Monday, August 03, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
furious anger
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!)
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!)
Friday, July 10, 2009
eerie
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?
It's damn creepy!
It's damn creepy!
Thursday, July 09, 2009
pushing through the madness
If you were wondering, the race car is coming along nicely. Recent achievements include Wheels, Driving, a Front End and now featuring... Seats!
By my standards, I've been busy. Partially because of the absurd amount of traveling/adventuring i've been doing. The most recent was this 2500mile motorcycle trip:
View Larger Map
let me just tell you... it rained. A lot. Typically, at this point, I'd tell you all about the exciting things that happened to us and then elude to having to tell the best ones over beers and lies. But, well, there really weren't any very exciting things that happened. It was good. Here are some pictures.
I've also found myself playing Ultimate frisbee again. I've been burning for a competitive sport and though ultimate isn't the most competitive sport around, at least i'm still pretty good at it. Turns out the guy that organizes this pick up league started playing cir. 2007 when he graduated high school. I'm pretty sure ,my most recent retirement started BEFORE that guy was introduced to the sport.
hmmm.
Either way, in my glorious-return-to-glory game, I received the first two points of the game and threw for a bunch more. I also took more subs than anyone on the field and spent the next two days with a soreness that prevented me from being able to put on my own shoes.
As a result of this first day's performance (combined with a desperation for ANYONE that would play) i've found myself in a team for this weekend's local tournament. Hopefully i'll be un-hobbled by then.
Links: Proof that Detroit is still raw. proof and proof
In life, it seems, I keep bumping up against the idea of goals and achievements... the kind of re-occuring theme that comes up every once in a while and is futile to ignore. So i've been working on a list of each for myself (that I surely will not publish here, but assume there will be an entire paragraph entitles "tequila"). In the mean time and in the same line of thought, I'm working on a full-life move. Though it IS the kind where you quit your job, leave town and give away half your stuff, it surprisingly doesn't involve a wife or a baby. I guess it's kind of like when someone goes away to jail for 18months, but in this case I could keep the Miata. Maybe. I'll let you know how it works out.
Speaking of goals...
...where do i get a water cannon and motorcycle like that?
By my standards, I've been busy. Partially because of the absurd amount of traveling/adventuring i've been doing. The most recent was this 2500mile motorcycle trip:
View Larger Map
let me just tell you... it rained. A lot. Typically, at this point, I'd tell you all about the exciting things that happened to us and then elude to having to tell the best ones over beers and lies. But, well, there really weren't any very exciting things that happened. It was good. Here are some pictures.
I've also found myself playing Ultimate frisbee again. I've been burning for a competitive sport and though ultimate isn't the most competitive sport around, at least i'm still pretty good at it. Turns out the guy that organizes this pick up league started playing cir. 2007 when he graduated high school. I'm pretty sure ,my most recent retirement started BEFORE that guy was introduced to the sport.
hmmm.
Either way, in my glorious-return-to-glory game, I received the first two points of the game and threw for a bunch more. I also took more subs than anyone on the field and spent the next two days with a soreness that prevented me from being able to put on my own shoes.
As a result of this first day's performance (combined with a desperation for ANYONE that would play) i've found myself in a team for this weekend's local tournament. Hopefully i'll be un-hobbled by then.
Links: Proof that Detroit is still raw. proof and proof
In life, it seems, I keep bumping up against the idea of goals and achievements... the kind of re-occuring theme that comes up every once in a while and is futile to ignore. So i've been working on a list of each for myself (that I surely will not publish here, but assume there will be an entire paragraph entitles "tequila"). In the mean time and in the same line of thought, I'm working on a full-life move. Though it IS the kind where you quit your job, leave town and give away half your stuff, it surprisingly doesn't involve a wife or a baby. I guess it's kind of like when someone goes away to jail for 18months, but in this case I could keep the Miata. Maybe. I'll let you know how it works out.
Speaking of goals...
...where do i get a water cannon and motorcycle like that?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Let's be honest with ourselves
The Michael Jackson we all loved is the Michael Jackson we remember. He died a long time ago.
Now, I'll never forget listening to JLB's top 10 MJ songs, turning on the radio after hearing he was DOA. I was driving in what must have been record setting heat and humidity for this place. As such i had the AC on and windows up but when that #2 song came on those windows came down because god dammit it is summer time and in the summer you roll down your windows and turn up your music when you're listening to Rock With Me. in your car. in GOD DAMN DE-TROIT.
88888•88888•88888•88888•88888•88888
I've found myself with some free time and some new riding boots so I'm going to go away for awhile. I'll be leaving solid plans, reliable lodging and your American television behind. It might look something like this...
View Larger Map
...but if the weather lets go or the money runs short or my left ear starts itching, well, i might just head the other direction. If you live near these lines consider yourself warned.
∞000∞000∞000∞000∞000∞000∞000∞000∞000∞
Along the way i'll be looking for inspiration; Sort of like walking out into the woods for a few hours to smoke a cigar and reboot the brain, except time 100. Upon return i will have a better understanding. And probably some interesting pictures.
(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)(•Y•)
Watch yourself out there
Now, I'll never forget listening to JLB's top 10 MJ songs, turning on the radio after hearing he was DOA. I was driving in what must have been record setting heat and humidity for this place. As such i had the AC on and windows up but when that #2 song came on those windows came down because god dammit it is summer time and in the summer you roll down your windows and turn up your music when you're listening to Rock With Me. in your car. in GOD DAMN DE-TROIT.
I've found myself with some free time and some new riding boots so I'm going to go away for awhile. I'll be leaving solid plans, reliable lodging and your American television behind. It might look something like this...
View Larger Map
...but if the weather lets go or the money runs short or my left ear starts itching, well, i might just head the other direction. If you live near these lines consider yourself warned.
Along the way i'll be looking for inspiration; Sort of like walking out into the woods for a few hours to smoke a cigar and reboot the brain, except time 100. Upon return i will have a better understanding. And probably some interesting pictures.
Watch yourself out there
Friday, June 12, 2009
Dallas Texas Pt 2
Dallas Texas, I know who you are.
(let bring you n00bs up to speed)
And though i hoped beyond hope that you were a robot or a sorority house (or a robot-sorority house), it turns out that you are me.
That is correct.
For reasons hidden deep in the tubes of the super web machine, when i access this site from my home computer, a Dallas Texas ip is recorded.
How can that be?
It doesn't matter.
How did i figure it out?
That also does not matter.
What does matter is i've been silently lurking on myself, and in return, sending myself idle threats (married with suggestive flirtation) all the while wondering why i wouldn't respond. To myself.
Hello me, meet the real me.
(let bring you n00bs up to speed)
And though i hoped beyond hope that you were a robot or a sorority house (or a robot-sorority house), it turns out that you are me.
That is correct.
For reasons hidden deep in the tubes of the super web machine, when i access this site from my home computer, a Dallas Texas ip is recorded.
How can that be?
It doesn't matter.
How did i figure it out?
That also does not matter.
What does matter is i've been silently lurking on myself, and in return, sending myself idle threats (married with suggestive flirtation) all the while wondering why i wouldn't respond. To myself.
Hello me, meet the real me.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A few links
Our President: Just kicking it with the homies. I'm cool with that. (I'm from the STREETS!)
Mickey Rourke: His life is different than yours (and also not safe for the work place)
Here's an article i found a long time ago: It's about professional football players in a capsized boat completing flipping out and trying to swim the ocean. (They died). It seems appropriate today when a woman by my work drove (drunk) into a shallow lake and refused to get out of the car for fear of the police repercussion. (She died). I continue to be fascinated by the absence of self preservation, be it obvious or subtle.
Do not watch this (is that a young Jack Black assisting?)
Finally, nail: meet head
When i'm not traveling around the world, this is what i do. Not so much with the audio visual, more with the battery/solar power.
Mickey Rourke: His life is different than yours (and also not safe for the work place)
Here's an article i found a long time ago: It's about professional football players in a capsized boat completing flipping out and trying to swim the ocean. (They died). It seems appropriate today when a woman by my work drove (drunk) into a shallow lake and refused to get out of the car for fear of the police repercussion. (She died). I continue to be fascinated by the absence of self preservation, be it obvious or subtle.
Do not watch this (is that a young Jack Black assisting?)
Finally, nail: meet head
When i'm not traveling around the world, this is what i do. Not so much with the audio visual, more with the battery/solar power.
Friday, May 29, 2009
are you RESTLESS like me
Prologue
Early Friday afternoon, I'm sitting in the back of an all staff meeting at work and it is hot; stuffy as hell. We've just gone through two days of lay offs and i've survived, once again (how many rounds of lay offs has that been in the last 5 years? I'm not really sure anymore, but somehow i always survive) and i'm listening to a freakish, bordering on insanely-optimistic account of our corporate future, with no new, pertinent information. I get a text message from a man who was two weeks previous in Afghanistan, telling me he's standing in my apartment parking lot. I return my attention to the dribble-spout at the front of the room but somewhere in the base of my spine the drum part from Van Halen's Hot for Teacher is coming on like a mountainous wall of water. It sounds like a dozen restless souls sitting on open exhaust engines tear-assing through hell at 100mph towards eternal damnation and a damn fine good time. At that moment i stand up and walk out the door. Not just the conference room door but the front door. Leave the computer on the dock, the engineering change reports on the desk and I make sure everyone in that room can see me when i drive away. With the top down.
Part I: The Machines
By the time i've tamed the mild afternoon traffic and scoot into my complex, my brain has forgotten where we've been and can focus now only on possibilities ahead. The first thing i notice is the 27 foot long sky-blue 1976 Buick Electra in the parking lot. I notice this not so much because it's a thing that's easy to notice, but because it's a object so grand that it blocks out the world around it. I scope the lot and head inside, knowing that there will be a pilot waiting in my living room and there will be no use in asking how he got there.
Exchange of greetings is brief and mostly composed of variations on the phrase "you son of a bitch." After all, we both knew the other was alive, so the only difference now is we have to deal with our combined drinking habits. Besides, there's no time to waste as Notorious needs to find a motorcycle which means we need to go test drive some motorcycles. We've declared this the week of machines and the first stop is the BMW dealership.
We climb into Svetlana and make our way to the BMW shop where after 45 minutes and quick ride, The Pilot and I are both convinced he's going to take this bike home, right up until we meet the 2008 Ducati Monster.
Try to understand the depths of the parallelism between cars/bikes and women. They're limitless, bottomless and essentially dead-on in every instance. In short, the BMW is perfect because it loves you without ever needing anything in return, but the Ducati doesn't care about you, is probably going to show up two hours late (after hanging out with some guy) and wants you to meet her hot friend that works at the strip club. The BMW happily picks you and your friends up from the bar at 2am when you're too drunk to function but the Ducati is drunk with you and starting a fight with the bouncer that you're going to have to clean up with your fists or outrun with your feet. But perhaps the most noticeable discrepancy lies in the looks of the two machines. The German looks like your best friend from 2nd grade's mom. Not even the hot one. While the Italian, well, is like a red headed swede with an ass so perfect and tight it makes you want to build something epic in a weak attempt to please it. And you know it will not be pleased.
Johnny Motto, wisely, has one of each.
Editors note: What surprises me is that the pilot couldn't admit to himself which one he was obviously going to get until hours later when we had a meeting of the brains at Hooters. I can see now, that places can clear your thoughts.
On the way home from the dealerships we stopped off to introduce Notorious to the race car. Sadly an absence of driver-side hubs kept us from test driving it but i think the greatness of the vehicle was obvious, even while up on blocks and with it's front end bits hanging all over the place. Regardless, at that point there was no reason to maintain sobriety so we dropped of the miata and picked up Johnny Motto with the Buick, where we discussed philosophy at hooters and waited for Stos the Greek to join us. from there it was straight to Hamtramck where we would polish off bottles of Polish cherry brandy and impose our will on the bar via the juke box. Insert here our first collective good idea moment: As last call found us, it occurred to some bright soul, "why drive all the way back to my pad to pack, when we have the three cowboys that are headed to Ohio and we're already 40 miles towards our destination?" 20 minutes of arm-twisting later, the three of us were on our way, Notorious passed out in the back, Johnny Motto spitting chew in shotgun and I, the standing captain of the vessel. We reeked of smoke and carried with us only the clothes on our backs and the good ideas tucked in our socks. Also, a box of 8-track tapes.
We arrived at our destination just as the sun was coming up, but stopped to pick up three toothbrushes and a bouquet of flowers because sometimes a birthday is more important than a bachelor party (apologies to Notorious but we would have just over-shadowed the groom anyway). We woke up The Physicist, threw on some women's clothes, put our smelly garbs in the washer and retired for the rest of the morning.
Listen: Waking up to fresh scones and pretty girls and good friends is really the best way to run a life- Miss one component and you're doing it wrong. Sometimes you don't appreciate it because you're so tired you can't figure out how to operate a pillow. And sometimes you're distracted from it all because you're wearing girl's gym shorts. Either way, try to focus on what's important.
With our gullets full and the the remainder of the party intact (3 dragons & 3 damsels) it was off to the colossal motorcycle accessories store that turned out to be a colossal disappointment. Not because it wasn't big, but because it actually just had a bunch of motorcycles, which though fun to ogle, they were not the accessories we were seeking. So instead we drank. And drank. And failing to arrive at any spectacular alternative idea, we decided to drink in public, with the common folk. So, we went clubbing. This went as most clubbing experiences tend to go: Long island ice teas for inspiring new dance moves, bachelorette parties for harassing and subsequently WASTING long island ice teas on, girls on the dance floor that for some reason do not want to dance with you and girls on the dance floor that REALLY want to dance with you (if you can call it dancing). It was the kind of night that makes you lose your hoodie (and at this point, fabric that represents 30% of your possessions in that state of Ohio) and not even care that you did; The kind of night, like so many others, that is loud and colorful and shaky and slowly closes in from the sides with the fuzziness and darkness until your entire range of perception is reduced to a perfect, noiseless singularity...
And then you awake. And life is good. It's Sunday and you're on temporary lay off and work meetings and the general grind-of-life distractions are so far away that you can't imagine a world where you'd sit in an office building for 9 or 10 hours straight, day after day. No, instead you focus on the real parts of life. You better yourself with experience and understanding. You come up with crazy ideas. You go to the creation science museum in northern Kentucky. (wait- what?)
I recommend the back seat.
If you know my history with creation science you probably also know i went mad years ago. I'm not really sure where to start with this place... I was expecting something less spectacular with better arguments. Listening to Kent Hovind speak really set the bar high on crack-pot theories, as his were the best developed. This place... it was a monument to madness! They didn't even bother coming up with any crack pot theories and instead played the fucking god card every time! Can't you just lie to me and yourselves and SAY they had the technology to seal that giant water tight arc door rather than jumping RIGHT to the god trump?
If i look funny it's because my hoodie is lost and I've been wearing these clothes for three days. Almost never sober while in them. (To be fair, I guess that's especially true of when i wasn't in them, as well)
"When you understand why you dismiss all the other gods you will understand why I dismiss yours."
Listen: These fuckers are well funded and well visited. It never even occurred to me that the others wouldn't be there for the same reasons we were... but NO. They were nodding and self-affirming each other!
Fuck it, let's go pet the goats.
Did i mention the petting zoo? They have a petting zoo. I want a goat.
science fail
On the ride back The Physicist wanted to debate nature v. nurture in terms of what it is that determines the make up of one's personalty. It was good to clear our brains with sound, logical debate and complete, complex thoughts, though in the end we agreed to disagree. (it's FINE. I'm fine.) Though it did seem the men landed mostly on nurture and the women mostly on nature... They probably just wanna have a bunch of babies.
Back at the house there was no time to twiddle our dinks because there was a birthday/bbq/bonfire to be had which meant more guests, more debating the nature v nurture, cheap cigar smoking, exploding beer bottle/fire combinations, flesh wounds, put-off women, feeling old and feeling young, propositions of a devil's threesome, and stories! Telling new stories, retelling old stories, debating the old stories and clarifying the new stories... and a lot of peeing on trees. And then, at some point, notorious tells me I'm the only person he can drink around without feeling like an alcoholic and for the first time this week, i consider hugging him. (Dammit, Nick, we agreed NO MORE DEVIL'S THREESOMES!)
Monday morning it was time to live the American Dream; Three men past their prime (speak for yourselves asshats!) driving a full size 70's Buick through the straight and flats of a mid-west afternoon, listening to old music on the radio. Unfortunately i embraced the dream a bit too much and opted for a McDonalds lunch, which in line with Notorious' warning, shut-down my digestive system for 24 hours. That made Monday evening a write-off... but alas, Tuesday brought breakfast with mom, a picking up of a new Ducati, some group motorcycle cruising and a round of go-kart action that left the pilot pwned. (Sorry dude- you need to practice). By Wednesday night my stomach and i were back on the horse, ever so delicately, drinking at the corner pub, where it finally set in that maybe we shouldn't refer to girls as floozies and we should certainly walk home. This was the perfect set-up for a Thursday trip to the airport, for i had a date in Berlin.
Part II: Invasion!
It's Thursday morning and time to leave for Berlin. This trip has about a solid week of planning behind it and we could have just as easily ended up in Dublin or Geneva, until i remembered i know a guy, Sneak, who lives in Berlin and he offered to let us use his pad in his absence. (turns out he was going to be in Detroit for the electronic music festival... I-rony!) Step 1, fly to Toronto. Step 2, Fly to Amsterdam. Step 3, lose $17 bottle of hair gel to security because it's 9oz and 8oz is the limit. (i didn't know if was $17 dollars until i purchased it- but it was a damn fine product) and finally, step 4, fly to Berlin. The Physicist and i find ourselves in the Berlin airport, sluggish but excited, standing in a foreign country with no idea what to do next. In relative time it's been about 24 hours since I left my house but we've really only been traveling for about 16. At that moment a bubbly blond 19 yr old comes around the corner and hands us a set of keys to an apartment. "Have a great weekend," she says, and runs off to where ever it is bubbly 18yr old Americans living in Berlin run off to on a friday morning. We are the rock n roll lifestyle.
Day one was a lot of "what do we do now" followed by "this place sells beer." We walked the area and discovered the neighborhood, exploring the parks, gazing into the canals and giving our brain time to wrap itself around being in Germany. Bed came early. By day two we'd figured out the public transportation and had an agenda: lets see what's going on downtown. Short answer: the biggest fuckin festival your puny American minds have ever experienced. I have seriously never seen this many people in one place. And when there's people, there's beer and food and culture! Of course, once we started drinking it seemed like a perfectly good idea to visit the tent promoting local German politician old-whats-his-name, or take part in some trivia... in German, or perhaps pick up some literature on the crop-thing-farming... are we drunk in a park, again?
Shit. Maybe we should just make out.
Did i mention that the whole fucking city is covered in paint, ranging from street graffiti to A+ mural work? Because it is.
The three key fabrics that wove together the comforting quilt of this trip took the form of food, the public transportation and the apartment:
The food is amazing if you know where to go. As Sneak pointed out, there's plenty of shitty food in this country, but he and I recommend the good donner stands that sell something like a Greek gyro, except the tzatziki sauce is replaced by this crazy garlic-chili paste and then they added Turkish feta! Also, if you can get your hands on the schnitzel we ate you'd probably pee yourself... Butterflied pork with swiss and ham, DEEP FRIED? Is it perhaps the culmination of Germans and Russians food technologies? We may never know because we can't read a technical German textbok. Secondly, public transportation, well, imagine being able to go anywhere, anytime, by just getting on a bus or a train, and having one ticket that pays for it all. It's called Berlin. Finally, the apartment is sparse, minimalistic, fully furnished, tiny as hell and utterly perfect.
Anyway, back to the story. The problem with getting drunk in a park on Saturday afternoon is it leads to going home and falling asleep, which is what we did. And the woke up. At 1am. Of course, in 'Merica, that means you better start cruisin' skinamax for some softcore because there's no point in leaving the house at that hour. But in Europe, where freedom is free, the bars at 1am have not yet begun to defile themselves. And we knew just the place for defilement. (That's right: a solviet-fucking-power-plant-turned-techno-club, bitches!)
How does one get to a soviet fucking power plant turned techno club? Well it's not exactly in the heart of the city, so you walk. For about an hour. In some dark-ass neighborhoods. (of course they don't have power for street lights, they turned the damn power plant into a discotheque!) Finding the place wasn't easy but we happened upon some poor lost German kids (19yr olds? maybe in a few months...) and together, the 6 of us found this blue, pulsing, thumping monster in the blackness of the night.
it. was. beautiful.
Obstacle two was the line. Chalked full of dudes and moving slow but steady. At the front were two blokes: the stout guy in the leather and tattoo face; Also in leather. The first thing i notice is stout guy is only letting in about 50% of the men. No debate: he says something (in German) and they walk away. This is bad, and i've never even BEEN to a club with a door policy like this but we have an ace: our new, young German friends are 3 (very cute) girls and 1 (well dressed) guy. Taken as a whole, we're still a beneficial guy/girl ratio. I consider this plan and before i can act, our new friends are up to leather-man and wha...?
Our new friends have been rejected. Again, 2 or 3 words, the group looks at each other and away they go, into the industrial darkness. 3 girls + 1 guy = no entrance?
Us? We totally did NOT know those losers.
Our turn at the door and leather guy waves us in! No German speaking necessary. But wait- Tattoo face, he doesn't like the look on my face. He waves us off towards the darkness of industrial fail... !!!! There's no point explaining the rest of the story because i myself don't really know what happened. There was some German, some English, some Germish and then we were inside the club.
Listen: I spent the first 60 minutes asking myself how this place could exist, the next 7 hours taking advantage of it, and all the time since wondering when I’ll be able to go back. International laws, both published and street, prevent me from telling you what i saw or what i did. Yet had i fully been prepared mentally for this hole in the fabric of sanity, the debauchery could have possibly been stretched even further. I will tell you there was more than enough dance floor, bar space, sound system, muscular shirtless men (massaging and making out with each other), goth girls (doing the same), couch space and dark cuby space for you to re-enact every scene from Requiem for a Dream, but with a more upbeat demeanor.
By 8am we (In my case, that includes, mind, body AND soul) had had enough and it was time to retire. Christ on a bike, it's bright outside. And i have to pee. Right there on that Wall.
Next step, figure out how to get home... Luckily the trains and buses work on the honor system because i had left my pass at home and walking was not in the cards. As we neared the apartment we had to 1) pick up some fresh baked goods so not to die and 2) pass by the two old guys that seem to be eternally sitting outside the corner cafe. Now, you don't need to speak the language to know when two old guys sitting outside a cafe are busting your balls. You just know. And they were. But in fairness, we looked probably rough and they were very jealous.
Sunday was a failed attempt at the zoo, an institution that simply does not keep the hours i keep. So instead we explored some of the northern side, including what was left of the wall and a bit of the history. Short version: Berlin has history. Look it up. We were tired.
Monday morning we returned the keys, packed our shit, cleaned the joint and did a little cross-atlantic hopping. Ever tried explaining on Monday when you're unshaven and wrecked at work, what kind of person goes to Berlin for the weekend? If they have to ask they will not understand. You better off spending your time looking for cheap airfare to Dublin.
Epilogue
Yet again, against all odds, we survived. The retelling here has been no small task and I planned to start and finish some time last week, but as always, life got in the way. Why did I write this damn thing? It might appear like a wordy attempt to pat myself on the back for a job well done but is actually a log to review in the future. In 2 or 22 years; days when my sharpnesses has left and my memory is dull around the edges and I've almost convinced myself that such adventures could never have happened, I might be inspired to adventure.
Early Friday afternoon, I'm sitting in the back of an all staff meeting at work and it is hot; stuffy as hell. We've just gone through two days of lay offs and i've survived, once again (how many rounds of lay offs has that been in the last 5 years? I'm not really sure anymore, but somehow i always survive) and i'm listening to a freakish, bordering on insanely-optimistic account of our corporate future, with no new, pertinent information. I get a text message from a man who was two weeks previous in Afghanistan, telling me he's standing in my apartment parking lot. I return my attention to the dribble-spout at the front of the room but somewhere in the base of my spine the drum part from Van Halen's Hot for Teacher is coming on like a mountainous wall of water. It sounds like a dozen restless souls sitting on open exhaust engines tear-assing through hell at 100mph towards eternal damnation and a damn fine good time. At that moment i stand up and walk out the door. Not just the conference room door but the front door. Leave the computer on the dock, the engineering change reports on the desk and I make sure everyone in that room can see me when i drive away. With the top down.
Part I: The Machines
By the time i've tamed the mild afternoon traffic and scoot into my complex, my brain has forgotten where we've been and can focus now only on possibilities ahead. The first thing i notice is the 27 foot long sky-blue 1976 Buick Electra in the parking lot. I notice this not so much because it's a thing that's easy to notice, but because it's a object so grand that it blocks out the world around it. I scope the lot and head inside, knowing that there will be a pilot waiting in my living room and there will be no use in asking how he got there.
Exchange of greetings is brief and mostly composed of variations on the phrase "you son of a bitch." After all, we both knew the other was alive, so the only difference now is we have to deal with our combined drinking habits. Besides, there's no time to waste as Notorious needs to find a motorcycle which means we need to go test drive some motorcycles. We've declared this the week of machines and the first stop is the BMW dealership.
We climb into Svetlana and make our way to the BMW shop where after 45 minutes and quick ride, The Pilot and I are both convinced he's going to take this bike home, right up until we meet the 2008 Ducati Monster.
Try to understand the depths of the parallelism between cars/bikes and women. They're limitless, bottomless and essentially dead-on in every instance. In short, the BMW is perfect because it loves you without ever needing anything in return, but the Ducati doesn't care about you, is probably going to show up two hours late (after hanging out with some guy) and wants you to meet her hot friend that works at the strip club. The BMW happily picks you and your friends up from the bar at 2am when you're too drunk to function but the Ducati is drunk with you and starting a fight with the bouncer that you're going to have to clean up with your fists or outrun with your feet. But perhaps the most noticeable discrepancy lies in the looks of the two machines. The German looks like your best friend from 2nd grade's mom. Not even the hot one. While the Italian, well, is like a red headed swede with an ass so perfect and tight it makes you want to build something epic in a weak attempt to please it. And you know it will not be pleased.
Johnny Motto, wisely, has one of each.
Editors note: What surprises me is that the pilot couldn't admit to himself which one he was obviously going to get until hours later when we had a meeting of the brains at Hooters. I can see now, that places can clear your thoughts.
On the way home from the dealerships we stopped off to introduce Notorious to the race car. Sadly an absence of driver-side hubs kept us from test driving it but i think the greatness of the vehicle was obvious, even while up on blocks and with it's front end bits hanging all over the place. Regardless, at that point there was no reason to maintain sobriety so we dropped of the miata and picked up Johnny Motto with the Buick, where we discussed philosophy at hooters and waited for Stos the Greek to join us. from there it was straight to Hamtramck where we would polish off bottles of Polish cherry brandy and impose our will on the bar via the juke box. Insert here our first collective good idea moment: As last call found us, it occurred to some bright soul, "why drive all the way back to my pad to pack, when we have the three cowboys that are headed to Ohio and we're already 40 miles towards our destination?" 20 minutes of arm-twisting later, the three of us were on our way, Notorious passed out in the back, Johnny Motto spitting chew in shotgun and I, the standing captain of the vessel. We reeked of smoke and carried with us only the clothes on our backs and the good ideas tucked in our socks. Also, a box of 8-track tapes.
We arrived at our destination just as the sun was coming up, but stopped to pick up three toothbrushes and a bouquet of flowers because sometimes a birthday is more important than a bachelor party (apologies to Notorious but we would have just over-shadowed the groom anyway). We woke up The Physicist, threw on some women's clothes, put our smelly garbs in the washer and retired for the rest of the morning.
Listen: Waking up to fresh scones and pretty girls and good friends is really the best way to run a life- Miss one component and you're doing it wrong. Sometimes you don't appreciate it because you're so tired you can't figure out how to operate a pillow. And sometimes you're distracted from it all because you're wearing girl's gym shorts. Either way, try to focus on what's important.
With our gullets full and the the remainder of the party intact (3 dragons & 3 damsels) it was off to the colossal motorcycle accessories store that turned out to be a colossal disappointment. Not because it wasn't big, but because it actually just had a bunch of motorcycles, which though fun to ogle, they were not the accessories we were seeking. So instead we drank. And drank. And failing to arrive at any spectacular alternative idea, we decided to drink in public, with the common folk. So, we went clubbing. This went as most clubbing experiences tend to go: Long island ice teas for inspiring new dance moves, bachelorette parties for harassing and subsequently WASTING long island ice teas on, girls on the dance floor that for some reason do not want to dance with you and girls on the dance floor that REALLY want to dance with you (if you can call it dancing). It was the kind of night that makes you lose your hoodie (and at this point, fabric that represents 30% of your possessions in that state of Ohio) and not even care that you did; The kind of night, like so many others, that is loud and colorful and shaky and slowly closes in from the sides with the fuzziness and darkness until your entire range of perception is reduced to a perfect, noiseless singularity...
And then you awake. And life is good. It's Sunday and you're on temporary lay off and work meetings and the general grind-of-life distractions are so far away that you can't imagine a world where you'd sit in an office building for 9 or 10 hours straight, day after day. No, instead you focus on the real parts of life. You better yourself with experience and understanding. You come up with crazy ideas. You go to the creation science museum in northern Kentucky. (wait- what?)
I recommend the back seat.
If you know my history with creation science you probably also know i went mad years ago. I'm not really sure where to start with this place... I was expecting something less spectacular with better arguments. Listening to Kent Hovind speak really set the bar high on crack-pot theories, as his were the best developed. This place... it was a monument to madness! They didn't even bother coming up with any crack pot theories and instead played the fucking god card every time! Can't you just lie to me and yourselves and SAY they had the technology to seal that giant water tight arc door rather than jumping RIGHT to the god trump?
If i look funny it's because my hoodie is lost and I've been wearing these clothes for three days. Almost never sober while in them. (To be fair, I guess that's especially true of when i wasn't in them, as well)
"When you understand why you dismiss all the other gods you will understand why I dismiss yours."
Listen: These fuckers are well funded and well visited. It never even occurred to me that the others wouldn't be there for the same reasons we were... but NO. They were nodding and self-affirming each other!
Fuck it, let's go pet the goats.
Did i mention the petting zoo? They have a petting zoo. I want a goat.
science fail
On the ride back The Physicist wanted to debate nature v. nurture in terms of what it is that determines the make up of one's personalty. It was good to clear our brains with sound, logical debate and complete, complex thoughts, though in the end we agreed to disagree. (it's FINE. I'm fine.) Though it did seem the men landed mostly on nurture and the women mostly on nature... They probably just wanna have a bunch of babies.
Back at the house there was no time to twiddle our dinks because there was a birthday/bbq/bonfire to be had which meant more guests, more debating the nature v nurture, cheap cigar smoking, exploding beer bottle/fire combinations, flesh wounds, put-off women, feeling old and feeling young, propositions of a devil's threesome, and stories! Telling new stories, retelling old stories, debating the old stories and clarifying the new stories... and a lot of peeing on trees. And then, at some point, notorious tells me I'm the only person he can drink around without feeling like an alcoholic and for the first time this week, i consider hugging him. (Dammit, Nick, we agreed NO MORE DEVIL'S THREESOMES!)
Monday morning it was time to live the American Dream; Three men past their prime (speak for yourselves asshats!) driving a full size 70's Buick through the straight and flats of a mid-west afternoon, listening to old music on the radio. Unfortunately i embraced the dream a bit too much and opted for a McDonalds lunch, which in line with Notorious' warning, shut-down my digestive system for 24 hours. That made Monday evening a write-off... but alas, Tuesday brought breakfast with mom, a picking up of a new Ducati, some group motorcycle cruising and a round of go-kart action that left the pilot pwned. (Sorry dude- you need to practice). By Wednesday night my stomach and i were back on the horse, ever so delicately, drinking at the corner pub, where it finally set in that maybe we shouldn't refer to girls as floozies and we should certainly walk home. This was the perfect set-up for a Thursday trip to the airport, for i had a date in Berlin.
Part II: Invasion!
It's Thursday morning and time to leave for Berlin. This trip has about a solid week of planning behind it and we could have just as easily ended up in Dublin or Geneva, until i remembered i know a guy, Sneak, who lives in Berlin and he offered to let us use his pad in his absence. (turns out he was going to be in Detroit for the electronic music festival... I-rony!) Step 1, fly to Toronto. Step 2, Fly to Amsterdam. Step 3, lose $17 bottle of hair gel to security because it's 9oz and 8oz is the limit. (i didn't know if was $17 dollars until i purchased it- but it was a damn fine product) and finally, step 4, fly to Berlin. The Physicist and i find ourselves in the Berlin airport, sluggish but excited, standing in a foreign country with no idea what to do next. In relative time it's been about 24 hours since I left my house but we've really only been traveling for about 16. At that moment a bubbly blond 19 yr old comes around the corner and hands us a set of keys to an apartment. "Have a great weekend," she says, and runs off to where ever it is bubbly 18yr old Americans living in Berlin run off to on a friday morning. We are the rock n roll lifestyle.
Day one was a lot of "what do we do now" followed by "this place sells beer." We walked the area and discovered the neighborhood, exploring the parks, gazing into the canals and giving our brain time to wrap itself around being in Germany. Bed came early. By day two we'd figured out the public transportation and had an agenda: lets see what's going on downtown. Short answer: the biggest fuckin festival your puny American minds have ever experienced. I have seriously never seen this many people in one place. And when there's people, there's beer and food and culture! Of course, once we started drinking it seemed like a perfectly good idea to visit the tent promoting local German politician old-whats-his-name, or take part in some trivia... in German, or perhaps pick up some literature on the crop-thing-farming... are we drunk in a park, again?
Shit. Maybe we should just make out.
Did i mention that the whole fucking city is covered in paint, ranging from street graffiti to A+ mural work? Because it is.
The three key fabrics that wove together the comforting quilt of this trip took the form of food, the public transportation and the apartment:
The food is amazing if you know where to go. As Sneak pointed out, there's plenty of shitty food in this country, but he and I recommend the good donner stands that sell something like a Greek gyro, except the tzatziki sauce is replaced by this crazy garlic-chili paste and then they added Turkish feta! Also, if you can get your hands on the schnitzel we ate you'd probably pee yourself... Butterflied pork with swiss and ham, DEEP FRIED? Is it perhaps the culmination of Germans and Russians food technologies? We may never know because we can't read a technical German textbok. Secondly, public transportation, well, imagine being able to go anywhere, anytime, by just getting on a bus or a train, and having one ticket that pays for it all. It's called Berlin. Finally, the apartment is sparse, minimalistic, fully furnished, tiny as hell and utterly perfect.
Anyway, back to the story. The problem with getting drunk in a park on Saturday afternoon is it leads to going home and falling asleep, which is what we did. And the woke up. At 1am. Of course, in 'Merica, that means you better start cruisin' skinamax for some softcore because there's no point in leaving the house at that hour. But in Europe, where freedom is free, the bars at 1am have not yet begun to defile themselves. And we knew just the place for defilement. (That's right: a solviet-fucking-power-plant-turned-techno-club, bitches!)
How does one get to a soviet fucking power plant turned techno club? Well it's not exactly in the heart of the city, so you walk. For about an hour. In some dark-ass neighborhoods. (of course they don't have power for street lights, they turned the damn power plant into a discotheque!) Finding the place wasn't easy but we happened upon some poor lost German kids (19yr olds? maybe in a few months...) and together, the 6 of us found this blue, pulsing, thumping monster in the blackness of the night.
it. was. beautiful.
Obstacle two was the line. Chalked full of dudes and moving slow but steady. At the front were two blokes: the stout guy in the leather and tattoo face; Also in leather. The first thing i notice is stout guy is only letting in about 50% of the men. No debate: he says something (in German) and they walk away. This is bad, and i've never even BEEN to a club with a door policy like this but we have an ace: our new, young German friends are 3 (very cute) girls and 1 (well dressed) guy. Taken as a whole, we're still a beneficial guy/girl ratio. I consider this plan and before i can act, our new friends are up to leather-man and wha...?
Our new friends have been rejected. Again, 2 or 3 words, the group looks at each other and away they go, into the industrial darkness. 3 girls + 1 guy = no entrance?
Us? We totally did NOT know those losers.
Our turn at the door and leather guy waves us in! No German speaking necessary. But wait- Tattoo face, he doesn't like the look on my face. He waves us off towards the darkness of industrial fail... !!!! There's no point explaining the rest of the story because i myself don't really know what happened. There was some German, some English, some Germish and then we were inside the club.
Listen: I spent the first 60 minutes asking myself how this place could exist, the next 7 hours taking advantage of it, and all the time since wondering when I’ll be able to go back. International laws, both published and street, prevent me from telling you what i saw or what i did. Yet had i fully been prepared mentally for this hole in the fabric of sanity, the debauchery could have possibly been stretched even further. I will tell you there was more than enough dance floor, bar space, sound system, muscular shirtless men (massaging and making out with each other), goth girls (doing the same), couch space and dark cuby space for you to re-enact every scene from Requiem for a Dream, but with a more upbeat demeanor.
By 8am we (In my case, that includes, mind, body AND soul) had had enough and it was time to retire. Christ on a bike, it's bright outside. And i have to pee. Right there on that Wall.
Next step, figure out how to get home... Luckily the trains and buses work on the honor system because i had left my pass at home and walking was not in the cards. As we neared the apartment we had to 1) pick up some fresh baked goods so not to die and 2) pass by the two old guys that seem to be eternally sitting outside the corner cafe. Now, you don't need to speak the language to know when two old guys sitting outside a cafe are busting your balls. You just know. And they were. But in fairness, we looked probably rough and they were very jealous.
Sunday was a failed attempt at the zoo, an institution that simply does not keep the hours i keep. So instead we explored some of the northern side, including what was left of the wall and a bit of the history. Short version: Berlin has history. Look it up. We were tired.
Monday morning we returned the keys, packed our shit, cleaned the joint and did a little cross-atlantic hopping. Ever tried explaining on Monday when you're unshaven and wrecked at work, what kind of person goes to Berlin for the weekend? If they have to ask they will not understand. You better off spending your time looking for cheap airfare to Dublin.
Epilogue
Yet again, against all odds, we survived. The retelling here has been no small task and I planned to start and finish some time last week, but as always, life got in the way. Why did I write this damn thing? It might appear like a wordy attempt to pat myself on the back for a job well done but is actually a log to review in the future. In 2 or 22 years; days when my sharpnesses has left and my memory is dull around the edges and I've almost convinced myself that such adventures could never have happened, I might be inspired to adventure.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Storm before the quiet
I'm going away for a while; There's going to be a lot of vehicle driving, booze drinking, (attempted) womanizing and most importantly, head clearing.
Before my absence, i'd like to expand on an idea that's been rolling around in my brain for awhile. There's a lot of shake-up happing in the automotive market and GM, for one, is cancelling most of their lower production, higher performance vehicle lines and options. It's occurred to me that historically, there is a distinct group of vehicles that have retained their worth- cars that people love to own and collect and restore and covet. This trend is easier to identify in older cars, because they're the ones that are still around, but there's new cars like this too- Not necessarily, "the next classics," but more like cars that will still be maintain their value after the first few years of hard depreciation, because people will always want them, or parts from/for them. These are the kind of cars i picture:
(keep in mind, this list excludes sports cars which will always have enthusiast followings)
300C (Hemi version)
Jeep Wrangler (w/ manual trans)
Jeep Charokee (w/ manual trans)
04 - 06 Pontiac GTO (w/ manual trans)
G8 GXP (w/ manual trans)
First Gen Cadillac CTS-V (w/ manual trans)
I'd like to mention one sports car: 04 to 06 pontiac GTO. I LOVE this car and am torn about not having bought it new... it was a great deal then, but now i can get a three year old 400HP V8, rear wheel drive coupe with a 6spd for $15K-ish, depending on the mileage.
There seems to be a pattern... It has to be something people love, a manual transmission is key, if it's available, because it adds mechanical reliability and reduces maintenance cost, while adding appeal to enthusiasts. Speaking of which, being easy to work on is also important, so that normally lends itself to a font engine, rear wheel drive. surprisingly, AND THIS IS KEY, the domestics have a distinct advantage here in that replacement parts are WAY cheaper compared to foreign cars and typically feature an overall reduced complexity compared to your BMWs and Mercedes and Audis. Also, there had to be enough production that spare and aftermarket parts will be available but ideally not so many copies built that every street has one. Hot-engined, RWD American sedans and coupes.... These seem to be the key here.
On the other hand, it seems everyone wants to build more "disposable" models... the (dare i say) Grand Ams, and PT cruisers and Ford Focuses... No one really loves those cars (unless they think their PT cruiser is cute and they like to put wood paneling decals on it...)
Of course there are compacts that i love and desire...
Scion tC (W/ manual trans)
Jetta GLI
Mini Cooper S
First Gen SRT-4
These are great! But they don't feel like the kind of car you would want to own 15 years later with their high-strung engines and over worked gear boxes. They're fast and efficient, like Tupperware crates, where the GXP would be a fine wooden chest, ya know?
Before my absence, i'd like to expand on an idea that's been rolling around in my brain for awhile. There's a lot of shake-up happing in the automotive market and GM, for one, is cancelling most of their lower production, higher performance vehicle lines and options. It's occurred to me that historically, there is a distinct group of vehicles that have retained their worth- cars that people love to own and collect and restore and covet. This trend is easier to identify in older cars, because they're the ones that are still around, but there's new cars like this too- Not necessarily, "the next classics," but more like cars that will still be maintain their value after the first few years of hard depreciation, because people will always want them, or parts from/for them. These are the kind of cars i picture:
(keep in mind, this list excludes sports cars which will always have enthusiast followings)
300C (Hemi version)
Jeep Wrangler (w/ manual trans)
Jeep Charokee (w/ manual trans)
04 - 06 Pontiac GTO (w/ manual trans)
G8 GXP (w/ manual trans)
First Gen Cadillac CTS-V (w/ manual trans)
I'd like to mention one sports car: 04 to 06 pontiac GTO. I LOVE this car and am torn about not having bought it new... it was a great deal then, but now i can get a three year old 400HP V8, rear wheel drive coupe with a 6spd for $15K-ish, depending on the mileage.
There seems to be a pattern... It has to be something people love, a manual transmission is key, if it's available, because it adds mechanical reliability and reduces maintenance cost, while adding appeal to enthusiasts. Speaking of which, being easy to work on is also important, so that normally lends itself to a font engine, rear wheel drive. surprisingly, AND THIS IS KEY, the domestics have a distinct advantage here in that replacement parts are WAY cheaper compared to foreign cars and typically feature an overall reduced complexity compared to your BMWs and Mercedes and Audis. Also, there had to be enough production that spare and aftermarket parts will be available but ideally not so many copies built that every street has one. Hot-engined, RWD American sedans and coupes.... These seem to be the key here.
On the other hand, it seems everyone wants to build more "disposable" models... the (dare i say) Grand Ams, and PT cruisers and Ford Focuses... No one really loves those cars (unless they think their PT cruiser is cute and they like to put wood paneling decals on it...)
Of course there are compacts that i love and desire...
Scion tC (W/ manual trans)
Jetta GLI
Mini Cooper S
First Gen SRT-4
These are great! But they don't feel like the kind of car you would want to own 15 years later with their high-strung engines and over worked gear boxes. They're fast and efficient, like Tupperware crates, where the GXP would be a fine wooden chest, ya know?
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
not doing it WRONG, per say...
but definitely not doing it as well as we could be doing it.
It seems the days of monthly, mandatory, un-paid, week-long lay-offs are upon me, but i'm not complaining. trade 1/4 salary => 1/4 more free time? Sure, fuck it. I think a road trip is in order. In fact, make it two. After all, man cannot live off race car builds and motorcycle mishaps (it's fine- i'm fine), alone.
I'm now taking suggestions for May 18th -> May 20th. -ish.
Also, try to step it up, mates; The billionaires are making us look bad.
(for those requesting:)
I cannot recommend enough a well fitted pair of Red Wings. Steal toe? Even better.
It seems the days of monthly, mandatory, un-paid, week-long lay-offs are upon me, but i'm not complaining. trade 1/4 salary => 1/4 more free time? Sure, fuck it. I think a road trip is in order. In fact, make it two. After all, man cannot live off race car builds and motorcycle mishaps (it's fine- i'm fine), alone.
I'm now taking suggestions for May 18th -> May 20th. -ish.
Also, try to step it up, mates; The billionaires are making us look bad.
(for those requesting:)
I cannot recommend enough a well fitted pair of Red Wings. Steal toe? Even better.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
the bigger they are...
The first of the three has fallen and is well along the way to being a glorified distributor state-side of once-great italian crap-machines. (that's right- i said it: Modern Fiats are the automotive equivalent of a knock-knock joke told by a stutterer)
(que up the WIllie Nelson: Blue Skies)
Okay... lets do this.
GM is elliminating not just the model but the WHOLE FUCKING BRAND of cars that my company actually currently supplies hyrbid batteries for. It could work out...
While GM is hacking off limbs, my favorite domestic auto brand will not be spared.
(Delbert McClinton: Had a Real Good Time)
Dozens of manufacturing plants, dozens of suppliers, 10's of thousands of jobs gone, remaining wages slashed, benefits slashed...
An entire industry devistated; A city on the edge, dealt a death blow.
What happened here?
(Hold Steady: Lord I'm discouraged)
On the otherhand, while i'm sitting here at work, waiting for someone to hand me a box and point me to the parking lot, i can't communicate with my supplier in Mexico. Because they're closed. Because of that pig virus. Yes, it's fun to watch it spread like a beautiful crystaline structure forming over the the surface of a sphere, but i'm pretty sure its NOT going to wipe us all out. Not this time.
What the fuck are we supposed to do here?
What I'm going to do is go home and continue the training (when the swelling goes down in my foot). I'm going to do some pull ups and water the plants. I'm going to build my $500 race car and i'm going to race it. You're all invited to come watch it all fall apart. There'll be plenty of beers.
(que up the WIllie Nelson: Blue Skies)
Okay... lets do this.
GM is elliminating not just the model but the WHOLE FUCKING BRAND of cars that my company actually currently supplies hyrbid batteries for. It could work out...
While GM is hacking off limbs, my favorite domestic auto brand will not be spared.
(Delbert McClinton: Had a Real Good Time)
Dozens of manufacturing plants, dozens of suppliers, 10's of thousands of jobs gone, remaining wages slashed, benefits slashed...
An entire industry devistated; A city on the edge, dealt a death blow.
What happened here?
(Hold Steady: Lord I'm discouraged)
On the otherhand, while i'm sitting here at work, waiting for someone to hand me a box and point me to the parking lot, i can't communicate with my supplier in Mexico. Because they're closed. Because of that pig virus. Yes, it's fun to watch it spread like a beautiful crystaline structure forming over the the surface of a sphere, but i'm pretty sure its NOT going to wipe us all out. Not this time.
What the fuck are we supposed to do here?
What I'm going to do is go home and continue the training (when the swelling goes down in my foot). I'm going to do some pull ups and water the plants. I'm going to build my $500 race car and i'm going to race it. You're all invited to come watch it all fall apart. There'll be plenty of beers.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
a different kind of pretty
Eventually, Detroit will be a giant, overgrown wilderness centrally located with plenty of river front property.
I'm excited to see it happen. The thought nature reclaiming the blown out abyss is soothing and helps distract from the economic meltdown and, you know, bloody, violent fire-bombing riots that will surely follow.
I've decided to invest in fancy cars and tattoos, which reminds me, Recent conversations have left me thinking about tattoos again. This obviously leads to looking at pictures of tattoos, which almost always leads to pictures of girls with tattoos.
They look something like this:
Wow. Seriously. A woman with another woman tattooed on her? It'd be like an instant threesome!
And, then, maybe something for myself...
I'm excited to see it happen. The thought nature reclaiming the blown out abyss is soothing and helps distract from the economic meltdown and, you know, bloody, violent fire-bombing riots that will surely follow.
I've decided to invest in fancy cars and tattoos, which reminds me, Recent conversations have left me thinking about tattoos again. This obviously leads to looking at pictures of tattoos, which almost always leads to pictures of girls with tattoos.
They look something like this:
Wow. Seriously. A woman with another woman tattooed on her? It'd be like an instant threesome!
And, then, maybe something for myself...
Monday, April 20, 2009
The internet is the only one that really loves me
proof: I love Russians
Proof: I hate fucking hipsters
Proof: Steve McQueen. (Apparently if you put the traditionally bad-ass Irish "Mc" in front of your name, it nullifies the pussy-ness of it, even if it is "Queen")
Proof: I hate fucking hipsters
Proof: Steve McQueen. (Apparently if you put the traditionally bad-ass Irish "Mc" in front of your name, it nullifies the pussy-ness of it, even if it is "Queen")
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
+3 Skill
This week i purchased a welder. It can fit in a back pack, runs off household power and looks like this:
and the details can be found here
Here is what you should now about this purchase:
1) I've always wanted to be capable of joining metal and now i have the technology
2) Arc (or Stick welding) is harder than mig welding but the equipment is cheaper
3) The product was mis-marked in the store -$30 so i got it at an unintended discount
4) The whole set-up, welder, auto-darkening mask, rods, hammer, and beefed up electrode holder together was like 200 bones.
5) The reason this stuff was so cheap is China
6) The Welder box and all it's contents smell SEVERELY of dead fish.
That's right, the welder, the power cord, the instructions... all reek of fish. (You win again China)
Now i will endeavor on the self-taught welding process. remember kids: make small circles, watch out for sun burn and be sure you're getting good penetration.
and the details can be found here
Here is what you should now about this purchase:
1) I've always wanted to be capable of joining metal and now i have the technology
2) Arc (or Stick welding) is harder than mig welding but the equipment is cheaper
3) The product was mis-marked in the store -$30 so i got it at an unintended discount
4) The whole set-up, welder, auto-darkening mask, rods, hammer, and beefed up electrode holder together was like 200 bones.
5) The reason this stuff was so cheap is China
6) The Welder box and all it's contents smell SEVERELY of dead fish.
That's right, the welder, the power cord, the instructions... all reek of fish. (You win again China)
Now i will endeavor on the self-taught welding process. remember kids: make small circles, watch out for sun burn and be sure you're getting good penetration.
Friday, April 10, 2009
This shit ain't game cousin
Everyone needs a pick me up from time to time.
I was a little sore that i didn't witness a personal transformation from mild-mannered-jabroni to rock-god-super-man-amongst-Norwegian-super-skanks from any of you blow hards out there after watching the video posted below.
I was really hoping to change lives.
I was a little sore that i didn't witness a personal transformation from mild-mannered-jabroni to rock-god-super-man-amongst-Norwegian-super-skanks from any of you blow hards out there after watching the video posted below.
I was really hoping to change lives.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Are you ready for rock in roll?
I assume because most of you (myself included) are no long what we'd consider "young" and for the most part are pretty much just wandering though life, you probably seek direction, curious ultimately, how should YOU go about living YOUR life? What am I doing here? WHAT THE FUCK IS NEXT?
I give you the answer: become this man. BECOME A GOD! (Also, get a motorcycle)
"I didn't come here to fuckin save whales" (so to speak)
Look: The SYSTEM IS BROKEN. Unfortunately, I do not have the answers. But what i do know, is that more complicated laws, more levels of bureaucracy and more idiots thinking they DO know the answer, leads to greater success at FURTHER BREAKING of the system!
(why is everyone yelling?)
Finally, a PETITION to stop these people before it's too late!
a quick shout out to roommates gone by
Now if you'll excuse, my young bride awaits:
I give you the answer: become this man. BECOME A GOD! (Also, get a motorcycle)
"I didn't come here to fuckin save whales" (so to speak)
Look: The SYSTEM IS BROKEN. Unfortunately, I do not have the answers. But what i do know, is that more complicated laws, more levels of bureaucracy and more idiots thinking they DO know the answer, leads to greater success at FURTHER BREAKING of the system!
(why is everyone yelling?)
Finally, a PETITION to stop these people before it's too late!
a quick shout out to roommates gone by
Now if you'll excuse, my young bride awaits:
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
cincinnati two step
(you know what they say about guys with big feet? they have big shoe collections)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
hold the line
I think Detroit may be fucked.
These types of things: I think they're going to become more common.
Here's a fun game: find your own exmaples in any media outlet. (If you're looking for the Detroit Newspaper, they don't do home delivery anymore, so not there)
I think there is badness coming down the pipe.
These types of things: I think they're going to become more common.
Here's a fun game: find your own exmaples in any media outlet. (If you're looking for the Detroit Newspaper, they don't do home delivery anymore, so not there)
I think there is badness coming down the pipe.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
it's been a while since we played this game
St. Pat's Day ten "out of tens":
The Cult "Fire Woman" 8/10
Whiskey in the Jar, Hamtramck: "8/10"
Woodies, Royal Oak: "3/10"
Angst-filled 38 yr old virgins "1/10"
Dude who wants to fight "5/10"
"Did that girl just pull her pants down in public?" 10/10
Being labeled "sexy motorcycle guy" 9/10
Being labeled "guy who plays bad music" 3/10
Rubbery cock-ring-esg Bud Light LED "ring" 10/10
Cold ride home at 3am; back to work by 8am: 0/10
The Cult "Fire Woman" 8/10
Whiskey in the Jar, Hamtramck: "8/10"
Woodies, Royal Oak: "3/10"
Angst-filled 38 yr old virgins "1/10"
Dude who wants to fight "5/10"
"Did that girl just pull her pants down in public?" 10/10
Being labeled "sexy motorcycle guy" 9/10
Being labeled "guy who plays bad music" 3/10
Rubbery cock-ring-esg Bud Light LED "ring" 10/10
Cold ride home at 3am; back to work by 8am: 0/10
Murder is on the Menu
Okay look. 12 years ago this episode of Space Ghost was literally the funniest thing i had ever seen and probably accounts for 30% of my views on hilarity. And as it turns out... it's still just as funny.
(is that where i got all these ideas? Because they're brilliant)
(is that where i got all these ideas? Because they're brilliant)
Thursday, March 12, 2009
sigh
Seriously. Why is everyone fucking shooting everyone else?
OMGWTFBBQ?
Also, I've been doing some side work. I don't know, I let this guy who hangs out in his van behind the gas station take some pictures... you can check it out on my new webpage.
Another weekend, another Adventure. I'll catch you cats on the flip side of madness...
OMGWTFBBQ?
Also, I've been doing some side work. I don't know, I let this guy who hangs out in his van behind the gas station take some pictures... you can check it out on my new webpage.
Another weekend, another Adventure. I'll catch you cats on the flip side of madness...
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
more dribble
Detroit: This is not going to fix itself anytime soon.
Also, Watchmen the movie. I recommend it. (don't bring any school girls with you; Just take my word on this one.)
Sunday, March 08, 2009
what's your eigen value?
i've seen these numbers... i think there have been too many liberties taken with the phenomenonalogical constants of adjustment, but i'm willing to conduct a field field study; Maybe we can solve this intrinsically.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Check it
this picture is specatular. It's as if the GM sedan were going to swallow that MG.
It's form the coverage of the latest Lemons race, down in Texas. The same race that inspired Mike and I to jam some more on the race car. Updates here, but short story, the engine runs now and the suspension is coming together. We still have a major gap in the brakes and wheels departments but i can't wait to terrorize the streets during the shake down process.
It's form the coverage of the latest Lemons race, down in Texas. The same race that inspired Mike and I to jam some more on the race car. Updates here, but short story, the engine runs now and the suspension is coming together. We still have a major gap in the brakes and wheels departments but i can't wait to terrorize the streets during the shake down process.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
just try
try to fucking comprehend this scene:
Does your insanity still need maximum-radicalness to the power of extreme? Then i give you physics and naked girls:
(of course the hot one has Maxwell's equations... double-E WHAT!)
Now, go take a nap to relax your brain
Does your insanity still need maximum-radicalness to the power of extreme? Then i give you physics and naked girls:
(of course the hot one has Maxwell's equations... double-E WHAT!)
Now, go take a nap to relax your brain
Friday, February 27, 2009
this is going to get linky
First, a reflection on where it is we're going and why we're trying to get there:
I got about 10 of these knocked out, working on the rest.
I had a link to a great article about the actual moves that caused the great dissolve of economic wealth, but with some mild reflection it didn't really seem to matter how we got here. So i omitted it. I do secretly want to see a farm on the White House Lawn, though.
People torching luxury cars as a way to protest their own lack of wealth? This is why we can't have nice things.
Pornographers going to federal prison for being pornographers? Good thing no one is buying that smut.
It's all a bit too serious.
This is funny. Also, try some of this right here
"Your floral offering serves as no deterrent to the inevitable, betrayer.
You will now join me in oblivion."
I got about 10 of these knocked out, working on the rest.
I had a link to a great article about the actual moves that caused the great dissolve of economic wealth, but with some mild reflection it didn't really seem to matter how we got here. So i omitted it. I do secretly want to see a farm on the White House Lawn, though.
People torching luxury cars as a way to protest their own lack of wealth? This is why we can't have nice things.
Pornographers going to federal prison for being pornographers? Good thing no one is buying that smut.
It's all a bit too serious.
This is funny. Also, try some of this right here
"Your floral offering serves as no deterrent to the inevitable, betrayer.
You will now join me in oblivion."
Monday, February 23, 2009
Classy
REAL classy. Like old-Italian-guys-and-70's-Cadillac-classy:
(I've been on this music kick. Deal with it)
i wish i could have found the full version by The Platters.
(I've been on this music kick. Deal with it)
i wish i could have found the full version by The Platters.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Fuck all this noise, Silent Bob
"Damn you 2009. You sound so futuristic but I still feel like a barbarian in the Dark Age. (It could be the warrior hair.)"
I can relate to this guy
She's just so... white.
Embedding disabled by request
(What the fuck is this "embedding disabled by request" shit? Sounds like the work of the WHITE DEVIL! see the video here.)
And did ya notice? She makes the back guy ride in the back? I'm just sayin..
Unlike the Billy Idol video discussed earlier, this is one of those cases where you THINK you like a song, and THEN you see the video.
Today i rolled over 20,000 hits on this blog. Of course, that's accounted for by only about 7 unique people. Kudos to you.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Adventure Updates:
This will be a car-themed post, so I would like to start by posting this picture of the Grand Am instrument cluster, showing 1) the Pontiac cruises nicely at 2300rpm, making it amazingly fuel efficient and 2) these guage-pods look like boobs.
This is for Notorious.
This story begins, really, in my cubical at work. There i have easy access to Gmail chat and i could converse with trusted minds about complicated questions. It's also where I could spend free cruising ebay and craiglist, lamenting over THE eternal question: Which car is the best compromise of cost, performance, reliability and looks. I even came up with an equation for comparing two cars: $1000 = 100lbs = 0.25sec quicker to 60mph = 1yr since manufacture. It's actually a really good equation and I think I should patent it, which is of course why I'm publishing it first on the internet... so i can get feedback. (any of you fuckers patent this first and i'll cut you). So for example, if you had two cars that were equal in all ways, except one was $2000 cheaper and the other was 1 sec quicker to 60mph, you would be best served to buy the car that was quicker, because it's two units better.
(if i have to explain any further, you shouldn't be reading this blog)
Regardless, i knew in the back of my mind that the end product would yield happy results such as these:
Mountain driving and facebooking in your new sports car... Who could be happier?
Then i found something that caught my eye in Savannah. Truth is, i knew by then what it was i was looking for. In fact, I'd test driven two of them and knew perhaps too well, just how much fun it was going to be; How much fun THIS was going to be:
This was taken just before (or maybe after) the twisties
From that realization, it was just a matter of logistics. Financial institutions, insurance companies, The Department of Motor Vehciles... it seems in the last 6 years since i've run this patter, none of these organizations have gotten any better at NOT making me want to kill myself. Whatever; Skip lunch for a week and you can work out most of the details for an out-of-state car purchase.
With paper work in hand it was a very simple matter of driving to Ohio, picking up my travel associate, driving to Cincinnati, flying to Memphis, flying to Atlanta renting a car, staying the night in a mansion in the suburbs of Atlanta, getting drunk in the hot tub, driving to Savannah, signing some paper work and shaking some hands, enjoying an absurdly large and cheap shell fish platter, driving two cars to Atlanta, returning the rental to the air port and visiting the huge KFC Chicken so we could start the trip home.
Easy-peasy.
this is the happy stick. The other one.
With the happy stick in hand, (the other one) I immediately set out to find roads worthy of the car. In my mind, I imaged something like this:
I called Johnny Moto and he suggested we swing by the Dragon in Deals Gap Kentucky. As they say, "The Tail of the Dragon at Deals Gap, with 318 curves in 11 miles, is America's number one motorcycle and sports car road." I was sold. (What they don't mention is the 50 or so miles of awesome leading up to and away from that section.)
The whole road looks like this with an elevation profile somewhere in the area of this right here.
Apparently this is the most legendary road in the states, possibly second only to the Autobahn, which from what I've seen, is MUCH less exciting. I didn't know any of this until I was 30 minutes into sawing the wheel and jamming the gears through the most insane, narrow, tree lined, mountainous road I've ever seen (including my dreams and fantasies). Seriously: Hair-pin after Hair-pin until your arms feel like rubber and there's nervous sweat beads on the small of your back.
We were incredibly lucky to have passed through at exactly the right time. It seems late on the day Sunday, mid February, must be the perfect time because we encountered approximately zero traffic on this road and only had to pass (easily) one or two cars on the exciting roads leading up to and away from the dragon. The surroundings consisted of mountains, trees, dams, trees (though very few leaves), lakes, rivers and a guy selling BBQ out of a gas station parking lot, though all i saw was a blurry yellow double line and all I heard was the happy bark of 2 liter engine.
The south is full of side of the road signs like these.
From the dragon it was a short bop over to Knoxville where a quick bite turned into a bunch of drinks that turned into a hotel room. (I suspect and hope this is the natural progression of life on the road. What am i saying? I KNOW it is.) The car slept in a garage, though I considered inviting it to bed.
The car
From there it was a fun though uneventful ride back. 700 miles in the new car made the Grand Am, which is a pretty sporty car, all things considered, feel like a school bus and the first time I hit the brakes I thought I was going off the road. The Miata is simply amazing at going, stopping, turning, not having a roof and making you feel like a rock star. I am eagerly anticipating the warm weather. Until then, it waits for me in Ohio, not unlike a lonely, lonely, hot girl left unattended in another state.
Oy.
For those who aren't interested in my goofy stories, i will leave these links for amusement:
For the physics and mechanics lover
This story begins, really, in my cubical at work. There i have easy access to Gmail chat and i could converse with trusted minds about complicated questions. It's also where I could spend free cruising ebay and craiglist, lamenting over THE eternal question: Which car is the best compromise of cost, performance, reliability and looks. I even came up with an equation for comparing two cars: $1000 = 100lbs = 0.25sec quicker to 60mph = 1yr since manufacture. It's actually a really good equation and I think I should patent it, which is of course why I'm publishing it first on the internet... so i can get feedback. (any of you fuckers patent this first and i'll cut you). So for example, if you had two cars that were equal in all ways, except one was $2000 cheaper and the other was 1 sec quicker to 60mph, you would be best served to buy the car that was quicker, because it's two units better.
(if i have to explain any further, you shouldn't be reading this blog)
Regardless, i knew in the back of my mind that the end product would yield happy results such as these:
Then i found something that caught my eye in Savannah. Truth is, i knew by then what it was i was looking for. In fact, I'd test driven two of them and knew perhaps too well, just how much fun it was going to be; How much fun THIS was going to be:
From that realization, it was just a matter of logistics. Financial institutions, insurance companies, The Department of Motor Vehciles... it seems in the last 6 years since i've run this patter, none of these organizations have gotten any better at NOT making me want to kill myself. Whatever; Skip lunch for a week and you can work out most of the details for an out-of-state car purchase.
With paper work in hand it was a very simple matter of driving to Ohio, picking up my travel associate, driving to Cincinnati, flying to Memphis, flying to Atlanta renting a car, staying the night in a mansion in the suburbs of Atlanta, getting drunk in the hot tub, driving to Savannah, signing some paper work and shaking some hands, enjoying an absurdly large and cheap shell fish platter, driving two cars to Atlanta, returning the rental to the air port and visiting the huge KFC Chicken so we could start the trip home.
Easy-peasy.
With the happy stick in hand, (the other one) I immediately set out to find roads worthy of the car. In my mind, I imaged something like this:
I called Johnny Moto and he suggested we swing by the Dragon in Deals Gap Kentucky. As they say, "The Tail of the Dragon at Deals Gap, with 318 curves in 11 miles, is America's number one motorcycle and sports car road." I was sold. (What they don't mention is the 50 or so miles of awesome leading up to and away from that section.)
The whole road looks like this with an elevation profile somewhere in the area of this right here.
Apparently this is the most legendary road in the states, possibly second only to the Autobahn, which from what I've seen, is MUCH less exciting. I didn't know any of this until I was 30 minutes into sawing the wheel and jamming the gears through the most insane, narrow, tree lined, mountainous road I've ever seen (including my dreams and fantasies). Seriously: Hair-pin after Hair-pin until your arms feel like rubber and there's nervous sweat beads on the small of your back.
We were incredibly lucky to have passed through at exactly the right time. It seems late on the day Sunday, mid February, must be the perfect time because we encountered approximately zero traffic on this road and only had to pass (easily) one or two cars on the exciting roads leading up to and away from the dragon. The surroundings consisted of mountains, trees, dams, trees (though very few leaves), lakes, rivers and a guy selling BBQ out of a gas station parking lot, though all i saw was a blurry yellow double line and all I heard was the happy bark of 2 liter engine.
The south is full of side of the road signs like these.
From the dragon it was a short bop over to Knoxville where a quick bite turned into a bunch of drinks that turned into a hotel room. (I suspect and hope this is the natural progression of life on the road. What am i saying? I KNOW it is.) The car slept in a garage, though I considered inviting it to bed.
The car
From there it was a fun though uneventful ride back. 700 miles in the new car made the Grand Am, which is a pretty sporty car, all things considered, feel like a school bus and the first time I hit the brakes I thought I was going off the road. The Miata is simply amazing at going, stopping, turning, not having a roof and making you feel like a rock star. I am eagerly anticipating the warm weather. Until then, it waits for me in Ohio, not unlike a lonely, lonely, hot girl left unattended in another state.
Oy.
For those who aren't interested in my goofy stories, i will leave these links for amusement:
For the physics and mechanics lover
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Valentine's Day
It's near. And we all know what that means... The Dirty Show is coming to town!
Now, who wants to come?
(in the mean time, i'm still decompressing from extensive travel and am not yet prepared to entertain you with tales of adventure. Stay tuned.)
Now, who wants to come?
(in the mean time, i'm still decompressing from extensive travel and am not yet prepared to entertain you with tales of adventure. Stay tuned.)
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
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