Stood up in a wedding
Motorbiked to Montreal (3x +wet)
Visited NY (several times)
Moved to Ohio
Invaded the home of the Physicist
Started grad school
Grew some grey hair
Raced a race car
Rode a Ducati
Visited North Carolina
Rode two mechanical bulls
Visited the UP

Plus some other stuff

As the scorpion said to the frog, "it is my nature"

Don't shoot the messenger...

2010-01-05T19:06:00.002-05:00

-paraphrased, not original- We frequently hear the complaint that slutty men are applauded and slutty women are disdained. Let me explain why. If you have a key that can open many locks, its the master key, and generally very useful and good. If you had a lock that could be opened by any key, we would consider that a pretty shitty lock, right?

Your mom wasn't your dad's first

2010-01-04T18:01:00.004-05:00

The link below is a little crazy-liberal-picket-sign-swinging, but the person did a good job of collecting the advertisements i wish to showcase, as well as providing some amusing re-dubs.

See them here

Remember the god old days when i would update bi-weekly and provide insights into the world as well as hilarious links and life-inspiring anecdotes? Me neither.

Here's some more internet shit to stare at:

Sorry i missed your party dot com

I'm actually anxious to return to my scholastic pursuits. How lame is that? I guess the internet can't offer the hours of mind-stealing entertainment that it once did.

Yup, the back of the party has been broken.

(nah, it's still funny)

two things

2009-12-27T22:51:00.003-05:00

Today a physicist suggested I name my book "A Curious Tongue: The {My Name} Story."

Agreed.

Also,

Winter Projects

2009-12-20T21:26:00.003-05:00

I love technology and even in the hands of the bad guys it warms my techno-heart to see simply solutions used for what must ave seemed like insurmountably complicated problems. (HTF are we gonna escape the drones?) This sadly was not one of my winter projects but the motorcycle is...

The W650 sits in wait in the basement. Just before retiring it i ran some Seafoam through it like everyone has been raving about and it immediately killed one of the cylinders from firing. My instinct tells me its just a fouled plug. I hope my instinct is right. To do list includes rebuilding the clutch, replacing the plugs, mild tear down and cleaning of the carbs and general cleaning of the 8k miles worth of grime is has accumulated in the short year I've owned it.

Finally, I've been heavily researching suspensions upgrades for the Miata. To give you an idea of how bad things are, this guy made a video of the stock set-up.

The problem is, like everything else in the modern world, the new Miata has been pussi-fied into a bland, all-appealing former shell of it's self. The good news is, by simply adding stiffer anti-sway bars i can turn this day-time housewife into full-fledged stripper-wife! From there a set of coil-over shocks and raspy exhaust would be almost sinful to postpone.

so lonely

2009-12-20T16:22:00.001-05:00

desperate attempt to update

2009-12-03T20:00:00.002-05:00

It seems through Facebook's allowance of a quick and dirty thought cleansing combined with a busy schedule, the days of consistent and reliable blog updates are dead.

Here, Here.

Rock lock!

2009-11-15T21:31:00.001-05:00

Vehiclular madness and the pumkpin hell

2009-11-12T10:01:00.005-05:00

Earl, from My Name is Earl.

The world is spinning in my direction on the vehicular front. The Grand Am's wheels were so corroded that they required a major overhaul. So i pulled of the tires and went to town with a grinder and some brass wheels. 10 man-hours later, they're corrosion free, holding air, wrapped with new rubber and painted black! I always knew that car would look boss with black rims and turns out, it does. During the two weeks it was up on stilts, i took the opportunity to add the Sat. radio and replaced the blown speakers in the back. Unfortunately, the cool kids on the internet were wrong and it's actually the Amp causing the popping noise in the rears.

Svetlana has her cold air intake, a fresh batch of Mobile-1 synthetic and a nice warm cover to keep her warm all winter. And when the weather breaks, a fine set of 8" wide Turbo RX-7 wheels/tires await her in the basement.

The motorcycle will be heading into the basement as well for a mild overhaul. A new clutch pack is in order as well as a solid cleaning top to bottom. I'd like to replace the brake line with something shorter, to match the lower bars, and preferably braided steal. I'll also be wrapping the pipes to give a topping off of badd-ass-ness.

Lastly, the race car will be under the knife all winter. The fuel system and brake lines will receive a general application of un-fucking and the engine is going to be wrung out for all she's got (left).

How so, you ask?

I'll give you a hint: It starts with

And rhymes with "forced induction." (but how would you force induction with a non-turbo header and no super charger... ?)

See ya at the races.

Here's me.

2009-11-06T22:59:00.000-05:00

Here's me, hating fucking hipsters:

Don't Lose Touch

2009-11-06T14:47:00.001-05:00

"I certainly had an appreciation of the danger which to me was part of the pleasure of racing. To me now racing is - the dangers are taken away: if it's difficult, they put in a chicane. So really now the danger is minimal - which is good, because people aren't hurt. But for me the fact that I had danger on my shoulder made it much more exciting. It's rather like if you flirt with a girl, it's more exciting than paying for a prostitute, because while you know you're gonna get it, the other one you don't. And I think with driving a motor car, the danger is a very necessary ingredient. Like if you're cooking, you need salt. You can cook without salt, but it doesn't have the flavor. It's the same with motor racing without danger. For me."

Sterling moss

losing touch

2009-11-05T00:15:00.001-05:00

IMAGINE

2009-10-27T20:19:00.002-04:00

Imagine a world where businessmen- No, car makers; CEOs, are over-the-top cartoonish figures. Characters issuing outlandish, turn-of-the-(20th)-century-esq challenges: "Come one, come all! Who can defeat me and my machine in the five-sided-fistagon?

This IS the world we live in!

I think it means that the European high-performance sedans are excellent, even superb cars, but quite possibly not ready for racing laps right out of the show-room. The CTS-V is not only quicker, but will, in totally untweaked, stock form, run hot laps at any race track until it runs out of fuel. Transmission oil and diff oil temps are stable, engine oil temp doesn't go up, brakes get a bit more pedal travel, but don't fade. The street tires get a tad greasy, but handling and control remain excellent. "May the best car win"! (It wins automatically if the competitors won't show up!)

And they didn't show up. (See the fall out here)

Here's a guy that would seem to have a pretty good understanding of 1) what it takes to fight a war and 2) what it is exactly the states have found themselves in the middle of. What did he do with all that vast and first hand knowledge? HE RAN THE FUCK AWAY because he didn't see any other options. (I know, i know, its left-biased news but the accounts of WTF is going on are pretty eye opening)

Also, in case you missed it, someone drove 15 tons of explosives up to a government building in Iraq this week. 15 tons! Try to wrap you brain around where and how a guy in a dessert with supposedly only a skeleton network of support pulls this shit off?

Finally, mark my words and write down the date because i WILL be these people some day.

Maybe tomorrow?

Because it amuses me

2009-10-24T00:20:00.001-04:00

just some silly

2009-10-22T19:31:00.002-04:00

this reminds me of my old roommate Rob. I miss that guy.

I've been thinking a lot about cars. Even more so than usual. Also, considering I haven't reduced the amount I've been thinking about women, it must mean that my brain is working more than usual.

I almost had an opportunity to buy the Fiat back this week. By some freak stroke of non-luck, i found it posted on Craigslist, but about a week too late. I probably would have pulled the trigger on it and later dealt with the ramification of personal and financial matter.

What would i do with my perfectly set-up Fiat? Something awesome... If i had more moeny, something like this. Or maybe not. I could try this trick, but diesel really deserves a bigger home than a fiat. Maybe a nice Caddy diesel? We all know the fiat really deserves a turbo solstice engine... And i even know someone looking to unload one!

Also, let me drop you some knowledge: If you're going to build an electric car, be smart about it. This guy did it all wrong, even with the stupid money that was thrown at the project. really? An alternator?

And now, for the naked Miata porn:

see it here and some more of it over here!

(more here if you're into this kind of thing.)

(it's cars.)

it's still cocld

2009-10-19T21:59:00.000-04:00

im still feeling car-tastic

2009-10-15T22:12:00.003-04:00

From Jalopnik:

I believe in Horsepower, the Father almighty,
creator of fun and excitement.

I believe in Rear Wheel Drive, his only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Manual Transmission
and born of the Frenchman Panhard.
He suffered under Jean-Louis Périn,
invented, died, and was buried;
thankfully before the CVT.
The third day he was still dead
but his transmission lives on in Heaven
and is seated at the right hand of Horsepower the Father almighty.
From there he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Manual Transmission,
the holy WRC races,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of speeding tickets,
the resurrection of the classics,
and the hoon everlasting. Amen.

Finally... You want the action? Here's the god damned action right here. It makes my man pieces tingle just thinking about another go at it. Like Joey talking to an underage girl, "i'll see YOU in 2010."

well...

2009-10-12T21:58:00.001-04:00

It has begun.

Before

After

Watch out for Surf City-sized puddles!

check one off:

2009-10-11T23:13:00.003-04:00

I have finally achieved another life-long (last 5 years) dream of appearing on the Jalopnik website.

Here i am

Now i can focus all my energy on landing that threesome with a pornstar and a US Senator. (Non-devil's variety, and i'd settle for a Canadian cabinet member in a pinch)

this is gonna be a long one

2009-10-06T21:54:00.007-04:00

First, a retelling of the great race week. There was simply too much data to both communicate and comment on it, so I'll use the simplest, chronological method

Friday Sep 25: completely remove myself from the insanity of daily life, pack, drive to MI, work on car, arriving at Drunk Mike's house sometime near sunset. Though I've spent many days with the car, this is my first time meeting the Race Car, as it now has a full fledged racing roll cage. Spend the rest of the evening building a game plan. Agenda: turn a Celica with a roll cage into a proper race car, and power it all with beer.
Sat Sep 26: Work on car, but fist, shopping. Have tires mounted, buy parts, pick up tires, buy more parts and then the car. 10 hours worth of the car. All culminating with trying to install a set of tires on newly mounted wheels that do not fit the car. And then I drive home to Ohio.
Sun Sep 27: something happened here.. I can’t remember what but I was too busy to study, which is what i really needed to be doing.
Mon Sep 28: Work ½ day, Class ½ day, lab and chores. (that's right mutherfuckers, i have chores. Fuck you.
Tue Sep 29: Work all day and finally get some futile Study time. Listen to "Sweating Bullets" for old time sake.
Wed Sep 30: Take the exam and walk away convinced i have achieved total failure. Not in a dramatic "oh gosh, i did so Terrible," way, but in a literal "i didn't know what to do with those problems" way. This is sickening, considering how much I'm paying for grad school (perfectly good race-car money), but these thoughts are replaced by images of race-car glory.
Thur Oct 1: Pack an SUV to the roof, Drive, Arrive, meet Drunk Mike and the Physicist's Dad who has already set up camp. Mike presents us with our team t-shirts.
Fri Oct 2: RAIN! Terrible, terrible rain. And we're camping in the grass. Everything is wet. Buy canopies, paint the car, install padding, go through tech inspect and BS inspect, install some more lights and take some shake-down laps at night in the rain, which is a good way to make yourself comfortable with wheel to wheel racing in a real quick manner. In my spare time (20ish minutes) tape hood, draw chicken, cut It out, paint chicken, remove rest of tape.
Sat Oct 3: wake up to cold wetness and warm gruel. More painting, dash lights, trip to the parts store for misc and just before the race... DISASTER (#1) main disconnect switch feels like there’s gravel inside it. Cut it apart and find its internals in pieces. Drive to get a new piece, come back and install it just in time to make it to the green flag... Unfortunately at that point someone (who was obviously not there during tech) realizes our harness is installed wrong-ish. DISASTER (#2) Some people at this point curl up in the fetal position and wait sobbing for death. Realizing that righting this will require fabricating new harness brackets, that’s what I did. With a DeWalt grinder named Christina, my favorite 18V cordless drill and some scrap heavy-guage steal I just happen to pack with me, i decide to win one for the Gip'er. For a few moments it looked like the game was over before it had even began but we were running with the pack between 1 and 2 hours after the official 12-noon start. The car was tight and brakes were way oversized for the job. The cornering was impressive for all-season tires and it turns out tire-wear was absolute minimum. Stos and Johnny moto show up and high fives are exchanged, mostly to appease the mustache. Around 6pm, DISASTER (#3) Mike comes in and we notice the brake reservoir is empty. Turns out the brakes lines under body are rusted and decided to brake. We go to store, we patch, we brake another line, we patch again. 3 hours lost but return to the track by 9, never to break again.
Sun Oct 4:I am elected to pilot the car for the final laps and 4 aps into the final stint, I go off the track but keep it under control after losing it at 60. this is an immediate black flag typically punished by 30 minutes in the corner but I talk my way out of it, but i think the mustache did most of the talking. Celebratory beers are handed out and one set of brand new all season tires were only ~50% used up.
Mon Oct 5: Exam Back, 100%. Turns out I am good at everything.

A lot of people have been asking me "Hey Mr. Reynolds, what's it like to be in a 24 Hours of Lemons race?" I say "well young lady, it's a lot like this:"

ALMS: Patron Highcroft Petit Le Mans Rebuild from GrandTouringPrototype.com on Vimeo.

Best tattoo ever? Yes

Finally, proof that cars trump women:

(I know, it's not true... silly Frenchmen)

************************************************

Sid: You want subversion on a massive level. You know what one of the greatest fucking scripts ever written in the history of Hollywood is? Top Gun.

Duane: Oh, come on.

Sid: Top Gun is fucking great. What is Top Gun? You think it's a story about a bunch of fighter pilots.

Duane: It's about a bunch of guys waving their dicks around.

Sid: It is a story about a man's struggle with his own homosexuality. It is! That is what Top Gun is about, man. You've got Maverick, all right? He's on the edge, man. He's right on the fucking line, all right? And you've got Iceman, and all his crew. They're gay, they represent the gay man, all right? And they're saying, go, go the gay way, go the gay way. He could go both ways.

Duane: What about Kelly McGillis?

Sid: Kelly McGillis, she's heterosexuality. She's saying: no, no, no, no, no, no, go the normal way, play by the rules, go the normal way. They're saying no, go the gay way, be the gay way, go for the gay way, all right? That is what's going on throughout that whole movie... He goes to her house, all right? It looks like they're going to have sex, you know, they're just kind of sitting back, he's takin' a shower and everything. They don't have sex. He gets on the motorcycle, drives away. She's like, "What the fuck, what the fuck is going on here?" Next scene, next scene you see her, she's in the elevator, she is dressed like a guy. She's got the cap on, she's got the aviator glasses, she's wearing the same jacket that the Iceman wears. She is, okay, this is how I gotta get this guy, this guy's going towards the gay way, I gotta bring him back, I gotta bring him back from the gay way, so I'll do that through subterfuge, I'm gonna dress like a man. All right? That is how she approaches it. Okay, now let me just ask you - I'm gonna digress for two seconds here. I met this girl Amy here, she's like floating around here and everything. Now, she just got divorced, right? All right, but the REAL ending of the movie is when they fight the MIGs at the end, all right? Because he has passed over into the gay way. They are this gay fighting fucking force, all right? And they're beating the Russians, the gays are beating the Russians. And it's over, and they fucking land, and Iceman's been trying to get Maverick the entire time, and finally, he's got him, all right? And what is the last fucking line that they have together? They're all hugging and kissing and happy with each other, and Ice comes up to Maverick, and he says, "Man, you can ride my tail, anytime!" And what does Maverick say? "You can ride mine!" Swordfight! Swordfight! Fuckin' A, man!

I hope this counts as a valid update. Stay tuned for pictures from the event, but be warned, other than some facial hair there's nothing too spectacular.

2009-09-30T12:40:00.002-04:00

First, a joke, compliments of my mom:

What is the difference between girls/women aged: 8, 18, 28, 38, 48, 58, 68, and 78 ?

At 8 -- You take her to bed and tell her a story.

At 18 -- You tell her a story and take her to bed.

At 28 -- You don't need to tell her a story to take her to bed.

At 38 -- She tells you a story and takes you to bed.

At 48 -- She tells you a story to avoid going to bed.

At 58 -- You stay in bed to avoid her story.

At 68 -- If you take her to bed, that'll be a story!

At 78 -- What story??? What bed??? Who the hell are you???

Thanks mom!

In other news, i swear, every time i see one of these self-righteous fucks fall it makes my day. Really its the little things in life that make it fun.

This old man gets it: He says crazy stuff because he's old. Sometimes i wish i was old and it was more acceptable for me spout crazy shit.

And in urban news, It seems the national media has finally picked up on the fact that one of the nation's largest cities is a fucking modern post-apocalyptic waste land. But do i miss Detroit? A little

Okay, okay, A LOT

who are you?

2009-09-17T22:43:00.001-04:00

2009-09-16T22:43:00.002-04:00

It's been a while I've rapped at yall. And that's because I'm busy with the school an' beard and the work an' roadster and the midwest an' garden and the moving an' cleaning and i could continue this for awhile.

We were smiled upon by the gods of interstate travel when the Physicist and i were able to visit Chest Rockwell and Notorious at his most excellent ocean-front resort house. in response to Chesto's version of what happened that weekend on the beach, i would add only this:

I can surf but only when no one is watching
Sand boobs are just like real boobs, but sandier
Someone needs to run a wobbly H on that bartender
Now one more person understands how awesome a midnight summer ride in a convertible can be. Especially in Mountains.

In the end, much science was debated, much booze was consumed and all the old jokes were told and told again: A complete success.

--pause--

in science news, you'll see that anyone who is anyone got money for batteries: warning: this is a PDF. Basically, if you and i had incorporated and then I'd have shown them my tattoos, we'd have gotten 10 million. American dollars. To keep. Alternatively, the company *I* work for, which has made batteries for hybrids for, oh, 15 years, IS NOT ON THAT LIST AND INSTEAD THEY'RE FIRING EVERYONE AND WE'RE ALL BROKE AND IT'S FUCKED WHAT HAPPENED HERE OMGWTFBBQ

should be sleeping

2009-08-28T01:02:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure why but i really enjoy going to the theater... sometimes even when I'm not terribly interested in the movie. In the last year I've started going by myself and discovered it was just a fun, and hey, fuck it if it is revealing of some other social short-comings. What's the point of all this? See the movie Inglourious Basterds. Don't fuck google it, dammit- you're going to ruin it. I recommend knowing nothing about the plot and it will be brilliant. Just go. It made me happy, during an event that normally makes me happy, and that made me super happy.

Also, District 9 was good.

Also, i saw a preview for this movie, where some guy's family was killed and he had to kill everyone and then someone said "he's in jail and he's still killing people!?" (see because he was in jail and was still killing people from there)

You probably just have to see it; Something about burning. Or fire.

Speaking of movies, how about enjoying them 3 frames at a time.

(like the one above? this one is better. Seriously, naked girls with machine guns? i LOVE animated .gifs so much i think i'll fill a digital picture frame with them.)

End Game:

2009-08-23T23:42:00.001-04:00

It looks like this.

to the MAX!

2009-08-11T21:32:00.002-04:00

It has occurred to me that I've let the blog fall to the wayside. I think this is a direct result of Facebook. Look: If i have a random idea, thought or stroke of brilliance, i'm not required or inspired to flesh it out into a coherent and hilarious paragraph. Instead i can just throw up a random sentence or two on the status update and BLAM, artificial sense of accomplishment; back to the internet.

Example: Today's status was (Sophist real name): Frustrated his body will not Frisbee as spectacularly as his mind wants it to. Also, how am i the only one on the skins team with chest hair?

This single thought could easily fill pages of reflection and speculation, most of it worth its weight in gold. Plus, given more space i could also add that those chumps didn't have any tats, scars, hair, piercings or chronic skin diseases at all! It was like playing disc in the white bread factory! Not to mention i could regale my readers with my inspired and tear-jerking story of how i'm desperately struggling to rebuild my college-frisbee-body of yore... But instead everyone will simply assume i've become a cake-based organism, soft and delicious with frosting.

Also, i find the feedback on Facebook to be poor at best. Sure there will a hand full of yocals that will "like" my status and then surely go on to "poke" half the people in their contact list, but will any bother to ask the hard hitting and accusational questions, like what was i doing playing with a bunch of little boys or inquire how i manged to get an entire team of women to play skins? (tequila in the Gatorade)

Ths time will be different! And to make up for my absence, i will leave you with this absurd image:

enjoy

like cars?

2009-08-10T11:05:00.002-04:00

this is a great article about enthusiast's cars. Cars that car people buy. It's fairly short.

"And the same kinds of fat, annoying, self-satisfied, middle-class faces that stared out the windshields of Malibus and Zephyrs back in 1983 now gaze lifelessly from Camrys and Accords."

hero

2009-08-05T22:41:00.001-04:00

obey

2009-08-03T13:00:00.000-04:00

furious anger

2009-07-21T21:20:00.002-04:00

Here's some news you may have missed:

It seems, just months after receiving bail money on the magnitude of, lets say, three-death-stars-worth, our American Banking Institutions are now in an excess of cash. Like infinity of it. And, like a dead beat cousin that still had the paint residue under his nose, we have no hope of getting any back.

This reminds me a moment in my life a couple months back. I was sitting with my brother, the Hulkster, while his little Hulkamanics ran wild in the backyard. The Hulkster turned to me, after one of our frequent and predictable conversations on the state of the economy, middle class and our respective outlooks, and asked "why can't people just do what everyone knows is the right thing to do?"

Why indeed Hulkster, why indeed.

- le sigh -

It seems, that "makes up his own rules and doesn't even follow those" McCain and "you elected me because you secretly wish you WERE me" Obama have flexed their cross-isle collective muscle and managed to eliminate 2 billion dollars worth of f-22 fighters from the upcoming government trip to Costco. That's about 7 planes worth. It feels like a step in the right direction until you realize California alone is shy about 16 billion for the up coming year. Keep saving your pennies, boys.

- le sigh -

It seems, the sophist managed to best a bunch of young punks in the game of disc this evening, finally no longer a shell of my previous self. Perhaps, i would say, I have returned to 50% capacity. Just wait until they have to cover 80% of Disco Stu. (Knees, ankles, hips, wrist, back, janky pinkie and shoddy shoulder, don't fail me now!)

eerie

2009-07-10T13:48:00.003-04:00

When did the internet get so smart that all you do is enter a name and it makes up a robot acronym describing your personality?

Get Your Cyborg Name

It's damn creepy!

Get Your Cyborg Name