"...millions of our fellow Americans are out of work... millions more work harder for lower pay. The incumbent President Bush says unemployment always goes up a little before a recovery begins, but unemployment only has to go up by one more person before a real recovery can begin. And Mr. President, you are that man."
-Clinton '92
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
October Highway Men
moments ago in my bed...
11:45Am, Monday. I wake up, having called off work just a few hours ago. Finally, i feel like i actually slept. Let's start at the beginning:
------------------
11:00pm Friday: After leaving the bar, i go home, pack a sack, hit Meijer for some last minute cold weather gear and head to Jay-Fry's. We exchange mental high-fives and depart for the Detroit/Canada tunnel. Temperature: 50 degrees F.
11:45pm Friday: Fuck all this noise: Apparently motorcycles are forbid in the tunnel and because Detroit is a big face-punch full of highway closures and construction, no one (including the tunnel guy) knows exactly how to get to the bridge. We head south along the river knowing "it's down there somewhere."
2:30Am Saturday: London, Ontario. We're in a road-side trucker dinner and gas station. We are not, what you would call "comfortable" with the temperature. I'm using the exhaust headers to warm my legs and hands. A side effect is the smell of burning cow (gloves) coming from my bike every time i stop. Jay-Fry is burdened with protective and aerodynamic cowls that keep icy hands away from warm engine parts. He is left with the slightly less dignified option of urinating on his gloved hands.
At the dinner we drink hot chocolate, hot tea, hot coffee and think about warm places. Jay-Fry shares a moment outside with the waitress while they smoke some cigs. I suspect she's ready to warm him up the old fashioned way, but he seems oblivious to this. Plus, we're on a mission.
Note: I have no idea what the temperature is because the locals use an unbreakable cryptology to encode their temperature units. In an attempt to crow-bar the code, i make the general association that 5C = 5 layers of torso coverings.
View Larger Map
4:30Am Saturday: Hamilton, Ontario. We can go no further: the weather has won. We pull off on the first exit outside town that features a hotel. The simple physical reward of NOT travel 90mph against a frozen atmosphere is now more gratifying as any drug, woman or feeling i can imagine. Possessing all that we carry, we park the bikes on the room's porch.
I take a moment to grab a photo after parking the bikes:
5:00Am Saturday: Room temp set to 75 (why is it back to F here?) I crawl into bed. We briefly discuss the fact that we could have just as easily driven south been warmer... This notion is so profound that i refuse to incorporate it as truth and instead use the I-pod to drown the buzz of the engine in my head. I sleep.
11:00Am Saturday: Up by 9, showered, eaten, packed and ready to rock. Unfortunately the W is low on oil (half a quart after 4k miles? not bad...)
2:00Pm Saturday: Niagara, Ontario. The sun it out and we are happy. We drive by the falls, stop, and have a serious conversation about jumping the gap as a sure-fire way to avoid customs and lines. Niagara proves difficult to navigate when you're looking for a) the entrance to a USA-bound bridge or b) a gas station. We give up on b and focus on a, which will later prove problematic. I decide to stick to the now-proven portrait equation of holding the camera myself while Jay-Fry wanders oblivious in the background.
4:00Pm Saturday: Grand Island, NY. Fuck this island. I have traveled 40 miles since switching to the reserve tank and as far as we can tell there are no gas stations in New York. The toll taker gives us errant directions to one location and we extrapolate the location of a second. The first is never found and the second is closed. Things are desperate; we find ANOTHER closed (as in, out of business) gas station. (For some reason forget about having google maps on our phones as this point, probably because it would just point us to another empty building anyway) We rely on "ground intel" (read: local slack-jaws) to point us to a functioning pump, but even they seems little unsure of their directions. Eventually we find food and gas. I take the opportunity to get site-seeing recommendations from my NY people.
6:00Pm, Saturday: Rochester, NY. We have just arrived at the house of a woman neither of us knows. Surprisingly there was no welcoming committee awaiting our arrival in Rochester, probably because i forgot to call a head. We rode around downtown looking for a hotel and signs of life, but downtown proper was dead. And ghetto-y. We resorted to the "friends of friends" technique to ultimately hook up with the sister of Jay-fry's brother's ex-girlfriend. (yeah, awesome, i know) The photographer (as she is one) amazingly agreed to show us around town tonight, for she is hip to the hang outs.
View Larger Map
8:00Pm Saturday: Rochester, NY, "The South Wedge District." After food and beers at the first bar, we're sitting in a coffee shop that also sells the liquor. The shop features works of local artists, one of which i recognize as this guy's work. is that him...? in the corner? I'm having an Irish coffee with a Redbull chaser. The caffeine and alcohol are slugging it out in my system. As it is early, we discuss the possibility of a pre-party nap, as most of the bars won't be in effect for another couple hours. This idea is quickly dismissed as "tasting like quitter."
note: this is where things get fuzzy. We'll file it under the hours between 9pm and 3-ish am. There is no possible way i can logically retell the events in a linear and coherent manner; not because i don't remember any of it, just because science does not allow it. But i can tell you this: It involved Whiskey. (it's an ideas drink, after all) It also involved folk music, 80's punk and Christian Ska. There was a banjo demonstration that led to several hours of banjo jokes. (if you don't know, the banjo features a "G-string" and is also a slang word for girl parts). There was an attempt to recall the name Cat Stevens adopted when he converted religions, more booze, more jokes, a dissertation on why Neil Diamond is the world's greatest singer song writer, making fun of social networking sites, complaints about the opposite sex and at some point everything just reset back to zero. I sleep.
At some point in the night, Rochester claims ownership of this button:
8:00Am Sunday: I wake up on a stranger's couch in a strange city. There are house guests. The world is foggy and i'm cold AGAIN. I relocate somewhere more peaceful.
10:00Am Sunday: I wake again. (There's a cat here. Hello cat.) I remember the mission and try to throw myself into at day but my body resists. I muster a shower but decline the delicious smelling breakfast the photographer has cooked for us and her roommates. (Her hospitality seems to know no bounds) Some friends are at the house and they're discussing possible routes we should take home to maximize the nature exposure. I make my way to the front porch where things always make sense:
From the porch i see this and old OAR songs start to play in my head:
At that sight the fog lifts and mission becomes clear again: we ride. It's decided that we B-line for home. Jay-fry needs to be at work Monday and given the near state of hypothermia we find ourselves when arriving at a destination, it is better perhaps if we stay away from the lakes and seclusion... for this trip.
11:45Am Sunday: Rochester, NY. We re-tell the adventures of the night and say our goodbyes. For reasons i cannot fully understand it feels AMAZING to be back on the bike; the sun is shining and the weather is fair. I've hardly slept and my body is choking on caffeine, b-12 and alcohol but I feel awake, alive and healthy. The first 30 or so minutes on the road are the best of the weekend and i'm feeling on top of the world. We ride fast.
The trip home: Amazing; NY is fast and Canada is slow. We fill up in Niagara and decide to run the tanks dry before we stop, putting us right back on London, ON again, where we see the friendly waitresses. We enjoy the weekend's first healthy meal (soup and salad) while the sun and the temperature both drop faster than we'd like. The last 100 miles are hard. Its cold. Real cold. Plus there's construction and i'm sore. But somehow that all melts away when you see the bridge to America. Waiting in customs, we discuss the magic feeling when you're getting close to home after a long road trip.
The tally: Rochester, MI to Rochester, NY and back: 700+ miles
The time: 47hours from idea conception to arriving home
Song during final credits: OAR "Revolution"
Special thanks: Here's to the photographer; the hero of the story and our new digital-internet friend
11:45Am, Monday. I wake up, having called off work just a few hours ago. Finally, i feel like i actually slept. Let's start at the beginning:
11:00pm Friday: After leaving the bar, i go home, pack a sack, hit Meijer for some last minute cold weather gear and head to Jay-Fry's. We exchange mental high-fives and depart for the Detroit/Canada tunnel. Temperature: 50 degrees F.
11:45pm Friday: Fuck all this noise: Apparently motorcycles are forbid in the tunnel and because Detroit is a big face-punch full of highway closures and construction, no one (including the tunnel guy) knows exactly how to get to the bridge. We head south along the river knowing "it's down there somewhere."
2:30Am Saturday: London, Ontario. We're in a road-side trucker dinner and gas station. We are not, what you would call "comfortable" with the temperature. I'm using the exhaust headers to warm my legs and hands. A side effect is the smell of burning cow (gloves) coming from my bike every time i stop. Jay-Fry is burdened with protective and aerodynamic cowls that keep icy hands away from warm engine parts. He is left with the slightly less dignified option of urinating on his gloved hands.
At the dinner we drink hot chocolate, hot tea, hot coffee and think about warm places. Jay-Fry shares a moment outside with the waitress while they smoke some cigs. I suspect she's ready to warm him up the old fashioned way, but he seems oblivious to this. Plus, we're on a mission.
Note: I have no idea what the temperature is because the locals use an unbreakable cryptology to encode their temperature units. In an attempt to crow-bar the code, i make the general association that 5C = 5 layers of torso coverings.
View Larger Map
4:30Am Saturday: Hamilton, Ontario. We can go no further: the weather has won. We pull off on the first exit outside town that features a hotel. The simple physical reward of NOT travel 90mph against a frozen atmosphere is now more gratifying as any drug, woman or feeling i can imagine. Possessing all that we carry, we park the bikes on the room's porch.
I take a moment to grab a photo after parking the bikes:
5:00Am Saturday: Room temp set to 75 (why is it back to F here?) I crawl into bed. We briefly discuss the fact that we could have just as easily driven south been warmer... This notion is so profound that i refuse to incorporate it as truth and instead use the I-pod to drown the buzz of the engine in my head. I sleep.
11:00Am Saturday: Up by 9, showered, eaten, packed and ready to rock. Unfortunately the W is low on oil (half a quart after 4k miles? not bad...)
2:00Pm Saturday: Niagara, Ontario. The sun it out and we are happy. We drive by the falls, stop, and have a serious conversation about jumping the gap as a sure-fire way to avoid customs and lines. Niagara proves difficult to navigate when you're looking for a) the entrance to a USA-bound bridge or b) a gas station. We give up on b and focus on a, which will later prove problematic. I decide to stick to the now-proven portrait equation of holding the camera myself while Jay-Fry wanders oblivious in the background.
4:00Pm Saturday: Grand Island, NY. Fuck this island. I have traveled 40 miles since switching to the reserve tank and as far as we can tell there are no gas stations in New York. The toll taker gives us errant directions to one location and we extrapolate the location of a second. The first is never found and the second is closed. Things are desperate; we find ANOTHER closed (as in, out of business) gas station. (For some reason forget about having google maps on our phones as this point, probably because it would just point us to another empty building anyway) We rely on "ground intel" (read: local slack-jaws) to point us to a functioning pump, but even they seems little unsure of their directions. Eventually we find food and gas. I take the opportunity to get site-seeing recommendations from my NY people.
6:00Pm, Saturday: Rochester, NY. We have just arrived at the house of a woman neither of us knows. Surprisingly there was no welcoming committee awaiting our arrival in Rochester, probably because i forgot to call a head. We rode around downtown looking for a hotel and signs of life, but downtown proper was dead. And ghetto-y. We resorted to the "friends of friends" technique to ultimately hook up with the sister of Jay-fry's brother's ex-girlfriend. (yeah, awesome, i know) The photographer (as she is one) amazingly agreed to show us around town tonight, for she is hip to the hang outs.
View Larger Map
8:00Pm Saturday: Rochester, NY, "The South Wedge District." After food and beers at the first bar, we're sitting in a coffee shop that also sells the liquor. The shop features works of local artists, one of which i recognize as this guy's work. is that him...? in the corner? I'm having an Irish coffee with a Redbull chaser. The caffeine and alcohol are slugging it out in my system. As it is early, we discuss the possibility of a pre-party nap, as most of the bars won't be in effect for another couple hours. This idea is quickly dismissed as "tasting like quitter."
note: this is where things get fuzzy. We'll file it under the hours between 9pm and 3-ish am. There is no possible way i can logically retell the events in a linear and coherent manner; not because i don't remember any of it, just because science does not allow it. But i can tell you this: It involved Whiskey. (it's an ideas drink, after all) It also involved folk music, 80's punk and Christian Ska. There was a banjo demonstration that led to several hours of banjo jokes. (if you don't know, the banjo features a "G-string" and is also a slang word for girl parts). There was an attempt to recall the name Cat Stevens adopted when he converted religions, more booze, more jokes, a dissertation on why Neil Diamond is the world's greatest singer song writer, making fun of social networking sites, complaints about the opposite sex and at some point everything just reset back to zero. I sleep.
At some point in the night, Rochester claims ownership of this button:
8:00Am Sunday: I wake up on a stranger's couch in a strange city. There are house guests. The world is foggy and i'm cold AGAIN. I relocate somewhere more peaceful.
10:00Am Sunday: I wake again. (There's a cat here. Hello cat.) I remember the mission and try to throw myself into at day but my body resists. I muster a shower but decline the delicious smelling breakfast the photographer has cooked for us and her roommates. (Her hospitality seems to know no bounds) Some friends are at the house and they're discussing possible routes we should take home to maximize the nature exposure. I make my way to the front porch where things always make sense:
From the porch i see this and old OAR songs start to play in my head:
At that sight the fog lifts and mission becomes clear again: we ride. It's decided that we B-line for home. Jay-fry needs to be at work Monday and given the near state of hypothermia we find ourselves when arriving at a destination, it is better perhaps if we stay away from the lakes and seclusion... for this trip.
11:45Am Sunday: Rochester, NY. We re-tell the adventures of the night and say our goodbyes. For reasons i cannot fully understand it feels AMAZING to be back on the bike; the sun is shining and the weather is fair. I've hardly slept and my body is choking on caffeine, b-12 and alcohol but I feel awake, alive and healthy. The first 30 or so minutes on the road are the best of the weekend and i'm feeling on top of the world. We ride fast.
The trip home: Amazing; NY is fast and Canada is slow. We fill up in Niagara and decide to run the tanks dry before we stop, putting us right back on London, ON again, where we see the friendly waitresses. We enjoy the weekend's first healthy meal (soup and salad) while the sun and the temperature both drop faster than we'd like. The last 100 miles are hard. Its cold. Real cold. Plus there's construction and i'm sore. But somehow that all melts away when you see the bridge to America. Waiting in customs, we discuss the magic feeling when you're getting close to home after a long road trip.
The tally: Rochester, MI to Rochester, NY and back: 700+ miles
The time: 47hours from idea conception to arriving home
Song during final credits: OAR "Revolution"
Special thanks: Here's to the photographer; the hero of the story and our new digital-internet friend
Friday, October 17, 2008
moments ago in bar...
Around 9pm
"Sure it'd be a great motorcycle trip and the colors would be amazing but you're running short on time. I mean, shit, you'd have to do it like... this weekend. Heh, that's pretty funny because i have NO plans for this weekend."
{ominous music}
9:30
{i finish my guiness}
"Bar tender- bring me a Jameson on the rocks... I need to stay warm"
"I'm not sure we could even make it through Canada tonight, but i suppose we could stop when our fingers go numb... We doing this?"
"alright, you're riding the Duc? We ride light; leave from your place at 11:00."
"Sure it'd be a great motorcycle trip and the colors would be amazing but you're running short on time. I mean, shit, you'd have to do it like... this weekend. Heh, that's pretty funny because i have NO plans for this weekend."
{ominous music}
9:30
{i finish my guiness}
"Bar tender- bring me a Jameson on the rocks... I need to stay warm"
"I'm not sure we could even make it through Canada tonight, but i suppose we could stop when our fingers go numb... We doing this?"
"alright, you're riding the Duc? We ride light; leave from your place at 11:00."
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Sub 10 minute miles
i am the champion. (of putting blisters on my feet)
in other news:
I'm gonna kick some ass with my own pipe wrench!
(pipe wrench fight!)
in other news:
I'm gonna kick some ass with my own pipe wrench!
(pipe wrench fight!)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Well fuck
Here comes Halloween: The weekend full of techno and booze, ridiculous outfits, and every girl you know is dressed like a. total. slut. (mom? what are you doing in that maid outfit?)
Yes,
Sexy cops
Sexy witches
Sexy devils
Sexy angels
Sexy meter Maids
Sexy scientists (a close second)
Sexy prostitutes
Sexy cartoon characters
Sexy dead people
Sexy people having sex
And of course, my personal favorite, Sexy nurses. (head explodes)
Yes Halloween, it is truly a love/hate scenario to be tempted with so much fruit. Remember boys and girls: Most of that fruit requires too much effort to harvest (wait- i have to become Christian to pick these apples?) some of it's rotten, and you'll probably just order too aggressively and fall asleep before you finish the cup cakes.
(What the fuck were we talking about?)
Right: Sex. And Halloween. The two are like peanut butter and genitals. In case you run out of ideas, you can find here links to the map of fetishes and map of sex which both should provide a wealth of costume ideas that would get you arrested on any other night of the week. (According to the authors, one begot the other, but i think they're both god damn liars if they weren't inspired by the map of the internet by XKCD.) Anyway, point is, if you don't learn something new from each of those maps, i want to party with you this weekend. And seriously, why the fuck is anal bead corner surrounded on two sides by body modification?? SOMEBODY is bring SOMEBODY's property value down!!
Whatever. I may have begun this work with a point in mind. That point has been filed to a dull nub by images of the weekends to come. Looks like i need to stock up on orange juice and power bars!
(Moe is hooked up to a lie detector)
Eddie: Did you hold a grudge against Mr. Burns?
Moe: no. (false)
Moe: Aright! Maybe I did, but I didn't shoot him. (true)
Eddie: Checks out. Okay, sir, your free to go.
Moe: Good, cause I have a hot date tonight. (false)
Moe: a date. (false)
Moe: Dinner with friends. (false)
Moe: Dinner alone. (false)
Moe: Watching TV alone. (false)
Moe: Aright. I'm going to sit at home and ogle the girls
in the Victorian Secret Catalogue. (false)
Moe: Sears Catalogue. (true)
Moe: Now would you unhook this already, please? I don't
deserve this kind of shabby treatment! (false)
update: it's funnier if i just include a damn clip of what i'm talking about!
FALSE!
Yes,
Sexy cops
Sexy witches
Sexy devils
Sexy angels
Sexy meter Maids
Sexy scientists (a close second)
Sexy prostitutes
Sexy cartoon characters
Sexy dead people
Sexy people having sex
And of course, my personal favorite, Sexy nurses. (head explodes)
Yes Halloween, it is truly a love/hate scenario to be tempted with so much fruit. Remember boys and girls: Most of that fruit requires too much effort to harvest (wait- i have to become Christian to pick these apples?) some of it's rotten, and you'll probably just order too aggressively and fall asleep before you finish the cup cakes.
(What the fuck were we talking about?)
Right: Sex. And Halloween. The two are like peanut butter and genitals. In case you run out of ideas, you can find here links to the map of fetishes and map of sex which both should provide a wealth of costume ideas that would get you arrested on any other night of the week. (According to the authors, one begot the other, but i think they're both god damn liars if they weren't inspired by the map of the internet by XKCD.) Anyway, point is, if you don't learn something new from each of those maps, i want to party with you this weekend. And seriously, why the fuck is anal bead corner surrounded on two sides by body modification?? SOMEBODY is bring SOMEBODY's property value down!!
Whatever. I may have begun this work with a point in mind. That point has been filed to a dull nub by images of the weekends to come. Looks like i need to stock up on orange juice and power bars!
(Moe is hooked up to a lie detector)
Eddie: Did you hold a grudge against Mr. Burns?
Moe: no. (false)
Moe: Aright! Maybe I did, but I didn't shoot him. (true)
Eddie: Checks out. Okay, sir, your free to go.
Moe: Good, cause I have a hot date tonight. (false)
Moe: a date. (false)
Moe: Dinner with friends. (false)
Moe: Dinner alone. (false)
Moe: Watching TV alone. (false)
Moe: Aright. I'm going to sit at home and ogle the girls
in the Victorian Secret Catalogue. (false)
Moe: Sears Catalogue. (true)
Moe: Now would you unhook this already, please? I don't
deserve this kind of shabby treatment! (false)
update: it's funnier if i just include a damn clip of what i'm talking about!
FALSE!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
see, it's imaginary, so it can involve ANYthing...
XKCD for the WIN:
I'm a little disappointed he didn't address the square root of (-1) because it's imaginary and there's a lot of potential there. But whatever.
Few quick points:
This is bad, mmm-kay? The problem is, when you're on the terrorist watch list (other than, you now, being on it for life) is that you would never know you were on it, unless, you know, you got lucky and someone told you.
Second, it seems Twisted Sister is now willing to take it. This is bad news for 80s hair rock enthusiasts everywhere.
Finally, clean coal: It comes up a lot. There is no such thing. It's like the fucking easter bunny, okay? Coal is dirty. There's dirty coal and dirty coal that has had it's dirtiness collected and distributed somewhere else.
That is all. Remember you're training and you will survive.
Monday, October 06, 2008
a round up
The weekend: beers, dance clubs, girly cigars, observing from above failed attempts at the human mating ritual, Jameson on the ice, bar bands and feats of strength. I trumped a week of hard times with 48 action packed hours of country-home/punk-rock lifestyle. I'm glad i didn't sleep through it.
Economy: shat upon
I tried to explain what it was like to be from south east Michigan, the collective area that we'll call Detroit. The motorcity. I think i was drunk and they may have been as well, but the points were valid: unity through despair. An entire metropolis that's spent the last 20... fuck 40 years being beat down. Constantly ranked last in quality of life poles, Detroit has made it every list from most overweight to most STDS per capita. My generation has never known a "good time" in the auto industry. Crime, unemployment, destitution and racism are the standard.
And yet, it seems to breed a heartiness that i couldn't quite explain when drunk at a noisy festival and can't quite explain here. Its a blue-collar fortitude that always manages to carry on and i think it's at the heart of my love/hate relationship with this place. Or it could just be Stockholm syndrome. Whatever. The point is, the people i work with and I are all on the brink of unemployment and no one seems to really care. It's more like a joke as the weaker of the herd is slowly eliminated via termination or relocation. So it goes.
I lean to the left but in a "meh" kind of way. It's fine. It's feels better over here, but just a little bit. But i will confess: i am hyped up the the Barack-Star. It's not even that i think he's going to make MY life better. It just, he HAS to be better than the alternative... right?
(if only the election was in March...)
Conclusion: I've had a solid month to consider the lay of the land, you know, with the metaphysical and the retrospective kind of what nots. And what I figure is, baring an uncharacteristically bad roll of the dice, everyone gets about 50 good, free independent years. It's not a particularly earth-shattering revelation, just a nice way of boxing up what it is we're all working with.
Well, that, and those 50 years are mostly like assembling a puzzle. Except you don't start with any pieces but instead collect them as you go. Oh, and there's no corner pieces; Just beers and bears and caves, shaky jobs and ladders, Ducatis and strangers that become un-strangers and then go back to being strangers. Yup. A September of collecting my thoughts and that's what i came up with.
Here's to the pieces that fit and the pieces that don't: Knowing the score and rolling the dice. {Insert bumper-sticker catchphrase here}
Speaking of which, mark your calenders:
Oct 23: Chesto and I vs. Madison the Wisconsin
¡Tag team battle royal!™
The search for puzzle pieces goes on forever!
T.I. it would seem, subscribes to traditional sociological and economic gender roles. Does that mean every mare in the stable gets a Bentley convt.?
Life is complicated and confusing.
Economy: shat upon
I tried to explain what it was like to be from south east Michigan, the collective area that we'll call Detroit. The motorcity. I think i was drunk and they may have been as well, but the points were valid: unity through despair. An entire metropolis that's spent the last 20... fuck 40 years being beat down. Constantly ranked last in quality of life poles, Detroit has made it every list from most overweight to most STDS per capita. My generation has never known a "good time" in the auto industry. Crime, unemployment, destitution and racism are the standard.
And yet, it seems to breed a heartiness that i couldn't quite explain when drunk at a noisy festival and can't quite explain here. Its a blue-collar fortitude that always manages to carry on and i think it's at the heart of my love/hate relationship with this place. Or it could just be Stockholm syndrome. Whatever. The point is, the people i work with and I are all on the brink of unemployment and no one seems to really care. It's more like a joke as the weaker of the herd is slowly eliminated via termination or relocation. So it goes.
I lean to the left but in a "meh" kind of way. It's fine. It's feels better over here, but just a little bit. But i will confess: i am hyped up the the Barack-Star. It's not even that i think he's going to make MY life better. It just, he HAS to be better than the alternative... right?
(if only the election was in March...)
Conclusion: I've had a solid month to consider the lay of the land, you know, with the metaphysical and the retrospective kind of what nots. And what I figure is, baring an uncharacteristically bad roll of the dice, everyone gets about 50 good, free independent years. It's not a particularly earth-shattering revelation, just a nice way of boxing up what it is we're all working with.
Well, that, and those 50 years are mostly like assembling a puzzle. Except you don't start with any pieces but instead collect them as you go. Oh, and there's no corner pieces; Just beers and bears and caves, shaky jobs and ladders, Ducatis and strangers that become un-strangers and then go back to being strangers. Yup. A September of collecting my thoughts and that's what i came up with.
Here's to the pieces that fit and the pieces that don't: Knowing the score and rolling the dice. {Insert bumper-sticker catchphrase here}
Speaking of which, mark your calenders:
Oct 23: Chesto and I vs. Madison the Wisconsin
¡Tag team battle royal!™
The search for puzzle pieces goes on forever!
T.I. it would seem, subscribes to traditional sociological and economic gender roles. Does that mean every mare in the stable gets a Bentley convt.?
Life is complicated and confusing.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
blog EXPLOSION! (am i drunk?)
"The liberty of man consists solely in this, that he obeys the laws of nature because he has himself recognized them as such, and not because they have been imposed upon him externally by any foreign will whatsoever, human or divine, collective or individual."
--Mikhail Bakunin
-------------------------------
-------------------------------
JON STEWART: I was convinced an Obama/McCain campaign would be measurably different on almost all standards. And to watch it become Bush/Kerry, Bush/Gore, has been one of the most dissatisfying experiences.
STEPHEN COLBERT: That means it's not an Obama/McCain campaign. It's a Guys Who Work for Bush/Guys Who Work for Kerry campaign. Both sides have people who are just smart enough to know "We need to tweak this dial right here," so of course voters are divided 50/50 between the parties. When the 2000 election was down to 14 voters in Boca deciding the whole thing, I thought, "'Wow, that's great! It really is a political science! They've found a way to put electrodes in people's hands, and a probe up their butt, show them images, and say 'See how they respond!'"
STEWART: That's why you think to yourself, "Hey, couldn't you guys tie for $10 million, instead of a trillion? Does it really cost that much money to tie?"
Good stuff from the comedy central
COLBERT: The idea that Lehman Brothers doesn't get any money and AIG does reminds me very much of ''Iran is a mortal enemy because they have not achieved a nuclear weapon. But North Korea is a country we can work with, because they have a nuclear weapon.'' The idea is, Get big or go home. How big can you f--- up? Can you f--- up so bad that you would ruin the world economy? If it's just 15,000 who are out of jobs, no. You have to actually be a global f---up to get any help.
-------------------------------
It's becoming pretty obvious that i need to find a new job.
-------------------------------
Science:
The kids are using the the Hulu I assure you.
This seems... Dubious. I can give you 5 reasons.
But if it's true.. you can sign me up.
(not for this reason... well, not ONLY that reason.)
The Chinese: Not fucking around.
The Japanese: Not fucking around.
-------------------------------
Not science
best mix up ever
Well, kind of science... but also sex. But then again, it's kind of the same thing, right?
-------------------------------
Finally, i will mention that i am two tattoos richer but will not sully their awesomeness by spewing their picture all over the internet where any peter picture picker or harry hacker can copy paster and distribute at his/her will. Instead i will insist that you appear in person and convince me to de-shirt if you want to bask in their wicked awesomeness. That is all.
-------------------------------
Guess what: The H is O.
Come tomorrow morning i'm gonna have Glen Fry Stank all over me.
(Why would you SHOW me that?!)
--Mikhail Bakunin
JON STEWART: I was convinced an Obama/McCain campaign would be measurably different on almost all standards. And to watch it become Bush/Kerry, Bush/Gore, has been one of the most dissatisfying experiences.
STEPHEN COLBERT: That means it's not an Obama/McCain campaign. It's a Guys Who Work for Bush/Guys Who Work for Kerry campaign. Both sides have people who are just smart enough to know "We need to tweak this dial right here," so of course voters are divided 50/50 between the parties. When the 2000 election was down to 14 voters in Boca deciding the whole thing, I thought, "'Wow, that's great! It really is a political science! They've found a way to put electrodes in people's hands, and a probe up their butt, show them images, and say 'See how they respond!'"
STEWART: That's why you think to yourself, "Hey, couldn't you guys tie for $10 million, instead of a trillion? Does it really cost that much money to tie?"
Good stuff from the comedy central
COLBERT: The idea that Lehman Brothers doesn't get any money and AIG does reminds me very much of ''Iran is a mortal enemy because they have not achieved a nuclear weapon. But North Korea is a country we can work with, because they have a nuclear weapon.'' The idea is, Get big or go home. How big can you f--- up? Can you f--- up so bad that you would ruin the world economy? If it's just 15,000 who are out of jobs, no. You have to actually be a global f---up to get any help.
It's becoming pretty obvious that i need to find a new job.
Science:
The kids are using the the Hulu I assure you.
This seems... Dubious. I can give you 5 reasons.
But if it's true.. you can sign me up.
(not for this reason... well, not ONLY that reason.)
The Chinese: Not fucking around.
The Japanese: Not fucking around.
Not science
best mix up ever
Well, kind of science... but also sex. But then again, it's kind of the same thing, right?
Finally, i will mention that i am two tattoos richer but will not sully their awesomeness by spewing their picture all over the internet where any peter picture picker or harry hacker can copy paster and distribute at his/her will. Instead i will insist that you appear in person and convince me to de-shirt if you want to bask in their wicked awesomeness. That is all.
Guess what: The H is O.
Come tomorrow morning i'm gonna have Glen Fry Stank all over me.
(Why would you SHOW me that?!)
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Dallas Texas
(who are you?)
Seriously Dallas Texas, how can you hit this blog so much? I've put a bit of thought into this and come up with some theories:
1) You're a robot. If this is the case I'll see you in robot hell (well, not exactly. I'll be in person hell, which has more fire but no electro-static discharge machines or high powered magnets.) Regardless, lets not forget that this whole deal started as a robot extermination service several years ago when i was getting in on the ground floor of what will obviously be a key future service. This scenario is moderately likely.
2) You're a friend of one of my friends, probably one of which also has a blog and/or webpage that i have referenced here before or in turn has linked back to me. You're not particularilly interested in "knowing" me per say, but you've decided to read up on the last 4 years of my ramblings. You probably like the pretty pictures. This scenario is almost impossible.
3) You are the government/CIA/FBI/BLT/NSA/ELF/ATF/QWERTY/etc. This scenario is likely unlikely... unless it's not.
4) You're not actually a single person but the shared I.P. address of an entire house/sorority that has fallen deeply in lust with my witty verse and complete disregard for "falling in line" with the "the Man's agenda." You probably attend an small, private, over-bearing, all female school and you're likely rich and wearing skimpy uniforms. This is obviously the most plausible scenario.
Whatever the case, you obviously didn't have a lot going on Sunday night. (of course, well, neither did I)
But lets be serious. We all know that you are obviously an extremely attractive female that either wants to sleep with me or harvest my kidneys and various other organs. This is actually perfect because I'm highly interested in meeting anyone with either of those agendas. I figure at the end of the night, whether the objective (which every one it is) is met or not, I'm gonna have a hell of a story. This is probably why I'm so partial to Russian Strippers; They have nearly a 70% chance of wanting to sleep with you, harvest your organs, or both.
Think about how much fun THAT blind would be: You'd have to be SUPER on your toes!
...
Wait... What were we talking about?
Seriously Dallas Texas, how can you hit this blog so much? I've put a bit of thought into this and come up with some theories:
1) You're a robot. If this is the case I'll see you in robot hell (well, not exactly. I'll be in person hell, which has more fire but no electro-static discharge machines or high powered magnets.) Regardless, lets not forget that this whole deal started as a robot extermination service several years ago when i was getting in on the ground floor of what will obviously be a key future service. This scenario is moderately likely.
2) You're a friend of one of my friends, probably one of which also has a blog and/or webpage that i have referenced here before or in turn has linked back to me. You're not particularilly interested in "knowing" me per say, but you've decided to read up on the last 4 years of my ramblings. You probably like the pretty pictures. This scenario is almost impossible.
3) You are the government/CIA/FBI/BLT/NSA/ELF/ATF/QWERTY/etc. This scenario is likely unlikely... unless it's not.
4) You're not actually a single person but the shared I.P. address of an entire house/sorority that has fallen deeply in lust with my witty verse and complete disregard for "falling in line" with the "the Man's agenda." You probably attend an small, private, over-bearing, all female school and you're likely rich and wearing skimpy uniforms. This is obviously the most plausible scenario.
Whatever the case, you obviously didn't have a lot going on Sunday night. (of course, well, neither did I)
But lets be serious. We all know that you are obviously an extremely attractive female that either wants to sleep with me or harvest my kidneys and various other organs. This is actually perfect because I'm highly interested in meeting anyone with either of those agendas. I figure at the end of the night, whether the objective (which every one it is) is met or not, I'm gonna have a hell of a story. This is probably why I'm so partial to Russian Strippers; They have nearly a 70% chance of wanting to sleep with you, harvest your organs, or both.
Think about how much fun THAT blind would be: You'd have to be SUPER on your toes!
...
Wait... What were we talking about?
No Rain
1) Michigan
It has not stopped raining for the last 3 days. The rain fall has simply varied from steady to down pour, back to steady. This has severely limited my ability to enjoy recent motorcycle upgrades or continue working on the small details (clutch adjustment, headlight aim, decal removal, etc). I did take the opportunity to enjoy a spectacular 8 mile run in the rain, but the wet shoes/socks led to some monster blisters that have left me couch-ridden and cursing the weather gods and organizing digital music into playlists.
2) Recent Addictions
A recent XKCD comic and a little bird together inspired me to write Haiku's about the women of science. I think i could have worked in some pretty words had i not been at work. Things are strange there now.
Bring me a woman
Speaking with a learned tongue
I will bring the beer
I'm also solidly addicted to Post Secret. Solidly.
Woman of science
Confident understanding
A challenge I seek
To note:
I think we all knew that guys have no sense of their league but it's good to see science catching up to bar logic.
Best you stand back
My science is conducted
With women of wit
3) A Story
Somewhere around 1997/1998 i was looking for an email address that would be anonymous and free. Hotmail was free and by not using some form of my own name (as most people were doing those days) i could cover the anonymous part. As it were i was in the midst of a ideologies class and had taken a shining to Mikhail Bakunin as a pretty forward thinking guy. Such became mikhailbakunin(at)hotmail(dot)com, an email address that i've carried with me for the last 10 years. (Keep in mind that by telling this story here i realize I'm killing the anonymous part. Whatever.)
Anyway, when teh Myspace became popular, i was never much interested in taking part, but i did need to occasionally check out what other people were up to, which was only possible if you had a Myspace account. Thus was born (circa 2005ish) Mikhail Bakunin on Myspace, again, as far as i could tell anonymous. As chance would have it, i noticed i was getting a LOT of friend requests the last couple months. I mean, i always got random spammer friend requests, but this seemed like an over the top amount. I logged into teh Myspace for the first time in, maybe, 18 to 24 months, to find this:
http://www.myspace.com/mikhailbakunin
Wat was once a mostly blank page featuring just a few of my more choice photographs, is now a full-blown dedication to the 18th century Russian Anarchist that couldn't be more complete if the man himself had made it. And i own it. Well, kinda. Who ever put this up never took the time to change the password.
So here's the rub, as soon as I realized what had happened, i changed the Myspace password as well as my email account password because they were the same. I feel a little bad because i basically jacked some one else's work, but well, they did it first. Besides, who ever set this up hadn't logged in for some 12 months before i realized what was going on.
So there you have it. I am Mikhailbakunin on Myspace and I didn't even have to do any of the leg work. The only problem is I seem to get a lot of friend requests from dudes like this. Yeah.
I ended the debate by moving my army across the Rubican
"Bartender, get me a shot"
And then burned the bridges behind me
"Make it cheap Tequila with a beer back"
--Tucker Maxx
Time to work on my No-Rain Dance moves. (You know why rain dances work? because they keep dancing until it rains. A lot of tings are like that.)
It has not stopped raining for the last 3 days. The rain fall has simply varied from steady to down pour, back to steady. This has severely limited my ability to enjoy recent motorcycle upgrades or continue working on the small details (clutch adjustment, headlight aim, decal removal, etc). I did take the opportunity to enjoy a spectacular 8 mile run in the rain, but the wet shoes/socks led to some monster blisters that have left me couch-ridden and cursing the weather gods and organizing digital music into playlists.
2) Recent Addictions
A recent XKCD comic and a little bird together inspired me to write Haiku's about the women of science. I think i could have worked in some pretty words had i not been at work. Things are strange there now.
Bring me a woman
Speaking with a learned tongue
I will bring the beer
I'm also solidly addicted to Post Secret. Solidly.
Woman of science
Confident understanding
A challenge I seek
To note:
I think we all knew that guys have no sense of their league but it's good to see science catching up to bar logic.
Best you stand back
My science is conducted
With women of wit
3) A Story
Somewhere around 1997/1998 i was looking for an email address that would be anonymous and free. Hotmail was free and by not using some form of my own name (as most people were doing those days) i could cover the anonymous part. As it were i was in the midst of a ideologies class and had taken a shining to Mikhail Bakunin as a pretty forward thinking guy. Such became mikhailbakunin(at)hotmail(dot)com, an email address that i've carried with me for the last 10 years. (Keep in mind that by telling this story here i realize I'm killing the anonymous part. Whatever.)
Anyway, when teh Myspace became popular, i was never much interested in taking part, but i did need to occasionally check out what other people were up to, which was only possible if you had a Myspace account. Thus was born (circa 2005ish) Mikhail Bakunin on Myspace, again, as far as i could tell anonymous. As chance would have it, i noticed i was getting a LOT of friend requests the last couple months. I mean, i always got random spammer friend requests, but this seemed like an over the top amount. I logged into teh Myspace for the first time in, maybe, 18 to 24 months, to find this:
http://www.myspace.com/mikhailbakunin
Wat was once a mostly blank page featuring just a few of my more choice photographs, is now a full-blown dedication to the 18th century Russian Anarchist that couldn't be more complete if the man himself had made it. And i own it. Well, kinda. Who ever put this up never took the time to change the password.
So here's the rub, as soon as I realized what had happened, i changed the Myspace password as well as my email account password because they were the same. I feel a little bad because i basically jacked some one else's work, but well, they did it first. Besides, who ever set this up hadn't logged in for some 12 months before i realized what was going on.
So there you have it. I am Mikhailbakunin on Myspace and I didn't even have to do any of the leg work. The only problem is I seem to get a lot of friend requests from dudes like this. Yeah.
I ended the debate by moving my army across the Rubican
"Bartender, get me a shot"
And then burned the bridges behind me
"Make it cheap Tequila with a beer back"
--Tucker Maxx
Time to work on my No-Rain Dance moves. (You know why rain dances work? because they keep dancing until it rains. A lot of tings are like that.)
Friday, September 12, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
holy double fuck-stuffed oreos*
I have returned from my adventures in Ohio, which were mostly adventures of the low key variety.
(thank you i heart chaos)
My return home, via motorcycle, went something like this:
--Cruising through Ohio fast, it was warm, i was happy.
--Cruising through Ohio fast, it was cold, i had on extra layers and i was happy.
--Crossing over into Michigan, storm front, HUGE FUCKING RAIN, fuck me, i'm so very wet, I can't see, OH GOD HUGE TRUCKS...
--40 miles of wet and then suddenly 1 mile from home, some dude pull sup next to me on a motorcycle as well and he's wearing less water repellent clothing than I am. I look at him, he looks at me and we know that we're the only bad muther (shut your mouth!) in this town.
--Arrive home, dump water out of boots, invent phrase "holy double fuck-stuffed Oreos" to describe what just happened to me, sleep.
---------------------
This is the greatest music video that has ever existed:
GORBACHOV: THE MUSIC VIDEO - BIGGER AND RUSSIANER from Tom Stern on Vimeo.
"In this awesome video for the song “Gorbachov” by Russian metal band ANJ, former Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Gorbachev is an axe-wielding barbarian, destroying zombies who attack the hard working big breasted women of Mother Russia"
I don't know how to explain this to all of you, but Bill Oriely really is fair and balanced. Watch him. I don't know if it was always this way and I don't know if it will always be so, but dammit, he asks the right questions and criticizes EVERYONE. Fuck. Now everything is complicated.
---------------------
Remember: A Floozy will do something with anyone. A Freak will do anything with someone. It's important to know.
*Yes I had to invent a new phrase to show my exclamation. Use it at your will, i guarantee is new to this world
(thank you i heart chaos)
My return home, via motorcycle, went something like this:
--Cruising through Ohio fast, it was warm, i was happy.
--Cruising through Ohio fast, it was cold, i had on extra layers and i was happy.
--Crossing over into Michigan, storm front, HUGE FUCKING RAIN, fuck me, i'm so very wet, I can't see, OH GOD HUGE TRUCKS...
--40 miles of wet and then suddenly 1 mile from home, some dude pull sup next to me on a motorcycle as well and he's wearing less water repellent clothing than I am. I look at him, he looks at me and we know that we're the only bad muther (shut your mouth!) in this town.
--Arrive home, dump water out of boots, invent phrase "holy double fuck-stuffed Oreos" to describe what just happened to me, sleep.
This is the greatest music video that has ever existed:
GORBACHOV: THE MUSIC VIDEO - BIGGER AND RUSSIANER from Tom Stern on Vimeo.
"In this awesome video for the song “Gorbachov” by Russian metal band ANJ, former Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Gorbachev is an axe-wielding barbarian, destroying zombies who attack the hard working big breasted women of Mother Russia"
I don't know how to explain this to all of you, but Bill Oriely really is fair and balanced. Watch him. I don't know if it was always this way and I don't know if it will always be so, but dammit, he asks the right questions and criticizes EVERYONE. Fuck. Now everything is complicated.
Remember: A Floozy will do something with anyone. A Freak will do anything with someone. It's important to know.
*Yes I had to invent a new phrase to show my exclamation. Use it at your will, i guarantee is new to this world
Friday, September 05, 2008
Killing time while a test runs:
Yes, fine, I agree i am highly susceptible to your American viral marketing campaign. (also, yes, I looked up the definition of Viral Marketing to ensure I was using it correctly). I award this advertisement 25 bonus points for referencing "The Conquistador."
In other news, I clearly should NOT have sold the Fiat-dang-dizzle. It doesn't say anything about motorcycles, either. Perhaps a nice Alfa is in order? What about Italian motorcycles? Clearly more science is needed. Either way, i know that look on that chick's face; It's the same look I get when I sit in those cars.
(Stupid non-convertible, fwd, reliable American Grand Am)
Time to make the donuts. And by "donuts," I mean "high voltage automotive battery packs."
In other news, I clearly should NOT have sold the Fiat-dang-dizzle. It doesn't say anything about motorcycles, either. Perhaps a nice Alfa is in order? What about Italian motorcycles? Clearly more science is needed. Either way, i know that look on that chick's face; It's the same look I get when I sit in those cars.
(Stupid non-convertible, fwd, reliable American Grand Am)
Time to make the donuts. And by "donuts," I mean "high voltage automotive battery packs."
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
four: where's my helmet?
one:
I AM NOT THESE PEOPLE
two:
Remember when the republicans were funny because they were so old and crotchety and evil but just ha-ha evil? Circa 2003:
Who's laughing now? Circa today: (your press pass god can't save you now)
three:
I gotta live: See you next week.
(see you in hell kwame)
I AM NOT THESE PEOPLE
two:
Remember when the republicans were funny because they were so old and crotchety and evil but just ha-ha evil? Circa 2003:
Who's laughing now? Circa today: (your press pass god can't save you now)
three:
I gotta live: See you next week.
(see you in hell kwame)
Monday, September 01, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
content o' the month
I'm feeling nostalgic.
It's been a hell of a month filled with travel, change, new and strange people as well as marking 28 years of me looking around and saying "well that doesn't seem right at all..."
It occurred to me that 2 decades ago I fully believed I would be well into my career as a race car driver by now.
I could not have predicted this cake, either. (though i *did* ask for a vagina cake)
I went back to that old familiar place last weekend to see some old familiar people but as always, nothing is quite as familiar as you remember it. Regardless, a challenging trip that was most rewarding: Me, the bike, a weekend and 900 miles in the High Five State.
I don't feel old but damn do i look old in that picture. I feel old looking at that picture of my old-ass looking self. Maybe it was that familiar post-wedding hang over rearing it's ugliness in my face.
It's been a popular theme in August, the month of drunkeness. I think it's time to dial it back for wile and shake off the cloudiness in the brain. I've got the old stand by, "running until i fall down" which is as much or more so satisfying than drinking until i can't feel feelings. Sadly it does nearly nothing to make un-interesting people seem like you want to talk to this guy.
(the triple digit speeds are dicey without a windshield. Kids, listen to me: install clubman bars)
(by the way)
Epic Ninja Fail
Great sex, wrong person
Surrender
Speaking of pictures
I wasn't in the mood to be rushing around the state and definitely not looking forward to a wedding. I was however happy to find that i would be living in the woods for a day and a half. It was spectacular to stand in the river and walk in the forest. I firmly believe that the world we make for ourselves it too distracting to accomplish any decent thinking. Too many distractions to resolve problems. Instead you just forget about them. Shove 'em under the rug. I'll figure out these confusing things tomorrow... where's my blackberry? (it was turned off for over 24 hours!)
Regardless, the newly weds get double plus ultra points for their blatant disregard for American wedding traditions.
And the only thing better than trees is lively water.
With life!
Sophist in the state of nature
Year 28 of the mission: August has been the most bizar-O month ever. The world is both complicated AND confusing, which is a strange way of saying it's not really complicated at all.
To people that are far away in unfamiliar places: Stay lose out there.
I think I'm ready to open the floor to comments again
(Again with the prostitutes? Again with the prostitutes)
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
we are the spiders
(ave you seen these things being made? the volume of the spider cannot possibly contain the calories required)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Saturday, August 09, 2008
way too much for one day
Chestocrates is posting internet videos and Notorious is in the face book. I will continue my silent and archaic protest against social networking sites and yet somehow manage to convince myself I'm better by sticking to Blogger and Linked-In.
(lalalalalalala I can't hear you)
Then again, change is inevitable and even old military rivals can mend fences. To that point, i've spent 3 of my last 4 weeks in Ohio and almost no one mentions the old wars days.
(Though it did come up once when i was beating those guys at billiards)
-----------Society-----------
--It's pretty simple: Take the traditional wisdom and tell everyone the opposite. It's Orwellian, Bush-esq and why shouldn't it work now?
--i will admit, it's a nice take down... but for riding a bike?
--I have a Man-crush on Zach Braff after watching Garden State last night and learning of his role in the whole thing. Hey J.D.: wanna hang out later? We could ride motorcycles? (Am i the only one that made the connection of Zach Braff roles and odd motorcycles?)
----------Science----------
--Speaking of the Olympics (of which we no longer do, because i decided not to post that video), I caught the opening ceremony (at least 1 of it's 27 hours) at the local Sushi hole. Anyone who knows about my side projects knows they typically involve LEDs and Batteries. Well I've been using some Chinese sources for these parts and now i see why: they've got them all. Billions of LEDs. The whole fucking stadium and everyone in it was covered in them. (of course, seeing an army of LED suits also proves that they're still stealing other technologies and making them better, those bastards)
--Here is a video that will make you smrt. Unfortunately fuel cells will never be the next combustion engine. They won't be found in every car on the planet and they're prohibitively costly, complex and delicate. Or at least i think i think this now.
In related news, I have to admit that Bill O'rielly isn't as biased as the liberal media leads me to believe. Nas DOES NOT AGREE.
--Who would think this is a good idea?. (Sigh... have I become one of the crazies with the foil hat?)
------------other------------
A year ago this time i was living on a small Grecian island off the coast of Turkey.
On one particular day, about a year and a week ago, were walking and came to the base of the small mountain behind the village. We decided we needed to be at the top ASAP, probably because there was no trail and this was a good way to work the previous day's alcohol out of our systems. First we walked and then we climbed. Later there was a road and some old Italian military buildings. The goal was simple and the reward at the top unexpected: an ice cream shop and puppies... (The possibility was briefly considered that we had died en route)
The beginning:
The road was not easy:
But mountain men are born, not made:
We look back to check out progress:
And stop for science:
At the top, there is an oasis with ice cream and puppies and we great the puppies:
The puppies attack:
We use sticks and ice cream to beat the puppies back:
The puppies win and we are enslaved by their fuzziness:
There's a summer storm outside and i want to go check it out
(lalalalalalala I can't hear you)
Then again, change is inevitable and even old military rivals can mend fences. To that point, i've spent 3 of my last 4 weeks in Ohio and almost no one mentions the old wars days.
(Though it did come up once when i was beating those guys at billiards)
--It's pretty simple: Take the traditional wisdom and tell everyone the opposite. It's Orwellian, Bush-esq and why shouldn't it work now?
--i will admit, it's a nice take down... but for riding a bike?
--I have a Man-crush on Zach Braff after watching Garden State last night and learning of his role in the whole thing. Hey J.D.: wanna hang out later? We could ride motorcycles? (Am i the only one that made the connection of Zach Braff roles and odd motorcycles?)
--Speaking of the Olympics (of which we no longer do, because i decided not to post that video), I caught the opening ceremony (at least 1 of it's 27 hours) at the local Sushi hole. Anyone who knows about my side projects knows they typically involve LEDs and Batteries. Well I've been using some Chinese sources for these parts and now i see why: they've got them all. Billions of LEDs. The whole fucking stadium and everyone in it was covered in them. (of course, seeing an army of LED suits also proves that they're still stealing other technologies and making them better, those bastards)
--Here is a video that will make you smrt. Unfortunately fuel cells will never be the next combustion engine. They won't be found in every car on the planet and they're prohibitively costly, complex and delicate. Or at least i think i think this now.
In related news, I have to admit that Bill O'rielly isn't as biased as the liberal media leads me to believe. Nas DOES NOT AGREE.
--Who would think this is a good idea?. (Sigh... have I become one of the crazies with the foil hat?)
A year ago this time i was living on a small Grecian island off the coast of Turkey.
On one particular day, about a year and a week ago, were walking and came to the base of the small mountain behind the village. We decided we needed to be at the top ASAP, probably because there was no trail and this was a good way to work the previous day's alcohol out of our systems. First we walked and then we climbed. Later there was a road and some old Italian military buildings. The goal was simple and the reward at the top unexpected: an ice cream shop and puppies... (The possibility was briefly considered that we had died en route)
The beginning:
The road was not easy:
But mountain men are born, not made:
We look back to check out progress:
And stop for science:
At the top, there is an oasis with ice cream and puppies and we great the puppies:
The puppies attack:
We use sticks and ice cream to beat the puppies back:
The puppies win and we are enslaved by their fuzziness:
There's a summer storm outside and i want to go check it out
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