October 20, 2005
Sitting the bench
There was a time not long ago that I could spit out posts like nobodyÂ’s business. I donÂ’t mean links or bullshit posts where you talk about having nothing. I mean posts that had a beginning, middle and an end. That had pacing and theme. Posts that told a story.
It would seem theyÂ’ve dried up. Maybe IÂ’ve gone to the well too many times. Maybe itÂ’s the fact that most of my stuff revolved around my interaction with other people, which I have been forced to limit, in order to preserve my sanity.
Or maybe my luck has improved. I haven’t scalded the shit out of my mouth with hot napalm-like pizza lately, I haven’t shit myself in a long time…no wonder I’ve got nothing. Today I’ve got a headache. There’s nothing funny about a headache. I’ve got nothing to play off of. It’s not like cramps and the running shits—that’s good stuff. My whole schtick revolved around embarrassment and I’ve had nothing since the underwear incident.
I miss my old ways. Once I was driving down the freeway and I noticed a wasp was in the car. Now IÂ’m a man and all, but there was a fucking wasp in the car. So I rolled down a window to blow it out, but instead of it going out it blew over to my side, and before I knew it the bastard was on my neck and I was swerving all over the road (in a man-like, controlled manner). There was a lot of swatting and wriggling on my part and IÂ’m pretty sure I was screaming pretty loud too before I got the bastard out.
You see, thatÂ’s funny, even though it was emotionally stressful at the time. As far as I was concerned I was fighting a fucking dragonÂ…itÂ’s all the same to me. One may be smaller but theyÂ’re both trying to kill me.
And speaking of stress, someone needs to explain what pleasure is derived from going to haunted houses/scare fests around Halloween. IÂ’ve done my share as a younger man and I failed to see the charm. You pay money to walk around in the dark while a bunch of assholes wait until youÂ’re most vulnerable and then jump out screaming and scare the living shit out of you. I donÂ’t find that type of anticipation pleasurable. I find it fucking stressful. IÂ’m a nervous wreck after that shit. I also donÂ’t like people yelling in my ear. My natural tendency is to attack someone that yells in my ear, and that tendency is hard to restrain. And often is not. Fear is the mother of violence. If you scare me, I will usually attack you.
I have no idea how to end this travesty. MordieuxÂ…what has become of me?
It would seem theyÂ’ve dried up. Maybe IÂ’ve gone to the well too many times. Maybe itÂ’s the fact that most of my stuff revolved around my interaction with other people, which I have been forced to limit, in order to preserve my sanity.
Or maybe my luck has improved. I haven’t scalded the shit out of my mouth with hot napalm-like pizza lately, I haven’t shit myself in a long time…no wonder I’ve got nothing. Today I’ve got a headache. There’s nothing funny about a headache. I’ve got nothing to play off of. It’s not like cramps and the running shits—that’s good stuff. My whole schtick revolved around embarrassment and I’ve had nothing since the underwear incident.
I miss my old ways. Once I was driving down the freeway and I noticed a wasp was in the car. Now IÂ’m a man and all, but there was a fucking wasp in the car. So I rolled down a window to blow it out, but instead of it going out it blew over to my side, and before I knew it the bastard was on my neck and I was swerving all over the road (in a man-like, controlled manner). There was a lot of swatting and wriggling on my part and IÂ’m pretty sure I was screaming pretty loud too before I got the bastard out.
You see, thatÂ’s funny, even though it was emotionally stressful at the time. As far as I was concerned I was fighting a fucking dragonÂ…itÂ’s all the same to me. One may be smaller but theyÂ’re both trying to kill me.
And speaking of stress, someone needs to explain what pleasure is derived from going to haunted houses/scare fests around Halloween. IÂ’ve done my share as a younger man and I failed to see the charm. You pay money to walk around in the dark while a bunch of assholes wait until youÂ’re most vulnerable and then jump out screaming and scare the living shit out of you. I donÂ’t find that type of anticipation pleasurable. I find it fucking stressful. IÂ’m a nervous wreck after that shit. I also donÂ’t like people yelling in my ear. My natural tendency is to attack someone that yells in my ear, and that tendency is hard to restrain. And often is not. Fear is the mother of violence. If you scare me, I will usually attack you.
I have no idea how to end this travesty. MordieuxÂ…what has become of me?
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
01:51 PM
| Comments (5)
| Add Comment
Post contains 472 words, total size 3 kb.
LetÂ’s just be honest
HereÂ’s a headline from AP this morning:
Wilma Roars Toward Yucatan, Southern Fla.
As of this writing, the fucking thing is wobbling around at seven MPH. Seven MPH is not roaring. ItÂ’s also nowhere near Florida, itÂ’s currently not heading towards Florida, and I suspect that these pinheads have no idea where itÂ’s going to end up.
I even have some proof.
For the past three days IÂ’ve heard and seen nothing but one forecast track, the published conglomeration of models interpreted and published by NOAA. Last nightÂ’s 5:00PM discussion, which can be found archived here, shows not only the unpredictability of hurricanes, but the ineptitude of forecasters. Witness, then, what happens when they throw their hands into the air:
“AGREEMENT AMONG THE TRACK GUIDANCE MODELS...WHICH HAD BEEN VERY GOOD OVER THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS...HAS COMPLETELY COLLAPSED TODAY. THE 06Z RUNS OF THE GFS...GFDL...AND NOGAPS MODELS ACCELERATED WILMA RAPIDLY TOWARD NEW ENGLAND UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF A LARGE LOW PRESSURE SYSTEM IN THE GREAT LAKES REGION. ALL THREE OF THESE MODELS HAVE BACKED OFF OF THIS SOLUTION...WITH THE GFDL SHOWING AN EXTREME CHANGE...WITH ITS 5-DAY POSITION SHIFTING A MERE 1650 NMI FROM ITS PREVIOUS POSITION IN MAINE TO THE WESTERN TIP OF CUBA.”
Emphasis mine.
Today theyÂ’re back to the old track, most likely because they have no clue and are afraid to say so.
Wouldn’t it be better if they just were honest about it? Just once I’d like to hear them say, “Look, man, this thing’s heading west right now, but we don’t where it’s going or when it’s going to get there. Our educated guess says it hits the Yucatan on Thursday, but after that we just shake the magic eight ball.”
I bet that any one of us could predict where this thing lands with as much accuracy as the National Hurricane Center.
Wilma Roars Toward Yucatan, Southern Fla.
As of this writing, the fucking thing is wobbling around at seven MPH. Seven MPH is not roaring. ItÂ’s also nowhere near Florida, itÂ’s currently not heading towards Florida, and I suspect that these pinheads have no idea where itÂ’s going to end up.
I even have some proof.
For the past three days IÂ’ve heard and seen nothing but one forecast track, the published conglomeration of models interpreted and published by NOAA. Last nightÂ’s 5:00PM discussion, which can be found archived here, shows not only the unpredictability of hurricanes, but the ineptitude of forecasters. Witness, then, what happens when they throw their hands into the air:
“AGREEMENT AMONG THE TRACK GUIDANCE MODELS...WHICH HAD BEEN VERY GOOD OVER THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS...HAS COMPLETELY COLLAPSED TODAY. THE 06Z RUNS OF THE GFS...GFDL...AND NOGAPS MODELS ACCELERATED WILMA RAPIDLY TOWARD NEW ENGLAND UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF A LARGE LOW PRESSURE SYSTEM IN THE GREAT LAKES REGION. ALL THREE OF THESE MODELS HAVE BACKED OFF OF THIS SOLUTION...WITH THE GFDL SHOWING AN EXTREME CHANGE...WITH ITS 5-DAY POSITION SHIFTING A MERE 1650 NMI FROM ITS PREVIOUS POSITION IN MAINE TO THE WESTERN TIP OF CUBA.”
Emphasis mine.
Today theyÂ’re back to the old track, most likely because they have no clue and are afraid to say so.
Wouldn’t it be better if they just were honest about it? Just once I’d like to hear them say, “Look, man, this thing’s heading west right now, but we don’t where it’s going or when it’s going to get there. Our educated guess says it hits the Yucatan on Thursday, but after that we just shake the magic eight ball.”
I bet that any one of us could predict where this thing lands with as much accuracy as the National Hurricane Center.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
08:38 AM
| Comments (2)
| Add Comment
Post contains 316 words, total size 2 kb.
October 19, 2005
The Vodka Challenge
HereÂ’s an amusing article about the search for the best vodka. ItÂ’s pretty entertaining.
Are you a fan of Absolut? HereÂ’s what the panel had to say:
“… Panel members noted its "piercing, antiseptic quality," "too-dry taste," "medium burn," and "unremarkable finish" and agreed that midshelf vodkas (again, we only tested premium brands) represented a much better value.”
Go figure. I was never a big fan.
I really enjoyed the critique of this vodka, one IÂ’ve never heard of:
“… The vodka's industrial-strength bouquet reminded one drinker of "burning tires." As for its taste, the panelists declared it "sticky-sweet," "thick," and "gluelike." "I wouldn't use it to fuel my lawn mower," one taster said, bringing the discussion to an end.”
IÂ’ve always wanted to do taste test like this but my friends, as rule, are hard to control when surrounded by a large number of full liquor bottles. ItÂ’s not that theyÂ’re wild Indians or anything, but maintaining order during a structured event that involves shots seems highly unlikely.
Are you a fan of Absolut? HereÂ’s what the panel had to say:
“… Panel members noted its "piercing, antiseptic quality," "too-dry taste," "medium burn," and "unremarkable finish" and agreed that midshelf vodkas (again, we only tested premium brands) represented a much better value.”
Go figure. I was never a big fan.
I really enjoyed the critique of this vodka, one IÂ’ve never heard of:
“… The vodka's industrial-strength bouquet reminded one drinker of "burning tires." As for its taste, the panelists declared it "sticky-sweet," "thick," and "gluelike." "I wouldn't use it to fuel my lawn mower," one taster said, bringing the discussion to an end.”
IÂ’ve always wanted to do taste test like this but my friends, as rule, are hard to control when surrounded by a large number of full liquor bottles. ItÂ’s not that theyÂ’re wild Indians or anything, but maintaining order during a structured event that involves shots seems highly unlikely.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
01:40 PM
| Comments (3)
| Add Comment
Post contains 175 words, total size 1 kb.
ItÂ’s not like I didnÂ’t predict it
I never tire of reading this post.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
11:32 AM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 21 words, total size 1 kb.
Dog Attacks Anti-Dangerous Dog Bill Author
"ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. - The author of a new state law that allows felony charges against owners of dangerous dogs was hospitalized over the weekend after his own dog attacked him."
I rarely laugh out loud.
I rarely laugh out loud.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
09:00 AM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 47 words, total size 1 kb.
October 18, 2005
Mmmm... UPDATED!
The fiance went to Sam's Club tonight and found this monster bottle of Riesling. I don't know how she managed to drag this Moby Dick of Teutonic wines back to the house in her compact hatchback, but she did, God love 'er. I had my annual evaluation at work today, and things went well - so I deserve to finish this whole bottle. And when I do, so help me sweet Jesus, at about 11 tonight; I think I'll cork it and have it shipped to NOAA on the back of a flatbed towtruck so they can use it as an open ocean weather buoy.
Hey, I'm just givin' back, you know, from my immense bounty.
Update: Holy shit, we just passed 10,000 hits since June! As my two buddies used to say - Thanks for your support.
The fiance went to Sam's Club tonight and found this monster bottle of Riesling. I don't know how she managed to drag this Moby Dick of Teutonic wines back to the house in her compact hatchback, but she did, God love 'er. I had my annual evaluation at work today, and things went well - so I deserve to finish this whole bottle. And when I do, so help me sweet Jesus, at about 11 tonight; I think I'll cork it and have it shipped to NOAA on the back of a flatbed towtruck so they can use it as an open ocean weather buoy.
Hey, I'm just givin' back, you know, from my immense bounty.
Update: Holy shit, we just passed 10,000 hits since June! As my two buddies used to say - Thanks for your support.
Posted by: shank at
08:39 PM
| Comments (9)
| Add Comment
Post contains 142 words, total size 1 kb.
Goat Cheese and Gray Matter
I canÂ’t help but notice a shitload of spam in the comments. Shank is asleep at the switch.
Most of you are still using the paul@sanitys-edge email address and that will be dead by tomorrow or Wednesday. Please use the alternative. I would post it here but then IÂ’ll be inundated with offers of cheap hard-on pills and penile enlargement doohickeys, neither of which interests me. If anybody knows how to do that thing with the code where your email address is on the page but in the source it looks like Latin vomit, please speak up and make yourself useful.
For some reason I canÂ’t make a decent Bloody Mary. Either too much Worcestershire or not enough. I guess IÂ’ll have to start actually measuring. I like to use Clamato instead of tomato juice and I add few shrimp so thatÂ’s kind of like a meal.
IÂ’m debating going home for lunch and afternoon sex. And a Bloody Mary.
Did you know that Worcestershire sauce has a disputed history? You might also be interested knowing what that shitÂ’s made out of, namely, vinegar, molasses, corn syrup, water, chilli peppers, soy sauce, pepper, tamarinds, anchovies, onions, shallots, cloves and garlic.
Lea & Perrins, the most popular brand also has a secret ingredient that purportedly gives it an extra kick. TheyÂ’ve kept it a secret since 1837 and theyÂ’re pretty serious about it. According to their slow-ass loading web page, only three or four people know what the secret and itÂ’s been broken up so that no one knows the whole recipe and it involves a lot of secret code words. It takes up to two years to make a bottle of Lea & Perrins and their website makes it all seem very romantic.
Tell me this ainÂ’t good blogging.
The Bloody Mary itself has a distinguished history.
It was first mixed at HarryÂ’s American Bar in Paris, a notorious Hemingway hangout. It was originally made with gin because back in the 20s vodka was not a very popular spirit. The originator took the recipe back to New York where hearty Americans insisted it was a pussified French drink and insisted on adding Tabasco.
Many speculate the concoction was named after Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII who killed off just a shitload of her Protestant adversaries and became known as “Bloody Mary.” Others speculate it was named after a Chicago whore. Since I doubt that many 1920s bartenders were acquainted with the history of the House of Tudor, I’d have to go with the whore theory.
Regardless, itÂ’s one hell of a versatile cocktail and IÂ’d like to have me one as soon as possible.
Most of you are still using the paul@sanitys-edge email address and that will be dead by tomorrow or Wednesday. Please use the alternative. I would post it here but then IÂ’ll be inundated with offers of cheap hard-on pills and penile enlargement doohickeys, neither of which interests me. If anybody knows how to do that thing with the code where your email address is on the page but in the source it looks like Latin vomit, please speak up and make yourself useful.
For some reason I canÂ’t make a decent Bloody Mary. Either too much Worcestershire or not enough. I guess IÂ’ll have to start actually measuring. I like to use Clamato instead of tomato juice and I add few shrimp so thatÂ’s kind of like a meal.
IÂ’m debating going home for lunch and afternoon sex. And a Bloody Mary.
Did you know that Worcestershire sauce has a disputed history? You might also be interested knowing what that shitÂ’s made out of, namely, vinegar, molasses, corn syrup, water, chilli peppers, soy sauce, pepper, tamarinds, anchovies, onions, shallots, cloves and garlic.
Lea & Perrins, the most popular brand also has a secret ingredient that purportedly gives it an extra kick. TheyÂ’ve kept it a secret since 1837 and theyÂ’re pretty serious about it. According to their slow-ass loading web page, only three or four people know what the secret and itÂ’s been broken up so that no one knows the whole recipe and it involves a lot of secret code words. It takes up to two years to make a bottle of Lea & Perrins and their website makes it all seem very romantic.
Tell me this ainÂ’t good blogging.
The Bloody Mary itself has a distinguished history.
It was first mixed at HarryÂ’s American Bar in Paris, a notorious Hemingway hangout. It was originally made with gin because back in the 20s vodka was not a very popular spirit. The originator took the recipe back to New York where hearty Americans insisted it was a pussified French drink and insisted on adding Tabasco.
Many speculate the concoction was named after Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII who killed off just a shitload of her Protestant adversaries and became known as “Bloody Mary.” Others speculate it was named after a Chicago whore. Since I doubt that many 1920s bartenders were acquainted with the history of the House of Tudor, I’d have to go with the whore theory.
Regardless, itÂ’s one hell of a versatile cocktail and IÂ’d like to have me one as soon as possible.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
09:55 AM
| Comments (7)
| Add Comment
Post contains 455 words, total size 3 kb.
October 17, 2005
Shitty Day
When I catch the son of a bitch who used the hood of my car as a pommel horse or to practice his 'Dukes of Hazard' hoodslide or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing - I'm going to string him up by his thumbs and beat him with a spiked bat like some horror show pinata.
Then I'm going to ask him for $70 bucks to pay the paintless dent repair guy. It's just fucking annoying really.
Then I'm going to ask him for $70 bucks to pay the paintless dent repair guy. It's just fucking annoying really.
Posted by: shank at
05:02 PM
| Comments (5)
| Add Comment
Post contains 83 words, total size 1 kb.
Aging whore points finger at others
Drudge, who gets more pathetic with each passing day, gives us this:
MADONNA WARNS: ALL WILL GO TO HELL IF DON'T TURN FROM WICKED BEHAVIOR
Not much of a story, really. Three lines about the old trollop turned Nostradamus. He also adds, “Developing.” Yeah, you definitely want to keep your eye on that one.
Twenty seconds of my life, gone the way of the dodo.
Mofo.
MADONNA WARNS: ALL WILL GO TO HELL IF DON'T TURN FROM WICKED BEHAVIOR
Not much of a story, really. Three lines about the old trollop turned Nostradamus. He also adds, “Developing.” Yeah, you definitely want to keep your eye on that one.
Twenty seconds of my life, gone the way of the dodo.
Mofo.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
03:30 PM
| Comments (1)
| Add Comment
Post contains 78 words, total size 1 kb.
Iron Chef...Improved
After reading this I had an inspired idea on how to improve the show Iron Chef America.
Currently, they have three judges. Two are usually food critics of some sort, and the third is usually some minor celebrity. On my version of the show, theyÂ’ll have six judges. Three will be proven food people. The other three? Hobos.
Surely they can find three hobos who can use a hundred bucks and meal. Meanwhile, the entertainment value goes up tenfold. ThereÂ’s no reason why hobos canÂ’t be food critics and just think of the potential. YouÂ’ll have some world class chefs being judged, likely harshly, by bums. Those fragile egos will be put to a serious test.
Maybe they can give the bums each a new suit of clothes, a bath and a shave so that they donÂ’t stink the place up too bad and then let them comment and fill out scorecards like the other judges. It would be interesting and probably hysterically funny to see hobos critique and articulate their views on haute cuisine. IÂ’m telling you, this would be huge, especially if they start hollering and have bad table manners.
The chefs, for theyÂ’re part, will have to satisfy both astute food industry people and the hobos.
Maybe I’m just fascinated by hobos put into close contact with “the beautiful people.” Is that wrong? I mean, it’s not like I’m calling them vagrants or anything.
Currently, they have three judges. Two are usually food critics of some sort, and the third is usually some minor celebrity. On my version of the show, theyÂ’ll have six judges. Three will be proven food people. The other three? Hobos.
Surely they can find three hobos who can use a hundred bucks and meal. Meanwhile, the entertainment value goes up tenfold. ThereÂ’s no reason why hobos canÂ’t be food critics and just think of the potential. YouÂ’ll have some world class chefs being judged, likely harshly, by bums. Those fragile egos will be put to a serious test.
Maybe they can give the bums each a new suit of clothes, a bath and a shave so that they donÂ’t stink the place up too bad and then let them comment and fill out scorecards like the other judges. It would be interesting and probably hysterically funny to see hobos critique and articulate their views on haute cuisine. IÂ’m telling you, this would be huge, especially if they start hollering and have bad table manners.
The chefs, for theyÂ’re part, will have to satisfy both astute food industry people and the hobos.
Maybe I’m just fascinated by hobos put into close contact with “the beautiful people.” Is that wrong? I mean, it’s not like I’m calling them vagrants or anything.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
03:15 PM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 241 words, total size 2 kb.
Muffin Tops
I was in a position to watch a great number of people this weekend, being in a very crowded place, and IÂ’m sorry to report that the incidents of inappropriate attire people don for public display has not lessened.
I witnessed several instances of heavy women wearing low rise jeans or shorts with a skimpy top that bares the midriff. The problem with this particular style of dress on a heavy woman is that when they squeeze into those jeans, the fat gets pushed up and over the waistband creating a “muffin top.” I had no idea there was a specific term for this until my old lady enlightened me whilst pointing one out.
She elaborated.
“The problem is, almost everything is cut to low rise for women nowadays,” she said. “But you have to have a great body to pull off the bare midriff without the muffin top. That’s why a lot of girls wear a top that covers it. As you can see, some people either don’t know or don’t care about the muffin top.”
It was enlightening.
Aside from the muffin tops, I saw a lot of other disturbing attire. Guys wearing Capri pants. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it. Someone needs to explain to me to me how a guy can walk around in Capri pants and not feel like a total dickwad—because the guys I saw looked like total dickwads.
Some people wear what I like to call the “designer costume”. That’s where every piece of clothing they wear has DKNY or Hilfiger stamped all over it. I’m not a fan of obviousness. Guy’s do this more than girls and it makes me cringe.
Then there’s “the juicy chicks.” Women who wear shorts with the word “juicy” written prominently across their ass. While that may work for women in decent shape, the majority of women I saw should really know better than to draw attention to their fat asses by boldly printing slogans across it. Some of these broads could have a whole paragraph written back there. What could they possibly be thinking?
DonÂ’t think IÂ’m against heavy peopleÂ… thatÂ’s not the case at all. IÂ’m against heavy people wearing clothing thatÂ’s clearly inappropriate. If I had a big beer gut, I wouldnÂ’t wear tight fitting shirts or take my shirt off at every available opportunity. For some reason fat guys love to take their shirts off.
On the bright side, I saw a hot chick wearing some kind of spandex, half body suit that fit like a second skin. It was black and red and I didn’t see her until my kid pointed and called out, “There’s Mrs. Incredible!” And that’s exactly what she looked like. Yes, one could say it was inappropriate attire, but at least it didn’t repulse me.
I witnessed several instances of heavy women wearing low rise jeans or shorts with a skimpy top that bares the midriff. The problem with this particular style of dress on a heavy woman is that when they squeeze into those jeans, the fat gets pushed up and over the waistband creating a “muffin top.” I had no idea there was a specific term for this until my old lady enlightened me whilst pointing one out.
She elaborated.
“The problem is, almost everything is cut to low rise for women nowadays,” she said. “But you have to have a great body to pull off the bare midriff without the muffin top. That’s why a lot of girls wear a top that covers it. As you can see, some people either don’t know or don’t care about the muffin top.”
It was enlightening.
Aside from the muffin tops, I saw a lot of other disturbing attire. Guys wearing Capri pants. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it. Someone needs to explain to me to me how a guy can walk around in Capri pants and not feel like a total dickwad—because the guys I saw looked like total dickwads.
Some people wear what I like to call the “designer costume”. That’s where every piece of clothing they wear has DKNY or Hilfiger stamped all over it. I’m not a fan of obviousness. Guy’s do this more than girls and it makes me cringe.
Then there’s “the juicy chicks.” Women who wear shorts with the word “juicy” written prominently across their ass. While that may work for women in decent shape, the majority of women I saw should really know better than to draw attention to their fat asses by boldly printing slogans across it. Some of these broads could have a whole paragraph written back there. What could they possibly be thinking?
DonÂ’t think IÂ’m against heavy peopleÂ… thatÂ’s not the case at all. IÂ’m against heavy people wearing clothing thatÂ’s clearly inappropriate. If I had a big beer gut, I wouldnÂ’t wear tight fitting shirts or take my shirt off at every available opportunity. For some reason fat guys love to take their shirts off.
On the bright side, I saw a hot chick wearing some kind of spandex, half body suit that fit like a second skin. It was black and red and I didn’t see her until my kid pointed and called out, “There’s Mrs. Incredible!” And that’s exactly what she looked like. Yes, one could say it was inappropriate attire, but at least it didn’t repulse me.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
09:18 AM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 475 words, total size 3 kb.
Caption Contest Results
The caption contest is complete!
(Click to see the big version.)
Grand Prize: 5 points
Da Plane, Da Plane!
Mo Mo
First runner up: 3 points (selected by the price of tea in China.)
FUCK! That bird just shit in my eye!
The Brat
Second runner up: 2 points (Selected by pirates. Arrrrr!)
The new and improved sneaky eye-pipe-bomb.
pylorns
Third runner up: 1 point (Selected by the duality of man.)
Having criticized her traveling companions for the motes in their eyes, Narjis takes notice the beam in her eye...
Tim Adamec
Posted by: Jim at
06:38 AM
| Comments (3)
| Add Comment
Post contains 98 words, total size 1 kb.
October 14, 2005
Virtual vs. Concrete
The following post is somewhat strange. It might lack structure, and kind of half-finish some ideas. Consider it a mental jungle gym; join recess and have some fun. That's why I've got comments.
Posted by: shank at
03:22 PM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 39 words, total size 1 kb.
October 13, 2005
Finding Bill Cimino
I miss Bill. His curmudgeonry was legendary, and his absolute contempt for just about everyone around him was an inspiration to the misanthrope community. However, there's something about Bill that he hasn't been telling us. Maybe because he's embarrassed (I know I would be), and maybe because it shows a side of him that others might see as weak. But we're all real people here Bill, and we all have little things about us that make us look stupid.
Below the fold, for the not so faint of heart. more...
Below the fold, for the not so faint of heart. more...
Posted by: shank at
11:05 PM
| Comments (3)
| Add Comment
Post contains 129 words, total size 1 kb.
October 12, 2005
Okay, People
This is your opportunity to complain about the new design and any problems you're having seeing things.
One thing I'll tweak more later is the font situation, but not until I know that everybody can read the blog title and description up there at the top.
Also, Shank and Paul need to decide what they want in the sidebars...I'll make any changes or additions you want.
One thing I'll tweak more later is the font situation, but not until I know that everybody can read the blog title and description up there at the top.
Also, Shank and Paul need to decide what they want in the sidebars...I'll make any changes or additions you want.
Posted by: Jennifer at
10:51 PM
| Comments (16)
| Add Comment
Post contains 70 words, total size 1 kb.
Nah, it looks great, Jen.Phase two, wherein Paul has nothing
Yeah, IÂ’ve got nothing. And to make matters worse, ShankÂ’s been poking me with a stick, albeit subtly, to make something happen. HeÂ’s becoming Col. Parker and I think heÂ’s afraid IÂ’ll die sitting on the toilet like Elvis.
Perhaps I exaggerate. He sent an email saying, “Hey, what’s up?” But I can read between the lines. He’s thinking that fucker hasn’t been producing. Well, I guess I can’t blame him there.
When this type of situation happens in my professional life, IÂ’m full of articulate responses that generate the required effect even if theyÂ’re complete bullshit. Allow me to simulate them here:
Well, Shank, I’m glad to see you’re rallying the team, and it’s quite timely on your part, as I’ve just put together a proposal that I believe will push us over the top. One of my research teams has concluded that the font we’re using currently is not only unappealing, but subliminally conjures the image of complete ineptitude on our part. Furthermore, the blog is an odd color. It’s somewhat black and somewhat gray. It’s floating in the netherworld between these two colors. Again, as you’ll see from their upcoming report, the research team found that among men ages 24-36, 84% found the current background color “half-assed.”
Of women polled from the same age group, 73% found the background to be, in their words, “shitty.” How quickly can we get Design and IT into a meeting about this? Because frankly, I’m getting some calls from the top and I’m not sure how long I can pacify them.
ThatÂ’s what I usually do at work. Here on the blog I canÂ’t really do that. Here, because of my tenuous position, I must write something. If I don't come up with something soon I'll have to start making shit up about other bloggers and post it with feigned indignance.
Who wants to play How Many Beers?
Perhaps I exaggerate. He sent an email saying, “Hey, what’s up?” But I can read between the lines. He’s thinking that fucker hasn’t been producing. Well, I guess I can’t blame him there.
When this type of situation happens in my professional life, IÂ’m full of articulate responses that generate the required effect even if theyÂ’re complete bullshit. Allow me to simulate them here:
Well, Shank, I’m glad to see you’re rallying the team, and it’s quite timely on your part, as I’ve just put together a proposal that I believe will push us over the top. One of my research teams has concluded that the font we’re using currently is not only unappealing, but subliminally conjures the image of complete ineptitude on our part. Furthermore, the blog is an odd color. It’s somewhat black and somewhat gray. It’s floating in the netherworld between these two colors. Again, as you’ll see from their upcoming report, the research team found that among men ages 24-36, 84% found the current background color “half-assed.”
Of women polled from the same age group, 73% found the background to be, in their words, “shitty.” How quickly can we get Design and IT into a meeting about this? Because frankly, I’m getting some calls from the top and I’m not sure how long I can pacify them.
ThatÂ’s what I usually do at work. Here on the blog I canÂ’t really do that. Here, because of my tenuous position, I must write something. If I don't come up with something soon I'll have to start making shit up about other bloggers and post it with feigned indignance.
Who wants to play How Many Beers?
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
08:10 AM
| Comments (33)
| Add Comment
Post contains 329 words, total size 2 kb.
October 11, 2005
Things About Blogging
Glen Reynolds, of Instapundit fame, posted a link to this article at Global Voices.
I find it interesting, becuase it highlights something about the spirit of blogging. Or at least what it has become for many people. I'd be willing to bet that the vast majority of popular blogs out there are politically oriented sites. As a matter of fact, head over to the Truth Laid Bear and check out the top sites for yourself. I guess what I'm saying is that American bloggers have always been proud of the political power a blog or group of bloggers can harness - just ask Dan Rather, the first person to ever lose his job because of a blogger (as opposed to losing your job because you blog).
Well, this blurb points out that blogging is starting to light fires not just in the States, but in other Internet-embracing nations. It's enbaling not only one's freedom of speech, but allows people to gain massive exposure - worldwide in this case. I mean, how many people hit Glen's site everyday? 170-200 thousand? Every day. And this article got that kind of exposure. Blogging is wack. When people consider the real benefits of the Internet, I'd say one of the top two would have to be communication/freedom of information (the second probably being commerce). But this is what people really mean when they talk about the Internet - the ability to not only say it to everyone, but for anyone to have the ability to hear it and pass it on.
Another thing that presents a completely new issue is tackling how blogging brings us together, if at all. Take for instance, Paul and me. I've never met Paul, never seen a photo of the guy, never even talked to him on the phone. But here we are running this site together. My brother, who doesn't really follow the blogosphere, asked "So do you know this guy?" Technically, I guess I don't know Paul because I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a lineup. But we communicate on a fairly regular basis, and I know things about Paul that probably most people who could pick him out of a lineup would know. So, maybe my brother was using the word "know" in the pre-Information Age sense of the word. Becuase now, in the days of free instant international communication, we can know people without ever knowing who they are. This same concept applies to all the bloggers in the blogroll on the right whom I know but don't know; and who know me without knowing who I am.
Fucking odd huh?
Ancilliary to this relationship peice are the problems resulting from the inability to create tone and inflection in text-based conversations. A great illustration of said problem can be found in the comments here, wherein I think I'm alluding to a long-running joke when I'm actually pissing someone off. I completely failed to correctly inflect or create context, mostly because I couldn't use my voice to intone the remark.
So the Internet allows me to communicate with people all over the globe, contact people in a way that, formerly, was only possible by actually seeing them. Unfortunately in the end, not only do I not know who they are, but I've probably spent half of the time pissing them off.
I find it interesting, becuase it highlights something about the spirit of blogging. Or at least what it has become for many people. I'd be willing to bet that the vast majority of popular blogs out there are politically oriented sites. As a matter of fact, head over to the Truth Laid Bear and check out the top sites for yourself. I guess what I'm saying is that American bloggers have always been proud of the political power a blog or group of bloggers can harness - just ask Dan Rather, the first person to ever lose his job because of a blogger (as opposed to losing your job because you blog).
Well, this blurb points out that blogging is starting to light fires not just in the States, but in other Internet-embracing nations. It's enbaling not only one's freedom of speech, but allows people to gain massive exposure - worldwide in this case. I mean, how many people hit Glen's site everyday? 170-200 thousand? Every day. And this article got that kind of exposure. Blogging is wack. When people consider the real benefits of the Internet, I'd say one of the top two would have to be communication/freedom of information (the second probably being commerce). But this is what people really mean when they talk about the Internet - the ability to not only say it to everyone, but for anyone to have the ability to hear it and pass it on.
Another thing that presents a completely new issue is tackling how blogging brings us together, if at all. Take for instance, Paul and me. I've never met Paul, never seen a photo of the guy, never even talked to him on the phone. But here we are running this site together. My brother, who doesn't really follow the blogosphere, asked "So do you know this guy?" Technically, I guess I don't know Paul because I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a lineup. But we communicate on a fairly regular basis, and I know things about Paul that probably most people who could pick him out of a lineup would know. So, maybe my brother was using the word "know" in the pre-Information Age sense of the word. Becuase now, in the days of free instant international communication, we can know people without ever knowing who they are. This same concept applies to all the bloggers in the blogroll on the right whom I know but don't know; and who know me without knowing who I am.
Fucking odd huh?
Ancilliary to this relationship peice are the problems resulting from the inability to create tone and inflection in text-based conversations. A great illustration of said problem can be found in the comments here, wherein I think I'm alluding to a long-running joke when I'm actually pissing someone off. I completely failed to correctly inflect or create context, mostly because I couldn't use my voice to intone the remark.
So the Internet allows me to communicate with people all over the globe, contact people in a way that, formerly, was only possible by actually seeing them. Unfortunately in the end, not only do I not know who they are, but I've probably spent half of the time pissing them off.
Posted by: shank at
06:20 PM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 564 words, total size 4 kb.
October 10, 2005
Trivia
UPDATE: Results in the extended entry.
Another post in such a short time might give Victor and Tiffani a heart attack, but I'm willing to take that chance in my vain efforts to get all of you to dance like trained monkeys for me. That's just the sort of selfless fellow I am.
The trivia: What was the little circle doohickey called that you put in the hole of a 45 to play it on a standard record player spindle?
The payoff: 3 points to the person who knows the answer. Some more to the answer than most makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.
The restriction: No searching.*
* I'll do that when I check for the correct answer since I haven't the slightest clue what that thing is called**. Despite the fact that they were an everyday part of my life for two decades.
** Astute readers will interpret this in one of two ways. Either I've recognized this as a cool odd-ball trivia and am taking advantage of it to give out some points or, since I have to look up the correct answer eventually, I'm using the contest thing as a tool in my continual efforts to procrastinate in order to avoid looking up the answer for as long as humanly possible. It's probably a bit of each.
Posted by: Jim at
10:10 AM
| Comments (10)
| Add Comment
Post contains 312 words, total size 2 kb.
October 09, 2005
Dinner conversations
Bear: Crocodiles are the only living dinosaur.Bacon: Are they really dinosaurs?
Me: Not quite. But the ancestors of crocodiles lived in the age of the dinosaurs.
Bacon: Oh. But they weren't dragons.
Me: No, definitely not dragons.
Bear: Dragons have poison spit.
Me: I thought they had fiery breath.
Bear: No, Daddy. Those are the story ones. The real ones have poison spit.
Bacon: Yeah. The Komoko dragons.
Me: Oh, right. The saliva of the Komodo dragons have virulent bacteria.
Bear: And if they bite you, you'll be dead in a day.
Bacon: And you have to be careful because they'll spit on you with their poison spit.
Me: Komodo dragons don't really spit. They just have saliva that's very poisonous.
Bear: Yeah, they don't spit poison spit.
Bacon: Oh.
Bear: You're probably thinking of Howard Dean.
I might make politics an off topic at the dinner table.
Posted by: Jim at
01:27 AM
| Comments (5)
| Add Comment
Post contains 153 words, total size 1 kb.
October 07, 2005
Could it be that simple?
I rarely bring up politics or world events, but I may have stumbled on to something quite by accident.
From here:
“A man holds a woman by the hand and dances with her in front of everyone. Does that serve the national interest?”
Who gives a shit? Nothing these assholes do serves any real national interests. I think the reason these people are so full of hate is because theyÂ’re not getting laid. TheyÂ’re so repressed by Stone Age beliefs that they probably need to be taught masturbation.
After controversies when a Hamas-led council halted a dance festival and Islamist gunmen stopped a rap band performing in Gaza, Dr Zahar defended the enforcement of a strict interpretation of Islam.
Okay, so theyÂ’re not into hip-hop. I canÂ’t fault their judgment on that, but they need to loosen up. LetÂ’s face it, weÂ’ve seen this all before. Remember Footloose? Kevin Bacon wasnÂ’t having any of that no dancing bullshit, and he taught that town a valuable lesson.
DonÂ’t you think these people want to make out? I mean, if a guyÂ’s got his arm around a chick and heÂ’s trying to get his other hand up under there itÂ’s hard to hold to a rifle. If given a choice between making a bomb or maybe getting to third base with some chick at a party, who the hell would choose the bomb? I think what the majority of these people want is a six pack of beer and a box of rubbers. Kevin Bacon may be the answer to this entire problem.
From here:
“A man holds a woman by the hand and dances with her in front of everyone. Does that serve the national interest?”
Who gives a shit? Nothing these assholes do serves any real national interests. I think the reason these people are so full of hate is because theyÂ’re not getting laid. TheyÂ’re so repressed by Stone Age beliefs that they probably need to be taught masturbation.
After controversies when a Hamas-led council halted a dance festival and Islamist gunmen stopped a rap band performing in Gaza, Dr Zahar defended the enforcement of a strict interpretation of Islam.
Okay, so theyÂ’re not into hip-hop. I canÂ’t fault their judgment on that, but they need to loosen up. LetÂ’s face it, weÂ’ve seen this all before. Remember Footloose? Kevin Bacon wasnÂ’t having any of that no dancing bullshit, and he taught that town a valuable lesson.
DonÂ’t you think these people want to make out? I mean, if a guyÂ’s got his arm around a chick and heÂ’s trying to get his other hand up under there itÂ’s hard to hold to a rifle. If given a choice between making a bomb or maybe getting to third base with some chick at a party, who the hell would choose the bomb? I think what the majority of these people want is a six pack of beer and a box of rubbers. Kevin Bacon may be the answer to this entire problem.
Posted by: Pixy Misa at
08:39 AM
| Comments (4)
| Add Comment
Post contains 271 words, total size 2 kb.
105kb generated in CPU 0.046, elapsed 0.1362 seconds.
103 queries taking 0.107 seconds, 384 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.
103 queries taking 0.107 seconds, 384 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.
