Ugly and Swearing

I fucking hate you. Read more to find out why!


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Thursday, June 24th, 2010

The Party of NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo.........

The Grand Old Pusfucks killed an unemployment extension today. One theory is that they are ungoosing the economy in hopes of a landslide victory in November, which is foolish because they probably would have done just that anyhow, but now perhaps anyone paying attention might realize that yes, they truly are the party of Their Rich Friends and nothing more. When Joe "more oil and gas campaign contributions than anyone else currently in the House" Barton moronically apologized to BP the GOP nearly disowned him immediately, so you can't tell me it is pure clueless politics that have lead to such a foolhardy decision like today's permaban on life for a good amount of the millions 'round the country still ungainfully unemployed. I just hope that when the looting begins the destitute steal from those to blame rather than one another as per usual. Ha! Wishful thinking. That would mean that half the morons in this stupid country actually had a brain, which they clearly do not. If they did, why in unholy fuck do half of you continue to vote for The Party of THISISNOTFORYOU over and over and over and over again?!

Typical Republican asshole: "Vote for me and I'll bring back prayer in school! But I'll also kick you in the balls every morning. Hard."
Typical American dipshit: "UNBORN ZYGOTES HAVE RIGHTS, TOO!"

It's not even smoke and mirrors with you dullards, it's waving a half-shiny ball of spent Reynolds Wrap in the right hand and punching you in the face with the left. You douchebags continue to lay in the bed you made, and then wonder why you can never get anywhere in life. It's not about personal responsibility, it's not about morality, it's not even about personality. Turn off the TV, shut down the craptop, take a step outside, and use some common fucking sense for once in your miserable lives. What the hell is wrong with you?

Cliffsnotes: I could really go for some nachos right about now.
Wednesday, April 7th, 2010

Flagpole Sitta

I seem to be getting more and more paranoid as I age. I'd love to know why this is, but in the meantime, I can honestly say that it's pretty crap really.

So I came down with costochondritis a week or so ago right. Well it seems to have mostly cleared up, but WOW did that suck for a few days there. Nothing better than waking up at 3am feeling like a 40 pound bowling ball is buried in your ribcage. Hopefully it's gone, but hey! We'll soon find out! So, with that seemingly out of the way, I'm currently convinced that I have contracted the hantavirus. Oh sure, laugh all you want, but I did purchase a used bass cabinet that came complete with some mouse droppings inside just recently, and even though I attempted to clean it out (with bleach, some gloves, a big stick, while wearing a mask) I know I missed some and I can already feel the early pangs of the complete shutdown of my respiratory system! Yes, it's getting bad.

So why is this? Sure, throughout my entire life I've gone through short bouts of paranoia before, but nothing like I've experienced the past year or two. Unlike in the past, when said occasions were strictly filled with thoughts of "they are all laughing at me," these current delusions all revolve around DEATH, whether it be my own or a loved one. Look, we're all going to die some day. It's one of very few things that truly makes us human. In fact, it is perhaps the only thing we will all go through. I get that. But for whatever reason I'm just not okay with it. Apparently. For example, I sent m'lady up north several months ago on a solo plane trip to see her sister, and I was absolutely convinced that it was the last time I'd ever see her, due to a planecrash or other inevitability. Obviously she went and came just fine (otherwise this website would be dedicated to her loss and my everlasting rage [more rage than normal that is]), but there were a few moments there when I was at an utter loss, without anything bad even happening.

Maybe I need to seek out, and study under, Dr. Muñoz. Either way, if this is my last blog, you know what happened!

Cliffsnotes: That's right, sometimes the introduction and conclusion are extremely short.
Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010

The Paranoid Delusions of a Hysterical 30th Century Man

"There's something not quite right about today's world," Ronald Harbeck thought to himself through the eyes of half lit cigarette. The problem being more of a What than a The currently, but still worth mentioning and hopefully able to be alleviated, sooner rather than later. Sure, a bad economy as steered by a lame duck smiley gladhand president lead one to turn to a variety of problem/solution scenarios: fascism, socialism, anarchy, obesity, and other usual suspects. But some, like Ronald, knew that the thickness in the air was caused by something less tangible than specific, easy answers. Meanwhile, another Tuesday morning awaited, although perhaps with more importance today, but, due to the immediate persistence of time, further contemplation would have to wait. Implications will become more meaningful after this afternoon if all goes as planned.

The post-apocalyptic scenery wasn't so much a distopia as it was just a slightly more bleak continuation of increasingly countless centuries of endless "progress." Most of the North American continent was now contained underneath the same flag, consisting primarily of large cities similar to Los Angeles of today's world, separated by short but infinitely treacherous stretches of waste much like the Sahara from any random forgotten age (by man, not sand). Gasoline never quite ran out, but the days were no easier than they used to be, although at the same time nobody could point out in exactly what way things were more difficult. Overall, life mattered only slightly less today than it ever had to begin with, which is to say, not much at all, thus explaining why everyone still constantly searched for The Bigger Meaning Of It All, continually turning up empty promises, albeit filled with equal senses of dread and hope. Sadness will prevail, eventually, but only if Ronald fails to pull the trigger.

Cliffsnotes: Generally speaking, this is as far as I ever get when it comes to writing a story. Sucks.
Sunday, March 14th, 2010

The Commuter

I've spent my entire adult life working, other than that particular one year period of Laid Offitude of course. There are bills to pay, and I'd rather continue doing just that, because hey, I'm a Responsible Guy. Unrelated aspect of my person: I love to drive. Love love love it. Put me behind the wheel of a vehicle, any vehicle really (provided it has a manual transmission), and I am One Happy Boy. However, crossing these two aspects of my life has never been considered acceptable, even in the most remote fashion. Well okay, I used to drive quite a bit for an old job of mine, but that was years ago and just enough to make it an escape from the usual boring office routine, therefore becoming a bit enjoyable at times. So that doesn't really count. Anyhow, for the first time in my 16 years of Working Life, I have become a commuter.

Commuting sucks. It is an utter waste of time, resources, and sanity for everyone involved. I've really never understood the point of such behaviour, and have therefore avoided it at all costs up until just recently, and my newfound commuting ways surely are not by choice. Due to unforeseen circumstances (read: Global Economic Collapse [also: I saw it coming, surely others did too but were quickly silenced]), I find myself traveling 40 miles per day to and fro Ye Olde Job, something I never thought I would subject my person to. Granted, I have been able to maneuver myself around shit traffic 85% of the time, and sure 18 miles there with 22 miles in return (necessary longcut to avoid the unavoidable daily traffic jam) isn't a terribly painful distance, but it is still far from ideal, particularly on those 15% of the days where I cannot avoid said shit traffic. Either way, I hate it.

Which brings me to my larger point. I used to think that those of us in this lovely Civilized Society that harmed and/or killed people at random, or even for some strange reason, were the crazy ones. But now I'm starting to understand why they do what they do. Humanity in its current form is an overcrowded zoo of sorts, just with fewer cages yet even less freedom. Let's face it, nobody can stand one another outside of certain select circles, and even some of those are not by choice but rather tying into each individual's level of Acceptable Life Tolerance (family, coworkers, et alii). Such forced relationships are casual at best, hostile more likely, openly so even less of the time but with the anger still there to begin with. We band together only when tragedy strikes, but merely in some perverse form of self-preservation that just happens to look a bit more friendly than pushing someone out of your path toward the neon green exit sign within and without a burning buildling.

Why are politics and religion the only banned topics from the proverbial dinner table? Because those aspects of life remind us that we are in fact alive and full of rage toward the overwhelming majority of Those Guys Over There. Mankind is a disjointed pack of rabid dogs with flatter teeth, less hair, and uglier skin, spending our entire lives hating our own kind, slightly distracted from this loathing just long enough to make it to work and back each day.

Cliffsnotes: If I wasn't on the FBI watch list by now, I surely am after this one. Cheers, fuckers.
Sunday, February 28th, 2010

Leaving Los Angeles

Starting somewhere around May of 2009 I made it a mission to head to LA and try to "make it" in the music biz. I had recently turned 30, and after spending a multitude of years as a musician, slightly less of which were partially consumed within an unfulfilling career, finally decided that It Was Time to try and make a living slingin' bass guitar. Yesterday, nearly a year later, after much deliberation, and even more gasoline, I called it quits. Now, I could tell you to prepare yourself for the most interesting, unique adventure you will ever hear, but nay, that shall not be happening. Did I have fun? Sure. Did I see some interesting things that I will never forget? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Nope. Am I glad I did it anyhow? Yep.

One of the prevailing stereotypes of Los Angeles is that everybody is full of shit, and I was shown absolutely ZERO evidence to disprove this long-standing treatise. Best I can tell, LA is not fueled by smog, rather it survives through the simple process of enveloping itself in 100% Pure Bullshit. One of my favourite tales was the dude who builds a particular style of microphone stand, and how he once had to "turn down Alice Cooper himself" because of a prior commitment made on behalf of said mic stand. I don't even think the dude was trying to huckster his wares more than he was just repeating the same made up shit verbatim as per usual. More fun involved the usual First Name Basis shenanigans, but that became so prevalent that I can no longer point out specific hilarious instances. Funny to be sure, but utterly ridiculous to the point of completely uneventful inanity.

Regarding what I actually did out there, well, I joined a band, played some shows, met some Important People, had some good times, and got absolutely nothing out of the deal toward my whole plan of Selling Out, which was the only reason I went there in the first place. If I want to play music with the best of the best, I can find plenty of amazing artists within a stone's throw of my backyard. That's fun. That's easy. That doesn't pay the bills. My reason to take the plunge was to try my best at Conformity in order to Confirm a somewhat regular paycheck instead of continuing to suck off the current corporate construction teat that I've always loathed, but now thanks to a borked economy, doesn't even pay well enough to say "at least the money is good," because it no longer is. Of course the real rub was that some people I met that had Made It in LA would have gladly traded my average office job for their Lifestyle Of Awesome I always assumed people like that had lead. Grass is always greener? Perhaps.

Not that I didn't have some good times out in LA, because I did, including one or two great ones even. One particular grand memory involved playing a show in front of a sizeable enthusiastic crowd, opening for a band most excellent, receiving a multitude of compliments throughout the night, and finally capping off the adventure with a round of S&M spankings upstairs. Well okay, we just watched, but still. Neat. If only that would have been the opening moment of Hitting The Proverbial Ground Running, but nay, apparently it was not to be. Oh well. At least there remains photographic evidence of the fun I had, and the fact that I'm sure to question "did I quit too soon?" periodically throughout the next several months, especially if the band I left actually does Get Big Some Day, is proof that it all was, I must admit, worth it.

But, that doesn't change the fact that I only made $25 in total, and thus, failed in my attempt to Make It. Maybe I didn't try hard enough, maybe I didn't network properly, maybe I'm just not good/pretty enough. Either way, fuckit. I had what fun there was available to be had, and I'm now back to playing music strictly for the love of it, quietly hoping for The Best Of All Things to happen all by itself, and not particularly caring if the likliest of all outcomes occurs: The Big Nope. Just because you don't land your Saturn Return doesn't mean it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe I'll try again when I'm 59.

Cliffsnotes: Clifbars.
Thursday, February 11th, 2010

There's this guy... he's the guy.

I got this thing all over my face and I just don't know how to cure it because it's got a stuff on my face and whoa man I think I just looped 'round the bend once again because baby, I guess I just didn't know. MORE. Pardon me, please consider that a belch of sorts. Onto the task at hand:

Sine Nomine, a compilation of noise, is complete. This is what happens when you get a group of bassist/effect nerds into one corner with too much time/money in their face and, rather than go out and kill someone, we all created some stuff that deserves a bit of attention. It isn't as noisy as your usual noise-type artists, in fact some of this is downright tuneful, and, well I must say that I quite enjoyed not only being a part of such experimentation, but listening to it as a fan as well. Proceed to the Page O' Delight for more information, which includes artwork and a fancy downloadable zip file even (my submission is track #3):

http://www.boogeresque.com/sine.html

Hang on, let me get the point across better:

http://www.boogeresque.com/sine.html

Right. Onward to a wholly different set of shenanigans. Still doing the noise thing obviously. Still doing the Lost Angeles thing as well, and while that is definitely not going as dreamed, it is at least occuring as expected: slowly, but not without reward. Sorta. If I quit tomorrow, which I don't plan on doing just yet, well I'm not exactly ready to say "it was all worth it," but I would say that I was glad that I gave it a shot. Of course the fact that I'm apparently speaking in the seemingly past tense, which it certainly is not, implies that I have given up. Nay, not yet. Yet. Yet. Yet. Yet. *sigh* What a chipper young fuck I am, eh?! Just kidding, I'm not that young anymore. However, I am starting up a new local band likely to go nowhere, but shall be an outlet to play with 2 outstanding musicians I've known since (many) years gone by, and has already produced some good, weird fruit. I even have a new 4x12 bass cab arriving sometime shortly just make sure we bring More Loud as the great goat below intended. I'm calling it stoner/jazz for the time being, we'll see where it ends up.

My iPud is currently filled with downloaded albums over the years that I've never gotten around to. I don't even know half these bands, but that's the whole reason to enjoy Experiencing New Things in some way, shape, or form really: exploration of the unknown. Ever hear of the group Stinking Lizaveta? Me neither, but apparently they are "doom jazz" and soon to be filling my eardrums with whatever thou wilt. Sure the economy still blows, but at least the music remains amazing. Ludwig van is the most tragic figure of all time, then, now, and always.

Cliffsnotes: In other news, I'm back on a diet, and as such, ALWAYS FUCKING HUNGRY.
Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

Cease Reading, Keep Breeding

So it's been raining like fuck lately, right? Well, by California standards at least, which means more than 3 drops, but I think technically there was a TORNADO WATCH in Los Angeles today so it actually did something for a god damn change. Anyhow. So I watched a few people walking in the rain today without much protection from said element on their individual person(s), and I thought "what happens when the deluge unleashes itself upon their face? Surely illness and other tragedy." It was a similar emotion I've felt when on lengthy roadtrips in the middle of nowhere, observing that other drivers on the highway generally wear sweatpants and flipflops to journey 400+ miles at one time, likely without any water, food, or vehicular repairing tools with them. Why doesn't anyone ever plan ahead? The worst can and does happen, just a few days ago we were nearly killed in the local mountains by some idiot fuckwit in an SUV of disproportionate size to his featherweight penis, this so-called man who wasn't paying one god damn bit of attention to my three functional brake lights (one of which flashes even). Such occurences happen to most everyone at least once or twice per year, possibly every month if the planets are misaligned.

Point being, I realized today that the spread of idiocy is directly tied to the ongoing girth of technological convenience. I once thought that gasoline enabled food and medicine to spread to the farthest reaches of the globe, quickly, which established the longevity and increasing life cycle of this human waste, but no. It's The Weather Channel. The Auto Club. Toyota. Verizon. Take away one or more of those, just for one single day, and I'd venture a guess that a quarter of the earth's population would drop dead immediately. Give it a week and the few that are still left will all be living in caves flinging poo at passersby. Watch your face, if you still have one. Our collective existence is fragile enough as it is, so instead of fortifying such things with, oh I don't know, a piece of fucking armor, even a psychological one, we entrust our survival to the contents of our wallets. This has never made sense, and even with the punchline constantly just around the corner, nobody has gotten the joke just yet. When will the teetering keystone crumble?

Cliffsnotes: Darwin couldn't predict the internet.
Wednesday, January 6th, 2010

Narcotic Breakfast

Bass #5 should be arriving later today. Well, technically this is more like bass #15 in the grand scheme of things, but I've sold quite a few of those along the way. Not a ridiculous amount, but enough to look back and say "wow, I used to have quite a collection, if you add it all up together, even though I only owned one or two nice basses at a time really." This one is a G&L L-2000 I ordered for myself on the occasion of last year's Black Friday. I bought the woman a nice digital SLR camera that day as well, so then bought myself a bass because I talked the dude into a killer deal. Hey, just because I'm back to being poor doesn't mean I won't drop nearly 2 large in one day if the price(s) is(are) discounted enough. I'm a cheap bastard, but at least I'm still a bastard.

Speaking of bastardesque behaviour, I am contemplating utterly giving up all hope for humanity. Not because some idiot douchebag insists on blasting his Sounds of Miami down the street (and that might just be the garbage/delivery/repo man anyhow, I can't really tell), but rather because... well actually I'm not entirely sure why, but one of two New Beer's Revolutions I have include 1) being less tolerant toward those undeserving, and 2) getting back down to 185 pounds. I was 230 a few years ago, then got down to 185, but I find myself back to 200 once again, damn it all! Wait, this wasn't about my girlish figure, but rather my UNDYING HATRED OF ALL MORONS. Because really. Most people are incredibly selfish, and, on the whole, suck ass. Combine that with the fact that, when you get right down to it, we're all on our own, and my desire to Help Fellow Man is quite dwindling these days. I think I want to start caring solely for me and my own, and everyone else can get fucked. Well, I'll still give spare change to bums. I like bums. That being said, I think I shall at least remain a well-wisher, in that I don't wish you any specific harm.

I cheated. I brought back my Facebutt and still retain ye olde Myspork music account. But, I deleted a bunch of people and all my photos on Facebork, as well as eliminating my complete personal profile to Myshank, so that counts for something, right? No? Who cares. There's no point to this paragraph. I just wanted to come clean is all. See, that will be my downfall in my newfound hatred of all idiots: I'm honest to a fault. I couldn't lie under oath if my life depended on it. Maybe that should be my belated third revolution for 2010: learn to lie. The best part is, you think I'm joking.

In closing, the final riff in this song got lodged into my head last night, and it took me a good hour to figure out who it was. Recommended listening even for those not into grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrOAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWRRR type of music, if only for the part beginning at 3:00 exactly. Because that's the part that was stuck in my face without warning last night. Don't let it happen to you.



Cliffsnotes: I didn't even watch the video, I just listened in the background. I fucking hate videos. Exceptions include, but are not necessarily limited to, Neurosis and Tool.
Friday, January 1st, 2010

Happy New Shit

It nearly frightens me that it is 2010 now. The Aughts Generation is gone. I'd have to say that it might have been my best personal decade yet (finally got laid, finished college, recorded a bunch of music), but WOW it sure was pretty shitty overall, no? It started with a stock market crash and 9/11, then ended with 2 endless wars and a Global Economic Collapse. But enough about that, let's move on to a more important subject: Popular Music. Pretty much every decade had a great group of bands that, you know, were good. Until the stupid 2000s. I'm not sure I can think of one single mainstream group that came from the '00s that were worth listening to. Oh sure, Radiohead, Nine Inch Nails, and Queens of the Stone Age were all pretty big, but they've been around for longer than the zeros.

But really, does it matter? No. Not one bit. Fuck the mainstream. There are far too many great bands in the underground, seemingly more than ever before, but odds are it's mostly a thing of access these days. I can listen to a local band with 10 fans that exist on the other side of the globe with just 3 clicks on Google, 2 of which are accidental porn distraction even. The Intarweb might just be the worst thing since TV, but at the same time, it truly is an amazing device. Oh sure, maybe we can't change our grades whilst taking a day off from school, but I'd take discovering just one great album by an obscure group over that any day of the week.

In other news, I revamped this here webshite last night, while very drunk. Fun times! Although not much changed really, and likely I screwed something up anyhow, so if any one of the 20 people that read this shite notice something off (besides the usual moronity I spew forth), please let me know.

Cliffsnotes: More like Naughts am I rite.
Monday, December 28th, 2009

They. Will. Find. You.

I got into debt when I left home in 2001 at the age of 21, even though I had owned a credit card since shortly after my 18th birthday. I blame nobody but myself, and hey, it sure was fun. Finally killed off any lingering credit card crapola I had by mid-2007 when I landed a pretty sweet salary for a pretty shit career move. True freedom from monetary linked previous escapade indebtedness was secured just 6 months ago upon receipt of a vehicular pink slip, the first I had owned since right before I got into This Stupid World Mess to begin with. So now that I am once again gainfully employed after a year of "vacation" (albeit with less-than-ideal pay and zero [yes ZERO] benefits, along with thankfully [yes THANKFULLY] minimal stress levels), with only the usual monthly billz to be paid, I am off the proverbial hook, yes yes? No. I never did heroin but the IRS is now my Mr. Brownstone.

They will find you. The beast must be fed, and ever shall it be through nothing but blood, toil, and tears from people like you, me, and the overwhelming majority of this idiot populace. There is no bailout for us. Get used to it, or fight back.

Cliffsnotes: Deleted the royal Facebutt and Myspork accounts. 2010 will be a year of refocused efforts. So good to see you. I've missed you so much.
Thursday, August 27th, 2009

Caught Between Castles

I often wonder what is the god damn point. Now that I've been back to work for several weeks I realize just how silly it all is once again. The people I work for appear hard working, but they no longer enjoy their chosen line of work, and yearn to retire somewhere in the Great Wild Yonder. Well, he does, she already lived that life in days gone by and would rather remain citybound, but they do agree on the whole Fuck This aspect of things it would seem.

I find it amusing when people say "oh, don't end up in a career you hate," because really, who ever truly gets a choice when it comes to that? I've known people who for their entire life knew, absolutely KNEW they wanted to be That Certain Something, and once they arrived at this preplotted destination, they realized how much it sucked. I suppose it could be chalked up to just how unhappy people are, at least generally speaking. Or maybe we're just unhappy doing things that we HAVE to do every god damn day. I suppose if I only had to look at a set of plans and spend 4 hours crunching numbers say, once a week then maybe things wouldn't be that bad. "Damn, it's Sunday already, time to go to work for a bit. See you tomorrow, book/wife/music/band/Netflix/porn."

Then again, I do think that if you can find your True Calling, and actually be able to do it as a career enabling you to survive in our lovely debt-based economy, you might be happy. I don't mean a compromise solution, like say a jazz musician writing TV commercial jingles, but rather completing the circle entirely wrapped around What You Love. For example, if someone paid me $35k per year to do this the rest of my days, I would work 7 days a week no problem:



Now, I say this because I am NOT getting paid to do that, and if I was, I'd probably be bitching about how "I gotta sit here and make stupid sounds all day for The Man and I'm tired of this shit, why can't I go back to punching madly at broken calculators for a land without soul once again?" because hey, complaining is one of the most human things we can do, landing somewhere between blowing one's nose and zipping up unkempt flies in terms of Overall Life Importance.

I am attempting to find some compromise, but I'm not sure how it is all going to play out anymore (though admittedly, I never really did). I'm playing in a band with good people, although it is certainly not my First Choice when it comes to style, as it leans more toward accessibility rather than something similar to that mess as YouBoob'd above. Note that I really enjoy it, but my goal is to actually Make It with that group as opposed to fulfilling my soul one freakout 20+ minute jam at a time as I do with my other band. Sort of like if William S. Burroughs wrote for Woman's Day rather than strictly for his pet drugs. At least that is my theory.

Of course, then comes the most likely scenario, which will continue to play out as time marches so fervently onward. Keep on keepin' on with construction, the career I appear to be hopelessly stuck within, hoping to someday buy a house in a close mountain community so that whenever I'm not perched behind a computer screen sitting atop someone's used, worn leather office chair or crammed betwixt the mess that is bumper to bumper to bumper to bumper to bumper traffic, I can breathe the fresh air into myself, clean and easy, all whilst blasting strange music across the canyons whenever physically and mentally possible.

Cliffsnotes: There's nothing like an unfinished basement.
Sunday, August 16th, 2009

Feerings.

So apparently I'm back to work now. Just completed my first 40 hour slave-a-way for the first time in a year, and it seems that they like me so far, so here goes nothing. Or perhaps something, I'm not really sure yet. I have the strangest mixed emotions about the whole thing because while I am glad to be earning a paycheck once again, I find myself returning back toward construction, which really, I stopped enjoying years ago (if I ever did at all). No, I'm not bitching. Far too many people are struggling to find any work right now so, as I said, I am thankful for that, and, not-so-strangely enough, I'm actually trying to work hard for a change because I recognize just how difficult it is for many to earn a living during these lovely current days, myself very much included.

Oddly enough, I do feel slightly more optimistic about All Things Economy right now, but only because I, after all this fucking time, am an employed member of society once again. But, and this is a big hairy one, I do know that that is the ONLY reason for such optimism, because really, nothing has changed to improve the overall situation. In fact, it's getting worse every month with still no end in sight. All this talk of things levelling off or coming back 'round again are bullshit. The Overall Picture is not getting better, but rather continues on a path toward the worse, just at a slightly slower pace than before. If this recession was truly driven by that Giant Sucking Sound aka The Housing Bubble, then whoa baby, things are going to get a whole lot worse starting next year. Google "ARM resets" if'n you please. Much like Charlie Bronson says, This. Ain't. Ovah.

So, the writing thing still has not panned out. Yes, I maintain a blog for a friend's business. Yes, I did a lot of writing over at Lousy Bum regaling the exciting tales of an angry unemployed imbecile. No, I haven't made more than about $100 as a writer, and judging by the current frequency of this idiot space, I'm not exactly pumping much out these days anyhow. The music thing is going slightly better, I am determined to maintain my two ongoing bands even as I must wake up at 6:30am these days, which hasn't happened since... ummm... ever. Wow. Maybe back in high school? No, not even then I don't think. Ridiculous! Oh well. My night owl ways shall be put on hold. I am willing to make that sacrifice, and when I'm not, hooray caffeine overdose! What was I saying? Ah yes, the music. Auradrone and Quadrance sally forth with reckless abandon, the former giving me exposure to others who have Made It in the industry, the latter being an amazing outlet for my soul, as witnessed during this latest excursion:

Quadrance - Ecliptix

So. Yes. Quite. Rather. Indeed. Etc. Minus a little sleep, plus a few more $$$, and life goes on. So it goes.

Cliffsnotes: I do have to admit that I've paid a lot of attention to housing over this past year, so perhaps I don't entirely hate everything about construction after all.
Thursday, July 16th, 2009

Where the hell am I?

I just put my iTonks on shuffle. I'm not sure if I have ever done that, but more importantly, I'm not sure I have put any music device of mine on shuffle since I owned my first portable CD player type thing, which I received in god damn 1993. Not that I've paid attention to such things over the years really, and I know I've been to several parties where someone put the tunes on shuffle, but I've always been an album type person and I really don't see that trend ending anytime soon. I mean jesus god damn christ I was listening to Supertramp when I was 3. Oh sure, I hate Rush as much as the next self-respecting music fan, but that doesn't mean I want poptarts for musical entertainment. So far I've heard Ulver and Failure. My only guess for what is next would be Die Form, Traffic, or the Mothers of Invention, but really I'm not exactly sure because that is what the whole shuffling thing is all about, right? For the time being I'm going to prattle on with more sentence than sense, maybe even displaying the THIRD cover artwork I've chosen for my stupid Lovecraft tribute album available below here or above at that Wold and Whale link-type apparatus. At least this final attempt is the best as far as I'm concerned, mostly because my lovely Noush created it for me and I really do think she is a fine artist indeed, and no I'm not just saying that to get laid, I truly mean that because her works really quite unique and I love them so. Anyhow, some John Frusciante came on next, and that pleases me. Ooh, I looked away for a moment and now The Lord Weird Slough Feg has ascended to the forefront of my eardrums. In true form, the song in question is titled Heavy Metal Monk, a name that would even make Dio blush. So what? It's fun, I enjoy it, and Mike Scalzi is certainly one of music's great unsung heroes that may have come into being a few decades too late, but does it really matter at the end of the day? In this case, no. Generally speaking I prefer music that looks forward as opposed to the opposed of the opposed (which explains why I was listening to the second Sleepytime Gorilla Museum album tonight for the second night in a row, even though I much prefer their first and especially the third), but sometimes you just want to enjoy yourself in a genre you feel comfortable within. Which explains why iToonz has now stumbled upon Summoning, a group that really sounds like old TurboGrafx-CD soundtracks most of the time, explaining my intimate connection with their Telenet-esque keyboard screaming ways. Plus, I mean, everything they do is linked to Middle-earth, and as everyone knows the only better place than Middle-earth is perhaps a different world based on the teachings of Middle-earth. FELLOW (middle-)EARTHICANS indeed. Ha! The Mothers just came on. I guess Freud was right afterall. In closing (am I done yet?), someone searched for the following query and came up with my website not once, not twice, but thrice:

"expecto patronum the bailout package"

That was like watching my two worlds collide really. For what it's worth, Harry Potter 6 was a pretty damn good flick, unlike the last one which almost completely sucked were it not for the rad battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore, that, while quite different from the book, was quite exciting on a visual level. Damn I'm cool. I was joking about the closing bit apparently because here I shall continue on. Where the hell am I? Well it's been almost an entire year since I got laid off, but I have two promising ventures that will likely tease me a few more times before fizzling out completely, rendering me continuing to search for work and hoping that unemployment gets extended again so I can pay them billz some more. But really, at a time like this I don't give a shit because Socrates Drank the Conium just came on, and if you have any interest in honest, good, real progressive music (from the '70s) then you should already know about them. So yes, other then fruitlessly searching for jobs like some rotting peach on a vine within the fridge too far, my two bands are going quite well with many gigs and even a practice or two, namely Auradrone and Quadrance because the other shit pretty much frittered itself away or I just realized that having anything more than two active bands is a pretty severe nuisance on the rest of my life, which means if/when I ever find steady employment again I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do with that. I suppose it doesn't help matters that the former band rehearses in downtown LA and the latter in Orange, two locations that are certainly not within walking distance of my current domicile. By the way, In The Flesh (sans question mark) recently came on, I love the racist diatribe toward the middle, makes me hate the government even more than I already do, which really, do I need to rant against that stupid organization any more than I already have, at great length, time and time again? Well yes, but not now! No, too much great music is living through me right now, no time for anger/rage/depression. Did I have any caffeine tonight, as I ramble on at 3:01am and beyond? No. I did Eat A Peach an hour ago though, perhaps that sugar buzz is buzzing my buzzer. Ha! Well it isn't Love Buzz but Downer just came on. Nirvana changed my world back in 1991, but toward the end of the decade I had pretty much written them out of my life like so many other delights from the early teenage era. Sometime shortly before With The Lights Out was released my interest was re-piqued and I must say they remain one hell of a fucking band all these years later. I wonder if Kurt would still be depressed were he alive today? Aren't we all? Well, anyone paying attention at least. More Nirvana, some old demo now. Hey hey, that doesn't sound like much of a shuffle to me, does it? Now that I am spoking to my 'puter it would seem the steam has run thick, but no longer in gas form but rather a solid clump chunkage landing on my keyboard like so many poorly timed sneezes in times past. I think I'm off to sleep then. Maybe just one more song...

Cliffsnotes: I'm writing this part first, so that I may meet Vizzini back at the beginning.
Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

The animals know something's afoot.

Perhaps I am just becoming whacked in some LB Jefferies sort of fashion, but it sure does seem like the manimals around here have been acting quite strange lately. Something large and angry has been pissed off every night for weeks on end high up in a tree not far from here, sounding something like a screech owl and alerting everyone of its presence every 2 seconds most of the night through. Another thing I've noticed are the Attack Crows. Starting a week or two back, I kept hearing this odd scraping/clunking sound coming from the roof every few days and, upon finally investigating from that realm commonly known as The Outside, scared the crap out of two crows who quickly fled to safety with their plans being discovered by pesky humans, eyeing both the woman and I with severe disdain for quite some time afterwards, from a safe distance of course. The final notably odd encounter is some pathetic birdlikething which I still have not figured out. At first I assumed we were witness to a very old, dying crow somewhere nearby due to the hollow, aged sound of it all, but whatever it is has lingered about for a few weeks now, making the same sad, occasionally gargling sound all day long. Also it appears to have a partner of some sort, unless it has mastered the art of ventriloquism along with Tuvan throat singing. Maybe it's just the birdversions of Statler and Waldorf.



I don't know if it means anything at all, but perhaps the winged ones know that interplanetary human migration is at hand, and they can no longer contain their excitement that the planet shall return from whence it came, in the form of Avian Ownership. Fuck if I know. So, in other exciting news, I've found myself the delightful owner of 3 different delay pedals once again. Herein lies a battle betwixt two of them yearning for ultimate supremacy, complete with dualing self-oscillation madness:

Delay Boxing

Cliffsnotes: I always thought that all domesticated cats had the desire for World Domination, but perhaps now I'm starting to realize why birds are the felines greatest enemy...
Sunday, May 31st, 2009

Their floors are Stik-E-Mart.



The Wold and The Whale - Six Shots by Moonlight
Adrian Smith - bass, etc.
myspace.com/noishit

1. Inclination XXVII (wav | mp3)
2. Visitation XXXV (wav | mp3)
3. Defalcation XXXVIII (wav | mp3)
4. Intussusception XXXIII (wav | mp3)
5. Dissipation XXXII (wav | mp3)
6. Reanimation XVII (wav | mp3)

This is my noise tribute to HP Lovecraft, even though I can't figure out what the god damn difference between Six Shots by Moonlight (as commonly found) and Six Shots by Midnight (as written in my particular edition of the story) is. Either way, once again, this stuff really isn't meant to be heard on computer speakers, which is why the WAV files are available to burn to a CD and enjoy on a proper stereo, or cause unwanted guests to vomit in terror. Physical copies will be available eventually, whenever the hell I feel like getting around to it.

Cliffsnotes: Who needs a record label when I can get people to ignore my shit for free?
Thursday, May 14th, 2009

Sellin' Out

So yeah, I'm god damn 30. I don't look it, and I sure as fook don't act it (although really, what exactly does one have to do to act their age, fit in with the common definition of where you are supposed to be in life according to common stock portfolio mantra?). When I first started playing music at the age 9, I advanced quickly in whatever I did. I was the only "young kid" in first chair clarinet (damn right I sucked the black poll), and it was obvious even to my youthful self that music, in some way shape or form, was my calling. Of course even before this I have photographic proof that I used to don a giant set of headphones to blast Supertramp in my head at 3 years old. What kind of fucking 3-year-old listens to Supertramp?! A music dork in training. Anyhow, I picked up the bass at age 13 and never looked back in terms of Instrument Choice. It is what I was born to do apparently, but until very recently I only treated it as a hobby. No more.

Because yeah, I'm god damn 30. I am now at a point in life where if I do not at least give it a shot to make a living pluckin' the steel quartet, I never will. Besides, I'm fucking tired of failing to find a job in the career I am SUPPOSED to have as deemed by a bunch of fucktards that would bore the piss out of me at a company function. So I'm trying to make something out of this whole music deal, and as such have spent a lot of time this week in Los Angeles. Just like I will next week, the week after that, and shall continue as often as I must. However long it takes for me to find something that pays, or until I run up enough credit card debt to no longer afford the $17.52 in gas I'm wasting every time I drive out there. Fuckit. It has to be done.

Finally, this Boog is dedicated to Gus Chambers, a great man who left this world last year, but I just tonight discovered that sad truth. Rest easy brother, I hope that someone akin to Mulder showed you that which you sought in life.

Cliffsnotes: I've written a lot of boogs lately but none of them here, it felt odd to type out the HTML.
Tuesday, April 28th, 2009

I just joined a group on Facebutt called The New Absurdist.

Apparently it is "a colony of experimental writers & malcontents dedicated to the annihilation of the literary/industrial complex." To celebrate, the following Boog shall be written entirely in stomptype:

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Cliffsnotes: I cheated by removing a bit of HTML tag format that snuck in there because it erased half of that rant, which was little more than a quick daily journal concerning my recent unimportant events. BLEJK TLJ!!
Friday, April 24th, 2009

The Addictive Qualities of Any Particular Substance

So one of my bands played a show recently, and we had 3 opening acts. Now, as per most local/small shows with little to no crowd, each band shows up 15 minutes before their set with their 4 friends, play, and then the whole group would be long gone before the next act had even started. Local musicians unite, strength in numbers, solidarity brothers! Anyhow, with this particular gig in question, since my band was to go on last, I sat through all the opening acts, and even enjoyed myself to an extent. Note: I said enjoyed myself, which could have been due to any number of things that were completely unrelated to the music at hand. Not that I am saying that is necessarily the case, but I am informing the reader(s) that it is definitely a possibility that I sat outside drinking stale water whilst staring at random objects on the ground thinking up new ways to set my house on fire just for pleasure, with the three opening acts relegated to nothing more than a faint drone in the background of my existence. Or not. But it's possible. Just saying.

So the first act were okay, a singer/songwriter with an excellent voice and obviously new-to-her-music band, but it was enjoyable. Each song could have used a slight kick in the tempo, but I'm not her, and she's the one writing this stuff, so it isn't my place to say. Anyhow, my keen observances of the night have little to do with her, but I did like the tunes, in particular the second to last song. Yes yes, cry proceed.

The second band was when things got interesting. A young group of Killers wannabe looking dudes stepped up and proceeded to rock the barely populated house with tunes that would have made The Black Crowes, Nina Simone, and Rush proud all at the same time. Those few in attendance were impressed with the looks, sounds, smells, spirit, and soul of their abilities, and they had the good sense to play a relatively short set so that nobody would tire of them or begin to point out a few fatal flaws. Seriously, unless you have a big crowd that absolutely adores you, don't play more than a 30 to 40 minute set, please. Always leave them wanting more, the worst thing you can do is drive your own fans away by playing for far too long in one sitting. That can wait until you are headlining a giant festival tour, and these guys understood this. Either that or they just didn't have much material. Whatever. Good times!

When the the third band arrived, I was thankful there was a placeholder between us and that last mystical group, who really should be playing bigger and better gigs than this dive bar, because following them with anything short of Miracle Music would be a tough sell. In this regard, this next band did not disappoint, at least in terms of sounding like complete shit. The woman heard them as "Devo meets early Swans," and I completed the description with "playing Sonic Youth covers, incorrectly." They were awful. The bassist/keyboardist/programmer almost knew what he was doing, what with a Carl's Jr. order number card holding a key in place to create a drone while he could thump away on two notes and periodically (read: haphazardly) change the shitty drum machine to one of three beats. Then there was the guitarist/yeller, who was an absolute mess. It took 10 minutes to figure out what pedal in his lengthy, sprawling signal chain was cutting out the guitar, and once he began, his playing mechanics were reminiscent of someone you saw in high school attemping basic barre chord covers for the third time, failing miserably, and quickly giving up the 6-strings within days of finally saving up enough cash to secure financing on a pawn shop Hondo. These were not happy times.

So now, days later, which music continues to be firmly planted in my head, with no plan on leaving anytime soon? The band behind Door Number Three. I suppose they made their point, and it certainly stuck with me. Touché.

Cliffsnotes: Oh yeah, we played that night as well. Did okay I suppose.
Monday, April 20th, 2009

Get Born Again

So lately I've been reading, at least in more positive-type periodical-like places, about how during this Great Recession (new term I learned last night, can't wait until it turns into the Great Deprecession within a few years) that people are beginning to spend more time with the Important Things in their lives, namely, their family and eating dinner at home. Well I consider that a good thing as well, provided that people aren't getting kicked out of their living rooms by the banks due to Yet Another Layoff then I suppose yes, indeed a nice slowing down of life is a positive thing so that perhaps breathing slowly will rise as fast food linked hypertension goes down. One can only hope that this trend toward said Important Things will carry on to other aspects of life as well.

I'll never forget the local University of California graduation I attended some 11 years ago. I was absolutely blown away by the amount of times I heard Bachelor of Science: Business being announced time and time again during the ceremony. Of course many years later after witnessing a consumer culture blowing 70% of their country's "wealth" on crap it makes complete and total sense, but now that that number is shifting back to a realm of Sustainable Sense (whether by individual choice or otherwise), I wonder how many young idiots out there will further their education in a field that actually matters, namely, NOT FUCKING BUSINESS? Look, this should have been pretty clear many years ago, because anyone who has worked for a moderate to large company knows that the Business School types were likely the biggest dipshits in the entire office, utilizing the newest clichéd buzzwords from CNBC in their PowerPoint presentations to dazzle their superiors into giving them a bigger bonus at the end of the year, generally at the expense of the hourly wages of the grunts who actually did the real work. There is a reason the term "just business" has such a negative connotation, when the field only exists to serve Just Business and nothing else, this piece of shit realm should have been revealed for what it truly is ages ago. Move over lawyers, the joke has a new butt.

Now, I'm not trying to say that everyone should go out and revitalize the Beat Generation and get a PhD in Scourge Poetry, but this nation (amongst many other corners of the globe) has not exactly been friendly toward creativity the last several generations, at least as a means of individual survival:
For decades, the de facto policy has been to confuse the culture industry with the source of creativity and largely to abandon the production, promotion, distribution and enjoyment of arts and culture to the dictates of the boom/bust marketplace. The result has been the spread of "lifestyle economies" that are merely new forms of monoculturalism and the rise of an environment increasingly antithetical to creativity. A wave of deregulation in the culture industry has consolidated distribution channels and destroyed local scenes, locked away sources of inspiration behind fences of "rights management" and copyright and favored a "blockbuster or die" approach that raises barriers to entry and creates diseconomies of scale. Call it the privatization of the imagination.

--The Creativity Stimulus from The Nation
Oh sure, some people get a great big hard on looking at quarterly earnings charts, and those that do can fucking have them, but there is a balance to be had that has spent the last 30 years becoming far too out of whack. For the rest of us, who only involve ourselves into some random business venture because it is the only real way to make a living in an over-capitalistic society, this entire system becomes just a bit taxing to the soul. Hopefully as this era begins a lengthy decline in its Über Spendage ways so too shall the amount of MBA-related nonsense decrease, and the rest of us can perhaps be a little more fulfilled by the daily grind.

Cliffsnotes: Yeah right, and soon enough people will stop watching television as well. Sure.
Sunday, April 19th, 2009

Internet Addiction

I honestly don't know anyone that hasn't suffered this at some point or another, at least not anymore. Well okay, perhaps one or two anti-computer types, but really, they are pretty few and far between these days. Now granted, there is a difference between spending an entire afternoon on Wikipedia learning about the Peloponnesian War and a 14 hour marathon filling out MySpace surveys (though arguably both are just as fun and equally spiritually gratifying, depending on the survey in question of course). As I sat upon my throne (aka couch) just now, drunk with beer and chili (it is a hot Sunday afternoon afterall), I finally realized what causes people to swim amongst the e-connection for hour after hour: imagine going to an everlasting party where you never have to dress up, can leave at any time, and yet return at any given moment whenever one feels like it, with everyone waiting for their re-arrival. It is an interesting social experiment to say the least, as personal and revealing as one cares to be, which ranges from extreme Heart On Sleeve syndrome to everyone's favourite unknown lurker/stalker.

Case in point, I recently joined Facebook (which I shall refer to as Facebutt from here on out, much like MySpork before it). After only a week, I have reconnected with a variety of folk, several of which I quite literally have not spoken to in 15 years. However, it is not like I ran into them at a bar, party, or sporting event, only to have 3 minutes of fun conversation quickly followed by awkward silence, tapering off to half a handshake as one or the other meanders off to "the bathroom" never desiring to see the other again, but rather when one is tired of their former, present, and perhaps future peervisit of the day, they click on Logout until whenever they get bored enough to do it all over yet again later that month, week, day, hour, or century. It is almost like all of the personal benefits are in place, with none of its related detractors that exist In Real Life (I'm borrowing acronyms from lolspeak now, great). Who cares if you show up to class naked in a dream, because it is little more than that when it all comes down to it. Thanks to today's technology, you can be taking a dump on an airplane whilst sharing jokes on your ButtBerry with people 35,000 feet lower than yourself.

Being a person who hates people when wants, yet loves them all when necessary for self- and other- confirmation, it makes complete sense why I love the internet so much. Honestly, if I had to interact with the same 50 people per day, every fucking day, I would go completely postal and start killing everyone who got within sniping distance. Thankfully, this newfangled intarweb contraption allows me social interaction beyond my wildest dreams yet my inner hermit can turn such things off whenever the god damn I feel like it. Who needs to move to a deserted island when I can just close the laptop lid?

Cliffsnotes: The funniest part is that I'm a lot more personal and intimate over the web than I am in reality, and by funniest I mean pathetic.
Sunday, April 19th, 2009

Inadvertently Vegan Chili

I've never been some sort of chili expert or even casual connouiseur. In fact the only reason I ever thought about making my own chili is because some crazy lady in one of those autocart things at Stater Bros about 15 years ago kept wheelin' about bitching how she needed "BEER FOR CHILI" over and over again, and apparently I thought that was a strange enough memory to grasp hold of for the rest of my life for reasons unknown. Anyhow, we were halfway through devouring our first delightful batch many months ago when I realized that, without any sort of planning, our recipe was in fact vegan, and as such could also be enjoyed by a few people we know of that persuasion. Well, except the fact that we smother the whole damn thing with cheese at the end, but that is our own special little option so doesn't count toward the actual recipe. Now, I'm not a great chef by any stretch of the imagination, but I can get by and feed myself and others just fine, but two things that I excel at creating are fried rice and this here chili. Both are kickass if I don't say so myself, and as you can plainly see, I just did. The Secret Formula involve a meat-like tofu-esque tube-steak, and a bottle of one particular type of ale hailing from up the coast in Paso Robles, CA. Other than that, standard type chili ingredients are on tap here, onions, spices, beans, etc. Many moons and several batches later, I have come up with a few improvements from the initial blend, some of which are deemed Too Spicy (an oxymoron, no?) for my co-creator and fellow chili-enjoyer, seen here in Death Valley a few days ago, possibly thinking about chili at the time:



So now we split the recipe into two camps each time, namely spoken of as Regular and Ultra, which forges an easy compromise that allows her to enjoy this creation while preventing the self-emasculation so common in today's girlyman society. The main differences are hereby observed:







She gets regular Spike, I get Hot & Spicy. Instead of paprika, mine has cayenne pepper. On top of all that, I coat my squadron in white pepper and toss as many jalapeños that I can stuff in there. Definite improvement on the Kick Yo Arse heat factor for mine, which just makes it that much more enjoyable without getting too stupid. The next round will be this evening, and if I can find them at the store in just a little bit, I'm going to add habaneros to the recipe. Well okay, maybe just one, but last time I definitely noticed that while the heat factor was good, using too many jalapeños can overpower the flavour without actually increasing the scalding capabilities beyond a certain threshold, so I could use the warmth and flavour combination that only a habanero can bring. Commonly thought of as being Insanely Hot, I've always appreciated The Big H pepper more for its extraodinary flavour, but I'm not going to take a bite out of a raw one anytime soon, except perhaps on a double dog dare. Depending on the results of that, I may at one point move up to the mystical Zimbabwe Bird pepper (one small bush grows right outside my Grammaw's apartment), but I have only tried one of those one time, and it was not a pleasant experience, so I would have to proceed with much caution. Fun fact: in order to harvest those little devils, gloves are recommended. Certain varities of the Capsicum frutescens ascend well over 1,000,000 on the Scoville scale, so NO REALLY, they are pretty insane. Probably won't do that one today, but perhaps some day when the world is coming to an end and I have nothing to lose anyhow, why the fuck not?

Cliffsnotes: Oh it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire...
Wednesday, April 1st, 2009

Paranoia v. Acceptance

So I'm going through an higher-than-usual dosage of my Morning Subversive Webbings today, and I just realized that a definite shift in my level of paranoia has long since breached. Not that I've ever trusted the government or the mainstream media, but it wasn't until a handful of years ago that I realized that 99% of what they say is complete and utter bullshit, and started relying on outside sources to, at the very least, get the other side of the equation and perhaps draw my own conclusions, learn something new in the process, or engage myself upon any other number of Temporary Knowledge Finalities that I could. What the fuck was I babbling about? Ah yes, The Shift.

The Shift starts, your spine stiffens
You break out in a cold, cold sweat
Then the muscular convulsions tear at your brain
Leaving you snarling and snapping at air

Your thoughts are of tearing asunder
All that exists in a man's world
Control does not exist
You're in The Shift and Hell has begun




So, when I initially dove headfirst into The Real Cheese of underground media, I was paranoid and would regularly lose sleep thinking about What Really Is Going On in the world. I was especially susceptive to such delusions late at night, and The Woman would quickly sense a change in my level of Overall Worldly Comfort and implore me to "stop reading for tonight!" It was good for my health when that would happen, although it wouldn't take long for me to resume said paranoias a week or two later. Funny that it all came crashing down in the form of my layoff 8 months ago, and by "it all" I mean my paranoia. After the 3-day round of thinking nothing but OH GOAT WE'RE FUCKED, I quickly got over the fear that things were going to get worse from here on out because I was forced toward a bottom of sorts, unexpectedly, and my priorities changed.

Since that stupid day, I engage myself into even more subversive material than ever, but now I never lose sleep over it, because I'm too busy ROFLMAO'ing at the economic shambles the world is quickly falling into, bringing truth to many scenarios that up until a year ago the very possibilties of which were labeled impossible at best, merely delusional conspiracy theories from the Whacky Left that should rightly be ignored, except of course to be made fun of in a 30 second smarmy blurb on Faux News. Shows what you know, fuckers. So, these days I sit back and cackle. A lot. It is absolutely hilarious that all the crap I was nervous about is now becoming fact, and I suppose since I already received a major sting from this whole mess, I have gone insane find solace through the great humour of it all. Observe:



Cliffsnotes: Obviously YooToob is hardly independent media, but hey, it embeds all nice and respectable like into HTML format.
Saturday, March 28th, 2009

Why rant when I can agree quite heartily?

I just finished an incredible article about AIG and other douchemobiles ripping apart the plebeian world's immediate future because we're all too stuck on stupid to pay any god damn bit of attention, let alone the required amount that would have us out in the streets screaming at the sky due to the outright robbery of it all, myself included of course. Choice paragraphs include, but are not limited to, the following:
That roll of the eyes is a key part of the psychology of Paulsonism. The state is now being asked not just to call off its regulators or give tax breaks or funnel a few contracts to connected companies; it is intervening directly in the economy, for the sole purpose of preserving the influence of the megafirms. In essence, Paulson used the bailout to transform the government into a giant bureaucracy of entitled assholedom, one that would socialize "toxic" risks but keep both the profits and the management of the bailed-out firms in private hands. Moreover, this whole process would be done in secret, away from the prying eyes of NASCAR dads, broke-ass liberals who read translations of French novels, subprime mortgage holders and other such financial losers.

...

As complex as all the finances are, the politics aren't hard to follow. By creating an urgent crisis that can only be solved by those fluent in a language too complex for ordinary people to understand, the Wall Street crowd has turned the vast majority of Americans into non-participants in their own political future. There is a reason it used to be a crime in the Confederate states to teach a slave to read: Literacy is power. In the age of the CDS and CDO, most of us are financial illiterates. By making an already too-complex economy even more complex, Wall Street has used the crisis to effect a historic, revolutionary change in our political system — transforming a democracy into a two-tiered state, one with plugged-in financial bureaucrats above and clueless customers below.

--Rolling Stone - The Big Takeover
The article is lengthy, but it is a very worthwhile venture that should be required reading for anyone who has ever paid so much as sales tax on chewing gum, regardless of state or country of origin. Considering the source, I'm not sure I actually lost respect for what Rolling Stone had to offer with regards to collective opinion(s) on music, it is rather the case that popular type stuff really holds little to no interest for me any longer, and hasn't since the second Limp Bizkit album vomited itself onto the huddled masses back in 1999. Oh sure there are a handful groups out there with mass followings that I have vast respect for, in one case especially since the Li'l Miss Cyrus snub, but if I wanted to read about the Greatest Five Guitarists Ever (again) I'd probably find myself skimming through some King Crimson boxset liner notes whilst listening to Axis: Bold as Love. Anyhow, this work in question goes to show that, once again, regardless of my opinion about their opinion when it comes to music opinion(s), my lack of interest in that probable main focus does not transfer into their general political realm. Similar to how Playboy exhibits an abundance of awfully shitty writing, over-Photoshopped fake tits, and boorish pop culture tidbits, the political side remains strong to this day. So I say sally forth, Gatherers Not of Moss, at least with regard to your flag and banner boast-waving.

In happier news, the custom bass I ordered closing in on a year ago, and mercifully paid off almost entirely before getting laid off, is nearing completion. Should be done in a few weeks, and while this photo shows the wrong neck:



It does give a good idea of what it will look like. Well, imagine this, just with 4 more frets for a total of 28 because hey, I hate the width of 5-strings but love having access to crazy/higher/treble/geeeeeeetar chords, and of course black hardware along with the obligatory set o' strings, all coming together in this lovely colour of blue with hints of green:



Should be done in a week or two, hooray! Maybe I'll have a job by then HAHAHAHAHAHA sorry, I had to end on a joke. We're still all completely fucked, the entire world over, some of us just a bit closer/worse than others.

Cliffsnotes: Significant Other still shamefully resides upon my shelves, simply because years ago my half.com Fer Sale price of $0.99 apparently just never took before closing my account, hyperbole notwithstanding.
Monday, March 23rd, 2009 

Please, somebody STIMULATE LENDING, I need my excessive lifestyle loan-driven BONER MEDICATION!

Why is it that nobody is going on television and telling the truth by stating that the past several decades of US capitalism are a failure? If I was Obama, which I'm not, I would get out there and say something like this:
As a nation, and perhaps even as a world body, we have bitten off more than we can chew. The current economic crisis is not a temporary road bump on our way back to endless prosperity, but rather a paradigm shift in which we are given the opportunity to get back to a normal way of living. No, we will no longer be driving brand new cars every 6 months. No, we will no longer work modestly but live in miniature palaces. No, we will no longer own today and pay tomorrow. These days are over. It is now time to remember the important things in life: reading a decade old book from the library, taking our children to little league practice with half the team wearing their older brother's hand-me-down cleats, and tending a garden instead of microwaving a frozen bag of peas for dinner once again. We're all in this together, and we're all suffering the hangover of a bad lifestyle, one whose time has long since come. Allow this all to unfold naturally, and it may sting for a little while longer, but in the end we shall grow into better populace.
Afterwards I'd push the Big Red Button in my pocket and half the bank buildings of the world would collapse similar to the end of Fight Club, but like I said, I'm not Obama.

Cliffsnotes: This is why I'm not president. I'd make too much sense, and be killed accordingly.
Thursday, March 19th, 2009

I found this thing buried in a ditch.

Well maybe not a ditch, but in some random folder on my 'puter while looking for something else. It is an unpublished Booger from 8/4/2008 that got lost somewhere along the way, but I read it just now and did an inner-chuckle, so here it comes:
I have no desire to write today, so I'm going to try it anyway.

This is not a journey into sound, but rather a free formed, lack of inspiration, run of the fingers on keys. What will happen, noone knows, feed the hungry QOTSA. I hope I spellt that korrekly but hey, welcome to George Bush's America, where logic is for chumps and fallacy reigns supreme. Damn I just hiccuped madstyle, not in any physical manner, but rather the pause between this sentence and the last was not so much long as it was wholly empty, as if everything had left my mind and this experiment in senseless rambling was dead. But what is to be dead anyhow? My Grandfather is dead, has been for I do believe around 13 years now, so why in ungodly fuck would I bring it up? Well, I happened to drive by his last place of life (other than the hospital bed) for the first time today since . . . well, since I've ever driven a car actually. Completely by chance really, I was taking a shortcut on my shortcut from my Parent's House to my Fucking Job, but only because I noticed on a map some days back that yes, that little path back there might in fact carve 18 seconds off the total 20 minute journey (it did). So yes, I drove by the convalescence home. I was too young at the time FUCK someone just walked in for a business thing but now they are gone. Here I will give you my half of the conversation because it will be more interesting that way:

"blah blah blah"
"I don't remember that."
"blah blah blah"
"Oh yeah, that was stupid."
"blah blah blah"
"Okay, will do"
"blah blah blah"
"Fuck them."

So now my train of the thought is off what I was discussing and honestly, it would have been interesting, but alas! We move on, move on toward warter but without that pesky R that slipped in when nobody was looking (actually I was looking but SSSHHH!!! don't tell anyone). Plants are nice. Plants require water. Fuck you. Yes I'm talking to myself. That just revealed how substantially sized pile of POOP this particular stream of consciousness truly is. Plants are nice?! What the fuck kind of simple mind thinks that?! Well I'll tell you: the one that believes that world peace, or at least say, World Partial Armistice could be achieved with one simple addition to the lives of many, if not most: MORE PLANTS. Do yourself a favour next time you get a chance to be around a substantial quantity of leafy greens, whether it be in a park, your own yard, the neighbour's house where you snoop on their underage daughter, or wherever you are able. Stop, look up, stretch your arms out, and take the biggest breath you can. Repeat a few times, and if there is a breeze then see if it can give you a boner because baby, that is a magical feeling right there (the intake of fresh oxygen, not the boner, although of course having a gravity-defying erection can also seem magical on most occasions as well). After several diaphragm movements, quit your job and chase a cat. You'll feel a lot fucking better about life and so will I now that I've gotten you to engage yourself into two of the most fulfilling activities a modern human can engage theyself upon.
I think the funniest part is that 4 days later I got laid off, but now that it has been almost 8 months since that stupid day, I have still yet to chase a cat. I hope to find one very soon.

Cliffsnotes: At least we have a few more plants 'round the joint these days.
Thursday, March 19th, 2009

Who needs the Lottery?

I think I've found the best way to win millions of dollars for not doing anything: stop paying taxes, stop paying all your bills, then completely fail in your entire life existence, and the government will give you lots of money. For free!
At least 13 firms receiving billions of dollars in bailout money owe a total of more than $220 million in unpaid federal taxes, a key lawmaker said Thursday.

Rep. John Lewis, chairman of a House subcommittee overseeing the federal bailout, said two firms owe more than $100 million apiece.

"This is shameful. It is a disgrace," said Lewis, D-Ga. "We are going to get to the bottom of what is going on here."

The House Ways and Means subcommittee on oversight discovered the unpaid taxes in a review of tax records from 23 of the firms receiving the most money, Lewis said as he opened a hearing on the issue.

The committee said it could not legally release the names of those companies owing taxes. It said one recipient had almost $113 million in unpaid federal income taxes from 2005 and 2006. A second recipient owed almost $102 million dating to before 2004. Another was behind $1.1 million in federal income taxes and $223,000 in federal employment taxes.

"If we looked at all 470 recipients, how much would they owe?" Lewis asked.

--http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090319/ap_on_go_co/bailout_delinquent_taxes
I say let them keep their bonuses, but pubicly list their names and addresses. Screw taxes, I just want all of these individuals to go on television and make that humping/clicking motion just like KGB:



Then when people have gone from stressed to starving over the next year or two, and if these idiot fucks haven't fled the country to go live on some private island by then, I want to see what happens when the people come to collect these missing back taxes, and by back taxes I mean raw skin. Hopefully it will resemble something between the following two exhibits:





Not that any of this behaviour is anything new compared to years gone by, the only difference is that regular people are hurting right now, and will likely continue to decline as time runs on. Up until a few years ago this type of robbery would wholly be ignored because people were still driving around in their H2 Jumbobutt Editions and could easily look the other way from such financial atrocities because their own Good Life was satisfying enough to warrant paying little to no attention outside very casual interest, and only then just enough to impress a coworker or three but only to compensate for the fact that their car wasn't expensive enough to already be at the very top of the Dicking Order. But now attitudes are being forced, and those not directly effected by this economic disaster have but to wait just a short while longer. Only the first few rows have been hit, give it time and everyone will soon realize that we're all fucked. Speaking of distractions, check out them BOOBIES!!!



Cliffsnotes: What a pleasant ending! What was he talking about again?
Wednesday, March 18th, 2009

Where does it go?

I speak of my need and want to write. Oh sure, I've written three lengthy blogs over at that other land and plenty of little reviews of various pedals upon yonder music forum this year, but I really have found my output slowing down far too much lately. Why? Well, like any other time I'm in a lull, it is because I am spending far too much time browsing about random internet forums. It is not an effect of writer's block, but rather the cause. This is the sole absolute correlation between how often I write, and how often I stare blankly at nothing with my thoughts concerned about slightly less. Internet forums are a bane to my written bouts of creativity, what few I even have. I have spent hours upon countless on them over the past 14+ years, since discovering the old Roadrunner music forums in the mid-1990s, back on dialup. Of course that likely shows how god damn old I'm getting, and to prove it even more I will say that I still consider myself the newbie to such things because I only started such surfing upon the recent advent of the WWW, as opposed to randomly whiling the hours away on old BBS lands in days before, such as a few friends of mine were doing way back when. Anyhow, not to insult my brothers in awesome over at Ye Olde UM, because I have far too many amazing memories of that land in days gone by, but clearly, this is the reason I stopped regularly visiting the realm in question just a few short years ago. Which brings me to the point of this rambling mess:

Provided I'm not utterly destroyed in some horrible accident before it comes to pass, I turn 30 next week, and for some strange catholicesque reason (I'm oddly religious for a 27+ year veteran of atheist unbelief), feel the need to give something up, on at least a mostly-permanent basis, with room for only very casual relapse. I thought about removing drinking from my existence, because even while I have cut my intake down tremendously over the past 2 years, and therefore have done a relatively decent job at maintaining my currently healthy bodily function for somewhat lengthy bouts of life as of late, sometimes I think quitting it entirely would be best to put the real nail into that coffin instead of my own just yet. Other days I read Bukowski and realize that no, at least occasional journeys into boozeringliness is good for the soul, and hangovers are nothing if not a forced experiment in deep, spiritual reflection. Painful, deep, spiritual, filth-ridden reflection. So, after spending 45 minutes earlier tonight discussing the merits of top-mount versus side-mount jacks on stompboxes as related to pedalboard cohesion, combined with the fact that this is my first Booger in well over two months because I've spent too many recent hours engaging myself into meaningless exercises such as that, I'm quitting forums. For now. Like I said, the occasional slip is nothing to beat myself over, but I will attempt to make them very few and far between. Of course, if this experiment fails and I don't end up writing jack shit anyhow, I'll just go back to whatever e-land I want and prattle on endlessly about the best black metal album released prior to 1995, what delay pedal works best for self-oscillation, or which Salman Rushdie book one should read first before all others, and accept the fact that I am but a talentless fucking hack, with absolutely nothing interesting to offer in terms of the written word. We'll see how this goes.

Speaking of nothing related to the above drivel, I had the greatest corned beef in all the WORLD tonight, courtesy me pa, and like a good designated driver for The Noush I didn't even have a drop of the Anderson Valley ESB proffered toward my person, even though that stuff is the fucking NECTAR. Got to watch me ma get drunk though, which was a wondeful thing because she's never really been much for the booze. Happy fookin' BLEARGH day.

Cliffsnotes: To answer the pointless debates up for e-grab, I'd subjectively say Bergtatt by Ulver, highly recommend the Malekko 600 Dark, and without question state The Satanic Verses even if I found Fury to be his best work.
Thursday, January 8th, 2009

No really, fuck Dick Cheney.

Welcome to Ye Olde Cut n' Paste Blog! This is where I clip together a handful of things I find scattered about the ol' intarwebs and allow any passersby to do the math in connecting them.
In an interview with The Associated Press, Cheney also said that Bush has no need to apologize for not foreseeing the economic crisis.

"I don't think he needs to apologize. I think what he needed to do is take bold, aggressive action and he has," Cheney said.

"I don't think anybody saw it coming," he said.

"I don't think anybody saw it coming," he said.

"I don't think anybody saw it coming," he said.

"I don't think anybody saw it coming," he said.

--AP article via Yahoo
Absolutely. Certainly not this dude:
Predatory Lenders' Partner in Crime
How the Bush Administration Stopped the States From Stepping In to Help Consumers

By Eliot Spitzer
Thursday, February 14, 2008; Page A25

Several years ago, state attorneys general and others involved in consumer protection began to notice a marked increase in a range of predatory lending practices by mortgage lenders. Some were misrepresenting the terms of loans, making loans without regard to consumers' ability to repay, making loans with deceptive "teaser" rates that later ballooned astronomically, packing loans with undisclosed charges and fees, or even paying illegal kickbacks. These and other practices, we noticed, were having a devastating effect on home buyers. In addition, the widespread nature of these practices, if left unchecked, threatened our financial markets.

Even though predatory lending was becoming a national problem, the Bush administration looked the other way and did nothing to protect American homeowners. In fact, the government chose instead to align itself with the banks that were victimizing consumers.

Predatory lending was widely understood to present a looming national crisis. This threat was so clear that as New York attorney general, I joined with colleagues in the other 49 states in attempting to fill the void left by the federal government. Individually, and together, state attorneys general of both parties brought litigation or entered into settlements with many subprime lenders that were engaged in predatory lending practices. Several state legislatures, including New York's, enacted laws aimed at curbing such practices.

What did the Bush administration do in response? Did it reverse course and decide to take action to halt this burgeoning scourge? As Americans are now painfully aware, with hundreds of thousands of homeowners facing foreclosure and our markets reeling, the answer is a resounding no.

Not only did the Bush administration do nothing to protect consumers, it embarked on an aggressive and unprecedented campaign to prevent states from protecting their residents from the very problems to which the federal government was turning a blind eye.

Let me explain: The administration accomplished this feat through an obscure federal agency called the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency (OCC). The OCC has been in existence since the Civil War. Its mission is to ensure the fiscal soundness of national banks. For 140 years, the OCC examined the books of national banks to make sure they were balanced, an important but uncontroversial function. But a few years ago, for the first time in its history, the OCC was used as a tool against consumers.

In 2003, during the height of the predatory lending crisis, the OCC invoked a clause from the 1863 National Bank Act to issue formal opinions preempting all state predatory lending laws, thereby rendering them inoperative. The OCC also promulgated new rules that prevented states from enforcing any of their own consumer protection laws against national banks. The federal government's actions were so egregious and so unprecedented that all 50 state attorneys general, and all 50 state banking superintendents, actively fought the new rules.

But the unanimous opposition of the 50 states did not deter, or even slow, the Bush administration in its goal of protecting the banks. In fact, when my office opened an investigation of possible discrimination in mortgage lending by a number of banks, the OCC filed a federal lawsuit to stop the investigation.

Throughout our battles with the OCC and the banks, the mantra of the banks and their defenders was that efforts to curb predatory lending would deny access to credit to the very consumers the states were trying to protect. But the curbs we sought on predatory and unfair lending would have in no way jeopardized access to the legitimate credit market for appropriately priced loans. Instead, they would have stopped the scourge of predatory lending practices that have resulted in countless thousands of consumers losing their homes and put our economy in a precarious position.

When history tells the story of the subprime lending crisis and recounts its devastating effects on the lives of so many innocent homeowners, the Bush administration will not be judged favorably. The tale is still unfolding, but when the dust settles, it will be judged as a willing accomplice to the lenders who went to any lengths in their quest for profits. So willing, in fact, that it used the power of the federal government in an unprecedented assault on state legislatures, as well as on state attorneys general and anyone else on the side of consumers.

--Washington Post
OIC. Please note the date, as this article was posted a few short weeks before that hooker thing was brought to light. In closing, here are some unrelated lyrics to an amazing song by Bob Dylan:
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

--Bob Dylan
Cliffsnotes: Count the days, count the hours, count the minutes, count the seconds.
Wednesday, January 7th, 2009

Reason #1 why I'll never be able to pay the bills as a musician.

So I'm looking through Craig's List ads again, because while I remain very happy with my two current bands, I'm still out of work, and one of my very few skillz in life involve rocking the fuck out on bass (or at least pretending to), so why not attempt to sell out, if anything just for a larf? Not more than 5 minutes in do I stumble upon this little gem of magnificence and splendour:
Unique Rock/Metal band with production deal seeks bassist (Hollywood)

Reply to: XXXXXXXX@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-01-04, 8:30AM PST

Hey, we're a new band that formed and has been writing and rehearsing. We have 8 of the 12 songs for our album complete. We're going into the studio in a few weeks to record our first radio single. We've got photoshoots coming up and the investors told us to ditch our current bassist. If you like Metallica, Motley Crue, Bon Jovi, Led Zeppelin, Greenday, Queen, Black Sabbath - you'll probably like our sound. Please send an email with your age, a listing of your gear, a photograph or myspace and a telephone number. Be ready to rehearse almost every night of the week.
The Investors are making your band decisions. The soulless fucks who are currently ruining the very fabric of many daily economic lives because their almighty dollar runs the overlarge conglomerates that used to be your grandfathers' corner stores are now making your artistic decisions as well. How could I possibly be motivated to play my best if, rather than becoming lost in the moment of the act of creating music, I'm worried about whether or not The Investors deem my image cool enough for upcoming photoshoots. Reminds me of this kind of bullshit:
"I am a most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country. A great industrial nation is controlled by its system of credit. Our system of credit is concentrated. The growth of the nation, therefore, and all our activities are in the hands of a few men. We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely controlled and dominated Governments in the civilized world no longer a Government by free opinion, no longer a Government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a Government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men."

-Woodrow Wilson, after signing the Federal Reserve into existence
Oh sure, I know this is nothing new. Corporations have been running music for decades, and even then sometimes great material comes from it (think: Motown). But still. This type of disgust makes me want to regurgitate into a used diaper, just so I can view something slightly less revolting in order to jettison the very notion of it from out my mind. Then again, I mean let's be honest here, I doubt anybody would actually want to pay money for the garbage I create anyhow, including this new track I unleashed earlier today:

Inclination XXVII

Cliffsnotes: I'm listening to Coltrane for the first time right now. The later stuff. The weird stuff. I like it.
Friday, December 26th, 2008

I just sent out my 90th resume since getting laid off.



Applications: 90
Interviews: 2
Job offers: 0

You'd think I'd be depressed, or at the very least discouraged, but I'm not. Oh don't worry, I'm not going to pretend "oh things will work themselves out eventually," because I don't think that. To be completely honest, I don't give a shit. Selective nihilism is a gift for times such as these. I'll keep applying to job postings and continue to not be shocked by the complete lack of future correspondence (read: LOL) almost every single time. It's not like I'm grasping at straws here, likely somewhere around half of the jobs I apply for quite literally describe my resume and experience in explicit detail for their list of qualifications, and I don't even get so much as a confirmation e-mail. So after nearly 5 months of being a part of such a jobline it is pretty obvious that there are an increasing number of people applying for a decreasing number of openings, and the whole mess for jobseekers is growing at an exponential rate. I've become apathetic toward this aspect of reality, but what really makes me giggle in a hostile, uncaring, you-idiot-manchildren sort of way are those that think things are going to somehow get better in the short term. As if it isn't painfully obvious by now, here's my prediction for a 2009 recovery:

FAT CHANCE.

Why or why not? Let's face it, things aren't even bad yet. Oh sure, you take a brief survey of your circle of friends and it is readily apparent that a lot of people are out of work, but the majority are still going about their daily lives as per usual. Perhaps some are reconsidering a few large financial decisions, but most still go through with the usual plans anyhow, assuming things aren't all that bad really, because their paychecks continue to show up every week and the gaping mouthsores on CNBC are still talking about great investment opportunities. Just wait until someone you know ends up starving and/or homeless in the coming months, unless of course you beat them to it.

Things that make me giggle slightly less, and possibly not at all, are those that think The Black Jesus will make any sort of difference. The question is twofold: for starters, can he do anything, and secondly, does he even want to bother. I voted for the fucker because he did convince me that, as a populist candidate, he does in fact give somewhere around half a shit about Us Everyday Morons, but the power to fully stop this train from derailing likely does not exist. The deficit he assumes office with has increased by $1,886,790,563,118.76 since originally announcing his presidency on February 10th, 2007 until Christmas Eve of this year, and it grows larger by the second. To put that in perspective, the first time the national debt crossed the $1.8 trillion mark was in the early 1980s, and it took NEARLY 200 YEARS to get there (the first record of US national debt is dated January 1st, 1791 in the amount of $75 million). Obviously I'm using simple math because I'm not smart enough to dive into economic trends, but this seems a bit daunting to say the least.

Even so, I'm not a hopeless naysayer. I honestly think a few steps can be taken to alleviate this mess and allow humanity to emerge better, or at the very least mostly still alive. If a massive green campaign to eliminate the world's dependence on fossil fuels was embarked upon, tomorrow, with absolute passion and fury, a difference could be made. Removing one of the most volatile aspects of daily life while creating a bastion of new jobs sounds like A Good Thing of Martha Stewart proportions. The transition would not be easy, but it could be a gradual descent with the proper timing to allow the avoidance of the horror of it all, scooping us up slowly before things get too awful. Public sentiment is shifting in the right direction, even those that disagree that oil is running out soon at least have to consider the reality of that chance.

Just in case anyone out there thinks I'm being a Negative Nelly in Sector 2, this photograph should prove just how wonderful my Christmas was this year:



Cliffsnotes: I had something clever here earlier, but it floated down the river.
Thursday, December 11th, 2008

US households cut back on debt for the first time on record. OH NOES!!!
WASHINGTON – U.S. households, hit by declining home values and stock market losses, have cut back on their debt levels for the first time on record as loans remain scarce amid what appears to be a deepening recession.

The Federal Reserve on Thursday released it latest quarterly look at consumer and business finances showing that households reduced their debt levels by 0.8 percent at an annual rate in the July-September period, the first drop on records that go back more than 50 years.

The decline in household debt levels is evidence of the severe credit squeeze that is occurring as banks, saddled by billions of dollars of losses in mortgage debt, have tightened lending standards and made it harder for people to get loans.

--AP article via Yahoo
One question, and I really shouldn't even have to ask it, so perhaps I need to yell, and since yelling is a lot of fun, here it comes:

WHY IS THIS A BAD THING?!?!?!

So people are actually trying to avoid living beyond their means in this stupid country for the first time in over 50 years? UH-OH! Must be that CREDIT FREEZE killing things once again, it couldn't be that people are actually waking up to realize what a line of bullshit they've been fed for almost 3 decades now. I also read that credit card usage went down recently, another HARBINGER OF DOOM according to The Mainstream "Gotcha" Media, but for that, hang on a second, let me intake a bit more breath than really necessary, here we go yet again:

WHY IS THIS A BAD THING?!?!?!

Look, I know you can read all the bullshit you want about Good Debt v. Bad Debt, but really, it is all bad. Debt, huh. What is good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again! What would you prefer, monthly payments for 8 years, or to pay in cash? We don't pay up front because most of us are unable to afford that Shiny New Thing we want to show the neighbours just how far up we've climbed them rungs of pseudo-success, but then even if we could, no wait! Don't pay $15,000 cash for a Corolla, put that for a downpayment on that BMW you've always assumed you wanted/needed because someone planted the seed somewhere along the line that you and yours somehow deserve it.

There are some permanent changes occuring right now that people assume are only temporary due to the whole economic storm, turmoil, or whatever shit adjective you care to use. That is not the case. We are witnessing the end of an era right now. Some people think things are on the verge of getting better, but this is only the beginning of this lengthy descent. A few questions:

-Is it really a good thing to have an economy dominated by pushing used toilet paper around and calling it digital gold, while exporting any honest work to every other country willing to torture its workforce for pennies per day? Like many of my peers, I haven't worked in months. I'd slave away in a factory if only I could find an opening.

-Is it really a good thing that failed business models such as GM, Ferd, and Chrysler that couldn't turn a profit during boom days are allowed to continue sucking off taxpayer money just so they can keep producing overlarge vehicles for our overlarge asses? Pre-emptive strike: "oohh, but they only make what customers DEMAND!" Bullshit. If that were true, advertising would not exist. Americans buy what they are told, not what they need.

-Is it really a good thing that you work 50 miles away from your home allowing you to piss away what little free time you have left sitting in traffic ruining your day, your waist, your family, and your environment all at once? No time to cook, let's go to Fresh n' Easy!

-Is it really a good thing that when something breaks and/or ceases proper function, rather than having it repaired you throw it away and get a brand new replacement, oftentimes before you've even finished paying off that first loan to begin with? That certain sucking sound of empty oil fields will make good landfills I suppose.

-Is it really a good thing that you spend more time around your coworkers than your loved ones, just so you can service all the debt you've accumulated over the years? We memorize our credit card numbers and forget our parents' birthdays.

This does not mean we are doomed, and we don't have go back to pickin' corn out of poop just for sustenance, but we are not going to be buying brand new cars every 2 years, we will not be living in gigantic mansions in the middle of nowhere, and there will be no more passing off every social, economic, and environmental bill to a future generation. Oh sure, there will always be a certain chunk of society that will always do this, but most of us are not rich. Turns out, we never were.

Cliffsnotes: I hope the '10s usher in a simpler, better way of life. Maybe I'm just turning into an old fart.
Wednesday, December 3rd, 2008

Mix Tape Madness

So yeah, I went a little loopy lately and made a bunch of mix albums, and also regifted a handful of old ones to new listeners. Since I generally keep backup files and/or lists of many mixes I've made over the last 20 years, it is quite easy for redistribution purposes, and yes, I am that anal retentive concerning such things. I know some people just randomly toss songs onto a disc/tape/file/wall and hand them out post haste, but I actually try to make a real album of these, because I have always felt that song order is the second most important aspect of an album, very closely behind the actual quality of the music itself. I spend hours, days, and sometimes weeks compiling the proper songs, in a process that usually repeats itself rather similarly. Generally speaking, the first and last tracks are chosen from the outset, then an assembly of 50 to 100 other songs are culled from various artists, albums, and genres. Once that is all strewn about (often fueled by the liquid encouragement that is booze and/or caffeine), I start picking and choosing those that go well together in a focused variety sort of way. Once the list is narrowed down to 15 to 20 songs, how the songs flow into one another is inspected, and the grand order of all things is determined. Usually I like the immediately enjoyable songs first, then a slower/mellow middle section, followed by anything wild toward the end, closing with anything that gives the feel of finality (think: Would? by Alice in Chains). See, I told you I was anal retentive. Anyhow, here is a partial list of some good ones, if anyone wants a copy of any of these, let me know and I can send mp3s or a physical CD-R delivered to your mailbox! This may be the only xmas present anyone will get from my broke arse this year, so take advantage of it god dammit.

Slayer mix for someone who never paid them much attention:
Angel of Death
Dittohead
Spirit in Black
South of Heaven
Dead Skin Mask
Divine Intervention
Mandatory Suicide
Chemical Warfare
Postmortem
Raining Blood

King Crimson mix for a new fan that only knew an album or two:
Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part 1
Fallen Angel
Elektrik
Thela Hun Ginjeet
Red
Book of Saturday
The Night Watch
Easy Money
Cirkus
FraKctured
Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part 2

Odd music for someone I knew would appreciate it:
Blotch by Ufomammut
Dead Cities by The Future Sound of London
Odal by Agalloch
You Know Nothing by Swans
Sloop John B by The Beach Boys
Weight by ISIS
God Bless Our Dead Marines by Silver Mt. Zion
Darling Didn't We Kill You? by Ulver
Gyroscope by Boards of Canada
Blood Swamp by Sunn O))) & Boris

John Garcia compilation that multiple people have received over the years:
Gardenia by Kyuss
Life by Hermano
Thong Song by Kyuss
Muezli by Slo Burn
Human Tornado by Unida
If Only Two by Unida
Wet Pussycat by Unida
Black Woman by Unida
Demon Cleaner by Kyuss
The Bottle by Hermano
Freedom Run by Kyuss
Cowboys Suck by Hermano
Angry American by Hermano
Cain by Unida
Slaylina by Unida
Whitewater by Kyuss

Halloween mix from not too far back:
The Hands of Small Children by Marilyn Manson
Diary of a Dope Fiend by Marilyn Manson
Bob by Primus
Night Rabbit from the Cat People soundtrack
First Prayer by Deathspell Omega
Halloween by The Misfits
I, The Witchfinder by Electric Wizard
Dirt by Alice in Chains
Power and Sacrifice by Swans
Glare of Autumn by Drudkh
Nattleite by Ulver
Odal by Agalloch
Burnt Flowers Fallen by Type O Negative
Mantra by Tool
Ashes by Danzig

Mix for a friend who still hasn't picked up this CD-R even though I burned it months ago:
First Prayer by Deathspell Omega
Falling Snow by Agalloch
Forlani by Burnt by the Sun
The August Engine Part 2 by Hammers of Misfortune
Havenless by Enslaved
Heaven and Weak by maudlin of the Well
Mind/Body/Light/Sound by Swans
City of Needles by The Legendary Pink Dots
Porn Piece or the Scars of Cold Kisses
13 Angels Standing Guard Round the Side of Your Bed by Silver Mt. Zion
Burn the Remembrance by Katatonia
Addendeum Galactus by The Lord Weird Slough Feg

Swans / Acid Bath / Old Man Gloom mix that I promised to someone nearly a year ago and just recently put together:
In by Swans
Power and Sacrifice by Swans
You Know Nothing by Swans
Jezebel by Acid Bath
Mortician's Flame by Acid Bath
Graveflower by Acid Bath
Blind by Swans
Venus Blue by Acid Bath
The Great Annihilator by Swans
Christmas Eve Parts I, II & III (alternate version) by Old Man Gloom

Cliffsnotes: Well, not tape, CD-R I guess. Either way.
Monday, November 24th, 2008

Subjective reasoning why every political animal should watch The Confederate States of America.

I usually avoid the discussion of racism with my blogs, mostly because on more than one occasion I have developed severe Foot In Mouth disorder on the internet when delving within such things. Oddly enough, in person (you know, IRL) I can't remember a single occasion where such a situation has occured, but either way, I generally keep that end of my idiot opinion quiet with Ze Boogs. Anyhow, in my most inoffensive summarized explanation possible: I find racist humour funny, provided that the source in question laughs hardest at the shortcomings of their own kind. Also, "fuck 'em if they can't take a joke," a wiser woman once said. So it goes.



C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America is a 4 year old mockumentary that I just now got around to watching (and only learned of a few weeks ago, whoops). The concept is a documentary by a British group of a post-1860 world with The South having called the right side of the coin and emerged victorious in the American Civil War. All the standard topics are covered, continual slavery, Manifest Destiny, Abraham Lincoln, Harriet Tubman, blackface, and more, with a few very unique twists that kept me focused on what would happen next, obvious low budget eccentricities notwithstanding. I didn't laugh my ass off as when watching For Your Consideration nor did I scream at the world like I did toward the end of The Corporation, but I quite enjoyed viewing this film as it landed somewhere betwixt those two. Very much worth the short time it requires, especially the few key moments that subtly underscored racial tensions that still very much exist to this day. Likely one of the more important films I've seen over the last [randomly insert lengthy period of time].

Framed by two historians, a black woman (Canadian, naturally) and a white man (American, racist), it unravels much like something from The History Channel and/or Behind The Music, including half-shocking segment closing sentences immediately before each break. Yes, they included some mock commercials that might exist in this alternate history. These faux advertisements were my favourite parts, and if you are the type that gets 10 minutes in thinking "this is a bad SNL skit," I implore you to at least skip to the end and watch the closing few minutes immediately before the credits roll, when it is revealed that several of the best/worst "jokes" from the film are oh so much more. I was nearly moved to tears at this point, and not because I found myself laughing. Think: Grave of the Fireflies. If you don't comprehend that, go watch that horrifically lovely movie immediately and lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.

Cliffsnotes: The south rose again, and we got stuck with NASCAR.
Thursday, November 20th, 2008

Moderate Rock *squeal*

Might as well get to the point of this right away. To anyone who says "music sucks these days," just carve your ears off and be done with it. With the internet there is absolutely no excuse anymore to be completed bombarded by millions of bands in thousands of styles without so much as exiting the front door. Sure, even 20 years ago there was no reason to rely strictly on MTV and radio to feed the beast, but tape trading and wandering about to underground shows did take at least a little effort. Either way, those days are gone. You can and should still engage in them, but if your sole purpose is to find new/good music, now god dammit now, Google is your friend.

Now hey, I'm not trying to say that The Mainstream Sucks, even if the majority of it does, because I still find enjoyment in a handful of popular groups. In fact I think that Ghosts by Nine Inch Nails is some of the best stuff I've heard over the last 15 years, and has a good chance of standing the test of time much like The Downward Spiral. But if that was the only new album I've gotten excited for throughout 2008, that doesn't mean New Music Sucks, rather that I'm not looking hard enough. For those keeping tabs, the best album I've heard this year is 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons by Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band. It requires multiple listens to really understand, initially I shelved it pretty quickly after the first few weeks, but apparently fermenting for several months was the way to reveal its majesty.

While I'm blabbing, I thought of something last night. I know some feel the need to align themselves with a particular genre or even sub-genre, at least when it comes to rock n' roll. We've all met people that only listen to indie rock, black metal, stoner, singer/songwriter, post-hardcore, bands that end in O, et cetera, but I've never been one of that breed. There's nothing necessarily wrong with such focus, but I'd get pretty bored with any of those one-sided music collections quite quickly. Yes, I'm the type that listens to Borknagar while trying to remember where I put that one Coil album. Anyhow. So while I lamented the end of Headbanger's Ball in 1995, and I know the whole metal v. grunge thing was almost like punk v. metal from years before (why does metal always inspire competition?!), the first time I heard Kurt Cobain speak, I heard a Voice For Me. Why? Because he was a dork! Some music nerd more content with finding weird vinyl than looking cool and getting chicks. Oh sure, there were plenty of weirdos like that before and after him, but that was the first time I saw a Rawk Gawd display such characteristics, and it was refreshing. I'm not sure if there was supposed to be a point to this paragraph, but likely not, so it ends. Gone!

The fuel for this diatribe? Chinese Democracy, yet another example of how I almost let myself get excited for a mainstream release only to quickly realize how my assumptions that it will suck turn out to be true. I'm not disappointed really, since I already figured it would blow chunks, but the unfortunate thing is that millions will likely buy this album, just like the last Metallica album, recognize how average (above or below) it is, and listen anyhow, thinking nothing else new is worth their time. If you're just a mindlessly devouring consumer, eh, to hell with ye. But if you yearn for great music, seek and ye shall find.

Oh, I better write a review:

Sounds like something Ministry and/or Toni Braxton would have thrown away in 1992.

Anyhow, I'm finding it quite trying to listen to this album all the way through, and just snagged Songs About Fucking by Big Black off the shelves to clear this memory stain if I even make it to the end, so now I shall depart and wash my hands of this mess.

Cliffsnotes: Music doesn't suck, YOU suck.
Tuesday, November 18th, 2008

Just don’t look! Just don’t look! *doodeeteedoodeedoodeedee*

It's a bad obsession
It's always messin'
It's always messin' my mind
It's a bad obsession
It's always messin'
It's always messin' my mind

Too bad you're fucked up


Yes, Axl always was quite the poet. I'm not even thinking about Chinese Democracy coming out next week, but I'm probably going to buy it anyhow, just because of the teenage wind still blowing behind my ears where all the grey hair resides. But yes, that's not what this is all about see, after a certain discussion tonight I decided I'm tired of the world economy. I've kept track of such things like a rabid wolf itching for new information in the form of falling charts, lunatic YouBoob rants, propaganda videos from the auto companies talking about how the Western World Will Die if they go bankrupt, conspiracy laden websites concerning peak oil, terminator seeds, and peak Terminator season, which are all very well and good, but I've gone off the deep end more than a couple of times since I discovered The Pending End of The World in mid-2007. Three reasons why it really doesn't matter, even though I convince myself that keeping up with this bullshit is truly important:

1) There's nothing I can do about this collapse, it has been in buildup for years and simply must occur. Sow, meet reap.
2) I already lost my job anyhow, so things don't get much worse for me financially speaking. A dying retirement fund doesn't matter much if I'll have to use it to pay the rent next year.
3) Who cares? There are far more important things in life, like debating which Slayer album is the best. Hint: Seasons in the Abyss.

Not that I plan on ignoring The Truth when it comes to this here madness we're all facing, but obsessing over it has got to go. Shit just isn't healthy, it's like watching the Hindenburg from the ground thinking "maybe I should go get the garden hose," and then standing there blithely staring at something behind the midair wreck. I spent hours writing various congresspersons concerning that giant bailout from last month that has utterly failed (I hesitate to place a paltry "so far" after that, but come on, we all know the shit won't work), and that didn't do much of anything besides get me a few automated response about how it is our civic duty to blindly follow every idiot manoeuvre The Gub Mint makes toward solving this crisis. Which reminds me, fuck GM, the company currently begging for handout cash while opening a new plant in Russia to suck up more jobs from America:
Nov. 7 -- General Motors Corp., the world's biggest carmaker, opened a $300 million factory in Russia as it looks to compensate for slumping sales in western Europe and North America.

...

U.S. auto sales may fall next year to the lowest level since 1991. GM, Ford Motor Co. and Chrysler LLC have requested $50 billion in U.S. federal loans to help the companies weather the crisis.

--Bloomberg
See what happens? This type of crap even brings out my latent nationalistic tendencies, which I didn't even realize existed until very recently. I can't help it! I'm addicted, and really need to stop. Some time ago I all but ceased visiting music forums so as to get more writing done, now instead I while away the hours with various economic babbling all over the e-globe. Alas! I must now seek counsel of the forces that started this whole mess:

I see you standin' there
You think you're so cool
Why don't you just
Fuck off!

Ya get nothin' for nothin'
If that's what ya do
Turn around bitch I got a use for you
Besides you ain't got nothin' better to do
And I'm bored


The man has a point.

Cliffsnotes: Even though I was always happy Nirvana assured the '90s would not be filled with post-Elton John / post-glam overproduced claptrap, I always liked Gn'F'nR's, regardless of how incorrect that abbreviation shall always remain.
Tuesday, November 5th, 2008

Cool.

Well I sure was wrong about Obama losing. Good! At the last moment in the voting booth I even decided to vote for the fucker, not because I want to have my way sexually with him, but because this country, and world as a whole, are going through some nasty shit that is surely to get a lot worse before it gets better (at least in the short-term), and this dude just might be the right person to guide the path. He certainly isn't the clearly wrong person that McCain was, and for the next few hours at least, that feeling will carry me to the promised land. Have no fear though, I'll be bitching about his policies soon enough the first time he enacts something my soul is diametrically opposed to, like that fucking wire-tap bill from a few months ago. Jerk. See, I knew that feeling of euphoria wouldn't last long.

Anyhow, just because of his half-blackness, this dude has already made the history books. He could disappear tomorrow and still be known for ages to come just for what that basic fact represents. I'm just hoping that he doesn't squander this opportunity, to close the fucking books on the nightmare that are these nearly completed Bush/Cheney years, and move this land to better days, because anyone not paying enough to realize just how badly the 2000s were for a substantial portion of the world, let alone giant dark pockets of this country, I suggest you take a trip to your local tent city, or the unemployment office, or a school classroom hideously underfunded, or watch a genuine news broadcast about what is really going on in the Middle East right now, and learn the disgusting truth. Joe The Plumber didn't get rich the past 8 years, no matter how much he thought he did, no. Joe The Hedge Fund Manager maybe, but he isn't me, and he isn't 99% of this land no matter how many people think they belong to that private reserve of Mt. Olympus. This land is broken, and it will take much more than one man to fix it, but I think Obama can, at the very least, point us toward the vicinity of the right direction, and a start is better than a continual burrow into the rotting, Rove-tilled ground.

Oh, and I have some parting words for Sarah Go'way Palin:

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!

*inhale*

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!

Cliffsnotes: The Democrats don't have the answer, but at least they ask the right question.
Monday, November 3rd, 2008

Opeth, India Pale Ale, and Election Eve Blues

I can't believe how depressed I am over this pending election. I've never felt this way before, even in 2004 when I truly came into my current, and possibly permanent, political sway, shocked though I was at the main results of that hideous day. Thankfully, I prepared myself completely earlier today with a trip to the local Booze Emporium to load up on solo-festivity bottles of joy for tomorrow's celebration/mourning. I haven't gone on a beer run in ages, my fridge has only had a scant supply at best over the past year, but now it is happy full of Dogfish Head, Young's, Reaper Ale, and Kwak. At the rate I've been going lately this should last me 6 months, but I suppose we'll see just how horrible tomorrow goes. I'm about to finish off the first 90 Minute IPA from the Head of said Dogfish, and might I say this is quite the rare treat. Not often does one find bottles from that brewery out west, and I consider myself lucky today consuming this amazing ale for the first time in nearly 5 years. While my passion for finely crafted brews knows no bounds, IPA may be my most studied form of beer. If I had to choose a favourite style, a black stout, robust porter, or elegant Belgian blonde may be #1 on my list, but nothing quite like an IPA makes me break out the pen and start making notes on character, nose, flavour, distinction, fuckedupedness, and other categories. This beer is quite easily one of the finest I've ever tried, which explains why the entire contents of the first bottle dashed down my throat in quick fashion. Forgive the ramble, but at 9% alcohol content, I'm already a bit dizzy. Yes yes, my champion days are gone and especially after losing 45 pounds over the past six months I'm quite the light weight these days. Hey, being a cheap date while unemployed has its advantages, I might not even need a second ale tonight to feel amazing the next several hours. Of course I may have one anyhow just to make sure, but I digress. Anyhow, I'm completely bummed out tonight. I don't care what the polls show, I still feel a McCain victory tomorrow in my bad knee, and this frightens me. Several months ago I thought "this dude is going to win because he's white, and while I used to like him when he wasn't a sycophant for all things right-wing I even liked the dude, a little anyhow, and sure, I may not love Obama but his heart is nearly in the right place on a lot of issues, and the turbulent times this country has looming on the short horizon may require his intelligence, and he might just be able to make a slight impact with maybe 10% of what he has planned, but hey, that could make all the difference," but once he picked The Gaping Fucking Cunt as backup QB, I nearly shit myself with fear. Sure, even the detractors may think she can't be worse than Cheney, but as evil a thing he is, a moron he is not be. Palin is evil, with quite the helping of stupid. That scares me. A lot more than it possibly should, but flash forward to 2012 and we'll see just how right the Mayans always were. What did I say earlier? Screw it, that thought caused me to jump up and open the second IPA. Things may get a little weird from here on out, but my loyal following of 10 people would expect nothing less I suppose. Where was I? In the lobby, with a loaded potato gun, and Colonel Mustard. Indeed.

I drove by not one but two groups of protestors (several miles apart) carrying on about the whole Proposition 8 ordeal tonight, on the way home from band practice. For any not living in California, this is The One that will make gay marriage illegal, and hereby SOLIDIFY THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE if passed. I suppose that next year we can kiss divorce goodbye, and then maybe make adultery a crime punishable by stoning a few months after that, so we can retain solidarity on the cause. The way I see it, and I've tried to open my mind to other possibilities, if you staunchly support this measure, just admit one of two things: you're a religious whack-job who follows every sentence the Bible contains (including the bits that contradict itself), or you are a self-hating queer. I see no other possibility, so take your number and line up with the rest of the idiots over to the right. Either way it was good to see both sides in peaceful, yet loud, protest, including several members of each camp in the midst of the other quadrant of the street, with seemingly no physical altercations. Hey, just because the other side is unequivocally wrong about this issue does not mean their voice should be repressed. If you think otherwise on this, get the fuck out of my planet. The voice of the opposition shall always be heard.

Jesus piss fart this ale is quite the strong one. Tomorrow's choice in the evening is a large bottle of Kwak. I remember hearing good things about this in the past, and at $9.99 per joint I really hope I am not disappointed. I almost bought an anniversary bottle from Unibroue, whose Maudite I absolutely adore with a giant thick manstick, but their Terrible ale from several years back proved quite lackluster so I passed it up. Either way, I have not had a fine Belgian in quite some time, so hopefully even if it does not please my palate as I wish, I'll have gained a new experience. Every time I think of Belgian ale I am always shot backwards in time to reading The Name of The Rose by Umberto Eco. I chose this book to read for my sophomore composition class in high school (think: 1995), picked it up, got excited about said prospects, and promptly completed my writing assignemtn by watching the movie instead. My mother laughed at me, knowing I would never read the book, but I promised her that someday, yes I would. I did, many years later, and I quite loved it. Of course the only occasion I recall reading said novel was on a solo roadtrip in Arizona, camping in the middle of nowhere by myself for the first time ever. I showed up to the site wholly unprepared save for a knife, a lighter, and the book, but thankfully found a stack of wood with enough pine needles to keep myself warm that night (okay, to be honest I also had a tent and sleeping bag, as anytime I go anywhere in the winter I carry the proper supplies to, you know, not die in the wilderness). I only ended up reading maybe 40 pages of the whole while there that evening, but the memory shall be treasured for many ages to come, possibly until I die, or at least forget due to overconsumption of alcohol.

Ah yes, Opeth. I nearly forgot that was part of this whole mess. I discovered them in 1999 if I'm not mistaken, thought it may have been later (but not by much), and while outside of an album or two, never was quite a fanboy, but I still went to see them live a few times, and do own all their albums save the last two, when I lost a bit of interest toward them. Of course by this point in my babbling I've already moved on to listening to Neurosis, as a I enjoy attempting to feel smart while consuming mind-numbing liquids, but still, I broke out Blackwater Park the other day as the weather turned from stupidly hot (especially for October) to wet and quite chilly. I have not spun this album in years, in fact I can remember the last time I did was at least 3 years ago when I placed it upon my sleepytime headphones for the evening only to awake 20 minutes later throwing said earspeakers across the room in disgust. It's true, this album has incredibly slick production, and, by their standards at least, pop-like song structure, which basically translates to verse-bridge-verse-otherbridge-verse-nearchorus-outro over the course of 9 minutes per song, but still. Generally speaking, I despise it when a band takes their formula and simplifies it for the masses. I hate the term Selling Out but I suppose that is my definition, for lack of a better term. Either way, Dimmu Borgir does it and I hate their very existence. Opeth does it, and I remain pleased. Why? Well I don't really know, but listening to My Arms, Your Hearse just now and having it do not a whole lot for me, maybe I never enjoyed Old Opeth all that much to begin with. Not that it matters much I suppose.

So this second ale is nearly kaput, and I'm a bit tired of rambling on and on about nothing much in particular, usually whenever I write for this blog I go back and edit, reread, deconstruct, modify, discard, enjoy, loathe, and employ any other number of corrective habits, but this time I'm just going to POST and hopefully create a fanciful illusion of temporary enjoyment by the selected few. Gone!

Cliffsnotes: Go vote tomorrow. Make a difference for this things I believe.
Friday, October 31st, 2008

All Hallow's Eve



Hooray favourite holiday! Hooray second favourite album ever (Danzig 4p)! Hooray favourite album to listen to on this day (Eerie Von and Mike Morance - Uneasy Listening)! Hooray global warming failing to destroy my holiday spirit! Hooray watching nothing but zombie/vampire/werewolf movies for a month straight! Hooray greatest day of the entire year! Hooray not going to bitch about anything today! Hooray because I already did said bitching over at http://effingbroke.blogspot.com/ at great length just this morning! Hooray going listening to more doom metal than altogether healthy all throughout the day, and then one of those $0.99 Halloween music CD things! Hooray, um... hooray!

Cliffsnotes: I watched Night of the Living Dead for the first time just last night, I am very much behind the times it would seem.
Thursday, October 30th, 2008

Fuck Utah
Utah Jazz and Megaplex Theaters owner Larry Miller has refused to book [Zack and Miri Make a Porno]. The chain's spokesman Cal Gunderson expressed concerns about the film with The New York Post, citing the film's "graphic nudity and graphic sex" and that it was "too close to an NC-17."

The company's standards seem a little odd considering that the chain had no problems screening ultra-violent fare like "Saw V," which features beheadings and explicit self-mutilation. When asked why Megaplex Theaters did not object to the gory horror sequel, Gunderson had no comment.

--Whatever Article
Why is the natural act of sex so bad? Sure, I'll go along with parents not wanting their toddlers watching All Anal Gang Bang Part 5: Let The Real Stretching Begin, but this is ridiculous. Not that I want to see anything banned, especially boobies and beheadings, but this bizarre contradiction has always cornfused me. It goes back to that brilliant line from the South Park movie:
Just remember what the MPAA says: Horrific, deplorable violence is okay, as long as people don't say any naughty words!
--Kyle's Mom
It doesn't make sense, the only possible argument in defense of such hypocrisy I can think of is "well, everybody has sex eventually, so we don't want to encourage someone too young into thinking it is okay, even though it is and without it none of us would even be alive, but not everyone will decapitate someone in their lifetime, but if the few that decide to do just that engage in such activity, we want to warn them how messy it will be, thus hopefully discouraging them in the process." Aw christ, now I'm sure some convoluted campaign will steal that line and use it to justify protesting the next movie that they are afeared of, fuck!

This is the same Utah Fuck that yanked Brokebutt Mountain a few years ago as well, but he apparently regrets that decision, so I guess I can't get entirely bent out of shape over that. Either way, fuck that too. That was a beautiful god damn movie. Speaking of faggotry, check out the logo for Proposition 8's Yes (We Are All Borderline Queer And Don't Want Anyone To Remind Us Of Our Own Latent Homosexuality) Campaign:



Sky blue? Yellow border? Some stupid looking family with their hands upturned in a fashion reminding me of this dude?



Pretty fucking gay.

Cliffsnotes: Just in case it isn't abundantly clear, I'm voting FUCK NO on Proposition Hate.
Wednesday, October 29th, 2008

They, Zombie

So last night I decided that for this coming Stupor Tuesday, I'm going to head over to BevHo in advance to buy a few extremely choice beers to consume in mourning/celebration toward the end of the evening. I haven't had a truly great beer since the day after I got laid off, when I basically said "fuckit" and blew $100 at a bar that weekend. Twas some very fine Chimay indeed. I'm not sure what I'm going to bludgeon my liver with just yet, as it has been many a moon since I've gone to the local pre-watering hole to purchase said boozings, but as you might be able to tell, I'm pretty excited. For what you ask? The three possible outcomes:

1) John McCain wins, and The Noush and I begin plans to leave this US of A.
2) Barack Obama wins, and I owe my mom a trip to New Mexico (we placed this bet ages ago).
3) Tom Brokaw's face explodes on live television due to yet another unknown result, which causes the rest of the free world to go bonkers and dismantle all that we hold true.

I put these in order of their likelihood, sure don't count Obama out but even more importantly don't dismiss Brokaw losing what is left of his sanity. Yes yes, I've kept up with the polls, and I know that the entire planet assumes an Obama victory, but I don't buy it. I would love to see it, but I just don't think it will happen as I've stated time and time again. Then again I also think my pumpkin stock is going to peak right around January, what the fuck do I know?

I'll tell you what I know, Rob Zombie is a hack. Apparently the White Zombie boxset is finally coming out next month, and even though I'm pretty sure I have all that material in one form or another, I still wish to own my piece of said pie. White Zombie are one of those bands I continue to enjoy on a regular basis, and, with Astro Creep in particular, still sound fresh and exciting all these years later. Sure, a lot of the early material is pretty out there, but that is half the fun, and if you don't enjoy it, you can at least respect it on some weird early-Swans meets Sonic Youth meets Béla Lugosi sort of level. So I've been going through Mr. Zombie's solo albums lately, as I haven't really pulled them off the shelves in a long time. They SUCK! Sure, I casually enjoyed them when they came out, and I suppose as background filler music they work okay, but years later they are incredibly bland and downright dull at times. If riffs that boring are what sell out arenas these days, I honestly hope I never catch my big break because then I'll realize just how awful I am. More proof that hard work supplants true talent any day of the week. Well, I never heard Educated Horses, but I doubt I'll bother with it after this experiment. Also, I'd thud away on an open-E string for 5 hours a night if it meant I was a rich rock star, who am I kidding?

Cliffsnotes: In The Rectory of The Bizarre Reverend
Wednesday, October 22nd, 2008

The Unbreakable Vow
      "And, should it prove necessary...if it seems Draco will fail..." whispered Narcissa (Snape's hand twitched within hers, but he did not draw away), "will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"
      There was a moment's silence. Bellatrix watched, her wand upon their clasped hands, her eyes wide.
      "I will," said Snape.
      Bellatrix's astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.

--Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
I'm still not really sure what is going on with this election, and likely will not figure it until it is long since said and done. Today I read that all the financing for McCain's Whathaveyou is going belly up with nobody left to fund the last of his advertising campaign, Karl Rove and Rupert Murdoch both predicted Obama to win ages ago, and of course the pisstream media is planning on closing the polls around 1pm EST on Erection Day for Hooray Oblammer Time. I have two conspiracy theories on the whole mess, but both pretty much suck: reverse psychology to get everyone 51% and righter to vote for McCain and/or allowing some black dude to take the fall for Bushy's crumbling empire. Like I said, they both suck, although I'm sure that history will make the latter quite palatable to many. Just ask Herbert Hoover.

Anyhow, here is my hat, and yonder lies a ring of some sort:

I will leave these United States if McCain wins.

The woman and I promised one another this several weeks ago, with a deadline of 2012 to be completely vacated. Honestly I don't hate McCain so much as I'm extraordinarily frightened of Sarah Please Just Disappear Palin. Will this come to pass? Not sure yet, but we did Pinky Swear, and that shit is binding so we will have to follow through, lest we face the dire consequences. Actually we both want to move elsewhere as it is, this really just makes a convenient way to try to force one another to do it. Not like anyone will have the power to stop the giant sucking sound that the next 4+ years will bring worldwide anyhow, in fact any smart politician should wait amongst the sidelines to incite a worker's revolt, fascism style, in say mid-2011, to completely take hold of the world, or at least the majority of this hemisphere. Hey, it could be Joe The Plumber. His style of blurting out unresearched half-troofs with a distinct NASCAR accent and half-eaten hogie Budweiser belch will be lapped up by the 35% unemployed by that time. Perfectly ripe for the plucking, all heil the new regime!

Cliffsnotes: What, like the back of a Volkswagen?
Sunday, October 19th, 2008

cRust Belt
Youngstown, Ohio sits at the heart of a region known as the Rust Belt where most of the factories that provided millions of families with a middle class life have moved away or simply shut down.

Those union jobs once provided Democrats with a solid base of support, until Republicans started to woo "values voters" away with a conservative stance on social issues like abortion and gay marriage.

But as the economy heads into yet another steep decline, with tens of thousands of families in the region losing their homes to foreclosure and even more layoffs on the horizon amid a widening credit crisis, some of those voters are coming back.

--Yahoo article
Does this mean the smokescreen of gay marriage and abortion might finally disappear as the non-issues they have always been? Here's a few facts:

-There have always been gay people.
-There have always been unwanted pregnancies.


Given those two absolute truths, regulating them to be as safe as possible for all parties involved should take priority over any petty moral judgment from an outside group of idiots as influenced by a select few unique assholes. Throw this in the same ring as prostitution, you know, the oldest profession in the world, and regulate them accordingly. To me it is very simple, but anyhow, this was not the point behind the rant because there's no way I can change anyone's mind that has long since made up that "fagism is learned, not bred" and "adoptions are easy" being two of Life's Noble Virtues.

What I am here about is the shift away from the conservative middle-lower income group back to a more fitting party of choice. Are them Democrats the saviours of humanity? Well no, and honestly I have quite a few gripes with them as well, but something I've never understood is a family of 5 pulling in $32,000 a year, struggling every fucking moment to do just that, voting for a party that easily guarantees their life will be more difficult, just because they saw a single mother walking down the street a few weeks ago, possibly raising one of those homo-type children, assuring that CEOs wasting away all over the realm will never go hungry again.


"Why should you be punished for success?"

BEING TAXED AT A HIGHER RATE IS NOT PUNISHMENT, YOU STUPID FUCK!!!

You'll never hear actual rich people bitch about this, because they know all the tax loopholes that the common man will never touch with a 10 foot pole, which allow them to pay substantially less each April than what people making many fewer ducats are legally required to. So why do Po' Folk constantly defend the richers like this? Perhaps they think hey, if that fat bastard can get away with murder then maybe someday I too can live The American Dream and join him atop Mt. Olympus, I better defend that castle as I wallow in the moat because you just never know how lady fuck might treat me some day. Eventually. Possibly. Maybe. Not to mention the fact that, since this country does allow such vast fortunes to be horded, a simple THANK YOU to the powers that be in the form of a fixed pothole or gilded terlit seat is not such a bad trade-off. Make a bundle, donate a chunk. Seems fair to me.

I think the shift is finally here though. I think the little man finally sees how duped they have been all these years, with the absolute failure of this current economic system. For too long the underpriveleged and overworked have toiled beneath the headlight with broken hands to witness a just barely sizable enough carrot dangled in front of them to keep going and mimic what the master requests for the polling place every 2, 4, and 6 years. But the carrot is gone, and some people think there may have never been one to begin with, and now even the illusion wanes like so much unwanted brown toilet water. Where are my chances of ascent, they begin to wonder. This country has hated the poor for decades, only now to realize that it was a self-loathing prophecy all along, the mask lifts above the face and reality hits you square in the forehead, if only you can stop from crying tears of hate you may recognize just what your forefathers went through, struggling in the muck just for this, a bankrupt Social Security stipend that only has a few month's life left breathing hideously like a canker tossed behind the couch of some dark, abandoned, and hopeless alley. Wake up! Stand up straight! Remove the shackles! This is still the people's land, simply under temporary ownership of another. End it!

Cliffsnotes: Working Man was Rush's best song by far, because really, they pretty much suck other than that.
Friday, October 17th, 2008

Bippin’ and a boppin’ with some hippin’ and some hoppin’ (Unglorified G, baby).

I don't know why people think that Obama has this election in the god damn bag, I even read an article this morning about how the Major News Networks are getting ready for a Super Short Super Tuesday, virtually closing up shop before even Califuckia polls are closed due to the whole assumed landslide of it all. What kind of sense does that make? I see Karl Rove talking about how Obama is going to be the clear winner, something he's quite vocal about. I can't even think up a conspiracy theory to explain what the fuck that is supposed to mean. I don't get it. I don't get any of it. There's more than two weeks to go before election-time. A lot of things can happen, including Sarah The Gaping Cunt Palin finally inciting a full-scale race-riot with Whitey on Toppy in all its chocolate centered loveliness, or perhaps Bill Ayers coming out and saying "it's true, Obama is my son," and of course any other number of wonderful things, such as a complete and total recovery of LAWL Street (and therefore the restoration of everyone's hopes, dreams, and GOP voting abilities). Granted, I am glad that the economy shit itself while Bush was still King, something I know they have been desperately trying to avoid until after the elections were over, but failed miserably because that shaken bottle of Dr. Pepper finally essploded everywhere, with much more to go. Honestly I'm shocked they didn't pull that caper off, I watched the nonsensical Wall Street climbing up until October of 2007 just shaking my head, but hey, we're in The Downward Spiral now so HAVE AT YOU! Fuck me, I need to put on some Danzig to finish this bullshit off.

Why though? Why this foregone conclusion? Doesn't anybody remember the racist past of this country? You know, that other dirty S-word (not Socialism, this time): Slavery? Those roots run awfully deep, and there are still substantially deep pockets here, including many out in Kooky Krazy Kalifornia that would love nothing more than to continue Operation: Keep Darkie Down for another century or three. Sure, I don't know shit about Mumia, and my favourite thing about the '60s came out of England, but I have done the basic math and realize the insane level of bigotry that still exists in this land. I still think that is what is comes down to, Obama is seen as a black man and even a decent chunk of public supporters privately wish he'd just go away so we can move on to our next convenient Old White Male to spearhead Nu-NAFTA and the Amero. Have we come as far into glory as The Reverend King dreamt? It would be nice, and there may still come a day, but it is not yet here.

Cliffsnotes: Still not voting for Obama. Still hoping he wins. Still don't think he will.
Friday, October 3rd, 2008

Up on the roof again, watching this Rome burn down.

I plan on making this my last financial blog, because I'm tired of bitching about something well beyond my control. Need to concentrate these efforts into something more productive: being more involved with Avolition, working on my noise project, getting back to writing my book, finding a more fulfilling career, and of course masturbating.

So. The bailout passed the House and Senate now, surely to be signed by Mr. Boosh, froth-mouthed with bloody pen in hand. Sure, it was greatly improved beyond the 3 page Coronation of Paulson document from last week, but the fact of that matter is now all taxpayers are going to directly bail out the lousy bets made by shitty banks. The profits were privatized, and now the losses are being socialized. Period. Sure, a few regular idiots made a healthy chunk of change flipping a house or two, but most of them just reinvested back into the same market, only to be left holding a $700,000 paper bag currently worth $200,000 and falling, once this Ponzi scheme came crashing down. I don't feel bad for them any more than I hurt for the banks dropping like flies, the only difference of course is that those deemed "too big to fail" basically translates to "my banker friends are too important to piss off by not giving them a bunch of free money so they will continue contributing to society, and by society I mean my pocket book," while the common man can have their cake and fucking eat it as far as the government cares. Thanks, Uncle Sam!

Anyhow, here's an article that everyone should read at least a couple of times because it sure seems plausible to me:
Bailout a Done Deal, So What Happens Now?
Henry Blodget | Oct 1, 08 8:24 AM

Now that the government has been terrified into rubber-stamping the bailout, what happens now?

In our opinion, here's the most likely scenario:

* Hank Paulson & Co. survey the banking industry and decide who will stay and who will go. JP Morgan (JPM), Citi (C), Wells Fargo (WFC), and Bank of America (BAC) will stay. Goldman (GS) will probably stay. Morgan Stanley (MS) might stay. Everyone else in trouble could go. The government doesn't need to save all banks. It just needs to save some.
* Within a month or two, Paulson buys $250 billion of crap assets. He pays more than market value, but not an egregious amount more (because the public will be watching these early rounds). Over the next six months, he buys $700 billion of assets...and then he--or his successor--asks Congress for more money.
* Confidence improves modestly, but banks continue to hoard capital and credit markets stay tight. Loans stay expensive and hard to get. This keeps pressure on the economy.
* The credit crunch filters through to consumers: Credit cards, home equity loans, mortgages, car loans, etc., get more expensive, putting more pressure on consumers and forcing them to cut back further.
* The economic news continues to get worse: American consumers continue to pull back, housing continues to fall (as of July, the year over year declines were still accelerating), companies begin to cut back, which leads to layoffs--which puts more pressure on consumers.
* The global economy continues to weaken: Europe, Asia, and, eventually, emerging markets. This is already happen, and everyone else is later in the cycle than we are.
* The stock market continues to fall, as corporate earnings come under increasing pressure and hope for an early 2009 recovery fades. Analysts are still expecting huge growth in S&P 500 earnings for next year. These estimates will get cut by at least a third.
* The government enacts further measures to try to stop the fall in asset prices (stocks, houses)--including an expansion of the bailout plan--but these don't work. Governments always try to do this. They never succeed. All they do is delay the inevitable.
* A new round of white-collar prosecutions send a new posse of corporate villains to jail. Some will be guilty. Some won't. All will be hated.
* The government announces a new New Deal, finally investing in the country's infrastructure, in the hopes that this will stimulate the economy (which it will). Investments include broadband, green tech, wireless, physical infrastructure, et al.
* Eventually, asset prices will bottom: Housing down 40% in real terms, the stock market down at least 50%. With luck, this will happen by early 2010, so the recovery can begin. Warren Buffett loads the boat with stocks, but by that time, most people are too depressed (and poor) to follow him.
* Unlike Japan, we finally force our banks to write down assets as far as they need to be written down...and then recapitalize them. This is what we should have done in the current bailout, but we'll get it right next time (we hope).
* We gradually begin a long-term economic recovery, one in which consumers save a greater percentage of income, thrift and saving again become admirable qualities, we gradually begins to wean itself off international oil, and the bacchanalian decades of the 1990s and 2000s become an embarrassing memory.
* The stock market finally begins a new, long-term bull market, in which stocks once again return 10%+ per year. Unfortunately, most Americans will be so sickened by the stock losses they've sustained since 2000 that they'll miss many years of it.

--Clusterstock
Oh. Goody.

Cliffsnotes: My Grammaw lived through the first Great Depression, she's currently assembling an army of canned goods in preparation for the second.
Wednesday, October 1st, 2008

Alma Mater Alumni Book

So I've been getting postcards lately about some alumni book for my ol' university, requesting that I contact them to fill in my profile into said book. I generally ignore such things, but they asked for photos and essays, so I called them up the other day. Anywho, here are my submissions:

Then and Now pictures:





Essay (sadly limited to 250 words, which is a stretch of the definition of that title):
In 1999 I found part-time work in the residential housing industry in order to fund the usual college beer supply. In 2000 I continued on with my new major: political science. Upon graduating in 2001, I began working full time for the same employer because it was good work with steady pay. In 2002 I got my own place, an entirely new type of freedom that came with some serious responsibilities. In 2003 I got my first major promotion and settled comfortably into American Life. In 2004 I had more debt than ever before, especially since I bought that Shiny New Car I had lusted over for many years, but I was happy. 2005 was the year I decided to buy a house, but after careful consideration I continued renting, even though I felt like a sap for doing so. 2006 brought new curiosities to the pending economic storm and I was glad to not be too far in over my head, but didn't change much about my life. When 2007 came I knew something was amiss with the world, but thankfully a new job in the same field enabled me to finally eliminate all my debt. In 2008 I was laid off along with a substantial portion of society, now I roam amongst this group that has been all but forced to fend for ourselves with little to no hope for improvement in the short (and possibly long) term. Welcome to Dick Cheney's America, the second half.
Cliffsnotes: I'd even buy the damn book if I knew this stuff would make it in there.
Friday, September 26th, 2008

Good Friends and a Bottle of Pills

Pardon the ramble.

So as I sit here listening to Marvin Gaye quickly followed by Stevie Wonder, I contemplate... a Pantera song. Why? What about this music made me think of the concept of friendships gone by, which really isn't what any of these three particular albums (What's Going On, Innervisions, and Far Beyond Driven respectively) are all about. Maybe I've finally received enough free time to dive into such things, today being the closing of Week Seven of my laid off arse. I know that the economy is all made up and meaningless with respect to love of a mate, dog, friend, relative, book, album, fruit, blanket, and band, which is all that truly matters in life. Yet that is mostly what I prattle on about over the past two years, the thing that seems to consume me throughout many a given day. So why the flashbacks to 1995 all of a sudden? I didn't even get to the Pantera yet, that was merely a lousy attempt at a clever subject title, which obviously wasn't of my own design or even parody this time. Instead I'm stuck back at the beginning, just where Vizzini told me to meet him. The beginning? Was 1995 really the beginning? Well perhaps, it was the first time I can look back at truly feeling Alive, even if I was a paranoid, idiotic, and self-abusive 16-year-old moron. But hey, that was the last time that I was directionless-cum-apathy, just like I feel now. Well, maybe just today. I suppose that even while standing motionless one has a certain direction they aim, mayhap simply downward or staring across the room at a dwindling candle, either way the crux of the biscuit being that it is not all that far away, remaining close enough to actually matter. Which brings me back to what I was talking about (I think): Conan, what is best in life? A fine bottle of scotch, something written by Kerouac, and a loved one close at hand. In particular, that last bit. Why? Are human interrelationships so important that anything else shy of bread, water, and breathing matters not a hill of Beano by comparison? I submit that, perhaps strangely since I mostly communicate via computer these days and have for many years now, the answer is emphatically yes.

Anyhow, Stevie just ended so the woman is probably going to freak out in her half asleep, half lying next to me state because I'm following some amazing soul and funk music with one of the angriest albums I've ever owned. Maybe she'll get lucky and I'll use headphones.

Cliffsnotes: Funny how with all the friends I've lost over the years, there's only one I truly miss.
Thursday, September 25th, 2008

What political party should I join? A question for regulars and passersby.

So, this may come as a surprise to some, and will serve as my outing of sorts, but I am a registered Republican. It's true! When I first registered to vote I was a conservative know-it-all 19-year-old little fucker, and while I have since come to terms with my earlier political self (culminating in 2003 with the odious Iraq War Part Deux), I never got around to changing my party affiliation. Disgusting, no?

So what team should I join? Libertarian? Democrat? Independent? Green? Peace and Freedom? Communist? Stone Cutter? Tell me!

Cliffsnotes: Oh well, at least it allowed me to vote for Ron Paul in the primaries.
Monday, September 22nd, 2008

MOTHERFU-- nah, I’ll do a music blog.

Too much aggression lately. Gotta mix things up like Get On The Mic, G-Get On The Mic, Mike.

Carcass reunion last week. Su. Fucking. Perb. I'm usually very much against band reunions, I figure once you've made your mark and decide it is over with, best to leave it as such. Much like a relationship, because we all know the second go-round is never as good as the first time. So yes, they played a great variety of material, including one song from Swansong, which yes, I've always enjoyed. Is it Necroticism? Well no, but what is? It was nice to finally see these amazing innovators of extreme music since I missed them in concert when they were around the first time. Their genius continues to be quite influential in the wilder circles of metal, and the freshness that even their very early material brought that night was welcomed by all just like it was 1989 all over again. This time with more baldspots and faded tattoos, but no matter.

Toadies reunion the week before. Well fuck me running, yet another reunifcationatoriality. Whatta hypocrite! This show was pretty grand, lots of energy and honestly one of the most aggressive pits I've ever seen. Very surprising considering all the nutso death metal shows I've been to over the years, but this really was something to marvel at, and by marvel I mean keep my old arse the fuck away from. This was one of the very few shows that I've attended where after an hour or so, I wanted them to keep playing. Usually only Tool shows make me think that, but the Toadies combination of a great mood, faux covers, and an excellent order for all their songs really pulled my pud like nobody's business. Pretty good opening band as well, called Lions. "Record labels won't sign us because we're too sweaty." Cool.

Avolition did our own studio recordings last week, whee! This was the third time we've recorded in such an environment, but was the first time we truly found Our Sound, because Cameron (you know, vox and guit) really knows what the fuck he's doing. The 5 songs we completed will hopefully be part of our full-length debut, which will be self-released until we can con a label into signing us. Here is one track that I think exemplifies what we're going for:

Avolition - Druthers

Went to a few other shows recently as well, Delerium who were great, and Nine Inch Nails who had one of the more impressive visual displays I've seen since probably the last NIN show I attended. Haven't been listening to anything really new lately, currently spinning some old Faith No More and Witchcraft is likely next. Oh, I fell back in love with Dredg the other night, I know everyone loves El Cielo but I've always considered Leitmotif to be superior. Laibach this week will which will prove to be a unique experience, and Sunn O))) next month as it is now time to introduce the woman to their live act, which requires ear plugs more than anything else I've witnessed outside of a CMU factory. Good thing I bought a shitload of concert tickets before getting laid off, hooray something to distract my mind from the crushing pain that the reality of being broke truly is, woooooo!!!

Cliffsnotes: Is this as exciting as me bitching about the government? Well it doesn't feel like it really, but at least this one has a tune you can listen to rather than simply my usual e-diarrhea sans aural aid.
Sunday, September 21st, 2008

FUCK THE BAILOUT (here is what you can do to stop it).

Click on this link to get up to speed about what is really going on with Idiot Paulson's plan to help out all his banking buddies, and to find direct link to contact the proper politicians:

Mish's Economic Blog
Contact Your Senator Today!

It's time to contact your senator. Here is contact information for Senators of the 110th Congress.

Phone or Email your Senators today. Tell them in your own words

Urge your senator to Filibuster any bailout legislation.
Emphatically state you do not want a bailout of any kind for anyone.
No Dictatorial power for Paulson or Bernanke
Taxpayers should not have to bail out banks making bad loans
Tell them that "The Fed" and Paulson are systemic risk".

Email AND Phone Senators Shelby, Bunning, Kyle, Ensign, Hagel

Whether Senator Shelby is your Senator or not, flood him with calls and emails asking for a filibuster and to stop the insanity. Senators Shelby, Bunning, Ensign, and Kyle might be sympathetic to the cause, based on past statements. I am taking a stab at Hagel.

Ask For A Filibuster

Please email and phone the following. Specifically ask for a filibuster and tell them to vote no to any bailout.

Tell them that anyone who votes for this bailout will never get your vote again.

Shelby, Richard C.- (R - AL)
110 HART SENATE OFFICE BUILDING WASHINGTON DC 20510
(202) 224-5744
E-mail: senator@shelby.senate.gov

Bunning, Jim- (R - KY)
316 HART SENATE OFFICE BUILDING WASHINGTON DC 20510
(202) 224-4343
Web Form: http://bunning.senate.gov/public/index.cfm?FuseAction=Contact.ContactForm

Kyl, Jon- (R - AZ)
730 HART SENATE OFFICE BUILDING WASHINGTON DC 20510
(202) 224-4521
Web Form: kyl.senate.gov/contact.cfm

Ensign, John- (R - NV)
Washington D.C. Office
119 Russell Senate Building
Washington, D.C. 20510
Phone: (202) 224-6244
Fax: (202) 228-2193
Web Form: ensign.senate.gov/forms/email_form.cfm

Hagel, Chuck (R - NE)
248 RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING WASHINGTON DC 20510
(202) 224-4224
Web Form: hagel.senate.gov/public/index.cfm?FuseAction=Contact.Home

Please email and phone both of your senators as well.
This bailout is NOT for taxpayers, it is NOT for homeowners, it is NOT for any real person afflicted by this economic crisis. It is to bail out bankers, nothing more. DO SOMETHING.

Cliffsnotes: Fuck this shit.
Saturday, September 20, 2008

The Beginning of The End?

So, are we on the verge of fascism? Many have called for it since 2004, 9/11, and before, but are we finally there? Is the Near Collapse of the US economy going to finally allow Cheney, et alii take over completely? Were the Patriot Acts merely predecessors to the real cheese, this current bailout package? Was this the biggest dupe of all, convincing "The Angry Left" to focus on civil liberties when it has always been an economic dominance plan from Day One? Are you prepared to offer forth 50% of your income, if you still even have a job, in 2009 to HELP SAVE AMERICA and by America they mean THE BANKERS?

That is what is at stake here, you fucks. Are you deaf? Are you dumb? Are you blind? Could have fooled me. RISE UP. Say NO. Say FUCK NO. Say FUCK YOU. Fuck this shit! You earned it. You let it happen. I earned it. I let it happen. You are to blame. So am I. Grab your fucking torches.

Cliffsnotes: I found out my favourite college bar closed today, so I say yes, things are fucked.
Friday, September 19th, 2008 Predindoctrination.

I got about an hour of sleep last night (hooray Carcass show + 6am wakeup call), so I'm a little fuzzy today, but I do believe about 2 hours ago in the car I made the following prediction:

Oil will hit $200 per barrell by the end of next week, when the world realizes just how worthless the US Dollar has become.

I'm not smart enough to talk about what really is happening with the stock market today, but the alleged Free Market Economy just got put on hold. Remember that one Simpsons where Bart fakes his height to get on the rollercoaster, and the bar closes well behind his back? "Whoa, that isn't good." That about covers it. Not that my pinko commie arse has a problem with massive regulation, especially since the whole reason behind this current fiasco is due to lack of government limitations, but this whole situation is the virtual rollover of us capitalist American pig-dogs. You win, Khrushchev!

Cliffsnotes: Fuck my IRA, I'm off to play Chrono Trigger.
Wednesday, September 17th, 2008

Ed Hochuli: Still The Man

So for those that missed the amazing Chargers v. Broncos game on Sunday, it all came down during the last few minutes with a key interception by San Diego, one bad call in Denver's favour, and a brave/stupid 2 point conversion called by Shanahan that actually worked. Without the bad call, the Chargers would have won. Cutler fumbled and San Diego recovered, but since the whistle blew the play dead as an incomplete pass, the ruling on the field could not be changed. Ed Hochuli, who may even be recognized by people who never watch football, acknowledged on the field that he made the wrong call, but could not change the outcome.

Here is a crappy video of the bad call:



So, while there are many factors that win a game, and perfectly executed 2 point conversions don't exactly grow on trees, the fact remains that if that particular call was correct on the field, it was the Chargers game. Steve Hartman yelled "THE CHARGERS WERE ROBBED!" during the postgame, with Jim Hill trying to calm him down (a little).

So what does Ed Hochuli do come Monday morning? Keeps his email address public and responds to every single hatemail received with an apology.
I'm getting hundreds of emails – hate mail – but I'm responding to it all. People deserve a response.

You can rest assured that nothing anyone can say can make me feel worse than I already feel about my mistake on the fumble play. You have no idea ...

Affecting the outcome of a game is a devastating feeling. Officials strive for perfection – I failed miserably. Although it does no good to say it, I am very, very sorry.

Ed Hochuli

--Yahoo sports blog
I'm still pissed the Chargers lost, but Ed Hochuli is still The Man.

Cliffsnotes: NFL is more important than DOW.
Monday, September 15th, 2008

Kablamo!

So the Dow tanked over 500 points today, pretty awesome. This likely means that the Fed will lower interest rates tomorrow, which will create a false rally that will decimate the USD while sending food and energy prices back up to the stratosphere. Hooray for 99% of us!

James Howard Kunstler is calling the Republicans "the party that wrecked America," and he is very much correct. However, will anyone listen? I doubt it. The GOP War Machine (I speak of their political realm, not of their warmongering) will easily persuade the majority of NASCAR watchers that the Dumbocrats were the ones who fucked things up, and said Dumbos are in fact too stupid to fight back with such ammo as Cheney's War, Greenspan's Subprime Extravaganza, and Paulson's Unemployment Special. Hey, the Dems didn't exactly do a whole lot to prevent this pending doom, which many have seen coming for years, so I won't cry for them either. Fuck 'em both, but fuck the Reps much harder and with a greater level of discomfort.

Anyhow, I have a solution to this complex mess, but nobody wants to hear it:

1) Allow shit companies to fail. Fuck Countrywide, fuck Lehman Brothers, fuck Merrill Lynch, fuck them all. You can't hang with the system, you get no bailouts. Fuck off and die. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. You lose.

2) Give incentives to companies to bring back all the jobs they shipped overseas, whether it be by tax breaks, direct monetary injection, disease-free hookers, whatever. This economy is consumer driven, and with 8 straight months of massive job losses, people stopped spending money. Give them jobs and the wheel starts turning once again.

3) ???

4) Profit!

Cliffsnotes: I haven't taken an economics class since high school.
Tuesday, September 9th, 2008

There's one for you, nineteen for me.


source

So it is true, Obama will INCREASE TAXES (for the upper 1%) and McCain will DECREASE TAXES (for the upper 1%). Of course, half this country thinks they are somehow a part of that 1%, along with most of their neighbours, because they live in a house that was "worth" $800,000 3 years ago. They still haven't realized they couldn't sell it for $150,000 even if they tried, but I suppose that is a different story, hmmm?

Now, this is the concept that I "get" if you dig what I'm sayin' (you know what I'm sayin'): I understand when the rich vote Republican. Staring at a chart like this makes it obvious, if you vote with an R you get to keep most of your money, hooray! If you want to be charitable on your own time, with your own choice and dime, so be it. But if you're a poor motherfucker like me, and NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF YOU ARE, the choice should be obvious, if you are in fact voting with your wallet, which most people have a tendency to do in Reagan's America. I mean hey, I think the Dums are just as bad as the Rips, but at least they use a little lube when they bend you over as opposed to getting poked with the wrong end of a splintered barstool, dry and surprised.

Cliffsnotes: Don't tell me how to vote!
Thursday, September 4th, 2008

Conventioneering

So now it's all official and stuff. The Black Guy v. The Old Guy. I was pretty god damn disappointed with the Republicant speeches, mostly resorting to attacks on Oblammer with no real substance. Not that the Democrat ones were so great, but they weren't chock full o' shit such as those. Thompson's dumbass even said "they call this a recession, but things ain't so bad!" or something to that effect. What fucking tax bracket do you live in?! Oh wait. Not that I could watch more than about 18 seconds of Giuliani, but he seemed to do his typical I'm Better Than You bullshit, so nothing out of the ordinary there from that evil fuck. Bubba's speech was pretty good, but the 4 minute standing ovation he was greeted with before saying a god damn word was priceless. "HOLY LIVING FUCK BILL, WE REALLY REALLY REALLY MISS YOU!!!" Mrs. Clin Ton did a pretty good one too, although her orator skills aren't nearly what her husband's are. Oh man was that an awesome pun or what. Palin is a psychotic cunt who wants condoms outlawed, creationism taught in public schools, and for all the gawd fearun' Alaskians to be able shoot wolves from helicopters. Don't believe me? Look it up. Oh, and I didn't hear any greatness in her speech, but the crowd reaction was pretty good so I guess that is what counts. Either way, Tina Fey is still way hotter. I liked McCain's speech, even the POW schtick was well done and thoughtful, overall not entirely full of Obama Suckisms, and ended at the perfect moment with massive crowd participation. Well okay, the stupid CNN stream made me miss the first half, but the second half seemed pretty effective. Honestly if that dude was telling the truth (which he wasn't), I might vote for him (which I won't). Obama's speech was boring for 10 minutes but then became pretty good during the second half, and actually touched on a few important things, you know, such as THE COMPLETELY FUCKED ECONOMY, MASSIVE DEPLETION OF OIL, and UNEMPLOYMENT RUN AMOK. I'm still not going to vote for him either, but I do hope he wins.

Man, this isn't a blog, it's a rambling summary of the past two weeks in mainstream politics. Fuckit, just watch this video and pretend like I was the speechwriter:



Cliffsnotes: I might do a write-in for Ron Paul, but I'd rather give Les Claypool the nod.
Saturday, August 30th, 2008

WHAT THE FUCK.

Fuck! I hate the fucking media! I hate the fucking dullards who don't pay any god damn attention! Bring on the global depression, let's shift world hunger toward the west because you idiot fucks have earned it! Why the fuck is this story not headline news? Why the fuck can I not even find it on CNN, MSNBC, or Faux News? Is everyone asleep at the god damn wheel?!
German Coalition Sues Bayer Over Pesticide Honey Bee Deaths

FREIBURG, Germany - The German organization Coalition against Bayer Dangers today brought legal action against Werner Wenning, chairman of the Bayer AG Board of Management, by filing a charge against him with the public prosecutor in Freiburg.

The group accuses Bayer CropScience of "marketing dangerous pesticides and thereby accepting the mass death of bees all over the world."

The coalition filed the charge in cooperation with German beekeepers who claim they lost thousands of hives after poisoning by the Bayer pesticide clothianidin in May.

Since 1991, Bayer has been producing the insecticide imidacloprid, which is one of the best selling insecticides in the world, often used as seed-dressing for maize, sunflower, and rape. Bayer exports imidacloprid to more than 120 countries and the substance is Bayer's best-selling pesticide.

Since patent protection for imidacloprid has expired in most countries, Bayer in 2003 brought a similarly functionning successor product, clothianidin, onto the market, the coalition alleges.

Both substances are systemic chemicals that work their way from the seed through the plant. The substances get into the pollen and the nectar and can damage beneficial insects such as bees.

The coalition alleges that the start of sales of imidacloprid and clothianidin coincided with the occurrence of large scale bee deaths in many European and American countries.

Up to 70 percent of all hives have been affected. In France, approximately 90 billion bees died over the past 10 years, reducing honey production by up to 60 percent.

--ENS (click for entire article)
Why am I so angry? Well I don't know, perhaps the fact that this impacts every walk of life on the fucking planet, very much including the stupid stupid thing called humanity, and nobody gives a shit. Times like this virtually prove that man's selfishness is only trumped by his outright stupidity.

Cliffsnotes: DIE, DIE MY DARLING
Thursday, August 21st, 2008

McAsshole: in touch with The Common Man

-doesn't know how many houses he owns
-defines being rich as having a $5 million+ income
-thinks arugula is for elitists

I'm not going to cite these, if you don't believe me, Google them yourself. It's all out there. Note: you get arugula on your fucking Olive Garden salad, idiot. Not that any politician really feels the pain of high gas prices, layoffs, plummeting retirement funds, $5 loaves of bread, and general housing expenses that even during this alleged "crash" are still through the god damn roof (RDRR), but there is a difference between someone not having to worry about basic needs and another being somewhere lightyears beyond the stratosphere of common fucking sense.

Look. I don't like Obama. I've made that clear in a number of political discussions. But if he doesn't win this November, I fucking give up. If the election is rigged, then the system is as fucked as many already know it to be. If McDumboldfuck wins fair and square, then this country shall reap its just desserts, which may very well be the last it ever enjoys.

Cliffsnotes: Hi! I make $20,000 a year and don't want socialized medicine! I'm the average IDIOT AMERICAN VOTER!
Friday, August 15th, 2008

FYI: re: new Metallica

They still suck. I'm gonna go listen to Load now, which has always been a slightly better than average rock album.

House That Jack Built
Bleeding Me
Outlaw Torn

All strong songs. Also, that album reminds me of playing the first Tekken on the still-sorta-new-at-the-time PlayStation in high school that I borrowed from the dude up the street whoa holy shit and it's about as hot tonight as it was during the summer days back then, the sweet sweet taint of nostalgia flares mine nostral.

I'm sure I'll listen to those three tunes and then head back to Enslaved or Boards of Canada because that's just the type of night it dun is be.

Cliffsnotes: Dang! I can't find my copy of Load!
Friday, August 1st, 2008

Everything Is Going To Be Okay
Last week, New York City unveiled a "Go Local" website that highlights free or inexpensive activities ranging from an African guitar festival in Brooklyn to the Hong Kong Dragon Boat Festival in Queens. The city will dispatch street teams every Thursday for the next five weeks to distribute savings passes, weekly itineraries, and Go Local-branded stickers, temporary tattoos, and beach balls to residents.

"This is the first time that the city has actively called on New Yorkers to discover their backyard," says Christopher Heywood, a vice president for NYC & Co., the city's marketing and tourism organization.

New York joins a slew of cities engaged in similar initiatives. In an attempt to mimic the way people use pins to mark destinations on a map, Boston has installed 1,500-pound red pins at 10 city landmarks to reacquaint Boston-area residents with Beantown's charms. Visitors can send a text message at each pin to learn more about the location.

In Chicago, tourism officials are offering locals hotel packages that include theater tickets, and they're urging Chicagoans to recount their "urban adventures" on a special website.

Dubbing itself "fun central," Arlington, Texas, has created a "staycation" page on its website replete with adrenaline-pumping music and discounts on jaunts to the local Six Flags amusement park.

--Christian Science Monitor
I'm not anti-travel, if anything I don't think people in America travel enough, myself very much included, since I finally got my passport less than a frickin' year ago. However, I do consider this an Inherently Good Thing because it gives people a sense of community. It starts with entertainment, but when gas continues to rise and possible food shortages result, local farms will make a resurgence. The salvation of an Age Without Oil is a system of local, sustainable food supplies, which are very much possible in any number of the larger cities around the world. Sure, the sub-sub-suburbs might whither and die, but who the fuck is going miss those? Yuppies, you say? Yuppies are not human and do not count, so again, who the fuck is going to miss those? Ol' Toofy Joe lived in the middle of nowhere before, and will certainly welcome the return of the vast emptiness of his surroundings as opposed to trilevel McMansions in fucking Brawley.

A steady continuance of such behaviour gives me hope that yes, the World Shall Survive when the era of gasoline is over.

Cliffsnotes: WTF, optimism?!
Thursday, July 31st, 2008

A Question

October 15th, 2008, the final presidential debate between McCain and Obama. Republican against Democrat, right against left, experience against youth, white against... black/white. The polls are even, McCain started to make good speeches but Obama's candor still seems genuine. The stage, the scene, the bitter end, here comes the election after this final meeting of their two minds, bodies, and souls. Gas is now $5 a gallon, unemployment is reaching 10% with no end in sight, and the stock market hovers just below 9,000. It's time for a new face, but not yet another similarity, this time something different. McCain feels the pressure, begins to sweat, his left hand slightly twitching. Obama is answering a question concerning the idea of universal healthcare once again, when out of left field McCain shouts:

"SHUT UP, YOU UPPITY NI--"

The mic is cut, and screens across America go blank. A collective silence reigns supreme for a solid 10 seconds, before the first voice breaks the calming breeze, somewhere in the vicinity of Crawford, Texas: "...well it's about time somebody said it!"

Who will win?

Cliffsnotes: For the first ever, I think Obama would.
Wednesday, July 30th, 2008

Five Reasons To Love High Gas Prices

-Less people on the road. I haven't been in a good ol' fashioned traffic jam in weeks, possibly months, and I don't miss them one bit! Better air quality, less stress, shorter commutes, more time at home, etc. There is simply nothing not to love about this particular aspect.

-Dwindling SUV sales. Look, these things are douchemobiles and they always have been. At least when station wagons and minivans were all the rage people said "I know I look like an idiot, but this vehicle fits my needs and this purchase was a rational decision, so fuck off." The past 10 years it has been Cool to drive an SUV, even though they are just as dumb as said wagonvans, except with this trend they are human and environmental hazards. Ever seen a wreck between a small, practical automobile and a typical SUV? Not a pretty sight. The Hyundai Weinermobile gets split in half, the Ferd Smalldick a broken headlight.

-More conspiracy theories to bitch about. It's peak oil, stupid! It's the shitty dollar, stupid! It's them damn hoarding Aye-rabs, stupid! It's the Bush family, stupid! It's China/India/Tuvalu, stupid!

-The push to a less wasteful America. Electric automobiles and sucker activities such as "walking" (whatever that is) were a joke up until this year, now they may be forced upon us as a necessity, which is an Inherently Good Thing. Personally I'm dreaming for hydrogen cars to become The Standard, unless Scotty's beaming abilities go public beforehand.

-Something to talk about with complete strangers other than the weather. Impromptu economic discussions 'round the flagpole/watercooler/gaspump which serve as a reminder that we are all part of this middle class, and that the revolution to take down the authority, hold their faces to the fire and MAKE THEM FUCKING PAY, is soon at hand. I hope.

Cliffsnotes: Tear down the wall, tear down the wall, tear down the wall...
Monday, July 28th, 2008

MATCH GAME!

v.

v.

v.

v.

v.

Cliffsnotes: WHEEEEEE!!!!
Monday, July 28th, 2008

Fake tits and giant ass wart cream (the wart is giant, not the ass).

Didn't go to Comic-Con this year, so last week I saw Hellboy II, the new X-Files movie, and Wicked. Wicked was the clear winner, fucking amazing. It might have been the best musical I've ever seen, and yes, I've seen a lot (damn I'm smooth). Hellboy was quite good, I completely fell in love with The Troll Market and would love to meet my untimely violent demise therein. The New Mully and Sculder Adventure was enjoyable on a few levels but overall a little disappointing. Considering I've been watching The X-Files since the first episode originally aired I'm sure I'll get to a lengthy rant on that one, but not today! Speaking of ramblings falling far short of orgasm, I have less and less interest in seeing the new Blatman movie, I mean if everybody loves it, how good can it possibly be? Also this morning I read an op-ed piece from the WSJ, favourably comparing Duh-bya's "noble" War on Terror© to Batfuck's disadventures, which made my stomach crawl with acid, Clif Bar, and rage. Anyfuck:
SAN DIEGO - The line snaked through the Comic-Con floor. Hundreds of camera-toting fans jockeyed for position, barely able to contain their excitement.

They weren't trying to see the latest world-saving superhero or never-before-seen footage. They were waiting to see Carmen Electra and Kim Kardashian.

The two beauties made their Comic-Con debut Saturday, signing autographs to promote their new film, "Disaster Movie." Both wore formfitting, cleavage-bearing dresses as they posed for fans' photos.

For 18-year-old John Kilgore, attending the signing was the day's top priority.

"It's Carmen Electra," he explained. "What's not to like about a woman like that?"
After that first time she appeared on Beavis and Butt-head many years ago, I spent numerous evenings touching myself in an impure manner (including under the sheets), but WHAT THE FUCK:



MMM delicious overdone eyeliner and visible KFC cheek injections YUMMY.

To be fair, I can't claim myself a diehard Comic-Con type, as I only went on two occasions, 2006 and 2007. However, it was readily apparent both times that there is a distinct separation between the two types of people who attend: comic geeks and Hollywood sycophants. The biggest divergence betwixt them occured last year, upon myself and The Woman sitting in Hall H waiting for, umm... I don't remember, probably some Neil Gaiman thing. Anyhow, BOOM! Here comes a giant feature about the new Indiana Chones movie, complete with combined age 29485 Get Off My Plane and Spielbergo. Who needs a remake when geezers like this can prop up a 27 year old franchise with an iron lung and hourly colostomy bag changings? We groaned, but the majority pissed themselves with delight. Maybe they should separate TV/Movie-Con from the comics, leaving all us socially awkward types to shuffle through piles of old Green Lantern issues, attempting to not make eye contact with anyone all the while. Actually it doesn't really matter, I understand the crossover appeal of a lot of this type of stuff, and even if it gets pretty Hollywood in certain pockets, well at least the Cthulhu booth sees a bit more foot traffic than usual. My whole point of this mess was to answer this dude's question concerning what's not to like about a woman like Carmen Electra: she's stupid, full of plastic, and ugly. Three strikes, my boner is out.

Cliffsnotes: I still have some pictures of her from like 1995 though WHOA BABY does that satisfy the inner teenage pervert in me.
Friday, June 25th, 2008

Summer Breeze


Rwake - Voices of Omens

How I loathed this group upon initially hearing them several years ago. Their 2004 release landed flat within the grasp of my lap in promotional copied form just prior to commercial release for my reviewing pleasure. It was an absolute mess of an album, one that I gave three honest chances, separated by a decent period of time, before banishing to the depths of my Promo Pile which ceased collecting in 2006 yet still occupies a box in the garage. So upon digging out an old gem of the only Mutha's Day Out album I was ever aware of, curiosity got the best of me and I began to research where those dudes ended up. To my surprise, the drummer ended up in that horrible group Rwake! So I reached out to one of my fellow musical brothers to toss me some illegal mp3s in the form of group's "best" album, to give them a proper second chance. It only took one listen to realize how wrong I was about these dudes. This album is the equivalent of a beautiful rape. Dark but not evil, if anything cleansing in some perverse way. Imagine the scene in Angels in America where the dude dying of AIDS is aroused (literally) by Emma Thompson's Angel "I, I, I, I, I DOTH GIVETH YOU A BONER!" set to the mood of Eyehategod. Marvelous, but not for the faint of heart. If anyone can tell me where the sample at the very end of the album is from, I'd be very grateful. I checked the liner notes, but much like not getting any cookies, no dice.




Yakuza - Samsara

Wow. Fucking WOW. This came out of nowhere, if by nowhere I mean some lost file on an old harddrive currently going kaput. I have no idea who sent this to me, when, or even why, but it may be the best album I've heard since The Mars Volta were still an awesome band (hint: it's been several years now). I described this as Neurosis' Times of Grace meets Ulver's Perdition City, and I stand by that. Generally speaking, I much prefer unleashing such a marvelous album as a blind purchase upon trusted recommendation rather than clicking through fucking Windoze folders, but I'll take what I can get. Anyone interested in forward thinking heavy music needs to make this mandatory. Normally when I discover such wonder before buying the album in question, I delete the files until I physically own the CD. This time, I can't bring myself to wait, as it is far too good. Last time that happened was when I first heard Colour Haze, when I nearly wore out my CD-R copy before running out and frantically buying half their discography.




Augustus Pablo - various

So I came home one evening to find the woman listening to some old reggae, and I looked at her a bit funny, wondering where it came from. Apparently upon a visit to her sister and bro-in-law's last month, a CD-R of a bunch of this dude's music was included in our takehome carepackage. I wasted no time before confiscating the disc to my car, where it has been spun time and time again over the past several weeks. I can feel this wonderment through my veins, and so should you.




ZZ Top - Tres Hombres

I had heard La Grange about 50 times over the past several years, and only recently discovered who the fuck it was. Silly me. Anywho, I figured this would be an album that I would appreciate and perhaps casually enjoy, while only loving said Texas Hooker Song. Wrong again! This is one of those most solid Rock And/Or Roll albums I have ever heard, and I'm completely addicted to it. Sure, the bearded synthesized fuzzy guitar stuff was fun in the '80s, and occasionally good about once a year if caught on the radio today, but this earlier material is timeless.




The Residents - Mark of the Mole

I used to think Primus grew up on Rush and odd cartoons. Now I know it was not Ren and Stimpy that warped their minds, but rather The Residents. This could easily be dismissed as "...weird...?" and nothing further, but this album is thorough, dark, mesmerizing, and, god dammit, fucking catchy! The ejection of the Mohelmot by the Chubs in the final movement is one of the most haunting things I've heard in ages.




Colour Haze - All

The only album from them to disappoint me upon first listen. Thankfully further spins revealed it to be quite good, although very calm compared to their usual so beautiful yet so heavy it hurts my third eye "standard" fare. I can imagine this album growing to a level of complete dominance of my CD player, but it is going to take a long while to unearth the layers. Usually with such things the journey is better than the destination, and I already know one dude who rescued his own love of the entire stoner genre with this one. Excited, I remain.




Cannibal Corpse - The Bleeding

I can't believe I still like this album, and can even appreciate it just a little bit more every time I pull it off the shelves (generally about once every three years). Excellent songwriting and a unique sounding production make this one a near perfect package. Corpsegrinder is probably the better vocalist, but Barnes honestly convinces me that he murders people for this one.




Silver Mt. Zion - 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons

I'm not loving this one yet, but I do like it. While guitars have played a bigger role in each passing album from them, this one it truly takes center stage. The emotion is still high, the politics are continually revolutionary, but this is a flat out rock album. As much as I love all their work, I honestly don't think they will ever top the first album, but that doesn't mean everything else they have done is anything short of near perfection.




Belenos - Spicilège

Gotta have at least a little bit o' black metal during the hottest time of the year! Don't know why, but it always happens. It generally takes full concentration, a dark evening, and half a bottle of cabernet savignon to completely digest a complex black metal album, and I have yet to celebrate this gem from France in such a way, but this work is awfully breathtaking on several occasions. Ignorance often paints black metal in a ridiculous light, but some of these groups are creating some of the most thought provoking, emotionally convincing, genuinely intriguing music in existence today. Very much worth the effort for those so inclined.




Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Let Love In

I'm quite late to this party. I even watched Nick Cave's movie before bothering with his music, in fact up until a few weeks ago I only knew The Seeds via the song Loverman as covered by Metallica, which I adored until hearing the original, but now I want to punch Jaymez even more than ever. Upon the above mentioned visit to woman's sister and bro-in-law's, I discovered their Nick Cave collection and quickly fell in love with this passionate lust den in the back of a David Lynch bar/dream sequence. About fucking time.

Cliffsnotes: good music > oral sex
Monday, July 21st, 2008

Cannibal Corpse v. The World
Wednesday Andrea Curry-Demus, 38, called medics and was taken by ambulance to a local hospital carrying a newborn wrapped in a towel, complaining that the baby was still dirty from birth. She told the medics that the baby was hers but after tests were done it was determined the baby didn't belong to her so they notified the police.

After being questioned the woman finally admitted that she had a miscarriage in June and didn't want her mother to find out fearing it would upset her too much. Detective Rich Grande sad that Curry-Demus told him that she purchased the baby from a woman she befriended that was pregnant named Tina for the price of $1000. Fingerprint testing has ruled out a woman named Tina Carter as being the mother that is one of two other pregnant black women in the area that has been reported as missing.
...wait for it...
Reporters trying to get a story went to Curry-Demus's Pennsylvania apartment and noticed flies and smelled an odor from the sidewalk below so they notified police. Once they entered the apartment they found a body tied up with her uterus cut open. The medical examiner said a placenta was found at the scene.

--The Source
v.



Cliffsnotes: Damn. I haven't listened to Cannibal Corpse in years but I just remembered how awesome Bloodthirst really was. It was like Reign in Blood for gore metal, but I don't think I've spun it since the '90s so who knows if I'll even enjoy it anymore? Time to wake the neighborehood.
Could you pass the propaganda please?

Wednesday, July 16th, 2008

High Fructose Corn Syrup can suck it. The only thing that I'm aware of in my home that has such a thing is some god damn Canada Dry, and that's because I just recently discovered a NOT FULL OF BULLSHIT alternative in the form of Kemper's Ginger Ale. Hooray!

Anyhow, I'm not going to bother convincing you the evils of HFCS, as Google is widely available for all to use. Hint: search for Europe regulations, Monsanto, and Amy Reid Big Tits. However, I will point out this lovely piece of UTTER FUCKING TRIPE that has appeared over the past month or so:



The website is http://www.sweetsurprise.com/ which no, I don't want linked from my webshite so you'll have to cut and paste on your own. Fuck these fucks. Fuck these fucking fucks right up their fucking asses. Probably run by the god damn FDA, or at least funded by them. What do I have to back up that claim? COMMON FUCKING SENSE!

Cliffsnotes: When I grow up I'm going to Bovine University!
Tuesday, July 15th, 2008

"I got to make the bookies."

So I've been playing Chrono Trigger lately, right. Apparently I'm not a big reader for 2008, I've only cracked open a small handful of books this year, so might as well waste time playing a video game that I first got while still in high school! So yeah, the whole catastrophe behind it (every good game/book/story/tale/foot/beer has one) is that this Giant Horned Shell Thing rises up out of the ground some time in 1999, destroying civilization as we know it.



Pretty neat, huh? So yeah, GHST ruins our shit and the overwhelming majority of the population gets fucked, which you get to witness in the year 2300 thanks to e-time travel within the game. I can't honestly say this kind of stuff has ever scared me, because while a lot of it makes me think (mostly Asimov and Adams type material), I realize how outlandish it is. Yet these days I'm starting to ponder that something so wholly destructive might not be such a bad thing, at the very least be entertaining, and perhaps even a move in the right direction for Ol' Mutha Earf. Some days I sit around just waiting for the apocalypse to occur, without the lame religious overtones of course, and I'm almost giddy. At this point utter chaos 'round the entire globe seems inevitable, and now I'm just waiting for it to happen while I still have a good seat. Bring on the nukes, quick before I lose my erection!



Oh yeah, and I'm trying not to blog because I'm attempting at writing a book. A complete draft might be finished by year end, if the muse treats me so.

Cliffsnotes: Out of all the doomsday books and comics I've read, why pick this as an example? No fucking clue. I even read Watchmen for the first time just last month, could have über-dorked it and chosen that one. Jesus Fuckpiss this is the longest Cliffsnotes I've ever done!
Tuesday, June 17th, 2008

Careering

At 15, all you want is the shittiest job possible so you can buy the shittiest car you can find.

At 20, all you want is some way out of flipping burgers.

At 25, all you want is to be able to pay your rent without going into debt.

At 30, all you want is something that doesn't suck your life away.

At 35, all you want is to achieve the goal you set at 30 years old.

At 40, all you want is to achieve the goal you set at 30 years old.

At 45, all you want is to achieve the goal you set at 30 years old.

At 50, all you want is to achieve the goal you set at 30 years old.

At 55, all you want is to achieve the goal you set at 30 years old.

At 60, all you want is to achieve the goal you set at 30 years old.

At 65, all you want is to know where things went wrong.

At 70, all you want is to live off social security.

At 75, you die.

Cliffsnotes: Robert Johnson sold his soul at the crossroads, look where it got him.
Thursday, June 12, 2008

.45 shells and an empty bottle of Boone’s

So yeah, I'm always plagiarizing the doomsayers of the web about how this is The Upcoming Second Depression, but like so many conspiracy theories I may prattle on about, sweeping generalizations and assumptions are the order of the day for such things, and I realize that the possibility of them all being true is slightly less than a given. But what if it does happen? What if all the rumours of insolvent banks are true and we're on the verge of an utterly unavoidable total catastrophe? Tomorrow morning the Dow drops 6,000 points, unemployment skyrockets to 75%, and gas just ran out. What then?

"How come you didn't turn on me, Jayne?"
"Money wasn't good enough."
"What happens when it is?"
"Well... that'll be an interesting day."


Not entirely unrelated:

I've read a handful of articles lately declaring the death of the overhuge SUV, with many happy eco-tears being shed in the process. I would venture to guess none of these idiots have driven on the road lately, or if they have, they are just really bad at math. It's true, I've seen quite a handful of those SMRT I mean SMART cars out there as of late, which is great (apologies for the rhyme, perhaps you'd like a lime). It's also true that the frequency of lifted 2WD F-150 BroMobiles has become quite curbed in recent memory. Yet there still remains an utterly ridiculous amount of single passenger 9-seaters in every lane possible on your favourite Disinformation Stuporhighway. Sales have plummeted and gas prices are at an all time high, but let's be frank here, or Steve if you'd prefer: you already shelled out 60 large for a roving room full o' cattle and faux teak, another few hundo every month on stupid juice isn't going to kill you, why bother becoming sensible now? Not like everything you've purchased over the past 5 years has been on anything but credit anyhow, so provided you still have enough MasterShit tokens to load up without getting embarassed by the CALL BANK PLEASE on the monitor at K-fuck, you'll keep siphoning the proverbial greased teat no matter how expensive it gets. The Energy Department called for $4.15 / gallon peak average for this coming August yesterday, and I LOL'd. So since we're making shit up, I'd like to offer a few predictions myself:

-fake breast sizes will top at 160ZZZZZ, which will be installed the day Poo Diddly establishes his final nickname: Piss Drunk

-the oldest person to summit Mt. Everest will be 93 years old, and he will be naked

-the Rolling Stones will perform their last show on February 19th, 2184 to a crowded stadium on Pluto

-Jimmy Hoffa's body will finally be revealed congealed to a couch in Compton some time in 2015, where he has spent the past 40 years watching infomercials and Maury Povich (he died on Y2K eve of natural causes)

-Dennis Hopper shot JFK, which is clearly illustrated in the released files in 2029

Cliffsnotes: Most complaints about gas that I hear are "they should do something about this" and "stamps are $0.43 now?!"
Monday, June 9th, 2008

Subjective reasoning why every struggling artist should watch Control.



I must preface this by stating that I am not a huge Joy Division fan. Yes I appreciate them, yes I completely adore New Dawn Fades, and yes I own both of their proper albums (along with the first New Order release), but no, I cannot say that I truly love them. Many years ago I felt the same way about The Beatles, but have since become able to recognize my infatuation toward their genius, so who knows what the future may bring? Point being that I recognize the difference between respecting an important group and falling head over heels for them, and furthermore--GET ON WITH IT!

Right. What spoke to me about this movie was the every day life that Ian Curtis had to face in opposition to his aspirations as a fledgling rock star. Obscure relationships, shitty jobs, and horrible health problems are things that reality deals to whomever it wants, and usually it wants every body possible for at least a little while. Fight what you can, accept what you must. It will eventually pay off if you keep your eye on the goal, even when things become seemingly insurmountable. Never forget that if it ever gets too difficult, you can always hang yourself.

Cliffsnotes: Any fan of Anton Corbijn and/or Joy Division has already seen this movie and needs no advice from me, others have likely never heard of it and shall ignore my advice at will.
Sunday, June 8th, 2008

The Stupid Tax

Over the past decade rules and regulations became virtually nonexistent, encouraging Wall Streeters to start playing with money in all kinds of new ways to maximize returns for themselves and other players, until it all came to an abrupt hault when someone finally said "what's all this, then?" around the beginning of 2007. The attic collapsed, and there are some debts to be repaid by said Streeters, along with everyone else that joined the party, including every day individuals, state budgets, and private companies large and small. So instead of the big players facing the brunt of the injury, which is only fair since they claimed the majority of the windfall, everyday idiots suffer equally, if not moreso, in the form of higher food, gas, and health care costs.

One could certainly argue that we've all been privy to this benefit over the past 10 years (or longer), but there is a huge difference in your IRA gaining a few hundred extra bones each year compared to the fleet of yachts and gold plated terlit seats your favourite hedge fund manager shits upon. Anyone joining the e'ergrowing list of unemployed looking for work doesn't have to think far in advance to realize the cost of gasoline severely limits where they can actualize new job. Widespread suburban lifestyle is biting its dwellers firmly on their collective ass, and sure, they got to enjoy a calmer homestyle as the developers laughed all the way to bank. Fair trade? The high cost of living is easily paid if you don't know what to expect when the bill is due.

So what is one to do? Suck it up and wait it out, hoping for some cheaper tomorrow? Realize that the American Dream is truly dead, even if it was never alive for all but the upper 1% in the first place? Take this shit to the streets, enacting the long overdue Texas Tea Party? Many around the globe might be thinking to themselves "finally, the fat, dumb, and happy ones are getting their comeuppance," except the fact that this problem has branched worldwide, and as usual, those most deserving suffer the least, so anyone with revenge in their eyes is too busy trying to figure out how they are going to get to work tomorrow, if they even still have a job to go to. This make believe system that is today's global economy is bursting at its seams, and nobody can count on much changing for the better anytime soon.

Cliffsnotes: Not so calm before the storm.
Saturday, June 7th, 2008

Sick with Cold Am I and Coughing

Been busy with excess bullshit lately, have not had time to purge this outlet that is my typed idiocy. Not that it hasn't been worthwhile activities that I have been firmly engaged upon, because watching Russian sci-fi flicks and paying bills are quite noble endeavours. Looks like Obama Jihad has won his side of the coin, and while I don't hate the dude, I am certainly no longer a fan of his since he uttered that tripe about bringing back the foreign policy ways of Kennedy, Nixon, and Reagan. Sure, a part of me hopes that was just some political pandering toward swing votes, but most of me sees it a different way. This stupid country will keep on truckin' its absurd path of dealing with other states of the world in a retribution fashion, a million eyes for half a hangnail, until the whole affair comes crashing completely down and we simply no longer have the money to continue. Oh who am I kidding, we all know that Mr. War Hero will win tenfold against some black guy, crushing any hope up to 49% of the population may have, no matter how futile it might be. Alas, I guess. We need a new system, or at least a return to an olde, good one:

And what of the TRUE God? Whose glory, churches, and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now sir, what of him?

He's dead. He can't complain, he had his chance, and in modern parlance: blew it.
Cliffsnotes: Got a boogie on my finger and I can't shake it off!
Monday, May 26th, 2008

Deprived of Sleep, Enthralled by Conspiracy

I'm not sure what to make of a night such as this. Usually filled with researched DVD sets of television shows filmed shortly before that particular medium existed and surfing the web for photographs of Jenna Jameson during an age when she was still hot (around the dawn of said DVD format), all whilst listening to various White Zombie albums. One might surmise that I am attempting reliving my teenage years, which, for all intents and purposes, is possibly correct. A few weeks ago I decided that the '00s decade, in complete and total cultural summary, could be described as Utterly Boring. Not that there hasn't been some great movies, albums, and other contributions of artistic freedom in a variety of forms, but nothing widespread, en masse, All Yer Boring Neighbours Know Of It ideas and consequences have occured. Movie remakes are all the rage (hint: Hulk), and the biggest music stars currently include Madonna and Mariah. The only useful bits have come from locations under granite, moss, and shadow, and require delving to become revealed. Then again, before I come off as a modern retro snob (the golden age being from any indeterminate period prior to Y2K), I must say that the access to information is stronger than ever before. Why bother consulting your parent's 1987 collection of Encyclopædia Britannica when Wikipedia is a few short clicks away? Please note that I am certainly not an advocate of the eradication of the printed word, simply a proponent of life's Jeopardy answers being as up to date as possible. Just trying to put things into perspective. Either way, I'm running out of steam and need to gloss over a few articles on 2012 and Novus Ordo Mundi so I can hopefully pass out a touch before sunrise and dream of things paranoid. Unrehearsed Retroviral Takeover:



Cliffsnotes: Maybe it is best that the greatest achievements are left only to those who actively search them out. Maybe a decade should not be judged when it still has time to go and become absorbed. Maybe I should shut the fuck up.
Thursday, May 22nd, 2008

I want to touch Trent Reznor.

Pretty Hate Machine does funny things to me, especially the video for Sin which makes me question my sexuality more than watching Spartacus with a room full of old men. I loved Broken as a wee one, used to jump up and down on my bed, bass on shoulder, rocking along with all the angstynth. The Downward Spiral is one of my personal favourite albums of all time, which happens to be one of the very few that I can say is equally important on a grand scale in terms of cultural significance. The Fragile moved me quite a bit, especially once I was able to devour it completely, which did take considerable time. WITH_TEETH could have easily been the first disappointment, but the closing four songs are absolutely brilliant, so a positive memory remains. Year Zero was borderline great, but never quite did what it wanted to do, and falling short is still falling short, no matter how close the mark has been made. The Slip, a truly free album, is promising, and I look forward to further explorations therein. Clear all worry, I did not skip an album. Ghosts. A milestone work of wonder and genius. I can't believe how good it is. What Maynard James Keenan said about the legacy that The Fragile would leave, eventually, I believe will come to pass with this double/quadrupel album. It is true, one of NIN's lures are the greatly accessible pop-like songs created out of bits of mangled digital signals. Assume my opinion not, I love these works very much. However that is not my focus when speaking of this desire. Closer blew my 15-year-old mind years ago, not due to the saccharinely lewd chorus, but rather the beauty born from chaos closing moments which tear apart the very foundations of existence before springing forth a solitary flower. The more experimental and unpredictable side of Trent Reznor is what I love, and Ghosts is the very definition of it. Happy camper, I remain.

Cliffsnotes: Fuck sleep. I have to go watch more Luscious Jackson videos on YouBoob. After this here Sunn O))) album I'm listening to is over that is.
Wednesday, May 21st, 2008

If I was rich, I'd weigh 400 pounds at least.

Lou Pearlman, the man who created the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync, was sentenced Wednesday to 25 years in federal prison for engineering a decades-long scam that bilked thousands of investors out of their life savings.

It was the maximum sentence the boy band mogul could receive for allegedly swindling some $300 million from investors and banks since the early 1980s.
--Associated Press
I'd say fuckit and just gorge all the time. All the associated health problems can blow it out their respective ass, I'd just dope myself up on whatever medication made me feel okay and when my knees finally exploded I'd get a fancy wheelie cart to take me where I needed to go (burger/taco/bacon/butter stand).

LOiL hit $132 / barrel today, and secretly I want it to go higher. I've been seeing all kinds of smaller vehicles on the road, including multiple examples of the diminuitive SMRT (I mean SMART) CAR, and if $4 / gallon fillups are the only way to curb just one of many excessive overindulgences by this populace, so be it. Concerning the long term future of gas prices, we'll wait and see which is correct, speculation investment or peak oil. Could be that some group of douchebags forcing the cost to skyrocket so they can cash out since all their hedge funds in Bear Stearns imploded, forcing the prospect of only retiring with a smattering of billion$ instead of lumps of hundreds of them as per expectations. You don't have to buy completely into my schtick to realize that that is at least a possibility in this highly regulated and moral pinnacle of a free market economy. Also I just realized that not once in the past few years have I received one of those OMG DON'T BUY GAS FROM EXXON NEXT TUESDAY LOLZ type emails. Have people given up hope? Has reality set in? Have I just become more adept at my spam filtering? THE SHADOW KNOWS!!!

Cliffsnotes: The woman is waiting for riots, I'm waiting for people to continue sucking the $20 / ounce teat.
Tuesday, May 20th, 2008

The IRS is a worthless piece of shit and needs to die a million painful deaths. Immediately.

No, I'm not going to bitch about how much tax I end up paying out me arse every year (which I do), or even how I'm getting gypped out of a decent Wal-mart Stimufuck Package (which I am), but rather about the completely wasteful nature of it, much like our government as a whole. Some may remember the first letter that went out a month or two ago, saying "okay! You'll be getting a check in a week or nineteen!" to the tune of
42 MILLION FUCKING DOLLARS
and today I finally received an envelope with IRS and PAYMENT stamps on it, so I assumed what you might consider to be the most logical thing. Nay! It was another letter, stating "it'll be here soon, no really this time!" It quickly became torn asunder when I realized that likely a second
42 MILLION FUCKING DOLLARS
was wasted on this. Actually this one probably cost more, as it was specific letter to me detailing exactly how much I would receive. Amazing. Amazingly moronic.

dIeRS dIeRS dIeRS dIeRS

Cliffsnotes: I also got a letter denying my excuse to get out of jury duty so I'm even less of a fan of the stupid idiotic fuckpit clusterass of a god damn shitcunting goverment than usual today.
Friday, May 16th, 2008

Ten Ways To Improve One's Daily Mood

-Chase a cat. Not violently, just a little game of cat and moron. Attempt to pet the cat by approaching slowly, and when it inevitably runs, follow it briskly until you get bored or the neighbours call the cops. Incessant giggling helps.

-Clean your windshield. Staring through dead bugs and birdshit never makes a commute any easier, but oddly enough when the skies almost look clear and you can plainly see the douche in front of you not using his blinker as he cuts you off, it is a magical feeling.

-Listen to The Life Aquatic soundtrack. It has Mark Mothersbaugh kicking ass and taking names, plus David Bowie songs in French. No further explanation required.

-Get laid / jerk off. Not everybody scores on a daily basis, so if you don't, use the alternative. Jerking off is as easy as a quick trip to any public restroom. Go (touch your) nuts!

-Don't buy gas. Who cares if you run out on the freeway during rush hour? At least you didn't have to rape yourself out of $87 just to get back and forth to work every day in a society designed to keep your home as far away as possible from the only place in a 70 mile radius willing to pay you enough to support said domicile.

-Talk to a bum. You'd be amazed at what they can teach you, if only you gave them a chance.

-Respond to a credit card application by ripping up a terlit paper roll scroll thing and placing it in the envelope to let them now how many times you had to wipe before you could grant them the proper message of how shitty they are.

-Ditch work / class / someone's wedding / parent's funeral. Nobody likes doing the stupid mundane shit they have to do every god damn day anyway, give it a break just this once. Much like chasing a cat, incessant giggling helps here as well.

-Get some bubble wrap, pop the shit out of it. Who doesn't love doing that?

-Read a book, read a book, read a motherfuckin' book. Think to yourself: "when is the last time I read simply for pleasure?" If it has been any longer than 24 hours, then read a book, read a book, read a motherfuckin' book.

Cliffsnotes: Every day you accomplish these things is just one step closer to unexpectedly getting hit by a bus.
Friday, May 16th, 2008

Doozers
California's top court overturns gay marriage ban

By LISA LEFF
Associated Press Writer

SAN FRANCISCO (AP) -- In a monumental victory for the gay rights movement, the California Supreme Court overturned a voter-approved ban on gay marriage Thursday in a ruling that would allow same-sex couples in the nation's biggest state to tie the knot.

Domestic partnerships are not a good enough substitute for marriage, the justices ruled 4-3 in striking down the ban.

Outside the courthouse, gay marriage supporters cried and cheered as the news spread.

--Associated Press
I have always been a vehement supporter of gay rights, but this scares me. This is just one step closer to an outright ban on two consenting adults enjoying the physical company of one another with absolutely no harm done to anyone in the immediate (read: centillion light year) vicinity, because it moves it up the rung toward The Great Big Pig In The Sky, the US Supreme Court. I doubt an amendment to the US Constitution would ever come into being, but a Supreme Court precedent? Definitely possible. Well, I guess for now this is a victory. Good for them. Let the homos celebrate by buttfucking the hell out of one another.

Speaking of harbingers:
"It is time to turn the page on eight years of policies that have strengthened Iran and failed to secure America or our ally Israel. Instead of tough talk and no action, we need to do what Kennedy, Nixon and Reagan did and use all elements of American power — including tough, principled, and direct diplomacy — to pressure countries like Iran and Syria."
--Barack Hussein Obama, Jr.
Fuck you. I was going to vote for this guy, but what the fuck is that? Hooray, let's have another Bay of Pigs and maybe a second Vietnam with some Star Wars ground in like so much fresh pepper up your nostril. Oh, who am I kidding, like this generation doesn't already have its Vietnam, Star Wars is alive and well, and the Bay of Pigs has been recreated constantly for decades in pipe dreams such as Kurdistan and Palestine. If he would have said Carter or Clinton I might still stick with the dude, but recent history has dubbed the peanut farmer Judas, and siding with the enemy that is The Family CLIN-TON wouldn't be prudent at this current superdelegated juncture. America, ditch this pandering bullshit! Wake up and smell your own festering asshole, you useless fuckwad of a populace. Why the fuck am I still here?

Speaking of people I normally hate:

I almost liked what Bush had to say the other day on that online interview thingy, with his embargo on self-golf, and the solution to the oil problem: drill more or consume less. We all know he'd love to drill one right up ye bum like so many recently married Mens On Film, but his either/or scenario is right.



The problem isn't the cost of gas, but rather the limitless access to debt. We'll keep buying gas, and SUVs, and boats, and dirtbikes, and shit, and fuck, and piss until the credit cards are maxed out, at which point you just apply for another one and begin a Brand New Day (Of Spending). I get multiple offers every week, with another chunk from cards I carry foaming at the mouth for me to cash in on some "balance transfer" checks. Why do they even call them that? I used several in years gone by due to foolish wallet planning on my part, and let me tell you, they don't transfer anything but more debt upon thy head in the form of some "cash" in a blank account to buy more stupid shit I didn't need. It's like the world's most convincing shell game but the huckster wears a tie and hands you a CitiBank card. I would love to see credit cards in their entirety demolished tomorrow, just to witness the sheer panic it would cause by the instantaneous eradication of so many wonderful heretofore privileges we have all grown accustomed to. I still have two plastic prison nametags, which is two too many, but I'm too chicken to give them up completely. What if I need to buy that $9 burrito or the new Sunn O))) album and payday isn't for another 3 days?! I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT THAT LONG!!!

Cliffsnotes: I vastly prefer the blue cover of Far Beyond Driven, but this one makes the point a bit clearer.
Tuesday, May 13th, 2008

Hello, I'm a 45-year-old unwed male with a Shakira ringtone.



Cliffsnotes: Hello, I live at the NAMBLA NAMBLA NAMBLA frat house.
Sunday, May 11th, 2008

This is a story, of a man named Thomas Brady.

No it isn't. Anywho, I was feeling sorry for myself the other day BOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING HOOOOOOOOOOOOO so I planned on having this wee image bit put together and saying "sometimes everybody feels like this:" and then going BOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING HOOOOOOOOOOOOO once again, but that's fucking bullshit, so I won't. Anyhow, the image was sort of funny, so I'll do it anyway, with no connection to my own state of being whatsoever:



Also, I did yet another Wold song tonight after witnessing my brand new amp shit itself but rather than calling it FUCK TUBES, I made a wee tribute to Lovecraft with the whole affair. If anybody figures out just what the context of said honouring of The Master of Horror is, there's a pie in for you.

The Wold and The Whale - Reanimation XVII

Fuck, I'm god damn hungry.

Cliffsnotes: Harvey Birdman, hardly bird snatch
Wednesday, May 7th, 2008

Been Caught Feelin'

Been changing diet drastically lately. Been trying to be healthy lately. Been exercising lately. Been drinking a lot less lately. Been FEELING EXCRUTIATING PAIN IN MY UPPER ABDOMEN LATELY. Well, maybe just today, but it did lead to me to spend 6 hours in the ER tonight, including a variety of tests to see if I had gall stones. Conclusion? You're fine. Take some Vicodin, get back on the acid pills, and come back in a week. Fuck that.

So then we went home (The Noush was my taxi/support, and today is our 2nd Anniversary awwwwwwwwwww), and I'm now on a narcotic trying to figure out my problem, on my own as per usual. I think I did. I think I've taken this apple cider vinegar kick too far and have quickly moved it toward The Crutch Stage, wherein I eat what I want once again (such as the other day when I reintroduced spicy foods into my diet, using said ACV to make my stomach realign itself back to reality), and it just kicked me in the teeth reminding me that, unlike the reflux pills, The Way Of The Cidered Vinegar is not to cover up symptoms, but rather alleviate the cause of said problem. Also, that stuff is a diuretic, and as such, I need to compensate by upping my water intake, which I certainly have not been doing. Lessons learned, hopefully. Either that or tomorrow thousands of rabid wasps shoot out my fingertips toward the heavens in V-formation while I caress the naked sun with the bottom of my third foot. Look, I told you I was on Vicodin.

Cliffsnotes: If there was a god, which there isn't, I'd call him a cocksucker.
Monday, May 5th, 2008

Where you going? NOWHERE.

I'm talking about gas. It isn't going to get lower. Maybe once or twice in the shortrun, but getting anywhere remotely close to $3 / gallon is pretty unlikely. It isn't the reserves. It isn't the federal gas tax. It isn't the skyrocketing demand from China and India. It isn't even the oil companies (and we all know I'd love to blame them for this along with every other problem I have including lack of a record deal for my noise project and the occasional impotence mishap). Nope, none of that. Oil is simply running out. Going the way of the buggy whip. Taking a permanent vacation. Buh-bye. Just like the honeybee, although I must admit, most people will quickly panic over gas shortages because they can't drive to the mall anymore, little do they realize that their supermarkets buried deep in suburbia are barren what with the delivery trucks long since ceased operating, and OOPS people were too busy panicking because their televisions all shut down on February 17th, 2009 to realize that all the honeybees of the world are now extinct and there is no natural food to be eaten anyhow. Man, that shit is going to kick all kinds of ass when we have to pull Zombie Life and resort to cannibalism. Three years ago a friend and I planned out how we would survive a zombie invasion, these days I'd rather plot to become Head Zombie so that I get first dibs on celebrity skin. Anywho:
The idea that oil companies are somehow 'to blame' for record oil prices and rising fuel costs is seductive but absurd. For all their power and profits, the international oil companies are in fact in trouble. They may still be swimming in cash, but no longer in oil. Despite vast investment in exploration and production, these days they generally fail to replace the oil they produce each year with fresh discoveries, or even to maintain current levels of output. Shell's oil production has been falling for six years, BP's seems to have peaked 2005, and this week even the mighty Exxon was forced to admit its output dropped 10% in the first quarter of the year.

None of this should come as a surprise since all the evidence now suggests the world is rapidly approaching "peak oil", the point when global oil production goes into terminal decline for fundamental geological reasons. Annual discovery of oil has been falling for over forty years, and now for every barrel we find we consume three. Oil production is already shrinking in 60 of the world's 98 oil producing countries – including Britain, where output peaked in 1999 and has already plunged by more than half. When an individual country peaks it only matters for that country – Britain became a net importer of oil in 2006 – but when global supply starts to shrink the effects could be ruinous for everybody.

--http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml?xml=/opinion/2008/05/03/do0311.xml


Not that citing The Daily Telegraph is the best place to learn about Peak Oil, but this article summed up things quite well and would not make a bad place to start one's research. Then again, maybe it is a vast financial plot to artificially keep oil prices high:
In June 2006, oil traded in futures markets at some $60 a barrel and the Senate investigation estimated that some $25 of that was due to pure financial speculation. One analyst estimated in August 2005 that US oil inventory levels suggested WTI crude prices should be around $25 a barrel, and not $60.

That would mean today that at least $50 to $60 or more of today’s $115 a barrel price is due to pure hedge fund and financial institution speculation. However, given the unchanged equilibrium in global oil supply and demand over recent months amid the explosive rise in oil futures prices traded on Nymex and ICE exchanges in New York and London it is more likely that as much as 60% of the today oil price is pure speculation. No one knows officially except the tiny handful of energy trading banks in New York and London and they certainly aren’t talking.

--http://globalresearch.ca/index.php?context=va&aid=8878
Two conspiracy theories to choose from, hooray! A third bit, something that occasionally creeps me out but is likely not grounded by any form of sciencce, is that oil is somehow the lifeblood of this planet, the purpose of which goes far beyond some basic material consumption need of us lesser forms of filth. Technically speaking, nobody really knows what fossil fuels actually are. The running theory is crushed prehistoric plankton bits aged to sweet, sweet perfection much like a nice brie, but this theory isn't even on the level of nearly factual discussions such as evolution, global warming, and Abbey Road being the most perfect album of all time. The very extraction of such a thing could be upsetting some balance that nobody can comprehend, slowly plunging the very existence of the entire planet into great peril. "...they delved too greedily and too deep, and disturbed that from which they fled, Durin's Bane."





Cliffsnotes: 28 Weeks Later, Barbie Dolls.
Thursday, May 1st, 2008

Happy May Day, Comrades!
"In the United States of America, any sort of independent labor movement was paralyzed so long as slavery disfigured a part of the republic. Labor with a white skin cannot emancipate itself where labor with a black skin is branded. But out of the death of slavery a new vigorous life sprang. The first fruit of the Civil War was an agitation for the 8-hour day – a movement which ran with express speed from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from New England to California."
--Karl Marx
Oh wait, weren't we all taught that Karl Marx was an evil bastard and we are all supposed to hate him? If you believe that then you'll believe this:



Happy 5th, war torn Iraq!

Cliffsnotes: Yes, I had to squeeze that in.
Wednesday, April 30th, 2008

Arthropodrogyny

So I was visiting Grammaw last night, and like she said, "if I'm home, I'm watching TV," hence, I was able to syphon up at least an hour's worth of television news. Other than Cary Berglund bitching about major corporations douching up LA by taking over the names of landmarks, it was a complete waste of time. I even lost a bit of respect for Barack Hussein Obama because he publicly divorced himself from Jeremiah Wright, who, let's fucking face it you idiot fucks, might actually have a good point concerning the imperialist foreign policy of god damn America. The other stuff, and of course the jesus shit, I can possibly do without, but at least he's out there trying to get people to use their empty brains for something other than filling them up with Trix. So anyhow, I didn't begin this tirade to bitch about the news, oh no. It's shit, yes. What else is there to say? Nothing. Done. Out. Gone. So no, not about that. Rather, I'm here to discuss the ridiculous amount of advertising. I really can't afford to watch TV it seems. Actually, not even that. Yes yes, spend spend spend, waste waste waste, nothing new. Again. But this was:
Press Release Source: Mervyn's LLC

Mervyns Mother's Day Sweepstakes Offers to Pay Mom's Bills
Tuesday April 29, 1:58 pm ET

HAYWARD, Calif.--(BUSINESS WIRE)--Mervyns, a family-friendly department store, announces the We’ll Pay Your Bills sweepstakes to give moms something they can really use this Mother’s Day – financial relief!

Mervyns will offer a chance to win one of the following prizes, which have a total value of more than $30,000:
* Grand prize: Three winners will receive free mortgage or rent for one month
* First prize: Ten winners will receive free utilities for one month
* Second prize: More than one-hundred-fifty winners will receive a $100 gasoline gift card
“Moms have one of the most important jobs in the world, and it usually doesn’t come with a paycheck,” said Susan Mesec, Mervyns senior vice president of marketing. “So to recognize their efforts, Mervyns created the We’ll Pay Your Bills sweepstakes to make this Mother’s Day memorable and ultimately help lighten the financial load for nearly 200 families.”

The promotion is valid April 27 - May 11, 2008. Entry forms will be in Mervyns stores. No purchase is necessary to enter. Winners will be selected on or about May 23, 2008 in a random drawing from eligible entries.
That, combined with this morning's LOL, courtesy Yahoo:



and I'm crapping myself with delight. What was that Bill Hicks used to say? "You FUCKING morons. You FUCKING! MORONS!!!" Oh yeah, this economy grew alright. It grew about as much as Duhbya's tiny little scabbed pecker did this morning when he smelled an Emergency Use Only gerry can accidentally spilling a few drops whilst refueling one of the 12mpg White House Suburbans somewhere out back. How many people do you know that have been laid off over the past 6 months? How many empty industrial buildings do you drive by every day? What did your last tank of gas cost? Seen any Tent Cities / Hoovervilles yet? Saving up for this summer's A/C bill? Fuck him, fuck this, fuck you, and fuck me.

Cliffsnotes: Well I still haven't taken this shit to the streets, when will that tipping point be reached?
Friday, April 25th, 2008

The Big Shit

So I guess the digital TV crap has crapped upon the crapping, or at least is about to crapify everywhere (crappily). Even places like Sears are getting fined by the FCC because they aren't being clear about the forced obsolescence of old skool analogue televisions, and other saps are probably going to shit themselves on February 17th, 2009 when they try to watch Maury on their 40 year old Zenith only to realize the white fuzz screen of death is the only entertainment they might possibly have that day, since all other forms of communcation such as reading, talking, and thinking are long forgotten myths of times since past, the veritable dragons of our age.
To clarify, you're not affected by the DTV transition if you have one of the following:

* A TV with a digital tuner
* A digital-to-analog converter box
* A cable or satellite TV subscription that's not connected straight to your TV set
FURTHER CLARIFICATION:

* Your brainwaves are not melted if you don't watch television.
* It matters fuckall if your TV has not been hooked up to the outside world in 5 years.

Seriously man, I mean come on. Throw away your television. Let the the mindsuck commence elsewhere. Yes I have television and yes it plays arthouse DVDs and of course Simpson and X-files episodes on occasion but nothing else. I guess the internet is nearly as bad what with the YOUVE WON FREE IPUD LOLZ!!!!!1five but at least this nonsense is somewhat interactive, and, for the most part, requires some semblance of literacy. Even finding porn requires one to successfully type those four magnificient letters strewn together in properly ordered fashion.

Cliffsnotes: I'm going to try out cross-posting this mess in MySpork for a bit. My whole experiment in blogshitting started there in the first place several years ago, so why in the god damn not?
Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008

Li'l Lisa Slurry

I'm making this survey up so if you don't like the questions blame my overconsumption of apple juice today (and yesterday).

1. Did you ever get to see Alice in Chains live?
No, and I'm still pretty pissed about that. The first concert I ever attended was in 1994 and AiC was on the bill, but had to cancel at the last minute due to the crystal ship not arriving in port on time, or rather too soon, or perhaps not at all. No, it was there I'm sure. Who knows. Either way, I'm listening to their Unplugged album right now. Tis beautiful.

2. When is the last time you read a book?
Ugh, it was weeks ago, when I finished The Hobbit. I currently have a Lovecraft book sitting next to me, which I will consume when I'm done with this here mixtape. I went pretty apeshit with literature last year, this year I appear to be taking a bit of a break. Oh well, the shelves are ripe with desire but willing to wait.

3. Hang on, mix tape? What fucking year is this?
2008, and it is a compilation for someone's iPud. I'm not entirely sure I'm okay with this particular side of modernity, as I believe the singles format has killed the album way of life even moreso than it already was, but at the same time reaching into your pocket and removing a 2 ounce chunk of plastic that contains the entire Frank Zappa and Swans discographies is pretty god damn rad.

4. Frank Zappa was pretty fucking awesome.
This is not a question. This is a statement. A statement of complete and total fact. Proceed.

5. So how about them gas prices?
Oh don't get me started. I already ranted today about how hydrogen fucking cars should be on the front page of every automobile section of any magazine, newspaper, and website imaginable until the infrastructure to support such a thing stretches from sea to shining sea to shining sea to shining sea. Am I wrong?

6. Well no, but you are talking to yourself. Again. Schizophrenia much?
Look, we're all a little crazy. I'm no worse than anybody reading this most likely. Perhaps.

7. Yes, perhaps. Anyhow, see any good movies lately?
I watched Reality Bites for the first time tonight. I quite enjoyed it. I found myself incredibly attracted to Wynona Rider for one of the first times ever upon viewing her person in said role. Must've been her amazing acting abilities (ah, alliteration).

8. Does '90s retro schtick make you feel old yet?
As of just tonight, yes. Never realized how quite cliche my generation back then really was: "My flannel itches and the job market sucks, let's go to The Gap and buy identical pants." Although I'm not sure what the '00s might bring in retrospect, probably mostly because a few years ago I stopped paying attention to mainstream anything and started dressing like it was 1972.

9. What about music? Anything catch your fancy as of late?
Today involved Dax Riggs, the Rolling Stones, and Carcass. I still have my first Residents album waiting for me on the speaker, have had it for weeks but have not yet involved myself unto such things. The new Meshuggah is pretty fucking killer, very catchy for them. Somehow reminds me of the last Negura Bunget album, in that it is still very much the band we have all come to know and love, but at the same time an accessibility has been reached that doesn't lack anything in terms of sheer artistic vision. I love it when that happens, but the border betwixt is fraught with despair. Also the new Silver Mt. Zion is pretty good, only listened to once and was shocked at the rock sensibilities, but I am very much looking forward to further discovery.

10. Are you doing this just to satisfy your own strange desire to have an imaginary friend, much like when you were younger and rather than manifesting some other being to associate yourself with upon finding one lacking in corporeal friends, simply made audio recordings of you (forgive the pun) playing with yourself?
It's possible, pig.

11. Fine. What is your favourite beverage?
Currently, apple cider vinegar, straight up unfiltered fire breathing swill. I took acid reflux pills for ten years, ten fucking years, and a small amount of this a handful of times a day completely cures it. Fuck modern medicine! 12. You seem angry. Are you angry?
Fuckin' A.

13. How much longer do you plan on carrying out this fiasco?
I believe the last Alice in Chains disc is nearing completion of uploading into iToonz, and when that is done, so am I. Ah, there we have it. So it goes.

Cliffsnotes: GET ON WITH IT!!!
Saturday, April 5th, 2008

god Damn The Pusher Man

The drug companies are making me sick. This is a society where symptoms are covered up rather than causes treated, all to the tune of The Almighty Dwindling Fucking Dollar. There's no reason to beat around the bush and try to pretend otherwise, this is factual, much like the concurrent bi-raping that the oil companies wreak upon our daily lives. Check the profit margins, it really is that simple:

omg               wtf

My girlfriend and I have both had our completely unrelated and wholly different health problems for around 10 years. This entire time, our symptoms have been distorted and pushed to the side via coverup propaganda, in the form of prescription medication. She stopped taking her drugs several months ago, and, despite her thoughts to the contrary, I know her condition has improved immensely. So now it is my turn, to remove the clutches the drug grasp has held upon me for a decade. This is Day Three, and other than some Withdrawal Symptoms in the form of Jetstream Diarrhea, things are going pretty well. I hope this continues. Well, not the diarrhea. I could do without that.

Somewhat related, I think I'm starting to realize that recreational drugs are not always conducive to a creative mind. Yes, there are some brilliant examples of heavily dosed individuals, but personally speaking, I've never had as much output as I have had than over the past two years, which have not been nearly as booze-drenched that the prior 8 years were, when I was most concerned about partying and working just enough to afford said partying. Even the secondary substances I once enjoyed (caffeine, nicotine, THC) have all but disappeared from my repertoire. Perhaps going xXxStraightedgExXx isn't as idiotic as once assumed.

The next step is to create something of actual quality, instead of the usual half-written drivel I refer to as songs and rants. Good luck with that.

Cliffsnotes: I like how this boog is immediately followed by a picture of me with 16 empty beer bottles. The world is not yet perfect, and I fit right in.
Monday, March 31st, 2008

American Made Imports
The tours were frequently interrupted as Hoon spent time in rehab or jail as his already serious drug use increased and his behavior became more bizarre. In 1993, Hoon was arrested for indecent exposure after he stripped naked onstage and urinated on a fan at a show in Vancouver.
I took a 4-day weekend and now I'm sitting here at work thinking "...oh yeah," and it sorta sucks. I got pretty incoherent on Saturday, for the first time in many many months. In fact it may have been 6 months ago or longer since I got that trashed. It was worth it:



I have absolutely no recollection of that picture being taken, but it must have been at the end of the night due to the glass of water in hand. I only drank about half of those beers too, but yesterday required watching about 5 hours of X-files instead of accomplishing anything remotely productive. Which reminds me, here is the reason my britches are currently becoming polluted with delight:



Also this past Friday I played my first Awesome Venue show, at The Whisky in Los Angeles, which was also the first Avolition show ever:



Finally saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time last week, which was pretty god damn amazing. Unrelated, but I feel not the urge to begin a new paragraph even: tomorrow begins a change of life for me. I've suffered acid reflux bullshit for a decade, and I am now less than one year away from the big Three Zero. I've lost somewhere between 10 to 15 pounds over the past year without much effort, so if I actually do or do not (there is no try), I should be able to drop the next 10 to 15 easily. If this means I have to give up my favourite things such as beer, cheese, and hookers, well then SO BE IT!



Cliffsnotes: cat poop, cat soup.
Wednesday, March 19th, 2008

Fries of March



Fun crapola a-happenin' right now. Avolition demo has been mastered, and while certainly not perfect, it sounds pretty good. I'm debating on making this my excuse to purchase the necessary recording gear to do my own stuff, but I'm not sure I want to invest in a bunch of crap I may only use a couple of times. You know, sort of like my last custom bass which I never play. Idiot. Anyhow, rather than upload more mp3s that nobody will listen to, a link to the band's MyShit page is now at the top of this mess. Not to get too heavy into numbers, I'm technically part of four projects right now: one band, one duo thing that is eternally delayed, and two distinct solo projects. Ridiculous. Also, poirkf.



In closing, a few remarks concerning the stupidity of the US economy right now:
The central bank is an institution of the most deadly hostility existing against the Principles and form of our Constitution. I am an Enemy to all banks discounting bills or notes for anything but Coin. If the American People allow private banks to control the issuance of their currency, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the People of all their Property until their Children will wake up homeless on the continent their Fathers conquered.
--Thomas Jefferson



Cliffsnotes: FAWK OWFF!!!
Monday, March 17th, 2008

god damn busy

Been busy with life lately, no time for ranting, raving, and ye olde verbal heart attack. Have a few Borks in the works, but that whole section is completely fucked it seems, at least for the time being.

Fuckit: the first Avolition demo was recorded on Saturday, to be mastered this Tuesday. Got to use my phaser, chorus, and Blue Berry pedals even. Yay.

Last night, during a bout of insomnia, I finally started my noishit project. The name I am using is The Wold and the Whale to keep it separate from the Farewell, Shootka! unsense. Four songs completed around 3am this morning, the next three this current evening:

Consternation I
Conflagration II
Emancipation III
Indiscretion IV
Alliteration V
Interpolation VI
Formication VII

Seems okay so far. We'll see what happens. I'll do an actual separate page for this endeavour at a later time. Whee!

Cliffsnotes: I totally changed this one 14 hours later, LOL @ USD.
(originally posted on MyShit)

Wendesday, March 5th, 2008

WTF

This is one of those "what the fuck is happening in life" type blogs. Why am I compelled to do such a thing? Because I dropped off my dad at the hospital at 5am this morning, am not exactly feeling well rested or level headed, and as such, have been contemplating life. So it goes.

My current living situation is most certainly In Sin, and has been for nearly the entire time we've been dating. Deeply in love with no definite plans of marriage, because hey, why screw up the hot sex now?

I recently joined a band whom I feel very connected with unlike any experience I've had in years. A bit over a year ago I began my solo project, which I concentrated heavily on during 2007. It is not perfect, and remains active, but with close to 20 songs completed (sans vocals, so far), I am quite pleased with the results and feel it is the proper time to share my musical voice amongst others once again. Oddly enough they were the one band that did NOT have mp3 samples via Craig's List or MySpork, but apparently I felt a vibe through the simple advertisement's words. First demo is set to be recorded this Ides of March. Keen.

I don't read nearly as much as I should, but I could read 3 books a day and still say that. Nabokov is my current infatuation, he writes as if water.

My favourite musical discovery of the past several years continues to be Swans. I am still flabbergasted by the sheer brilliance they created, and cannot imagine what it was like to be around during their place in time. Same goes for Acid Bath, a group it took me years to comprehend, but now love them so. I suppose I'm lucky enough to be around to witness Old Man Gloom during their existence, the third, but not final, group I have felt the most passion toward in years. Kyuss and the entire desert scene (both of past and ongoing) continue to be an influence on me, spiritually and creatively. Those, combined with the massive amounts of other acts, ranging from Stevie Wonder to Deathspell Omega, make life worth waking up for each and every day.

I am surrounded by a close circle of loved ones. They know who they are and I hope that, by recognizing their station in relation to me, they realize how much I appreciate them for being them. If you need to be reminded, just ask. Or wait, I'll get around to telling you. Eventually. Hopefully before it is too late.

I haven't masturbated in about two weeks.

I still work in the construction field, an accidental career which I have been a part of for closing in on one decade. As always, I'd rather be doing something more fulfilling for my soul, but in these trying industry times, complaining about working for a good company for a healthy salary would make me sound like an asshole. More of one, that is.

A hearty LOL at the fact that I have liver damage at 28 years old, and as such, do not drink nearly how I used to. I can't complain about that, being mostly sober is actually kind of nice. Kind of. My lifelong battle with a sour stomach continues to be frought with inconvenience, but this does help. Need to start exercising more, and by "more" I mean "at all." It has been almost 2 years since I stopped smoking, although I have enjoyed the occasional cigar and clove since then, including one time I inadvertently inhaled (dumbass). I notice little difference, but do not miss the smell.

Anyhow. This will likely be my only blog here because whenever I write anything, it goes straight to Ugly and Swearing along with the combined forces of my entire idiocy. Now I must go read FDR's inauguration speech from 1933.
Sunday, February 17th, 2008

Blast From Mine Arse

Recently joined a band again, first one I've been a part of in over two years now. The Farewell, Shootka! solo shite is going well, and I will continue onward with it, especially since I seem to have found my true calling for what it is supposed to be (very doomish stuff, I didn't initially realize that was to be the proper path, especially considering the first real DOOOOOOOOOOOM song I wrote was completely by accident), but it is now time to rejoin with the forces of others. The band is called Avolition, a grunge/rock trio somewhere in the realm of Pearl Jam, et alii. Several practices in and I am quite enjoying myself, demo and shows should be ariving sometime toward the end of March. Cool.

Also, just for nostalgic shitz and giggles, here are two live/demo songs from my old band:

Three Sheets to the Wind - For The Dead Again
Three Sheets to the Wind - She Doesn't Want to Die in June

We had fun with that shit. Fun fact: that particular jam was recorded the day after I met The Woman, whom I did not begin the courting process with until 8 freakin' months later. Damn I'm slow. Whoops.

Cliffsnotes: Type type type, like a fat little pigeon.
February 14th, 2008

?

I completely forgot about the 14th this month, and it is already three days later. As such, I had nothing planned out for this installment, excepting of course a few random ideas floating around in the usual Bork folder, none of which are in any state of completion. So this one is total bullshit. Honestly, after the first one, I assumed this idea wasn't going to survive for more than, well, any at all. So a .750 batting average is something I did not expect, even if I did initially set out, to accomplish. So this one sucks, but I'm not too broken up about it. Proceed:

The dishwasher died recently. Sucks.

I guess I should have just said "the Bork is borked," and ended this nonsense right then and there, but oh, such is life. Gone!

Cliffsnotes: This was the fourth Bi-monthly Bork, the one where the idea died. Whoops.
Wednesday, February 13th, 2008

*Keanu Reeves sound*



If this isn't the raddest photo I've seen since that one nebula picture on the Pearl Jam flyer / Mithras album cover, then I'll be a monkey's rapist landlord. More information here, concerning even more evidence of life on other planets, although to be completely honest, I think the law of averages on that one is easily enough to convince me, and always has. Yes, it is a photograph, not the work of pen from some mind's eye. Would make a nice drawing, don't get me wrong, but the fact that it is real makes it oh so much cooler.

Speaking of ridiculously awesome occurrences, check out this Massive Fucking Thing being built in Dubai, designed by (who else?) me:

jesus piss   ungodly fuck

Of course, even though the very existence of such a thing, funded by blood and oil, may be disgusting, and it is, it will still create an awe-inspiring site upon completion. Hopefully anyone protesting the very notion of it, even from afar, will not be silenced with reckless abandon. Oh, in COMPLETELY UNRELATED happenings around the globe, Exxon recently posted yet even more record profits. Surprise, surprise! Must be all that good, honest, and hard work they do providing an affordable necessity to the average consumer. Just like the US Gov't and health care for all. Thanks, fellers!

In other news:
Devo - Gut Feeling / Slap Your Mammy

Something about the way you taste
Makes me want to clear my throat
There's a message to your movements
That really gets my goat
I looked for sniffy linings
But you're rotten to the core
I've had just about all I can take
You know I can't take it no more
Got a gut feeling
Got a gut feeling
Got a gut feeling, feeling
Centered 'round long time ago
On your ability to torment
Then you took your tongs of love
And stripped away my garment
I looked for sniffy linings
But you're rotten to the core
I've had just about all I can take
You know I can't take it no more
Got a gut feeling
Got a gut feeling
Got a gut feeling, feeling
Got a gut feeling
Got a gut feeling
Got a gut WAAAAHOOHOOHOO!!!
WAAAOOOOWWW!!!
Slap your mammy down
Slap your pappy down again
(Oh move it up and down now)
(Oh move it all around now)
I can, have, and do put this song on multiple-repeat, on quite the regular basis, which makes life worth living. When I initially discovered Queens of the Stone Age I described them creating "music that makes me glad to be alive," and this song grants that completely identical emotion, And You Know This.

Cliffsnotes: $18.00 / gallon by 2009, EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!
Monday, February 11th, 2008

Wow, the colours. The colours!

At work today I began looking through a set of plans for some shitboxes up in Valencia. It is nearly surprising that some companies are actually beginning new housing tracts in today's Land of Fucking Too god Damn Much but hey, it continues to pay my bills for now, so I'll run with it. So anyhow, I came across this slice of loveliness in the form of a 3,550 sq. ft. soon to be overpriced chunk of your bank's own property:



Lovely, no? A similar house, brand new, in the general vicinity, from the same builder, currently lists for $710,000, but is around 500 square feet smaller. Using the average 12"x12" slab of shitty craftsmanship price of $200 each (a very conservative number), this house gets bumped up to over $800,000 without any Really Worth It upgrades like granite countertops and pyrite bidet trim. I could get into median income, equivalent rent, current unemployment rate, prospective outlook on the economy, reading the tea leaves, doing the rain dance, harrowing the end of another bygone era of superfluous bullshit, or any number of such shamanistic activities, but rather I'll let that price, the just missed the spitoon that is seven full figures, for a cookie cutter Same Exact Fucking House Like Your Neighbours Of 10 Feet Away, speak for itself.

Well okay, before completely jumping to conclusions, this is just from the architectural plans, not even an artist's rendering, so allow me spruce up the place a bit to see what it will look like In Real Life when the painting and stucco is done (you'll have to imagine landscaping, but there is at least enough room for one sapling and two small bits of shrubbery, provided they fit within the HOA regulations of course):



Do you like the Real Wood Trim?!?! Here is the bmp file so you can design your own in MS Paint.



Rather than bitching about religion, all I have to say is that I want to move to Greenland:


Map showing the prevalence of Abrahamic (purple) and Eastern (yellow) religions in each country.

Cliffsnotes: The map to my mind looks like a retarded monkey was trying to explain the meaning of life using only a Giant Red Crayon.
Friday, February 8th, 2008

Friday Night Lifes

Here on this Friday evening alone, I am fully armed:



A deadly combination to say the least. First he frightens the neighbours with odd, but only just, and solely from a specific distance, music, then he calms his stomach with some mineral water! This doesn't mean that I'm getting old, or even that I'm becoming boring (or, rather, increasing my boredom quotient, if you're not the type to be amused by a full-sized idiot drunkenly ranting about self-imposed illiteracy as directly related to dietary health/consumption of McDonald'd food from within the confines of your local Wal-Fuck), only that the proper tools of the trade are to be what they are to be, at any given moment, and I don't so much choose them as I simply listen to what insists on being utilized at the time of the time to the time. The stage is set! The lights have dimmed! There goes the curtain!

Went to deposit the weekly Thanks For Sitting On Your Ass In An Office All Week bribe today, and upon exiting the -market being super- a woman was standing in the way of the proper entrance to my vehicle, inserting groceries into the back seat of her what I believe was some sort of Kia Sportage. Rather than saying "excuse me," in order to displace her, which would inconvenience her for but a moment while my younger, more male person hurriedly left the parking lot back to do whatever it is I do while out and about, I decided just to hang back and await her to complete the task at hand within the given interval that she had alloted for herself (wizards are neither early nor late). She did finally notice me standing there, patiently, and apologized, to which I assured her I was in no rush whatsoever. She then told me how everyone in her family was diabetic and she was out retrieving an influx of Diet Soda for said malladied to consume. Then she began discussing her mother sick at home, waiting around to die via hospice, and we talked for a bit concerning life, the universe, and everything. It was mostly her calmly ranting to me, and me smiling and nodding, but at the end she thanked me for allowing her vent a little frustration, to which I assured her I know very well how necessary such things are. Just as it had started without a trace a mere 5 minutes earlier, we were on our respective ways without so much as a glance backward.

Did this make me ponder the greater significance of life v. death, as related to my boss going to a funeral this weekend, my girlfriend losing her father just a year ago, the fact that I have no living male grandparent anymore, or fearing the inevitable physical eradication of myself and all loved ones some day? No. Instead I drove across the street and ate a bacon cheeseburger. Bacon cheeseburgers are fuckin' good. But, I did decide that I need to engage myself upon more strikeups such as this, and also to carry around a pocket recording device of some sort. Who needs to learn how to sing if only I would capture reality such as this and put it to my music?

Cliffsnotes: She was a friendly woman, and I wish her, her mother, et alii all the peace they can get.
Thursday, February 7th, 2008

This is one of those ones that really looks like a blog, and as such, is completely unimportant to the greater good, or bad, of society in general and as a whole.

Grammaw turns 88 today. Eighty-freaking-eight! There is no way I'll end up making it that far, even if I don't get runneded over by a bus or otherwise demolished by a much larger than me metal (or otherwise) machine. A lifelong smoker and heavy boozer in her younger days no less. They don't make them like they used to. Happy Birfday.

Also, I rejoined the hordes at MyShit. Why? I'm not entirely sure, but I did attempt, and signed up for, numerous other social networking sites to try and find something better (read: not owned my Rupert Murcock), but all of them failed in one way or another. So I'm back amongst the ranks. Oh well, embargos never work anyway, right?

Oh screw it, I will include something important:

This article on Mish details how walking away from mortgages as a choice to avoid throwing money at a depreciating asset, rather than as an I-can't-afford-it forcedecision, a practice which has even been on 60 Minutes recently (no I don't watch TV, I saw it on the CBS website) and is therefore common household knowledge, is now going to spread to credit cards and other forms of consumer debt. The process is as follows: load up, fuck you, I'm out. Last year I worked hard (read: lucked out with a few windfalls) to pay off all my debt (other than a car loan which is finally nearing the end) for the first time since the early '00s, so one part of me wants to tell them to get fucked. The other one is headbanging uncontrollably envisioning the closing scene from Fight Club as a reality. Giving the proverbial finger to the banks that power that be instead of remaining a hopeless debt slave is, let's face it, pretty god damn rad. Granted, there's no way I would gamble on such a proposition, just like I didn't gamble by purchasing a house in 2005 when I was looking (THANK FUCKING CHRIST), but still. We've all stared down the wrong side of a 16%/24%/98.6% interest rate at one time or another, and sticking it back to The Man by refusing to pay up has to feel at least a little warm and fuzzy. So good for them. Sorta.

Cliffsnotes: Defender of the Oleander, Arabian Knights
Wednesday, February 6th, 2008

From now on, I want you all to call me Loretta. It's my right as a man.

Okay. Fine. I'm onto you fucks now. McCain scares me. Happy? I think I may have voted for him in the 2000 primary, I'm not sure (it was either him or Alan Keyes, I don't remember), but up until right now my fear had been placed directly onto the HEAD-ON fore of the evil, evil Giuliani, who is now gone. When Huckabee came on the scene, I thought "this guy is dumb enough to win," but that certainly isn't going to happen. With those two out of the way now I can relay my proper fears toward McCain, who served our country so well he wants to make sure every other redblooded, beerfisted, buttfucking American Male can have their chance to die for a meaningless cause as well. It's all fun and games until everything gets all blowed up.

Complete Coincidence (No, Really):
But he said that probably the "most historically significant feature" of the declassified report was the retelling of the 1964 Gulf of Tonkin incident.

That was a reported North Vietnamese attack on American destroyers that helped lead to president Lyndon Johnson's sharp escalation of American forces in Vietnam.

The author of the report "demonstrates that not only is it not true, as (then US) secretary of defense Robert McNamara told Congress, that the evidence of an attack was 'unimpeachable,' but that to the contrary, a review of the classified signals intelligence proves that 'no attack happened that night,'" FAS said in a statement.

"What this study demonstrated is that the available intelligence shows that there was no attack. It's a dramatic reversal of the historical record," Aftergood said.

"There were previous indications of this but this is the first time we have seen the complete study," he said.

--http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20080108/pl_afp/usvietnamintelligence512
Dirty pool, mister. Dirty pool.

Cliffsnotes: I bent my Wookie.
Wednesday, February 6th, 2008

Decision: 1992

Well, I figured Obamer was going to waltz all over everything tonight, but apparently not. Although as of right now he is a close second place, it certainly looks like Hillary will emerge victorious for this half. Honestly, I like/dislike the two of them about equal. For whatever reason, even though I disagree with a decent amount of Hillary's politics, I still like her. Not sure why. Obama is completely okay with me, even if I do not know much about him. I voted for Ron Paul, because even though I knew he stood no chance, at least he provided an opportunity to support someone who represents a little something different for a change. Fun stuff.

I now direct anyone's attention who might be paying, um, attention, to the following article from The Nation. This is not an excerpt, but rather the entire thing. I'm not even going to make comments on it, instead I'll just say that it is very important, and should be read by anyone who gives any form of a flying fuck concerning today's today:

Disowned by the Ownership Society

Naomi Klein

Remember the "ownership society," fixture of major George W. Bush addresses for the first four years of his presidency? "We're creating...an ownership society in this country, where more Americans than ever will be able to open up their door where they live and say, welcome to my house, welcome to my piece of property," Bush said in October 2004. Washington think-tanker Grover Norquist predicted that the ownership society would be Bush's greatest legacy, remembered "long after people can no longer pronounce or spell Fallujah." Yet in Bush's final State of the Union address, the once-ubiquitous phrase was conspicuously absent. And little wonder: rather than its proud father, Bush has turned out to be the ownership society's undertaker.

Well before the ownership society had a neat label, its creation was central to the success of the right-wing economic revolution around the world. The idea was simple: if working-class people owned a small piece of the market--a home mortgage, a stock portfolio, a private pension--they would cease to identify as workers and start to see themselves as owners, with the same interests as their bosses. That meant they could vote for politicians promising to improve stock performance rather than job conditions. Class consciousness would be a relic.

It was always tempting to dismiss the ownership society as an empty slogan--"hokum" as former Labor Secretary Robert Reich put it. But the ownership society was quite real. It was the answer to a roadblock long faced by politicians favoring policies to benefit the wealthy. The problem boiled down to this: people tend to vote their economic interests. Even in the wealthy United States, most people earn less than the average income. That means it is in the interest of the majority to vote for politicians promising to redistribute wealth from the top down.

So what to do? It was Margaret Thatcher who pioneered a solution. The effort centered on Britain's public housing, or council estates, which were filled with die-hard Labour Party supporters. In a bold move, Thatcher offered strong incentives to residents to buy their council estate flats at reduced rates (much as Bush did decades later by promoting subprime mortgages). Those who could afford it became homeowners while those who couldn't faced rents almost twice as high as before, leading to an explosion of homelessness.

As a political strategy, it worked: the renters continued to oppose Thatcher, but polls showed that more than half of the newly minted owners did indeed switch their party affiliation to the Tories. The key was a psychological shift: they now thought like owners, and owners tend to vote Tory. The ownership society as a political project was born.

Across the Atlantic, Reagan ushered in a range of policies that similarly convinced the public that class divisions no longer existed. In 1988 only 26 percent of Americans told pollsters that they lived in a society bifurcated into "haves" and "have-nots"--71 percent rejected the whole idea of class. The real breakthrough, however, came in the 1990s, with the "democratization" of stock ownership, eventually leading to nearly half of American households owning stock. Stock watching became a national pastime, with tickers on TV screens becoming more common than weather forecasts. Main Street, we were told, had stormed the elite enclaves of Wall Street.

Once again, the shift was psychological. Stock ownership made up a relatively minor part of the average American's earnings, but in the era of frenetic downsizing and offshoring, this new class of amateur investor had a distinct shift in consciousness. Whenever a new round of layoffs was announced, sending another stock price soaring, many responded not by identifying with those who had lost their jobs, or by protesting the policies that had led to the layoffs, but by calling their brokers with instructions to buy.

Bush came to office determined to take these trends even further, to deliver Social Security accounts to Wall Street and target minority communities--traditionally out of the Republican Party's reach--for easy homeownership. "Under 50 percent of African Americans and Hispanic Americans own a home," Bush observed in 2002. "That's just too few." He called on Fannie Mae and the private sector "to unlock millions of dollars, to make it available for the purchase of a home"--an important reminder that subprime lenders were taking their cue straight from the top.

Today, the basic promises of the ownership society have been broken. First the dot-com bubble burst; then employees watched their stock-heavy pensions melt away with Enron and WorldCom. Now we have the subprime mortgage crisis, with more than 2 million homeowners facing foreclosure on their homes. Many are raiding their 401(k)s--their piece of the stock market--to pay their mortgage. Wall Street, meanwhile, has fallen out of love with Main Street. To avoid regulatory scrutiny, the new trend is away from publicly traded stocks and toward private equity. In November Nasdaq joined forces with several private banks, including Goldman Sachs, to form Portal Alliance, a private equity stock market open only to investors with assets upward of $100 million. In short order yesterday's ownership society has morphed into today's members-only society.

The mass eviction from the ownership society has profound political implications. According to a September Pew Research poll, 48 percent of Americans say they live in a society carved into haves and have-nots--nearly twice the number of 1988. Only 45 percent see themselves as part of the haves. In other words, we are seeing a return of the very class consciousness that the ownership society was supposed to erase. The free-market ideologues have lost an extremely potent psychological tool--and progressives have gained one. Now that John Edwards is out of the presidential race, the question is, will anyone dare to use it?

--The Nation
Also, simply because I can, I present the explanation behind the name of my solo project, with absolutely no prompting whatsoever:
     The following note is not an apology of suicide — it is the simple and sober description of a spiritual situation.
     The more lucid and overwhelming one’s belief in Providence, the greater the temptation to get it over with, this business of life, but the greater too one’s fear of the terrible sin implicit in self-destruction. Let us first consider the temptation. As more thoroughly discussed elsewhere in this commentary, a serious conception of any form of afterlife inevitably and necessarily presupposes some degree of belief in Providence; and, conversely, deep Christian faith presupposes some belief in some sort of spiritual survival. The vision of that survival need not be a rational one, i.e., need not present the precise features of personal fancies or the general atmosphere of a subtropical Oriental park. In fact, a good Zemblan Christian is taught that true faith is not there to supply pictures or maps, but that it should quietly content itself with a warm haze of pleasurable anticipation. To take a homely example: little Christopher's family is about to migrate to a distant colony where his father has been assigned to a lifetime post. Little Christopher, a frail lad of nine or ten, relies completely (so completely, in fact, as to blot out the very awareness of this reliance) on his elders' arranging all the details of departure, passage and arrival. He cannot imagine, nor does he try to imagine, the particular aspects of the new place awaiting him but he is dimly and comfortably convinced that it will be even better than his homestead, with the big oak, and the mountain, and his pony, and the park, and the stable, and Grimm, the old groom, who has a way of fondling him whenever nobody is around.
     Something of this simple trust we too should have. With this divine mist of utter dependence permeating one’s being, no wonder one is tempted, no wonder one weighs on one’s palm with a dreamy smile the compact firearm in its case of suede leather hardly bigger than a castlegate key or a boy’s seamed purse, no wonder one peers over the parapet into an inviting abyss.
     I am choosing these images rather casually. There are purists who maintain that a gentleman should use a brace of pistols, one for each temple, or a bare botkin (note the correct spelling), and that ladies should either swallow a lethal dose or drown with clumsy Ophelia. Humbler humans have preferred sundry forms of suffocation, and minor poets have even tried such fancy releases as vein tapping in the quadruped tub of a drafty boardinghouse bathroom. All this is uncertain and messy. Of the not very many ways known of shedding one’s body, falling, falling, falling is the supreme method, but you have to select your sill or ledge very carefully so as not to hurt yourself or others. Jumping from a high bridge is not recommended even if you cannot swim, for wind and water abound in weird contingencies, and tragedy ought not to culminate in a record dive or a policeman’s promotion. If you rent a cell in the luminous waffle, room 1915 or 1959, in a tall business center hotel browing the star dust, and pull up the window, and gently — not fall, not jump — but roll out as you should for air comfort, there is always the chance of knocking clean through into your own hell a pacific noctambulator walking his dog; in this respect a back room might be safer, especially if giving on the roof of an old tenacious normal house far below where a cat may be trusted to flash out of the way. Another popular take-off is a mountaintop with a sheer drop of say 500 meters but you must find it, because you will be surprised how easy it is to miscalculate your deflection offset, and have some hidden projection, some fool of a crag, rush forth to catch you, causing you to bounce off it into the brush, thwarted, mangled and unnecessarily alive. The ideal drop is from an aircraft, your muscles relaxed, your pilot puzzled, your packed parachute shuffled off, cast off, shrugged off — farewell, shootka (little chute)! Down you go, but all the while you feel suspended and buoyed as you somersault in slow motion like a somnolent tumbler pigeon, and sprawl supine on the eiderdown of the air, or lazily turn to embrace your pillow, enjoying every last instant of soft, deep, death-padded life, with the earth’s green seesaw now above, now below, and the voluptuous crucifixion, as you stretch yourself in the growing rush, in the nearing swish, and then your loved body’s obliteration in the Lap of the Lord. If I were a poet I would certainly make an ode to the sweet urge to close one’s eyes and surrender utterly unto the perfect safety of wooed death. Ecstatically one forefeels the vastness of the Divine Embrace enfolding one’s liberated spirit, the warm bath of physical dissolution, the universal unknown engulfing the minuscule unknown that had been the only real part of one’s temporary personality.
     When the soul adores Him Who guides it through mortal life, when it distinguishes His sign at every turn of the trail, painted on the boulder and notched in the fir trunk, when every page in the book of one’s personal fate bears His watermark, how can one doubt that He will also preserve us through all eternity?
     So what can stop one from effecting the transition? What can help us to resist the intolerable temptation? What can prevent us from yielding to the burning desire for merging in God?
     We who burrow in filth every day may be forgiven perhaps the one sin that ends all sins.
--from Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
That's the end of that chapter!

Cliffsnotes: dirty knees, honey bees
Tuesday, February 5th, 2008

GO VOTE!!!

Other than that, fuck this day.

Cliffsnotes: More like STUPOR Tuesday, am I rite.
Saturday, February 2nd, 2008

Snö

Went for a snowhike today:



The latest Bi-monthly Bork is up, finished it a day late because I totally didn't feel like it yesterday. Also dicked around with Koogt, including recording an addition, clipping the lengthy outro, and remixing the whole affair. I listened to it last night wondering when the fuck it was going to end and/or do something interesting, hence all the changes. Hooray site maintenance!

Anybody remember the rain forest? Well apparently the destruction thereof has a whole new harbinger for us lovely humans:
"If we lose forests, we lose the fight against climate change," declared more than 300 scientists, conservation groups, religious leaders and others in an appeal for action at December's climate conference in Bali, Indonesia.

The burning or rotting of trees that comes with deforestation — at the hands of ranchers, farmers, timbermen — sends more heat-trapping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere than all the world's planes, trains, trucks and automobiles. Forest destruction accounts for about 20 percent of manmade emissions, second only to burning of fossil fuels for electricity and heat. Conversely, healthy forests absorb carbon dioxide and store carbon.

"The stakes are so dire that if we don't start turning this around in the next 10 years, the extinction crisis and the climate crisis will begin to spiral out of control," said Roman Paul Czebiniak, a forest expert with Greenpeace International. "It's a very big deal."

--Associated Press, the rest of it
Hey, who needs the The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement when we'll simply suffocate instead? Keen.

Cliffsnotes: voter registration mailing, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Friday, February 1st, 2008

Rogerin' Balltwist

Jamming with some dudes next week, they describe their music as Nirvana/Pearl Jam sans distortion, so that sounds fine with me. I think if I joined a band that solely created music like the kick I've been on for some spell:

Koogt

it would probably make me fucking depressed. That will hopefully be the last song I record with my shitty drum machine, I'm tired of that fucking thing killing the mood of all my shit. I have plenty of equipment/software for Ze Mac, just haven't gotten around to using it yet. Now, my time has finally come. Bon voyage, fuckthing:



Cliffsnotes: In The Rectory of the Bizarre Reverend
February 1st, 2008

Real Fucking Booze

I'm tired of alcohol not being treated like the serious drug that it is. Think about all the disease, death, and disfigurement directly caused by the overuse and muchabuse of alcohol. Yet in today's world you have idiots ordering beverages with names like Surfer on Acid and Gay Man on a Bike. What is this shit, fucking Playdo? Alcohol is dangerous. Alcohol demands respect. Alcohol deserves love.

The hideous loss suffered by the addition of pushbutton drinkmakers in the local watering holes is a disgusting chunk of modernity that I'm not sure my feeble little mind can fully comprehend, so rather than trying to make an excuse for it or accept the consequences associated as just facts of life, I choose to get angry. There are several things to take notice of in bars, be it the ambience, clientele, location, size, smell, mood, selection, history, and any other number of excentricities, but most important of all, the character of the bartender. I don't always expect good conversation, especially if it is a late and busy weekend night, but the ability to pour a good drink means everything when it comes to sitting down and paying 5 times as much as it would if you purchase the bottle(s) yourself remain at rest there at home with the television set to exactly what you enjoy watching, like a curling match on C-Span, rather than some vapid Hollywood gossip piece of digitzed HDTV trash run through your skull at 22 minutes per half hour. I want someone experienced in the ways of mixology, not some monkey mashing buttons toward the general vicinity of the wrong type of glass for the requested beverage. This trend had found its way to Vegas at one point, but I noticed it disappeared after not too long a stint. There is a good god damn reason for that, and say what you might about Sin City, they know their fucking booze.

The last time I ordered a martini from a bar (gin of course, other stupidities with the words "apple" or "vodka" in place of Capital-G Gin are not martinis), it was handed to me with absolutely no vermouth. Now, I cannot entirely fault the bartenders for not knowing how to mix a proper drink, but rather the majority of patrons who prefer their so-called martinis made from mostly ice and scoff when "there's too much vermouth," failing to realize that vermouth itself is meant to calm the harshness that is present in most (and by most I mean all) varieties of gin. A balance must be struck, otherwise you end with what I had that particular evening, which was a glass of cold gin. A glass of cold gin has an awful taste, that can only be described as such: a glass of cold gin. Rather than continue on, I shall direct your attention to The Perfect Martini which is where I finally learned the ins and outs of what a proper martini should be.

Another particularly bothersome tactic of bars, at least in America, is to serve dark beer ice cold. When I am drinking a stout or porter at home, and even something like a Belgian at times, I almost always chill it briefly, or if it has already found its home inside the fridge, pour the brew and then allow it to warm up a bit in the ambience of the lovely kitchen light. Granted, I realize that making a poured beer warmer is much easier than forcing it colder, but the overall preference of any beer, even real ones, has suffered the wrath that Shit American Lager has vaulted upon this continent, which is that ice cold it tastes moderately okay, anything shy and it tastes like shit. I find that no matter what you do to Chudweiser, Curs, et al. it always tastes like watery diarrhoea, but freezing cold it is only moderately offensive as opposed to completely so. This has unfortunately leaked into the psyche of beer drinkers who eventually move on to bigger and better things, and is a tough habit to crack. Be strong, drink your dark beer at a proper temperature.

I suppose this could be taken more seriously if the following picture of me was not taken just last weekend:



Whoops. I was hosed and without my proper bearings. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Quite.

Cliffsnotes: This was #3 of the failed Bi-monthly Bork series. Hooray!
Wednesday, January 30th, 2008

Swear to D-g

I had it all ready to go. Really, I did. Had this whole stack of links and little tidbits of what have you all lined up in order for me to paint a lovely picture of how much this town, city, county, state, region, country, continent, hemisphere, world, galaxy, universe, and everything was ready to tumble down down down, further than anywhere else. It had everything from the falsehood that is Al Qaeda, to people leaving their pet turtles abandoned in a bare house recently foreclosed and skedaddled from. But now? I'm not so sure. I've set myself up a rant like the winning field goal during the expiring seconds of the Super Bowl, but just don't have the gumption to do it properly, and if I can't do it right, why do it at all? So rather, I move on, and let it go as it has(n't) been letted goad.

Upon discussing the reality that is life, and the inherent pain in the assedness of it all, the following question was recently posed to me:
Why the fuck is it so complicated just to exist these days?
To which I responded:
Because plastic is dumb. Everybody freaking out about the stock bullshit lately, bitching "I LOST ALL THIS EQUITY!!!" and I think "you didn't have it 5 years ago, however did you survive then?" I mean, I don't even like having a cell phone, the day I get myself around a good system of public transportation I sell the car and buy a Jeep to use only when absolutely necessary because the kids need more cat ear medicine, and hopefully I'll be living in a place where the roads aren't so much "roads" as they are "long stretches of inhumanity where nobody goes" because I'll reside in a land where only those who want MORE from life (more books, frequent sex, and better whisky) can, will, and do get by. Jesus piss.
Just in case I haven't made my point clear, a noble distraction is presented:



Cliffsnotes: Oh, fuck me sideways!
Thursday, January 24th, 2008

Pornoligarchy / Cthvlhvlvtion

This here be one o' dem disjointed ventures my mind works so well in car-e-ating.

I started to read The Hobbit again this week, for the first time since I was in high school. The first time I read it as a wee one I don't think I finished it, but am currently using my Comp I & II book report notecards as a bookmart this time around. I'm gearing up read Tolkien's Unfinished Tales, but it has been so long since I've read this and The Lord of the Rings that I really need to refresh myself before finalizing the whole bit. A few years ago I sped-read most of the trilogy whilst watching the extended cut movies (read for 30 minutes, watch 30 minutes of the movie, wash, rinse, repeat), because yes, I am just that fucking cool, but this time they demand my exclusive attention. The point? I hereby present the following tune, which was on repeat all yesterday morning:

Nuclear Rabbit - The Pimp, The Bitch & The Magic Beans

An absolute must for any Tolkien fan. I don't think Nuclear Rabbit are really together anymore, but I had a chance to email-interview them for the old RC website and saw them live in a small place once, so I feel fortunate that I was at least a little bit a part of their action when it was around. I know that Jean Baudin has received a little fame, if not fortune, in the bass community, but that was yet another band that, if monetary satisfaction was rewarded in direct proportion to talent and all around awesomeness, should have been multi-millionaires. But is that really the point of such a group? Their artwork mostly consisted of hybrid rabbits as raped by various bits of gross (description and quantity) technology, with most of their music geared toward those who grew up on 17/8 time signatures, and thus would certainly not do well if unleashed upon the mainstream, much like most great art. Religion is no longer the sole opiate of the masses, we now welcome trash art to the fold to keep everyone fat, dumb, drunk, deaf, blind, stupid, and happy. Let's go buy fur coats!

The following is yet another grouping of unrelated images to present for the viewing pleasure of anyone within eyeshot (now with description!!!):


Used to be the introduction to Stoner Rock but I think they took it down.


T-shirt purchased along with the latest Scald album, which is FUCKING AMAZING.


Received in an email the other day with the premise that President Huckabee would make this required reading in elementary school history tests. Funny. Scary. True. Little. Yellow. Different.

Today's I'm-Working-From-Home-And-Get-To-Blast-Music playlist:

Nothing - Silence Came Back In, Filling Jagged Spaces
Type O Negative - Bloody Kisses
White Zombie - Astro Creep: 2000
PJ Harvey - Rid of Me
Miles Davis - Kind of Blue
Pixies - Doolittle
The Angels of Light - How I Loved You
Swans - Soundtracks for the Blind
Enslaved - Ruun
Converge - Jane Doe
Anthrax - Among the Living
Reverend Bizarre - In the Rectory of the Bizarre Reverend
Novembers Doom - The Pale Haunt Departure
Aeternus - ...and so the Night Became
Pain of Salvation - Remedy Lane

The sun came out so I had to add some lighter stuff to the list, otherwise today would have been all dooooooooooooooooooooooooom and gloom. Also I totally didn't get a chance to listen to more than about half those albums, but I kept them all out to listen to tomorrow/thenextday/wheneverIfuckingfeellikedoingso.

In closing, here is something I wrote in an email the other day:
Yeah I'm pretty sure there is no bottom to the depravity that is modern business "ethics." It will come to the point eventually where CEOs will perform third trimester forcedabortions live on TV with one of those plastic reaching stickhand things, complete with maniacal laughter, and nobody will punish them for it provided the DOW goes up.
Cliffsnotes: Harley Davidson, Message to Hairy Manback
Friday, January 18th, 2008

Rock Soxter

LOL @ DOW dropping to nearly 12,000. I hope it goes further. Who gives a fuck about this god damn made up economy, if it fails completely a world of hurt will give way to allow reality to flourish once again. By reality I mean Mass Rape, so out of the frying pan into the fire, but at least the golden parachute fucks will be equally force-porked along with the rest of us. Well, except most of them will still retain some sort of power and escape the wrath that they, more than anyone else, truly deserve, leaving the rest of us idiots in the muck trying to melt down pennies into weapons to defend what little we have left (piles of globbed copper Lincoln heads). Hmm, on second thought, maybe I don't want it to fail. But if it does, I want to be here to see it.

My second custom bass is finished, and will be on its way to me pretty soon from Scotland, provided I still have enough Bush Coins to pay for import fees of course. I have never purchased an instrument of such snobby stature, with wood names including "claro walnut," "black limba," and "macassar ebony," before, and if playing this instrument means I have to start gigging obscure/snooty/horrible underground jazz clubs filled with people of no taste drinking faux martinis made with expensive vodka and no vermouth, then so be it. So it goes, here is the coffee table in question:



Along with all the buying and selling of instruments throughout the years, this will currently make bass #5 in the collection, and in the past whenever I've reached that level of the cinco-ing, I always sell one off. Apparently I think Four Is The Magic Number, I don't know, although that be the woman's lucky number so maybe her influence on my instruments (huhuhuhuhuh) is greater than I thought. Either way, I'd like to sell all but one or two, and buy a nice acoustic geeeeeeetar with the proceeds (read: break even or lose out most likely, without even adjusting for inflation), but I don't think that is going to happen because I often grow attached to these planks of wood filled with basic electronics. Then again I just ditched my first custom a few weeks ago, because it made no sense that my most expensive instrument, which cost more than my first car + all repairs for the two years I owned it and a few dozen tanks of gas, was the one least enjoyed. Hopefully this one is not another mistake, although since I purchased it from a luthier new to the game, it wasn't terribly expensive. Then again, who cares if it was, and I end up selling it for half what I paid as with the other one? It's only money: money is what the economy is based on: the economy is a meaningless construct: a meaningless construct has no real value: therefore money is worthless.

Cliffsnotes: Who saw that tie-in coming? Not me!
Tuesday, January 15th, 2008

Descending from below the plastic coathangers.

There are certain clothes/bands/shoes/exams/classifications/friends/feelings/lovers/ducks/hats that everyone will at one point in their life love very much, but then later grow out of. Yes, I still listen to a lot the same bands that I did as a teenager, but a good handful have fallen toward the wayside upon adding countless other new ones all the while. However, one which I assumed would have disappeared ages ago was Marilyn Manson. Rather than justify why I continue to purchase their new releases, and even go see them in concert, I present the following demo song from 1992:

The Spooky Kids - Thrift

I always thought that Scott Putesky (aka Daisy Berkowitz) was the real genius behind the group, and Brian Warner himself being the charismatic catalyst with Jeordie White coming in to fulfill key songwriting duties. Either way you slice it, this song here is pure sex, and should vindicate Putesky's legacy. I go buy his solo albums now.

Bonus hardcore underground radness tune for those not convinced to listen to the above pseudo-mainstreamly-related whatever:

The Legendary Pink Dots - City of Needles

Cliffsnotes: I am not Pat Boone today.
Monday, January 14th, 2008

What to do, watt the shoe.

Bork #2 is up. This one was a bit rushed and I'm not sure I am entirely happy with it, but hey, I have self-imposed deadlines to meet this year apparently, so there you go. As before, head up top or just click here.

Listening to an Ulver tribute CD, have casually perused the mp3s over the past few weeks, and outside a few boring/useless tracks, it is quite good. Very much a Hey Go For It work by the various artists, as opposed to straight cover tunes. Rather than indirectly repeat myself from earlier today, I shall quote an email I sent to my fellow FTP users, concerning the what have you:
FYI: this here Ulver tribute is really god damn good. Lots of atmospheric stuff on the second disc, and what is nice about this tribute is that it is more interpretive than most cover songs, which for a group like Ulver, should be expected. It's no longer available on that website (bandwidth reasons), so it is being uploaded right now. At the very least that way I can download to my home computer tonight. :)

This free album is way better than the free Radiohead, although I can think of a lot of things much better than said album. Case in point, the peanut butter and jelly sammitch I ate about an hour ago. Not that In Rainbows is bad, it certainly isn't, but to all the major league critics lauding it as something amazingly fresh, awesome, and new, come on! There's absolutely nothing about it that hasn't already been done before, and better, oftentimes by the same fucking group no less. Even Pitchfuck gave it a 9.3, I didn't think they gave ratings higher than 7.0 to anything shy of curing various forms of cancer while lowering worldwide gas prices via glockenspiel. I've listened to it about 40 times now, and it is perfectly good music, but there is absolutely nothing revolutionary about it. I guess Radiohead has become one of those "everyone loves them because everyone loves them" bands. What do I know about diamonds?
Information can be found at http://panacea.msk.su/ulver/ but like I said earlier, the songs themselves have been taken down due to bandwidth reasons. I can gladly pass along them to anyone who emails me about it, although I expect it shall eventually return whence it came. Cover art:



In other mindnumbingly exciting news, 4 months after ordering these two DVDs for Halloween last year, they finally showed up:



Rad. Of course, now that I notice The Da Vinci Code "novel" on this particular bookshelf, I feel the need to explain the reasoning behind it. I was conned into reading that swill upon pages by someone who disliked the book as much as I assumed I would, and after giving it nearly a fair shake, only stuck it out just to see how fucking stupid the masses truly are. Hint: real literature loses, once again. There, properly infused self-snobitude has been restored.

Cliffsnotes: Barton Sink, I  Huckabees
January 14th, 2008

Responsible Moneysing. Yes.

Everyone should know by now what is happening in the credit markets around the western societal portion of the globe. If not, pay Mish a visit and then perhaps few more optimistic sources that you can find on your own (don't ask me where to find them, all my links are subversive and/or pessimistic in nature). Rather than delve through the mess that decades of experience and education have caused, and pretend that a summer school econ class 12 years ago combined with a recent bout of casually reading economic blogs for a few months makes me some sort of an expert, I will focus on more specific things that I have observed in my own monetary history/policy/moronity.

Credit reports. Not the most confusing thing in the world on the surface, and finding yourself a high score can be as simple as using available credit accounts as much as possible, while paying the bills due on time without skipping a beat. A few years ago I began to notice something a bit odd about the whole system, and these days I recognize it as a nonsensical chunk of idiocy ripe with obfuscation and foolishness. The whole shebang is not based upon monetary responsibility, but rather being somewhat non-moronic with it while allowing the associated banks to make as much money as possible on interest rates, membership fees, and other terms of endearment. Grab 5 credit cards, buy everything you need with them (nobody builds credit by paying cash!), give back the minimum payment each month (likely some 3% of what you are spending), rack up interest fees with reckless abandon (the megacorporations need to feed their hungry wallets aferall), but as long as you keep your balances below the halfway mark of Maximum Credit (if you get too close, don't pay down the debt, ask for a credit line increase!), you'll be seen as a pillar of the financial community of responsible borrowers.

The stock market. We all know that if you aren't investing in the stock market, you certainly are not Financially Secure. This one is simple and I won't even go into details. Better odds than Vegas, yes, but same shit, different asshole. Period.

The housing market. Oh fuckit, why bother saying anything about that? Q.E.D. and we're done with that entire issue.

Credit cards. Simply. Quaint. Somewhat evil. That system is designed to get you to Spend More Money so you can Have More Stuff with No Further Care In The World. Why bother saving up money for something you want when you can put it on credit? Go buy a $2,000 TV and not only do you not have to pay more than $60 a month for it, but you build up your aforementioned credit score so you can buy More, Bigger, Now! That mentality combined with more fine print than the back of a bottle of NutraSweet assures maximum profits with minimal efforts, at the expense of your debt becoming much larger than your bank account, but hey, someone has to grease the wheels I suppose. Of course, this goes much higher than basic consumer spending, which accounts for 70% of this entire economic farce. US gov't debt tally:


Reload page to get an update, fun for the whole family!

Let it be said that I do not entirely place the blame on the morons who sign themselves up for such death warrants, as this society does try as hard as possible to push as many of us into life-crushing debt as it can. One can blame the destruction of the middle class by the upper 1% of the US for that I suppose, or perhaps something more sinister like... underpants gnomes, but the fact remains that it does take two to make a thing go right/wrong, so, fellow plebians, we must at least try to fend off temptations of Playing The Game. I never had a higher FICO score than when I was looking down the barrel of a gun taking the form of $10,000 in credit card debt combined with a $25,000 car loan, which was when I realized just how fucked the system truly is.

Cliffsnotes: #2 of the Bi-monthly Bork series. Idiot.
Sunday, January 13th, 2008

Left Face, Right Donut

Tomorrow is the birthday of an old friend I have not spoken to in some time, but this particular date is one I ALWAYS forget, so this year, the first of such we have had next to no contact in about a decade, I have set up multiple reminders to, in fact, make sure I don't fuck up like usual. Her and I went to college together, and became extraordinarily close friends, although I was the sap not unlike in a John Hughes movie who often wanted more than that, even if I didn't exactly pine constantly, and dated plenty of other people, including a very lengthy nearly healthy relationship with one particular female, so like I have alluded to, it wasn't like I was losing sleep over unrequited love or some similar notion equally ludicrous. So as it went, by the time her and I got around to Trying Things Out, it only took a few weeks to realize no, the past many years of Just Being Friends was where both our hearts did indeed belong. Although perhaps she was always curious, as upon crossing me off her life's list, she promptly got hitched to some military dude. LOLZ.

Caution: completely unrelated topic below: no, not to the side, below:

I think I'm going to make a resolution 13 days into the new year. I think I'm going to join a band again. The solo thing is coming along fine, and I'm going to try and find a drummer for that endeavour first, but I'm also going to try and play with an already established unit. Early in 2007 I jammed with a Black Sabbath cover band and was asked to join, but was hesitant because it wasn't really what I was looking for (though they were good). Some time in 2006 I was with some latin/jazz/rock band in LA for about 2 weeks, they were REALLY good but the drive sucked ass so I didn't stick with it. From somewhere around '03 to '05 I was with a band for a good spell, had some shows and a demo even, and that was quite fun until it wasn't. Before that was a mess of garage schtick within a variety of local carholes/sparerooms/antechambers. Oh, and of course the middle school jazz band where it all began.

Speaking of the god damn devil, another song was done today, and hey, I sorta like this one even:

Mopped 101

I forgot to show a picture of The Lab, but now is a better time than right about now, funk soul brothers:



[insert maniacal laughter here]

Cliffsnotes: TROGADOR. TROGADOR.
Sunday, January 13th, 2008

I Am Putting Out Fire With Gasoline

The latest happenings: work + buying weird BBQ sauce. Also, a new tune, recorded with a new-to-me Zon bass.



Synsect

Not exactly groundbreaking, but an experiment of sorts I suppose. Iunno.

Oh yes, before I forget, observe this bit of loveliness:
Report: 121 Veterans Linked to Killings

By The Associated Press
Published: January 13, 2008

NEW YORK (AP) -- At least 121 Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans have committed a killing or been charged in one in the United States after returning from combat, The New York Times reported Sunday.

The newspaper said it also logged 349 homicides involving all active-duty military personnel and new veterans in the six years since military action began in Afghanistan, and later Iraq. That represents an 89-percent increase over the previous six-year period, the newspaper said.

About three-quarters of those homicides involved Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans, the newspaper said. The report did not illuminate the exact relationship between those cases and the 121 killings also mentioned in the report.

The newspaper said its research involved searching local news reports, examining police, court and military records and interviewing defendants, their lawyers and families, victims' families and military and law enforcement officials. Defense Department representatives did not immediately respond to a telephone message early Sunday. The Times said the military agency declined to comment, saying it could not reproduce the paper's research.

A military spokesman, Lt. Col. Les Melnyk, questioned the report's premise and research methods, the newspaper said. He said it aggregated crimes ranging from involuntary manslaughter to murder, and he suggested the apparent increase in homicides involving military personnel and veterans in the wartime period might reflect only ''an increase in awareness of military service by reporters since 9/11.''
<-- WTF?!

Neither the Pentagon nor the federal Justice Department track such killings, generally prosecuted in state civilian courts, according to the Times. The 121 killings ranged from shootings and stabbings to bathtub drownings and fatal car crashes resulting from drunken driving, the newspaper said. All but one of those implicated was male.

About a third of the victims were girlfriends or relatives, including a 2-year-old girl slain by her 20-year-old father while he was recovering from wounds sustained in Iraq.

A quarter of the victims were military personnel. One was stabbed and set afire by fellow soldiers a day after they all returned from Iraq.

--http://www.nytimes.com
Cliffsnotes: The rocket's red glare, bunch of bombs in the air...
Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008

Don't stop comin' 'til the fire reign down.

Tonight's research includes: Don Quixote, Al Qaeda (in terms of being the construct of a falsifying US regime), The Whore of Babylon, Arcane Sun (defunct and obscure Irish band), and absinthe. 30 minutes later and I know more about the green devil than all those other things put together. At least I recognize my priorities.

I read earlier today there will be a new Kayo Dot album released in March. This makes me happy. The plan for this year is to beef up ye olde jazz and blues segments of the album collection, since outside a handful of Miles Davis and Robert Johnson cuts, I am severely lacking in both departments, which to be perfectly honest, is right below a modicum before marginally ludicrous.

Cliffsnotes: Mind/Body/Light/Sound/Mind/Body/Light/Sound/Mind/Body/Light/Sound
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008

Jesus piss, it's the god damn near year. Again.

I could go on and on about what resolutions I made, didn't make, kept last year, won't keep this year, and other such nonsense, but all I can really hope for this particular revolution 'round the star that is our sun is that I drop some lbs. to rescind my membership of The 200 Pound Club. And, you know, not die.

Also, the newly launched Bi-monthly Bork has arrived. Click here or the appropriate link above. Or not at all, whatever.

Cliffsnotes: I go drink raspberry tea now.
January 1st, 2008

The Truth

I often wonder what happened to telling the truth. It seems that everywhere I turn, one person or another is feeding random lines of bullshit to whomever might be within earshot, for some reason or none at all. We've all had coworkers that just run by the seat of their pants, not in some exciting thrillseeker type lifestyle, but rather in daily conversations. Granted, some people just lead boring lives and have to rely on recreating bad television in their heads to spread around everyone near, but a lot of the time you wonder what on earth it is that drives people to just fly off about things completely unrelated to reality.

I look at how lives are lived online for the most obvious examples. In random forums concerning common interest shared by (possibly) common people, usernames are things like HotGurl9 and metalbob rather than actual birth names. Avatars are used to represent one's persona, but usually these are pictures of some other individual, an album cover, or goofy drawing as taken from elsewhere. There is little to no accountability concerning who is the man/woman/thing behind the handle and image, many cases of people portraying themselves as someone very different have become the norm, especially in places like MyShit and other social networking sites. Yes of course many instances are done with humour in mind, and very much out in the open, but the fact remains that the base lies strictly in deception.

I applied for my passport just recently (it is shameful that I am approaching 30 and have yet to visit outside the US, I know) and every bit of information contained was just a number. Birth date, social security number, address, everything was very impersonal. There was no discussion of where I was travelling, why, or how I felt about going overseas as an American in this post-Dubya world. The truth is unnecessary, only the numbers, digits, and factoids matter. Since receiving my passport, I see that the photograph contained therein gives me the appearance of a balding Russian drug runner. That combined with my girlfriend's passport boldly stating COUNTRY OF BIRTH: IRAN will surely lead us to some sort of weirdness at any airport, but with no criminal record on either of us, the only reasoning is once again a lie, based on external factors that have nothing to do with either of our lifestyles: one bad photograph and the happenstance that is place of birth.

Various facets of the US government have undergone a continual system of spreading misinformation about countless things. The housing and credit markets taking massive respective shits, various unjustifiable wars, falsified elections, fuzzy math budgeting, et al. are all full of lies ranging from hiding the costs of new toilet seats to causing entire nations to die off, crafted not unlike random teenagers fibbing to their parents concerning that evening's plan of abstaining from premarital sexual intercourse and avoiding completely the nest that is illegally procured recreational drug usage. Lies have become so expected that telling the truth would only complicate things further, rather than allowing the status quo of malfeasance to continually reverberate throughout time and space.

I'm plenty guilty of this sort of subterfuge myself, even writing this right now. I'm not out on a pulpit, I'm sitting on my couch listening to an obscure band (on headphones no less) and drinking whisky, safe behind the confines of locked door and closed drapery. Writing can be edited before coming to surface in the face of another, while speaking outloud would unravel this guise before me, at the very least to my sleeping girlfriend sitting next to me or perhaps a randomly passing neighbour outside the back porch.

Speaking of hiding behind writing, this closing paragraph is being crafted nearly two weeks later since most of this mess was initially created. I have given myself time to correct the partially boozed and sleep-deprived mind that originally concocted this maiden Bork. What have I changed? What might have existed just 20 minutes ago? Do I even mean half of what I say? Where are my pants?

Cliffsnotes: This was the first in a short series of Bi-monthly Borks, a good idea that died far too quickly. Bwarng.
Sunday, December 30th, 2007

King Kong's giant black rubber cock

I am now going to make three prediction-like assumptions, which I'm not entirely sure are true, but in hindsight, some future, deliberate, and objective generation might be able to clarify this as being The Ultimate Truth.

The greatest band of the '80s were Swans.
The greatest band of the '90s were Acid Bath.
The greatest band of the '00s are Old Man Gloom.

Like I alluded to above, I'm not entirely sure this is true, and more importantly I'm not even sure if I'm qualified to elevate any three of these to this stature (note that I'm not unqualified to not call the three greatest bands of the three past decades, as I'm more than adequate in not only claiming just that, but changing my opinion, and thus the indisputable knowledge therein, as well), but seriously, it would be difficult to make an argument against any of this flat out majestic music. I'm not going to submit mp3 examples as there are plenty of places to illegaly procure those without myself getting into any sort of bandwidth trouble, instead I shall display a handful of album covers from each, and if you are like me (and likely how these bands would wish/will/want it), the artistic aspect truly matters. Observe:







If you say "who?" to any of those three I will gladly send you packing on your merry, uneducated, and foolhardy way, or happily make you a mix CD-R to enjoy upon request. The choice is yours.

Cliffsnotes: I get a boner just thinking about listening to any of those groups.
Thursday, December 27th, 2007

Four Score and Twain

Nearly 3 years ago, I received a book from my former employer. Since then, the company was sold to a gaggle of asshats who laid off nearly every single member of the original staff. Fortunately I was able to quit on my terms, waltzing out with my head bound upward and middle finger raised triumphantly, but the mistreatment of those left behind was, and continues to be, utterly disgusting. Here is the book in question, which I found on my shelf earlier tonight:



I never read it, although I did once try, but I can honestly say that it is a Piece of Fucking Shit. Anyone who buys into this tripe will hopefully get what they deserve in the end, a crisp pine box for their shattered soul. Anyhow, onto my book review:





Never have I damaged, mistreated, or wished death upon any book, ever. Knowledge is keen, and everyone should be able to choose what they want to read amongst whatever might be available, popular or not, incendiary or otherwise. What can I say, this one fucking deserved it.

Cliffsnotes: lizard my brother, wherever you are, this one is for you.
Thursday, December 27th, 2007

Happy god damn Whatever.

So on my usual Yahoo! email checking this morning, I saw one of those celebrity photo things, and for whatever reason (boredom? morbid curiosity? impatient self-embargo of intelligent thought?) clicked it. Before I get to that I would like to say I am getting a little sick of Yahoo! and it is a damn shame that their internet email system has been the best I've ever used, especially because I find the company itself absolutely vile, what with their finger pointing fiasco concerning China:
Yahoo 'helped jail China writer'

Internet giant Yahoo has been accused of supplying information to China which led to the jailing of a journalist for "divulging state secrets".

Reporters Without Borders said Yahoo's Hong Kong arm helped China link Shi Tao's e-mail account and computer to a message containing the information.

The media watchdog accused Yahoo of becoming a "police informant" in order to further its business ambitions.

A Yahoo spokeswoman said it had to operate within each country's laws.

"Just like any other global company, Yahoo must ensure that its local country sites must operate within the laws, regulations and customs of the country in which they are based," said Mary Osako.

Shi Tao, 37, worked for the Contemporary Business News in Hunan province, before he was arrested and sentenced in April to 10 years in prison.

--http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/4221538.stm
No, fuck you Mary Osako, or whoever puppets you, you don't want to lose out on the vast riches that an emerging economy can bring to the coffers, even if that means destroying a fundamental principle from the America that Yahoo! earned its initial fortune. I believe that is what you and your masters meant to say. Assholes.

Anyhow, back to everyday moronity, this was the celebrity picture in question:


No big deal I suppose, some douche and some douchette hamming it up for the camera, with Photo of Eric Clapton and Mr. Creepily Curious coming along for the ride. I had to look up who Pete Wentz even is, some bassist from some modern emo band apparently, oh goody. The only thing I really know about Ashlee Simpson is that she lip syncs, lies about it, and that her sister is an idiot. I've never actually heard the music of any of these vapid wastes of space, but I must say, I cannot find a reason to become offended by this picture. Ah, but (there's always a but), here are the associated comments from every day Josephine Dickfaces:



Only in this day and age can we all be glued to an interactive idiot box, with a million readily available tools to automatically correct one's grammar and spelling, and purposely ignore them all. Wondrous!

Oh well, what the fuck do I know about music anyhow? I'm listening to a female-fronted pagan metal band from Kyrgyzstan right now:



Cliffsnotes: Morons, you fucking morons. You FUCKING! MORONS!!!
Tuesday, December 18th, 2007

We Three Things

Yeah so, apparently I'm now a writer for http://www.bitsofnews.com/ which is pretty neat. I haven't done my first article yet, but I'm thinking my whole idea of the Bi-monthly Bork might just fit right in like a god damn glove (OJ-hand in the glove that is). If not, hey, at least I'll be giving it a shot. Of course tonight I tried to force out a review for the latest Ulver just to do a test run, but my inspiration was not right. That will come later.

Rather than the usual arthouse film for once, I recently watched the last Pirates flick. Plot summary:

"I'm on your side."
"No you're not, I'm on that side."
"Oh well that doesn't matter because I was on this other side anyway."
"I died but now I'm back, and no longer on that side, but on this side."
"Fooled again, I'm over here now."
"Didn't you die yesterday, after returning from the dead?"
"Yes, but the side I was on yesterday wasn't really the side I was on, but now today I am on that side but the other one as well."


I enjoyed the hell that Jack Sparrow went to, and overall I did have fun watching it, but the story was just ridiculous. Same thing as was The Matrix: great first movie, meaningless second one, and then the third overcompensated for the shortcomings of the second, failing just as bad as it did but in a wholly different way. Fuck me, even Lucas nearly fixed the new Star Wars with Episode III.

Watch this failure:



Cliffsnotes: I was watching The Prisoner the other day, and fittingly enough this Boog looks like something found on the homepage of Mr. X.
Friday, December 14th, 2007

It's frickin' freezin' in here, Mr. Bigglesworth.

I really don't have anything to say for this Boog (like I ever do), I just feel like talkin' apparently. Well actually, it's because I've had the following image on my desktop for a few days and I really need to get it out there:



There, wasn't that nice? Oh fuckit, I'm wired and in needing of reading more Dirk Gently.

Cliffsnotes:
My work is done here.
You didn't do anything!
Didn't I?

Wednesday, December 12th, 2007

Bi-monthly Bork

From now until I feel like it, the 1st and 14th days of every month will feature a column about some thing that has become obsolete, lost its way, or otherwise devastructed in some manner. It could be physical, metaphysical, social, political, omnitranscendental, etc., but the point being whatever said thing in question has become, it must qualify as Borked. First column to be unleashed 1/1/2008. I think this might be fun, and if not, then I'll just forget it ever happened, Principal Tamzarian.

Unrelated: I said "cunting" on some stupid forum and got this:



Cool.

Cliffsnotes: It's the god damn fucking inter-shit-net where you can see pictures of naked beheaded but still crawling babies in a microwave with a quick Google search but OH NO let's not say any naughty words within a community of adults because of sensitive e-ears, swearing is cunting awesome.
Tuesday, December 11th, 2007

CRASH AND BURN, YOU FUCKS!

Even though my retirement fund is linked to the NYSE, I relish in the fact that today's rate cut "wasn't big enough" to balding middle-aged market types, so the Dow took a pretty decent dive. Nice job Obiwan Bernanke, why not destroy the dollar even more than it already is in order to prop up false hopes in a pseudo-strong economy according to high market figures, except that OOPS, it didn't work. Not that it would anyhow, because guess what morans, thanks to government encouraged inflation the market could climb up and up while still being worth less and less. Of course most idiots in this country are so fucking stupid that they buy into it, people bitch that things get more expensive here as times goes on but in reality it is the greenbacks crumpling in value the longer they are left around to collect the palm and ass sweat from everyday usage. Oh well, I suppose when you have $50,000,000,000 in the bank, you can slice that in half and still be rich, especially if that causes product deflation so us working stiffs struggle to get by as you reap the benefits. I will gladly you pay you never for everything today.
"If somebody has their wealth in dollars and they are going to buy consumer goods with dollars like a typical American, then the decline of the dollar, the only effect it has is it makes imported goods more expensive," says the dickface in charge of everyone's wallets.

--You Tube video of Berfuckne getting owned but too stupid to realize it
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR VULCAN MIND?! Maybe Berfuckingdouchebagasshole doesn't fill up his car with GASOLINE, but I certainly do. For a simpler explanation of How Much We're Fucked, observe:
There is something quite alarming on the recently released “Blue Magic” music video.

The song, by the wildly successful rap artist and businessman Jay-Z, is on an album of songs accompanying/inspired by the Ridley Scott movie “American Gangster,” starring Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe.

But it wasn’t sex, drugs, violence or explicit language that shocked my conscience.

It was the Euros.

The Jay-Z video flashed large stacks of €500 Euros.

When I start seeing rap stars flashing euros instead of U.S. dollars, I know our economy is in trouble.

--http://www.chaskaherald.com/node/3010
He's not the only one:
Gisele Bundchen wants to remain the world's richest model and is insisting that she be paid in almost any currency but the U.S. dollar.

Like billionaire investors Warren Buffett and Bill Gross, the Brazilian supermodel, who Forbes magazine says earns more than anyone in her industry, is at the top of a growing list of rich people who have concluded that the currency can only depreciate because Americans led by President George W. Bush are living beyond their means.

--http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601087&sid=aCs.keWwNdiY
Whether or not the party all comes crashing down, proving Jay-Z, Gisele, and myself correct remains to be seen. Just in case:


FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU.


Assholes.

Cliffsnotes: It's likely always been like this, but I wasn't alive 50 years ago to complain about it.
Tuesday, December 11th, 2007

Snö

Holy crikies the mountains received all kinds of snow over the past few days and it is currently in the mid-30's outside. Last year winter all but skipped SoCal, but even in these globally warmer times looks like we're getting some actual fucking barometric excitement for a change. Yes, that's as exciting as things get right now, let's talk about the god damn weather.

Tom Fisherman walked across the street one day to see what he could see. There were no mountains to be found in his town because the land had been laid flat years ago by The Great BM From Above which laid waste to all things defying gravity above the order of 6 feet or higher (thankfully the local basketball team suffered little, most were at an away game that evening). The oddest part about TGBMFA was not so much that it even happened, possibly proving the existence of a higher, probably irreverent, power but rather that nobody talked about the incident itself or the consequences suffered afterwards. For example even though the entire event last no more than a few boistrous seconds, everything from tree height to reaching for a jar of honey/oil/water/mace/tuna above the second to top shelf in the kitchen was forever changed. Perhaps Tom's town was full of boorish people, or at the very least scared, but it was simply never discussed. Unfortunately neither excuse would come to pass, at least not for a long time. The great battle would later take place rending everything once thought of "forever changed" as "temporarily shifted, at best" but not for a few dozen millenia, far beyond the scope of this madness anyway. So when arriving across the boring, as of just a short time ago and still to remain for a bit flattened community, Tom engaged himself upon the largest revelation anyone anywhere had had since Newton was first bonked on the head so many years back...

Stay tuned next week when you'll start to wonder if I'll ever finish that story! Hint: no.

Cliffsnotes: Tool played Flood, it was boobies.
Monday, December 10th, 2007

Futurepast

Tonight I go see Tool for the 10th time in concert, the first of which occurences occured (occuringly) almost 14 years ago now. I suppose I could do the usual thing and say "I'm getting old," but instead, since this is a particularly slow workday, or perhaps because I just ate a peanut-butter-and-jelly sammitch of extraordinary magnitude, I will say that it solely demonstrates that I am still most certainly down for the cause. Sure, I've paid a fuckton of taxes into The System since then, but my principles toward a more artistic society are stronger than ever, even if they did take a few detours along the years in the forms of short haircuts and career responsibility. Maybe I'm just happy that I never did become a reborner pisstian like I had feared in my early teenage years, upon re-meeting a Used To Be Cool cousin since reformed as the man that we fear. Bring on the ale!

Scrawled lovingly elsewhere on Saturday post-beering as discussed shortly below:
Note on current state: halfway through first DB, quite dizzy. This beer is complete magic. The woman was going through old photos and found some of my old dog (died 5 years ago at the ripe old age of 17) and I got a little emotional, but I'm still sober enough to rebound quickly. Hopefully she hid the pictures well for when I'm alone tonight.

EDIT (the time stamp thingy says this post was created 2 hours ago):

Never have I had just one beer that has knocked me so thoroughly onto mine ass. I just awoke from what must have been at least an hour's worth of passedoutedness, only to run spinningly to the kitchen in order to chug as much water as possible along with inhaling every bit of pretzeled snack within reach of my daring fists. There are many hours left in the evening that I could drink more, but I know that nothing will recreate the massive buzz I had shortly before passing out. I could not move, but my mind was wild, even if a bit blurry. Any further attempt this evening at drunkedness will surely lead to a full stomach, headache, and thoughts of "why couldn't you be like your brother?!" to the next brew of choice. Thankfully I purchased two bottles, until next time!
That was a fun beer, and yes, the Negură Bunget album in question was blasted most righteously indeed.

Cliffsnotes: Radomly tied voweling, certifiable idiocy.
Saturday, December 8th, 2007

Shopooping <-- amalgamation stolen from My Noushie

The holidays are truly upon us now, driving by ye olde local Target a short time ago revealed a nearly full parking lot cominbed with chilly weather (the former not so irregular for SoCal, the latter of course very much so), the fact that I'm spending just as much money as usual but on other people for a change, and of course this year's release of Double Bastard. This is my first brew from said Doubling, after years and years of being a staunch believer in all things Stone Brewing Co. This particular incarnation is always lost upon me, the one year I actually witnessed the in stock bottling at my favourite boozery, they all disappeared to various friends as gifts, including even the last one especially marked for myself was given away (read: lost) to someone I ran into at the last possible second before the xmas gifting charade, and that was many years ago. No longer! Today I decided to make a run to a new place to purchase booze, and while their beer selection wasn't too great, they had massive quantities of the DB. What further about this venturing is known shall likely be forgotten, because I'm halfway through the first big bottle and my oh my, I cannot see straight. M'lady just remarked "You know what goes with beer? Cashews," and brought me a bowlfull. I love her so. She says I do not speak much of her on here (one of my few dedicated readers), but lack of love is not the reason, no no no. I think the crux of the biscuit is that I vent my frustrations here mostly, and of course having lived together for the past year+ there have been some, but not many, and not nearly enough to bitch, moan, obersve, and complain about her here. Perhaps things shall remain this way for all time, one (or two) can only hope. Taking my first munch she is indeed correct concerning the cashewing.



Necessary imagebreak because I went asurfin' for a spell. Actually I think I'm fresh out of spoke at this point, but then again I'm buzzed enough where I can keep going and going and going and going just like E-Bunny but perhaps I should stop and go consume myself into something a little more interesting like finishing off the King Crimson album I'm spinning and then perhaps watching Erik the Viking on handy DVD format. Either that or blast the awesomeness that is the following album, much to the neighbour's chagrin:



Yes, quite, rather, indeed, assuredly, capital, grand, peaking, whatever.

Cliffsnotes: 20 proof ale is my name, making you love life is my game.
Friday, December 7th, 2007

Assertive Ineptitude

What is it called when someone walks up to you and doesn't know what to say, but stands there waiting for an answer anyhow? It might not be what you think it might not be what you think it might not be what you think it should be, but there is most certainly something happening at any given moment around the globe. Whether or not it is someone (or not someone) from Harlem (or not Harlem) is not really the issue, since the issue has yet to be discussed or even unearthed at that. There is a trance-like introduction to the times that are today, and the mindbendingly difficult procedure in which to engage upon defining what will endure tomorrow's hamburger today cannot be paid for by any currency heretofore uknown. It wouldn't make sense even if it were (or if it were-n-'-t) but perhaps the notion that in fact, might be, will be, would have been, could be just that itself, means that there isn't really anything left to say, apart from the next several nonsensical sentences strewn together in seemingly endless foolishness/stupidity/saucering. Yes, enjoy your creamy filling into the cows come home to roost in the foxhole with more maggots than once believed in before Xmas Eve 3 years ago 2 weeks from now, but cease this botherment toward my person until such times arrive at the present (with gift horse in tow) which might, might not, may, may be, may not born, up on high, down on lowball, whisky in the river, soda in the can, house in the dirt, magazine in the baffroom, everyone hghghghanging around once again. Fiddlin' sticks.

Cliffsnotes: I'm so god damn full I can't drink a beer, but I might anyway.
Thursday, December 6th, 2007

No Haircut, No Mortgage, No Marriage (All Murder, All Guts, All Fun)

So I'm feeling a lapse in creativity lately, although I suppose that implies that at some point I actually was doing something satisfying to my artistic sensibilities, which I'm not entirely sure is the case. Maybe it is because the last song I wrote sucked ass and I didn't even post in on here, and everything gets displayed at yonder Shootka if I get beyond even a vague idea of what I want to do with whatever the hell it is being translated from thought to sound. Of course I didn't exactly finish this one, perhaps that is why I have this perplexed feeling going on, and have for a few days now. I need to find a drummer, maybe play some bar shows or something, although what I really should be doing is writing articles for a magazine about how and why your favourite band sucks and get paid handsome sums of monetary satisfaction to do just that. Yes, I wish to profit off my own misery as caused by you, for likely a substantial pay cut from my current job. Hmm. Maybe I should just wallow in the content that is a steady, well-paying, utterly boring career. Let me consider that for a moment.

...

Nah. Bitching is much more amusing.

Cliffsnotes: I would take marriage long before those other two, long long long long LONG before.
Wednesday, December 5th, 2007

Waiting for the Sun (if the sun was a bottle of Martinelli's Sparkling Cider in the fridge becoming colder and colder by the minute because that is, in fact, that which I am indeed waiting for).

Just returned from Death Valley, and after nearly falling off a cliff a few times, I learned that my offroad vehicle of choice to be purchased this summer will most certainly be a Jeep, likely a YJ but perhaps a TJ if I can afford it. Never have I been so confident behind the wheel on a trail, and this was in a stock YJ with auto tranny no less, not to mention it being the first time I had wheeled in nearly 5 years. Even with pizza cutters, I felt like a champion out there.

I thought I might have something creative to add this time but the song I was working on earlier today is less than impressive to the point that I gave up recording it prior to finishmentation sheerly out of boredom. I think I was trying too hard. Anyhow, it is now time to move on to the final offering, in picture form! This was taken in Lookout, a city abandoned after miners trashed all 5 bars and tossed a barrel of rusty nails down into the basement of the building behind me in a drunken rage.

Les Claypool v. Captain Morgan:



Cliffsnotes: I woke up Sunday morning in the dirt and couldn't feel my left foot for at least an hour.
Wednesday, November 28th, 2007

Tossing Truffles Toward Titian

Food goes in here.
Boorish bees beknight blasphemers.
Rotund peninsula equates victory.
Shameful mockery of all that ails ye.
Forchance forniscience forlani.
What the fucking fuck.
aol keyword: bn
Orange you glad I said... beets?
Posehn Yogurt
Break time, must put tent away.

Break line, must separate things.

Oops I walked away and lost my train of consequences.

Cliffsnotes: Awesome alliteration, Adrian (arrogant asshole).
Monday, November 26th, 2007

Slothroptivity

Tonight I finished another Nabokov book, and then wrote a new tune:

Hearst

I've been so productive today I'm going to have to stay up all night watching South Park on a painfully convenient DVD recording.

Cliffsnotes: Nothing clever to say, I'm tapped out for the day.
Monday, November 26th, 2007

Inflatable KFC breasts and Jewish Buddhist Católicos

I came up with that title on 10/31/2007, but am just now using it. However, I can still remember why exactly it came into being. I went to the local KFC drivethru for lunch this past Halloween, and when I saw who was taking my money was dressed as, what I could best describe as being a genie/whore, it dawned on me that the P.Y.T. in question had fake breasts, and I'm not just talking about the ones she was getting ready to feed me. *rimshot*

There's fresh meat in the club tonight
God bless our dead marines
Someone had an accident above the burning trees
While somewhere distant, peacefully
Our vulgar princes sleep
Dead kids don't get photographed
God bless this century

--excerpt from God Bless Our Dead Marines by Silver Mt. Zion


Not to spoil a justifiably blatant anti-war song by comparing it to man-made mammories, but really, what the hell happened here? High paying careers give way to terminal debt slavery in the form of The American Dream and still-classified-as-teenage bints injecting themselves with silicone "paid" for with their grease infecting jobs. I was about to blurt/stomp DOESN'T ANYBODY READ ANYMORE?! but hesitated, since even though I've always drawn such parallels of mutual exclusivity between the declination of literacy and obtuse growth in moronity, I thought perhaps I've been mistaken all these years. Or perhaps not:

On average, Americans ages 15 to 24 spend almost two hours a day watching TV, and only seven minutes of their daily leisure time on reading.

Reading scores for American adults of almost all education levels have deteriorated, notably among the best-educated groups. From 1992 to 2003, the percentage of adults with graduate school experience who were rated proficient in prose reading dropped by 10 points, a 20 percent rate of decline.

In 2002, only 52 percent of Americans ages 18 to 24, the college years, read a book voluntarily, down from 59 percent in 1992.

American 15-year-olds ranked fifteenth in average reading scores for 31 industrialized nations, behind Poland, Korea, France, and Canada, among others.

Money spent on books, adjusted for inflation, dropped 14 percent from 1985 to 2005 and has fallen dramatically since the mid-1990s.

The number of adults with bachelor's degrees and "proficient in reading prose" dropped from 40 percent in 1992 to 31 percent in 2003.

--National Endowment for the Arts


Sure Lisa, you can call my reasoning spurious, but if you don't think fake tits and illiteracy are at the very least vaguely related, please sign up for an easy solution that will make the world a better place.

In conclusion:







Cliffsnotes: I decided to read Despair instead of Look at the Harlequins! and it isn't nearly as depressing as I assumed it would be, yet.
Saturday, November 24th, 2007

Dumping Descriptively

shitpoo frightpoo scarpoo snakepoo doompoo blightpoo roundpoo doopoo spoonpoo runepoo hatepoo ripepoo eelpoo shunpoo reachpoo maxpoo runpoo hoarpoo edgepoo shankpoo flanpoo oxpoo flatpoo chairpoo shoepoo fanpoo rankpoo filepoo discpoo hellpoo shovepoo forcepoo kickpoo strafepoo satchpoo stainpoo Shemppoo itchpoo pockpoo latchpoo flankpoo vamppoo thinkpoo rockpoo shotpoo eyepoo toothpoo blockpoo Randpoo stinkpoo nailpoo gelpoo flamepoo hardpoo teapoo bookpoo harshpoo dyepoo deathpoo hatepoo puspoo flushpoo morepoo plushpoo foolpoo dicepoo hawkpoo braidpoo fishpoo delvepoo riggedpoo darkpoo litepoo highpoo bigpoo dictpoo rindpoo buspoo pushpoo glasspoo witchpoo shiftpo oarpoo dovepoo dualpoo snagpoo hangpoo pourpoo clangpoo kindpoo tellpoo flarepoo finkpoo crushpoo filmpoo foxpoo hindpoo hexpoo

I think I had better stop.

Cliffsnotes: Why yes, I am proud of myself.
Friday, November 23th, 2007

Thrombunctuonomy

Perusing the shelves for my next book to read today I came across a copy of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I remember starting this one years ago and becoming quite disgusted with the overly pompous nature of the whole shebang, but noticed that I had in fact kept my bookmark where I had given up so long ago. I began to rescue said stoppingplaceholder when I noticed it was merely a piece of torn notebook paper with the words THIS BOOK SUCKS ASS scrawled upon it, so I left it there to remain where it belongs. Over the past day or two I have removed from the archives books by Eco, Kerouac, and Hesse, yet replaced all of them because I wasn't sure if any of them fit my correct mood for the next dose of booking soon to be at hand. Earlier today I finished Crooked Little Vein and am thumbing my way through more Transmetrpolitan, having given up on Gravity's Rainbow 200 pages in I've been finding myself yearning for simpler things for the time being. Perhaps I should jump on another Vonnegut, but... no. Ah, I've got it. I need to read Look at the Harlequins by Nabokov, which I will start as soon as I'm down unstarting this boog. Carry on.

I'm staring another paragraph because it just doesn't seem right to treat this whole business as a Here Is What I Am Doing Today Thing, because I would hope to think that the few visitors I get to this site do not care about my diet choice of the day, or what colour toof payste it is that I used in 1987, but rather that I share the little bit of insanity that all can identify with, or at least point and laugh toward. Who can be sure though? I am not, and I am also getting ready to unleash whatever sense this sentence might have had by hideously mashing my fist into the keyboard like so:

l;.k

Wow, was that completely unimpressive. Perhaps this MacBook keypad does not respond to violence very well, and since it is much more expensive than the Microsoft keyboard I broke the bottom off at work a few months ago doing said mashing, perhaps I shall not try it again. Oh what the hell:

kl

Again, that was ridiculous. I witnessed the smashing of at least 9 keys, heard the associated thud, and yet only two letters, both lowercase even, were the result. Third and final time, after this I give up:

l.

Ah, christ.

Cliffsnotes: I watched Neverwas earlier this evening and it reminded me of Pale Fire, hence the choice for Nabokov is correct (sir).
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007

Broken Treaties



Cliffsnotes: Ron Paul Tea Party, ignor-what?!
Wednesday, November 21st, 2007

Wizards in Winter

Plot: 2am on a work night, straight cold lampin' on the Lovesac, laptop in key position, type away without looking or thinking.

Go.

One time I went oto the mall and I didn't like what I saw. I went for no reason at all but rather just because I'm addicted to kiosks. Yes, those triangular shaaped things that tell you where to spend more money that you do not have to begin with. I hate the cell phone peddlers the most, they jump on you like a @2 whore ready to ear both bucks. Cant' you see I already have a cell phone that I hate? No I do't have / / / / hate it because it's not Hip or Cool enough, I hate it because being strapped to the outside world in such a fashion is ridiculous. Note: yes I'm on a wireless internet connection right now, big fucking deal. Welll where was I oh yes, just mistyping as must and fastly as possible because I mont even ing egieosdgl Oh sdj fje KOH FUCK WHT HAPPENED. I wonder what this mess will look like I want to be a journalist. I wajnt to gegt paid to type so pooroorororly . Whtey ... Hmm. Why not? Most [eople get paid to do shit badly every god damn day, just look at any sampling of pop s. . . . . . . . stars and then go GEE WHIZ WALLY BEAVER MR. UNCLE FESTER DUDE JAN. Wholy . Shit. Well that just din't make sense. No Exit is a great play. Ont hdng not. Okay, faceitcdhing complete. Now moving on. No Exit. I should read more Sartre. Fucker is depressing as all god damn. Depressing like Vonnegut where you laugh/cry the whole time if paying attention, laugh if not. Cry later when pooping 3 days after reading Breakfast of Chaompionoinoinionoinoinoinoinos thought. Whoa baby I can't wait to by.jjj Wheat/ This experiment is a failure.

Cliffsnotes: what the hell is wrong with me?
Tuesday, November 20th, 2007

Album of the Year

This business of talking shit has now reached a milestone, I have now been doing this for one full year. One year as of yesterday actually, but I didn't realize that particular nugget as I as writing that day's mess around 1am, not quite remembering what was what at the time. It started over at http://boogeresque.blogspot.com/ so this website isn't one year old yet, but everything contained therein is, which is why I am celebrating now and not in January 2008 for the one year launch of this DNS, although I will probably commence Year Two of paying GoDaddy with a glass of juice or perhaps milk+cookie (moose+squirrel). One thing that is greatly fitting is that the very reason I started blabbing onto a blog-type webspace was to create a journal of my musical goings on, which just today reached a new level because I actually sent my demo to a few labels, a first for me. No major labels, I even hesitated sending stuff to the few indpendent ones that I own albums from but did anyhow, and even though most engage relations upon a relatively fitting musical genre, I do not expect to hear back from any of them. I wrote for a webzine for some time and realize how flooded one becomes with demos, albums, and other promotional material, that merely sifting through to see the light of day is hard enough, let alone actually paying attention to everything that comes through the pipeline. The real kicker is we were small, not for profit, with no distribution capabilities, and even then were constantly buried. I can only imagine that those that hold the pen that inks a lucrative contract are much moreso swamped. But, it is now out there for possible consumption, and that was my goal. I'm still crafting songs, and still writing this mess, so one more half-baked project I began has actually kept up for a change. Next up will be an EP in 2008, likely self-released, but at least I've taken the proper steps to try and be heard. Wow, was that paragraph was quite dis-join-ted.

I realized just the other day that all the idiotic blogs I had on MyShit (when I still had a MySven account) were not included in this website, which is a shame. I thought I had appended them at the bottom but apparently not, so while all the writing herein is one year old at the latest, there was a time before this mess existed that I was writing public nonsense on the occasional basis. Actually now that I remember, most of those entries were pretty useless, and without the associated commentary by various peoples completely so, and the whole point of The Boogering is an individual experiment in sink or swim that I wish to garner no direct support from and/or of, so I didn't want all that shit here anyhow. Hmm. Well then, scratch all that.

Once the musical adventuring got started here at Boogerland, I recommenced thinking about writing in earnest once again. That is why I migrated into my own domain rather than carrying forth with Blogger (other than needing to get away from their ridiculous formatting rules). The Boogerdom was meant as a veritable purging location for things in my head, a need to empty the garbage out while keeping the sweet sweet goo inside so that, once cleansed, I could properly write something coherent, possibly lengthy, at the end of X amount of time. I think that time is approaching, because I am feeling the urge to harness what I have learned and use it to my advantage at any given second. Not that I will stop tipping the overflow here on a regular basis, just that I feel nearly poised to conquer a specific project now rather than solely relying on random musings to light our darkest hour. Or perhaps it is simply because I started reading Warren Ellis again and want to be just like him, and, by extension, as the creator himself does, wish to also be Spider Jerusalem. The hairy version of course.



Cliffsnotes: opening 20 seconds of Wheels of Confusion by Black Sabbath, Aerogel demonstration video
Monday, November 19th, 2007

TOGETHER WE POWER!

So I'm on my usual can't sleep so might as well read the latest doom/salvation bits of news from various non-standard media sources concerning the pending economic crisis which will likely pluralize into worldwide phenomenon given that the insanely high mortgage pricing of the US was also just as common in England, Australia, Spain, and who knows how many other countries. Many are beginning to panic about the possibility of deflation, but perhaps my naïvety and/or anarchistic tendencies are foolishly wishing for it to be just so. Either way, rather than think too much about the matter, I decided to take a variety of photographs of myself while listening to Edge of Sanity:

The album at hand, which is quickly becoming a personal favourite, even more so than the brilliant Crimson and Purgatory Afterglow. Well okay, those two albums really due reign supreme in the EoS catalogue, and perhaps death metal as a whole, but there is absolutely no question that the main riffs of Darkday and The Masque are definite contenders for Best Possible. Also now that I'm about done formatting this particular boog (no, I don't necessarily write these in order) I have put some Agalloch on to relax me into sleepytime:


Here are a few potential black metal band member shots, that could stand the addition of some sort of forest in the background, which would then likely make them pagan/heathen poses:


If I was a single wannabe vampire type on MySpork I would totally use these two photos to woo women into my lair (read: parent's basement) to do manly things such as just be friends and share a mutual cry concerning how hard life truly is:


Here's me doing my best impersonation of The Chatterer aka headbanging to above mentioned rocking album, and in order to even out the buddy system nature of all this, a fully clothed pornstar smoking a cigarette, possibly menthol:


Cliffsnotes: Friendship, Friendship?!
Sunday, November 18th, 2007

Why yes, I will take my fries Animal Style.

I just put on some frigid cold black metal so I had to open the back door to let winter coming frost in a bit. I think it's 58˚F outside but no matter! The mood is as close as I'm going to get it during these globally warmed times. Oddly enough I came here for a reason tonight, and this was merely an introductory paragraph I thought of after the initial I've Got Something To Say situation occured, but now I forget exactly what it was I was supposed to utter via type type type like a fat little pigeon. Likely, nothing. Will be, something. Here it comes. No No No, you already did one nonsensical entrancement this month, twas just the other day. Too soon for another m'boy, too soon for an udder.

This week I decided to give up my stupid bad behaviour of wasting time not creating while wasting time. Does that make sense? No. Try again. This week I decided to give up wasting time engaging in stupid bad behaviour when I could better use said time to be creative in terms of writing. Either music, here, or my slowed progress of a book I began earlier in the year. I find myself blowing away far too many hours on various internet forums arguing about goat cares what, when instead I should be frothing forth whatever bubbles are within me itching to get out. When I need to in fact get away from thinking, flowing, doing, expending? Watch some X-files DVDs or play one of the many neglected video games in my possession. Even when I'm getting pretty ridiculous like with that "...mink" bullshit from the other day, or writing another tune like Goodbye Leg, whatever it needs to be is coming out, and that's what it is there to do. Out, damn'd spot!

Some intro thing I just created:

Franc'O

Yes, I'm quite liking my drum tone these days. Same shitty drum machine but by making it sound shittier, it sounds better. Whodaflunkit.

Cliffsnotes:
Saturday, November 17th, 2007

Misc. Bullshit

New "song" done about 10 minutes ago, which took about 10 minutes to make because it's more like one of those Examples Of What Kind Of Band I'd Like To Start Things rather than something I want to show off. Either way, here it be in all its 20 minute creationist glory:

Stonoot5

I like the bass fills and I think I finally found a drum tone I enjoy, so although it's a pretty drab tune adding nothing new, I must label it Great Success for those two reasons. Mostly the drum thing, because my shitty drum machine is a shitty drum machine, but covered up with some distortionating it sounds pretty okay. Keen.

Spanksgiving to be held under my own roof this year for the first time ever. I suppose that makes me a grown up. Mommy, wow! I'm a big kid now.

Cliffsnotes: Cliffjumper, Ironhide
Saturday, November 17th, 2007

O.J. Simpson: Not A Jew

So I watched the new Transformers movie this past evening, and, despite my horrific rant against the very prospect of ruining a childhood memory from earlier this year (see far below), I was in fact not disappointed! It sucked just as much as I knew it would. Rather than prattle on and on about the countless flaws, including the complete and utter lack of personality from any and every role present, out of place humour, tactless ethnic stereotypes only displaced in sheer quantity by the ridiculous number of GM product placement vehicles, lackluster script unable to make up its mind, shaky camera angles rendering even what could be decent action sequences as nausea-inducing, more plot holes than pock marks the opening military battle sequence created, the horror of Megatron being reduced to less than three Grimlock-grimacing lines, and other such musings, I will say but two things: Peter Cullen kicks ass and Megan Fox is hot.

Cliffsnotes: The only thing that sucks about the original Transformers Movie is that it took place in 2005 and I still don't have a god damn hoverboard.
Friday, November 16th, 2007

Peoples is peoples.

Oh how I wonder why on the which is are where we are when we are why we are who we are how we is be. I walked across the pond today waiting on my uncle for another bitof the juice into the mimefest that reigns overtly into underdom. PAUSE!

SHANK!

...mink                         ₧           ▼

§hitƒuck

FLANGE! Over there, why don't you meet me over there meat me over there touch me under where. That phrase gets uttered all the time but I don't want to listen to (hed)p.e. right now because I heard them a few weeks ago for the first time in years and that's okay because I never liked that back office they gave then they took away (like the stapler) a few months later when the lady came back to claim it because she didn't want to be sick anymore and I didn't care because I like the pinnacle'd pete'd round'd about'd place'd that'd they'd got'd for'd me'd any'd-how'd. STROUDS!

I'm not down yet. I'm not done yet either. Is this stuff nonsensical? I say no. Unless of your course your can't make sense your of your it then your of course your not going to your under your stand it your but then your (no, you're) not going to your get it. It is not sound, this is not art. You don't know what. I don't care who. Which don't why when. Roundabout roundabout roundhouse roundabout. When do you go over there because this is just work and hey baby, why don't we go get a little tacogoing on the top Tuesday marketing branch. You think I like doing this? It just HAPPENS, man. I called it a stackdump once, but it isn't exactly that because that implies something mechanical and this is all organic nonsense when you get right down to the brass balls of it all. Some sort of purge, an unprompted brain freeze in reverse which I still cannot explain but maybe I just think I'm being clever but honestly I'm not because if I were I would think of something better to do than to append random letters and words into one another like so many mid-air plane crashes. Fuck, I was testing myself how long I could make that sentence go and it already stopped. Maybe the next one will be longer, and by next one I mean about 4 later because hey man, I don't know and I can't count for shit anyhow but WAIT! WHAT WAS THAT? it almost stopped again but this time it won't because a train kept a rollin' all night long and I don't even like Aerosmith that much but I think it just fit and no that dress doesn't make you look fat because I don't care about it anyhow and oh man have I got somethin' to say, I killed your ______ today but that doesn't count anyway because today is the day where nothing but death remains although that could be any nonday as it were, as it was, and as it shall ever might possibly (dramatic pause) be. Dyamn, it ended.

Thusly:

                                                                                                                                                                    ...mink

Cliffsnotes: Like An Everflowing Stream, shutter to wink
Thursday, November 15th, 2007

Eraserhead Baby

So I uploaded a profile to two different music social networking websites right, http://www.mi7.com/ which seems to be a corporate ruse selling expensive music software, and then http://www.musofinder.com/ which is like a small, specific version of Craig's List. Yes, I always insist on properly punctuating that particular posting place. I have tried both that list as well as MySpork, but didn't get anywhere with either one in terms of finding like-minded folk to burn out this mortal coil in a prodigious, rock out with your cock out sort of way. MySpork was especially troublesome because unless you want to continuously spam people who not only put up with or accept, but outright expect the meaingless bombardment of drivel, the site is basically useless. Plus the whole thing reminds me of the formative years of the internet when nearly every single personal website was plagued with poorly placed images, improperly sized fonts, and a ridiculous clash of colours heretofor never thought possible to exist in said combination thereof. Revolting, like. We'll see where this goes. I'm not expecting much, which means anything that happens shall be as gods.

Currently listening to Deadboy and the Elephantmen, on illegaly procured mp3s because the specific out of print album I'm enjoying is impossible to find, and hey, as a Swans collector, I know how to look under every rock imaginable. Speaking of downloading, I recently snagged that new Radiohead album but only spun it once. It was good, but further listenings shall be required before much opinion on the faux-wax can be mustered properly. I did not give them any ducats for the pleasure to burn, as I shall be purchasing the in-print version when it is released instead. Finally, my latest discovery, a French black metal outfit known as Belenos is proving a bit difficult to find, but I hesitate to spoil the experience by listening to the entire album before holding it tightly in my cold dead hands. Ah, after 20 minutes research I see that the album in question was limited to 1,150 copies, released 5 years ago. Well I suppose the mp3s will have to suffice, and listening to a sample of their latest, it is now readily apparent that I shall be purchasing this one instead. Support lands in the proper lap, no matter if the pants are the wrong colour. Cheers.

Proof that I am not a leech, although the size of my CD collection is more than enough, just purchased the following two albums:



Cliffsnotes: Particle Man, Particle Man
Tuesday, November 13th, 2007

I'm hot. I'm hungry. And oh my I think I'm just gonna wi-uhlt!

I'm sure nobody remembers that commercial, I think it was for some sort of flower food from around 8 years ago. No matter, most references I make are so obscure that they fly over even my head when I read over them but a few days later. Either that or I just completely misquote them altogether, which oddly enough, is an extreme pet peeve of mine, so you'd think I'd research a little better whenever I make said nod to past nautical element. Actually to be perfectly honest, I do research them thoroughly, the last time I remember doing just that I was digging through a Shakespeare book to make sure I got it correct. Even with it sitting in front of my face I doublechecked it from an additional source. Wait, why am I here this evening? Miscreantic-laced plausible deniability. Or whatever.

It has now been 10 weeks since completing my first fully printed demo, and I just now packed up the additional 8 copies to mail out, with the first 5 still sitting on the same bookshelf they have for over a month now. In my defense, I did move recently, and as of a week ago things are finally in proper order. So, one step closer! They might, might get mailed out this coming pay day. Maybe.

I've become incredibly concerned about money lately. Why? Because as of a month or so ago I am without credit card debt, for the first time in over 7 years. My only obligation is a car payment which is gradually nearing completion, one which I'm very much right-side up with even (hooray high resale value). Up until now I never gave a flying fuck about money, other than the occasional discomfort felt when a bounced check meant another loss of 29 shekels in banking fees. Now, at this point of relative personal financial ease, why does this have me worried? I think I've been spending too much time in the Land o' Blogs, mostly concerning the doom and gloom of the current housing and otherwise markets of this US of A. I've determined myself into thinking the whole ponzi scheme that is our economy is on the verge of crashing down, but I really shouldn't worry myself because: a) it probably won't anyhow, b) it has before and the world didn't swallow itself, and c) there isn't a god damn thing I can do about it anyhow. So what the fuck, chuck? Tomorrow I delete all my RSS feeds, excepting of course a choice few that fill my soul with excellent writing.

Well, I think this edition is getting ready to wrap up, I'm not particularly proud of it because I don't think I really said anything funny/meaningful but at least I vented out a few bits of bad air from ye olde bowels for the time being. Now I'm off to watch some more X-files, and shit fucking yes, I am out of this god damn worldly excited about the upcoming movie that has recently commenced filming.

Cliffsnotes: Nothing Importent Happened Today, It Came From the Desert
Thursday, November 8th, 2007

That's the mommydaddy...

Well if this doesn't just sum everyfuckingthing up nice, proper, and respectable like, then I'm a monkey fucking a football fucking an additional monkey:

"What is striking is how the new 'structured finance' paradigm replicates a political system which is no longer guided by principle or integrity. It is not coincidental that the same flag that flies over Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib flutters over Wall Street as well. Nor is it accidental that the same system that peddles bogus, subprime tripe to gullible investors also elevates a 'waterboarding advocate' to the highest position in the Justice Department. Both phenomena emerge from the same fetid swamp."

--Mike Whitney http://patrick.net/housing/contrib/volcker.html


As a renter/saver and self-proclaimed 10.5% anarchist, I'd buy him a beer.

Cliffsnotes: Procreation (Of The Wicked), Nalgene (made in USA)
Tuesday, November 6th, 2007

Nothing Can Stop Me Now

For no good reason here is my current Top Ten Albums of All god Damn Time At the Fucking Moment and Shit:











No explanation required.

Bonus Fucking Section:

Five Albums You've Never Heard but Really god Damn Should:



No mercy,
no reason,
JUST PAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIN!!!


Cliffsnotes: *punches Malfoy* "That felt good."
Monday, November 5th, 2007

Thigh v. Thigh

This is one of those entries where I could prattle on about who in goat's name knows what, but I really only came here tonight for one reason, so instead of blabbing it up per usual I'll just get right to the point. Is everyone ready? Well just in case you're not, I can say that Ron Paul is becoming a bit impressive lately, raising a whole assload worth of money in just one day. Granted, the less I know about the guy the more I like him, and if he does in fact win the Rep. nomination, I'll be less inclined to so willingly support him because I'm sure by then all his white supremacist, woman suppressing, church going nature will start to come out, and then I'll feel just dirty and unclean once again, thanks to this wonderful political system that fell astray years ago. But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? This wasn't the point of today's mess, I digress once again. I had best get on with it before a mob being chased by coppers bests me and gives me a thrashing I won't soon forget. So it goes.

THE MAIN EVENT:



Body broken, spirit intact.

Cliffsnotes: Lovesac is a big squishy thing where we can get together, Lovesac baaaaaybeeeeeeeee........
Tuesday, October 30th, 2007

Mike Patton

Not long ago I read that Mike Patton had recorded one of his albums under the direct influence of sleep deprivation, but of course I don't remember which one. Whenever I find myself forced continually awakened, I start achieving odd political thoughts. For whatever reason I always go and visit the doomsayers over at Global Research, and, while normally I'm a communistic left-leaning pseudo-hippy as it is, these feelings turn to outright fear in the guise of a Rocco-esque "PACK YER SHIT!" endeavour upon such revelations at such a tireding hour. The latest batch of verbiage used to prod me the fuck out of dodge involves the imminent destruction of Iran, my woman's homeland. Not that I've ever approved of war (at best I spent a period of time tacitly ignorning such things, wafting them away like bad gas whilst muttering something about nobody being perfect), but when something such as this might strike very near and dear to my home, or at least those who reside within it, I get just a little bit stabby. Not unlike Adrian Belew, I ask what do I do, what could I do? I have wanted to flee to Canada merely in protest of the in general Things American for some time now, but I still do quite enjoy, and perhaps even approve, of a lot of how things are conducted here. Well, I suppose that is only 51% at best, but the 49% is so awful I cringe at the simple thought of it. NASCAR, mall-lift trucks, high fructose corn syrup, outright murder of the least liked little brown people around the globe on a massive scale, et alii. Who knows? At least I enjoy my new condominium.

My mother fears for my safety when I run with a political diatribe, she's convinced I'm being watched. So am I. A quick Happy Halloween to those responsible for the Patriot Act and other such substantially sized chunks of dried dog shit:



Cliffsnotes: my head itches, we are the windowpaned.
Monday, October 29th, 2007

Could it BE any more orange?

Two months since I've updated this mess. Still haven't mailed the demos, although they might go out within the next week or two, maybe. Lots has happened lately, although nothing terribly exciting that I can remember. Mind you, nothing boring, I mean if you experienced what I have over the past 8 weeks you wouldn't be complaining, but not exactly writing ad nauseum about said adventures on some bullshit webpage either. I still get around 20 page requests per day, not sure who most of you are, but cheers for watching and apologies for the lack of updates. Speak up some time, why not? I started getting spam at this email account, I could use some lively discussion not concerning erectile dysfunction remedies and dog hormones. Danzig show Thursday. Updated the music and equipment pages. Wrote some new tunes:

Omrape
Fegizm

That's it, cheers.

Cliffsnotes: Internet hooked up at home for the first time since moving 6 weeks ago, Vampyros Lesbos.
Wednesday, August 29th, 2007

Holy Living Fuck

First I-can-actually-pass-this-out-to-people-leaving-a-concert demo is done, now all I have to do is print up a few and start sending out jeweled cases. We'll see how this goes.

Shootka page above has it all, and if you can't be arsed, just click this.

Cliffsnotes: I ate more Irish pancaked food than once thought possibly this evening.
Monday, August 27th, 2007

More Chit.

More shit. Demo shit. Noise shit. Foot shit. Hooray shit.

Slept Out



Cliffsnotes: when there was no crawdad to be found we ate sand you ate what we ate sand you ate sand that's right
Thursday, August 23rd, 2007

I keep forgetting to forge a title.

Wrote a solo bass piece, second take recording is done:

Conduit

Hooray input clipping!

Cliffsnotes: work is god damn busy right now
Sunday, August 19th, 2007

Wrote and recorded a new song. This one has only one overdub, for the lead part toward the middle. I like it, even if it is an Om/Sleep ripoff.

Spent Third

Cliffsnotes: You don't know who LaFours is? He don't know who LaFours is.
Sunday, August 19th, 2007

On my bi-monthly binge of ignoring this website, as per usual. Who knows why, although my reappearance in a forum containing 32,000+ posts from my person over the past 5 years might explain it. Seems that I filled a bit of a void by no longer attending said forum once this nonsense started up, just another outlet to input my output I suppose.

There isn't much of a point to this particular boog, although I am quite intoxicated at this current juncture AND I finally realized an idea for my novel. Not that I haven't had a million ideas (well, maybe 5 to 10... okay 5), But now I have a solid, concrete, hard-as-a-haven't-gotten-laid-in-a-week erection idea, and I'm planning on making a run at it soon enough. The entire outline is complete, and I think it is unique enough to fly toward the twin towers that are fame and fortune. Fame = 300 people read it / Fortune = I make $20 after spending $40,000 printing it myself. We'll see where it goes.

Also I'm listening to newer Enslaved right now, and the background vocals are straight out of Fear Factory. Makes me feel old. Hmm.

Cliffsnotes: What, like the back of a Volkswagen?
Wednesday, August 8th, 2007

Grape Kool-Aid

I was watching The Tube the other day, yes I know I've stated numerous times "I DON'T WATCH TV" but the girlfriend and/or her ma enjoy putting that particular channel, which is exclusively rock videos, on from time to time, and from time to time I'm in the same room, and as such I enjoy watching all the old Peter Gabriel videos that still look pretty good all these years later. I Feel You from Depeche Mode came on, and I started to think to myself "that's why I never made a run for the rockstar scene, I mean sure I can play my bass for you and write an okay tune or three, but I don't have that drive of constant creativity like Martin Gore has, I suppose if I really put my nose to the grindstone I could give it a shot, but the fact that I do not have the absolute, unwavering, ne'er dying NEED to do just that is exactly why I slave away in an office job some 40+/- hours a week," which is all true. I tip my hat toward those that can, and enjoy that which they do. So then a video from My Chemical Romance came on, which fucked my whole thought process of acceptance all to shit. Those douchebags make a living with their McMusic? Fuck that, at 11:24am on a Wednesday I should still be passed out underneath a stage I rocked to hell the night before, waking up in a lovely stew of booze, bile, and burnt heroin, rather than running estimates for fake stone on fake houses for fake people in their fake land of enchantment. What in the god damn is wrong with me? Balls.

In other news, after spending the past few weeks reading graphic novel after comic after children's lit after internet housing blog, I decided to engage upon a crusade of some light summer reading, and began the following novel:



Thoughts so far:

v.

Cliffsnotes: You stay here until you're no longer insane. Ooh, chili would be good tonight.
Sunday, August 5th, 2007

Hail via H-E-doublehockeysticks

Saw From Hell years ago. Started reading mature-audience comics years ago. Never realized the connection that Alan Moore, the apparent master himself, was behind the original graphic novel from 1989. Read it this weekend, after quickly scooping it up at the Comic-Con last week upon becoming lightning-rodded at the majestic cover. Amazing work. Normally I would latch onto the anti-establishment bits, being a pseudo-anarchist and all, but I thought the most important lesson to be gleaned was the overwhelming presence of advertisement in this here 20th century.



I go eat coffee ice cream now.

Cliffsnotes: PACE TILL DEATH!!!
Thursday, August 2nd, 2007

I do not hate the car, but rather the driver.

Jundullah. Search for it on Google. The war on terror is a lie. As of April 2007 there has been irrefutable proof. Of course I've always had my suspicions. Just now hearing about it. I am setting a personal deadline of November 5th, 2008 to leave this country. Permanently. That way I can vote for Ron Paul before giving the final bird. Because that dude will make it past New Hampshire, right? Right. No he's not perfect. Best I can tell he is not an evil derelict. In this day and age, that's nearly enough. Either that or vote for Billary. Not because I love that partnership. Rather that people I hate, hate them. The politics of snide anger. Indeed.

Cliffsnotes: "George Bush don't like black people."
Wednesday, August 1st, 2007

This is madness! THIS! IS! A LOUSY MOVIE!

That was a ridiculous bout of nonsense yesterday. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to separate various rants of the day instead of combining them into one huge boog, but hey, apparently I don't. Maybe I'm title-centric, what with the enjoying of a new name every time I pluck up enough stupidity to go, go, go! The four of those were all written within a few hours of one another too. Hmm. Well this paragraph is pointless. Onward!

Haven't seen The Simpsons Movie yet. Will soon. No desire for The Transformers one, I figured morbid curiosity would lead me there straight away but I guess it's been out a month now but I didn't bother. Hopefully I won't drag myself through the DVD either, but odds are I will. I think I de-bitched myself out of that some months back though, and now that Spielbergo is working on Indiana Jones 4: The Search for New Knees, I'm more preoccupied with pointing and laughing instead of ranting and raving. Maturity? Perhaps.

Speaking of 300, and complaining about something, a quick search of Ze Archives reveals that I never had my take on that piece of shit. I read the comics shortly before the movie was released, and quite enjoyed them. A bit cheesy at times, but Frank Miller kicks all kinds of ass, so overall I was quite pleased. Should have read it years ago when I was first made aware of the existence thereof. Anyhow, so we went to the theatre to see it, and became pretty bored early on. Sure, there was some titty, but the absolutely horrendous randomly switching accents (English, Irish, Greek, and American all in one breath) was quite annoying. A few overstylized battle sequences, and the wide awake snoozing commenced. Mercifully, halfway through the viewing the film reel caught fire and melted in front of our eyes on Jumbotron. Not only did we get our money back and some free passes, but we'll never have to finish watching that overhyped piece of trash. Hooray! By the way, I thought Sin City was absolutely mindblowing, because, well, it was.

Last night I declared today Fantômas and Celtic Frost Day for no apparent reason, but I celebrated accordingly. Next year I expect just as joyous of an occasion. Spread the word.









Cliffsnotes: Hal Hartley, Huell Howser
Tuesday, July 31st, 2007

BMX BIKE! BMX BIKE!

Fînállÿ figured out how to do accent marks on the Mac that won't turn into god damn Sanskrit or some other randomly selected reasonless language. This means that I can rest easily at night knowing that OS X is wholly superior to Windows once again. Hôórâÿ!

Cliffsnotes: This is Spïnäl Täp, GO CYBORG!
Tuesday, July 31st, 2007

Rewind Carnage

Music review written today. First in at least a year, maybe two. I'm a bit rusty, but felt compelled apparently. Album in question is the new Queens of the Stone Age. Click on Focus, scroll down in appropriate alphabetical order. Cheers.

Cliffsnotes: nicotine, valium, vicodin, marijuana, ecstacy, and alcohol.
Tuesday, July 31st, 2007

Leggo my prosthetic arm.

So after say, oh, 20 minutes research, I discovered a few things about this here 7th Dayer Club:

"Though it seems unbelievable to some, Iím thankful that when I grew up in the church I was taught not to go to the movie theater, dance, listen to popular music, read novels, wear jewelry, play cards, bowl, play pool, or even be fascinated by professional sports."
--James R. Nix, Growing Up Adventist


Congratulations, you're an idiot.

"The Church does not serve as conscience for individuals; however, it should provide moral guidance. Abortions for reasons of birth control, gender selection, or convenience are not condoned by the Church. Women, at times however, may face exceptional circumstances that present serious moral or medical dilemmas, such as significant threats to the pregnant woman's life, serious jeopardy to her health, severe congenital defects carefully diagnosed in the fetus, and pregnancy resulting from rape or incest. The final decision whether to terminate the pregnancy or not should be made by the pregnant woman after appropriate consultation. She should be aided in her decision by accurate information, biblical principles, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Moreover, these decisions are best made within the context of healthy family relationships."
--http://www.adventist.org/


I can dig on that. While I am completely pro-choice, at least this provides a compromise to the usual fucked up pro-life fucking bullshit cunting tripe that others moronically subscribe to.

"Seventh-day Adventists believe that sexual intimacy belongs only within the marital relationship of a man and a woman. This was the design established by God at creation. The Scriptures declare: "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh" (Gen. 2:24, NIV). Throughout Scripture this heterosexual pattern is affirmed. The Bible makes no accommodation for homosexual activity or relationships. Sexual acts outside the circle of a heterosexual marriage are forbidden (Lev. 20:7-21; Rom. 1:24-27; 1 Cor. 6:9-11). Jesus Christ reaffirmed the divine creation intent: "'Haven't you read,' he replied, 'that at the beginning the Creator "made them male and female," and said, "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh?" So they are no longer two, but one'" (Matt. 19:4-6, NIV). For these reasons Adventists are opposed to homosexual practices and relationships."
--http://www.adventist.org/


Gay.

"The International Religious Liberty Association [founded by the Seventh-day Adventist Church] will disseminate the principles of religious liberty throughout the world; defend and safeguard the civil right of all people to worship or not to worship, to adopt a religion or belief of their choice, to manifest their religious convictions in observance, promulgation, and teaching, subject only to the respect for the equivalent rights of others; support the right of religious organizations to operate freely in every country by their establishing and owning charitable or educational institutions; and organize local, regional, and national chapters as well as seminars, and congresses."
--http://www.irla.org/


Hear, hear.

Well, I have my overall beef with the whole shebang, but at least these dudes grant some form of tolerance, which is better than most of their brethren. Now sell me some whisky, you god damn pimento loaf.

Cliffsnotes: I don't agree with his Bart Killing policy, but I do approve of his Selma Killing policy.
Tuesday, July 31st, 2007

The best part of waking up, is swearing at your 'puter.

I feel like I'm missing someone's birthday today. Next month I move to a city infested with Seventh Day Adventists. I'm not sure what that means, other than likely not wearing my various heathen/atheist/pagan t-shirts while buying whisky on a Saturday. Not that I won't be donning them, or even that I won't be purchasing said bottling of booze, but rather that hard alcohol is not sold within the city limits, and even if it was, the whole town shuts down every Saturday in the first place. This is going to be cool.

Comparative Politics:

The god of man is a failure
Our fortress is burning against the grain of the shattered sky
Charred birds escape from the ruins and return as cascading blood
Dying bloodbirds pooling, feeding the flood
The god of man is a failure
And all of our shadows are ashes against the grain


v.

I love my dog and she loves me
The world's a mess and so are we
She tumbles long green muddy fields
Sick with joy and glee
And as she dreams sweet puppy dreams
Whimpering gently


v.



YOU BE THE JUDGE!

Cliffsnotes: Nothing on top but a bucket and a mop, and an illustrated book about turds.
Monday, July 30th, 2007

Frightening Perspacicity: A Resourceful Intervol

Back to reality after a week's vacation. I have not accomplished much today, unless you count eating too much fried zuccini. The housing market is still tanking, although continuing at a very sloooooow pace for reasons unknown. Well, I suppose I could theorize that the painfully sloth-like decline is due to The Builders remaining unwilling to let the world know how overinflated their pricing was at the peak of 2005, and of course The Realtors still lying to The Sellers, pretending that this quick downturn is mere moments away from swinging back toward the stratosphere once again. That leaves the group I'm in, The Buyers, still waiting for a decent time to jump in. It's not here yet. It being reality, and here being hopefully sometime next year. Regardless of incentives, low interest rates that are soon to climb, and a wealth of backed up inventory, it is still a horrible time to buy. Mumbomath:

The combined income of my girlfriend and I puts us in the upper 20% of wage-earners in California. Using the traditional (read: sensible) economic calculation of spending no more than 29% of gross income on a mortgage/rent payment, we can technically afford a $400,000 home. Since the median home price is a bullshit figure I'm not going to bother comparing to that, but it doesn't take long to realize that the not-too-shy of half a million pricetag does not exactly buy prime real estate in California. Besides the fact that if you are looking at things with regard to financial stability, sense, and reason, with 29% being the limit one should spend on a roof, maxing out this aspect and adjusting our lifestyle accordingly is not worth a shitty home in shitty Hemet. The Pride of Home Ownership being an outright lie (the bank owns your home for 30 years, if you make it that far only then do you become a deedholder), this is not something I'm willing to engage upon.

Furthermore, and this is when it reaches beyond personal sentiment and specific logic into the realm of "buh?!", our income dictates that we edge toward the downward sloping right side of the bell curve in terms of cashflow, yet we approach the bottom rung of affordability in housing. If we lived in a major city centre I could understand these prices, but we're in the 951 for fuck's sake. This housing downturn has only hit the actual sales figures, not real dollar amounts of initial membership dues for the Imma Homeliver Club. By year end I would guess incentives will lead toward the beginning of dramatically lower pricing across the board, which should have started in the second quarter 2006. The biggest problem with a failing economy is the refusal to recognize it as such, and scrambling for as long as possible in order to delay the inevitable result.

Show me a $200,000 home, in an area I can walk the streets at night, within 30 minutes of my job, and I'll stop renting. Unrelated: I think I just inadvertently shit my pants during a doublefart. Closing sentiment in the form of my new object of idolatry:



Cliffsnotes: One Rode to Asa Bay, FI-YAH!!!
Sunday, July 29th, 2007

Comic Completion

Recently returned from yet another Geek-Con, my second year in a row. I've gone for all 5 days both times and don't see that changing if/when I/we go again. Last year I didn't purchase much of anything, but this year, after being very much out of the loop concerning things comics for the past 10 years (despite going last year as well, my focus that trip was just to absorb what I could), I spent a boatload of cash on new shit. Go consumerism, go.

Over the past few days I've read multiple trade paperbacks, several individual comics, and my first manga. The most impressive was Y: The Last Man, which I have quickly read the first two trades thereof, and shall be ordering more via Amazon.com, post haste! Definite highlight of the show was the Warren Ellis panel, which we almost didn't go to because "I'm not THAT big of a fan." Well I most certainly am now. Also got to meet Danzig and Maddox, two heroes of mine. Exchanged single sentence conversations with both of them, who were pleased to know I was a fan. Score.

I suppose what I'm getting at, or perhaps not really, but this is the part of the boog where I discuss this, because, well, simply, that was the plan all along, is that it may be time that I write a comic myself. I have a lot of ideas for various writings, and if I can find someone to do the artwork for me, I'm sure I can bang out a few bouts of nonsense into comic form. I have the economic resources to fund such an endeavour, and especially since my writing style leans toward the short and chaotic, this might be a better path of emphasis than to try and write an entire novel, that I'd only become bored with after a few chapters I'm sure, first. Also, the woman has some brilliant story ideas that, to me, beg for the visual form that comics bring, and I plan on funding and editing that whole project if she wants to see it lift off the ground. Who knows, this could be fun.

Photographic Summation of Comic-Con 2007:


Getting cockblocked for cheap used Sin City books.


Obviously jerking off to a Dark Crystal banner.


BLACK METAL!!! BLACK METAL!!! BLACK METAL!!!

Cock. Pillow. Cockpillow.

Cliffsnotes: Spider Jerusalem, wax dart.
Tuesday, July 24th, 2007

Cartopologyist

Began and completed the last Harry Potter book the day it came out. It was pretty good but the Half-Blood Prince remains my favourite of the series. Hopefully it won't be too many years before Rowling writes something else. No matter the subject, I'll read it.

Comic-Con is just a few days away now. In preparation I've been listening to tonnes of BLACK METAL!!! BLACK METAL!!! BLACK METAL!!!



















RRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cliffsnotes: First time using TextWrangler, still can't get the fucking umlauts, et. al. to work in Mac.
Thursday, July 19th, 2007

Focus section now up. To be expanded later. Did half on the stupid Mac, and for whatever reason I could only get the special characters to work correctly for one saving round, then any subsequent edits turned the entire thing into Japanese characters for reasons unknown. So I had to finish using Windows, which worked just swell.

I suppose what I'm getting at is the following comparative analysis holds true:

Mac > PC
but
Notepad > TextEdit
therefore
all computers = PAIN IN THE FUCKING ASS!

Cliffsnotes: I got a B in high school geometry, but still did better than most of the class.
Tuesday, July 17th, 2007

Life in a pre- and now post-MySpace world.

Zero fucking difference. Well, except whenever I walk by the woman perusing said shitstain, I say "you still use that crap?" and then go not get inundated by useless garbage that nobody asked for to begin with. I think my anger centers around the easy stalkability of the place, although it could just be my general irritation with anything and everything related to Rupert Murdoch, excepting of course The Simpsons, who get away with a lot of anti-Murdoching right to his face. For the record I did in fact have an account there for a few years, but the bitch cheated on me best I can tell.

Unrelated double album purchase today:





Hooray image size mismatch!

Cliffsnotes: My god, it's full of... ADS.
Tuesday, July 17th, 2007

SPACE MADNESS

Sometimes I feel like, somebody is watching me. No I don't. In fact I've often become perplexed when I'm staring at someone from the side/rear whilst a vehicular passenger on the local interstate and they somehow know to turn to look at me right in the nick of time as if saying "HEY! I'm just like that teacher in _______ school you always hated, what with the apparent eyes in the back of my head!" It happens every freaking time. Unbelievable. Well, I suppose since I know it happens each time I try to get away with it, it in fact is not only believable but surely factual because, like I just said, it happens.

So I'm getting a little wiggy at this point in time. I ditched my diet for several days in a row and am now on Day Two of Getting Back Into Ze Chit, which means my stomach is making the same amount of noise that I wish to be doing myself because of the whole previously mentioned wigginess. So here I am. Naked and gay, just like before. I'm fucking starving. Who.

I've been getting headaches/eyestrain for several days now, very badly I might add. I think I might need new glasses again, even if I just got some about 6 months ago. Wow, now that is a fascinating observation. So much so that I'm going to punch myself in the kidney. There, I really did, twice. Not very hard, but still. Made a grunt noise and wondered what the hell my major malfunction might be this time, for willingly causing such harm to my person.

Comic-Con is a week away now. Harry Potter 7 is but days from being mine, oh yes, it will be mine. Although more pressing matters must be attended to: I crave Vanilla Coke.

Cliffsnotes: The Lost Tracks of Danzig, Sasquatch is REAL you fucks.
Monday, July 16th, 2007

This is going to be cool.



Cliffsnotes: Yeah, yeah heh-heh heh-heh BOOOOOIIIINNGG!!!
Monday, July 16th, 2007

Rutabaga.

ol' fishin' hol'
Ice Nine
Rhombus (best bandname I've ever come up with)
retarded t-rex arms
Hallowed Point
persona non grated cheese
spiced milk
hantavirulent cats
old cheese
Diary of a Fat Man
Dobbie's knobbie
Dr. Charles Kinbote
telepathic mirror'd hall monitor
coctail (fruit!)
failed attempt at flatulence
"Old woman!"
match made in Heaven's Not Overflowing
breached hullabaloo
Oscar Nominated Masturbation Sequence
canned chicken in a taco from the "Mexican" restaurant at the Frontier
yeah... *gigglegiggle* ORANGE (orange?)
Lawry's
warm egg yolkel
"In 2006, Totino's completed its phasing out of 100% real cheese in its pizzas."
The Isness
redundant opacity
redundant opacity

Cliffsnotes: not a note, not a cliff.
Sunday, July 15th, 2007

Jorja Beardson

One more week before Comic-Con and the final Harry Potter book. I'm starting to feel like Milhouse when he first saw the Biclops comic (brought to you by Lenscrafters). I can't wait to read all of Book 7 before heading off to San Dieger, smugly waltzing around the Harry Potter LEGO display knowing exactly how the end turns out, possibly crying all the while. For the first time in the history of everything, I plan on being one of those dudes who goes on vacation with their laptop in tow. Yes, I have reached the realm of ubergeek, even if I haven't quite figured out how to translate all my ASCII-table'd umlaut knowledgings from my Windows days of yore to this here Mac establishment. Höly shït I cän't bëlïëvë höw ëäsÿ thïs ïs, whät ä trïp. Well okay, for some reason that shows up umlauted to fuck just fine in TextEdit, but not on any browser. Balls. Speaking of that, I'm right in the midst of determining which of the iPorn viewers I enjoy the most: Camino, Firefox, or Safari. I suppose the whole mess can be summarized in a poem I composed in an email a short while ago:

Drank a flask of scotch last night at a party last night.
1am Del Taco run at 1am.
Tonight ate a can of Spam while watching X-files and eating Spam.
I now have arrhythmia which I now have.

Cliffsnotes: worth your poopweight in chode.
Wednesday, July 11th, 2007

After lunch can I whip you?

Concluding careful consideration, I decided to liquidate a substantial portion of my investments, for the fear of a pending global financial meltdown, centered around the unsafe practices of a debt-consumed monetary policy, has infiltrated my current sense of well-being.

That is all.

Cliffsnotes: I distrust the US gov't, quite a bit I might add.
Tuesday, July 10th, 2007

NUDIE MAGA ZINEDAY. NUDIE MAGA ZINEDAY.

So I'm going a bit hogwild with Ze iTunes again tonight, seems like once a month or so I frantically grab 50 CDs and go crazy. I'm only doing this so I have quick access to a variety of albums, since my CD collection is in a bit of disarray because I'm basically living out of a half-bedroom right now. Just in case anyone was wondering just how artfag The Lord Weird Slough Feg really are, observe:



Yep, that's my Slough Feg collection surrounded by Kayo Dot and maudlin of the Well, by no fault excepting of course the modern English alphabet. Keen.

Once again I've become curious about a band's current tour status only to have missed them by less than a week's time playing in my area. Last go-round was finding out Clutch was in San Diego two weeks PRIOR to me checking their website, and tonight I found out that Sunn O))) were in Los Angeles just days ago. Balls. I really have to get better about such things, you'd think I'd be more than on top of the game what with the internet no longer being a "hey look at this new thingy" these days but rather its complete infiltration of daily life was completed years ago. At least I stopped watching television sometime in 2005, a simple forced technological retardation is coming to fruition (why yes, this boog IS being typed on a newfangled MacBook Pro, glad you axed).

I left this portion blank after completing the above and below mangled incoherency, but now find that there really isn't anything I have left to say. Hmm. I'm quite enjoying listening to Celtic Frost right now, and I'm glad I dug out some old Hypocrisy CDs from Ze Garage because I'll likely spin them before passing out tonight. I suppose that's it I suppose that's it I suppose that's all I suppose that's this I suppository myself into the suppositional trajectory refraction I suppose.

A final thought from our sponsor of tonight's caffeine induced idiocy:



Cliffsnotes: I hope I live to read the final Harry Potter book, after that my life might be complete enough.
Monday, July 9th, 2007

Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you were...

So I went to the mall yesterday, a place where even as a teenager I never really enjoyed, unless I was purchasing expensive cigarettes from The Tinder Box, but even then it was only because said Shermans could not be found anywhere else. I had to exchange the below-mentioned sunglasses, and the woman's mom needed to remove an article once purchased at Macy's from her present ownership, so we figured what in the god damn, let us tally forth and engage in a Gay Mall Day. Amongst other learnings, I haven't much paid attention to anime or video games for awhile, and was able to observe some new happenings in both, including a new Mana game for PS2 I didn't know about which I'm about as likely to pick up as I did the last one for PSX (never happened), as well as a few newer toons from The Land of Reliable Automotives that might need to peruse very soon. That mostly involved bumping a few anime movies on my Netfux queueueuue, so perhaps like oftenways, I am slightly behind the ahead of myself from the getgo letgo anygo.

So at one point we found ourselves in Hot Topic, a place that I started calling lame sometime around the year 2000 I do believe, but did give them a handful of cash for the occasional sticker and t-shirt several times before then. I hadn't walked into one of their stores more than once or thrice in the past many years, and as I waltzed through, thinking myself appearing a little dumb, long hair and donned black Agalloch shirt proclaiming "The God Of Man Is A Failure" notwithstanding. I noticed a factory-faded Bart Simpson t-shirt, which made me think of my old Bartman shirt from 1990 which I'm sure is 48 sizes too small by this point, but likely just as scorched by time, dust, and several plummets in employment level. The woman failed in finding a properly sized Siouxsie and the Banshees shirt, as well as myself being unable to locate the Slayer - Reign in Blood shirt they had on display. Alas.

So back to the being old part I suppose, concerning what music both on sale and on air. I had no idea what about half the music blasting forth was, although I wouldn't recognize much of the bland emo shit that is popular these days anyhow because to me it all sounds the same: bad "punk" riffs and completely characterless vocals whining about not being able to find a date for prom that they both speak out concerning, yet plan to go to all the same. The stuff for sale, outside of one Nine Inch Nails record (the new one, which I dig) and too many Korn albums, was making me draw blanks, but appeared to be boring nu-metal shit for the most part. Nothing new to bitch about there I suppose, but there is no fun just accepting the existence of bad art, hence the very notion of much of this (and other) boog(s). A newer System of a Down song was heard as I was waiting in line, but the biggest surprise was hearing Sinatra by Helmet, a song older than half the store's employees I'm sure. I didn't have the heart to ask if that was like listening to Arrow 93.1 (fuck you, Jack FM) for them, instead I decided to just enjoy the feelings of both aural enjoyment and not feeling entirely ancient. I also declined the self-offer to explain to the mohawk'd and multi-pierced clerk that despite the fact that the cool Gryffindor pin I was purchasing "would look good on a backback," that the intended recipient, me ma, probably hadn't worn said high school staple since the late 60's.

Just in case anyone thinks me Too Cool For School, I bought the new Marilyn Manson while I was there. Lame indeed.

Cliffsnotes: The Sorting Hat has a disease, and the only prescription is more cowbell (baby).
Sunday, July 8th, 2007

Awwwwwww shit I got a headrush!

So for the first time I've ever viewed my own page, it took more than a few seconds to load so I guess it's time to make an archive. Since this stupid thing is updated in quite a haphazard and irregular manner, I'm not sure how to go about it. Chronologically by year most likely, but perhaps I'll get creative and do it by sheer number of fucking expletives per god damn boog for shits and giggles. Not sure yet. I need to work on the god damn Focus part of this stupid shit anyhow, especially since there is absolutely fuckall in there. I have a few stories, maybe even a good one or two. Perhaps.

I downloaded Google Earth (again) the other day, nothing about global warming to be found. The earth is fucked. I'm glad I'm here to watch it front row, hopefully I'll be somewhere near the last bits of humanity to self-destruct at the tail end of it all. Makes for a good story to tell my grandchildren that will likely never be born. Obscenity?!?

Earlier last week I broke down and bought a pair of fancy-schmancy polarized sunglasses, quite similar to my tried-and-true Ray Ban shades that worked perfectly for years until I drunk-bent them in Vegas last week. It didn't take me long to realize those things weren't exactly meant for driving. I never dropped acid but I sure got some flashbacks from all the rainbows on my tinted windows, not to mention all the other missing shit from various light sources that I expected to be there that magically disappeared. So I exchanged them for a set of Oakleys:



I've never much cared for Oakley in terms of both marketing and product, but these sure are nice so I went for it. Hopefully this doesn't mean I have to start an energetic outdoor activity to prove my manhood now. New Harry Potter book AND movie within the next few weeks, w00t!

Now I must proof-read some shit for woman-work. I go now.

Cliffsnotes: I went bowling last Friday for the first time in nearly a decade, and had a grand olde tyme.
Monday, July 2nd, 2007

Conversationatude

Prostitution and drugs should be legalized and regulated by a government with the conviction to do so properly.

Cliffsnotes: Ooh That Smell, Can't You Smell That Smell
Monday, July 2nd, 2007

Carmudgeonical

Ordered sequence of unorganized viewagings:

Went to Vegas this past weekend, for coupling good time happy fun (5 * 2 = 10). Became annihilated the first night for the first time in about a year, mostly due to shots of Maker's Mark (I never do shots) and hearty mixes of Barcardi 151° and Coke (I hate rum). The entire experience culminated in a desparate yell for a "BOMBBY SAPHIRIHE MARTINI!I!" to which the bartender passed me a glass of water. After taking an enormous swag I exclaimed "THSIT IS WAHTESR!!!" and then somehow got the martini I so righteously deserved. Afterwards I apparently was taken back to my room, where my request for the woman to "TOUCYHGT MY WEITNER!!" was met with resistance, but before much protest took place I was bear-snoring mere seconds later. The next day involved 800mg of painkillers, one glass of chardonnay, and about 3 gallons of water. A good time was had by all.

I'm looking forward to Comic-Con again this year, which is coming up in a few weeks. I've always considered myself a bit of a nerd, but going to these events makes me feel like Al Bundy and Steve Rhodes going to the baldness meeting when things get a little patchy up top: "I'm not bald, and he's not bald. You guys are bald!" No I'm not claiming to be cool, in fact I'm fully prepared to drop a few bills on a walking stick with a dragon's head and rad crystal ball on top so I can be just like Gandalf. I'm cool alright.

I've been reading a bunch of articles about the housing market tanking, which rightfully is doing just that, but now I'm getting a little nervous about all the talk of a global monetary meltdown because of the inherent root of the problem (banking on debt) that has extended elsewhere. Smalltime loan sharking variable interest rate pushers failing are leading to crashes of various hedge funds, which just a few weeks ago was thought of as absolutely impossible, with level of improbability not even being discussed. Now we have large global banks warning about the worst situation we've seen since the 1930s, which is very comforting to most people because NOBODY FUCKING READS and they think of that one terrible Disney movie where the only major differences between then and now is that everything in English was pluralized and mores mens wears hats. Once again, American greed is quite possibly going to bite the world right on the ass. Hooray!

Shout At The Devil sounds like the 3rd song on that only Stompbox album, which, consequently, was a bit of a ripoff because it came later, but that one stutter'd line is better than Mottery Clue's entire fucking career so there you go. Man, those dudes were good. Stompbox, not Herr Clue. Fucktard.



San Berdoo sucks.

Cliffsnotes: Over The Mountain, grocery store picket line
Friday, June 29th, 2007

Failing Housing v. The Ghetto Bird

I don't have time to start this boog just yet, as I have to get some Double Rainbow Coffee Blast iced cream first. Bent spoon in hand, thou hath return'd.

I've worked in the housing industry for coming close to a decade now, so while I've never experienced a market slowdown, I do know they exist and have been awaiting this current sludgesea for some time. My new job entails much more research and logistic skills than before, so I've been particularly interested in how far and fast the market is plummeting for the past several weeks, more than ever before.

I first knew the market was nearing a point of decline in 2005 when I myself became a houselooker. I drove around to multiple houses recently on the market, and then sat down to Talk Numbers And Work A Deal with the fly-by-night lending firm a friend of mine had recently begun working for. I've lived in the same general vicinity for about 20 years so I know minor detail differences between Bad and Much Worse areas around the city. I quickly discovered that my moderate-and-still-climbing career could afford a small house in one of the many shittier areas, although even those would likely require a roommate or three without completely breaking the bank, and possibly wouldn't matter anyhow. $300,000 for a shitty house in a shitty area was the only thing around at the time, which means I could have stretched my wallet and stretched the truth even further for the application, and killed myself to struggle for one of those fancy variable rate / no down payment / magical-equity-growth loans, and have bene hating life ever since. When the loan terms were explained to me, it took about 5 minutes to realize what a horrible idea the entire market really was. Segregated and standoffish paragraph:

ANY NON-WEALTHY PERSON WHO GOT INTO AN ARM LOAN IS A FUCKING MORON.

Some that did happened to get lucky and were able to refinance before 2006, and are still fucking morons, just fucking morons with an overpriced mortgage that they can still afford because their payment only jumped XX amount on an overvalued house instead of XXXXXXXXXXXXX like the others. It's going to get worse, and by the gallon. Everyone can agree that 2007 is a lousy year for sellers and buyers alike, but 2008 is going to be just like Weird Al's Michael Jackson parody album cover. Well, for sellers and lots of owners anyhow. I'll be back in the market myself then, provided I still have a job.

So yeah, the neighbours put their house back up for sale and the police chopper has been flying above for the past 20 minutes, hence the title. No beating around the bush this time, I got right to it.

Cliffsnotes: After 10 years of driving, this past week I finally learned to parallel park.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007

I would not title this "git'r'done" even if I was paid to do so. Well, it would depend on how much I was being paid I suppose, but even the thought of it makes me sick, and hey, I sorta like that Larry the Cable Guy, he's a bit funny. It's just that the overwhelming It's Cool To Be a Redneck attitude that prevailed since his, and earlier Jeff Foxworthy's, introduction into American Life, making it not only okay, but preferred, to be a blithering idiot, makes me quite a bit nauseous.

So despite all that, this booger is about me wanting a truck. Ha! Well, a Japanese one like usual, which probably makes me worse than a homosexual woman communist to many, even in this "enlightened" age of 1995 (that was the year it was last I checked anyhow). So yeah, check this sumbitch out:



Fully handbuilt Toyota FJ40 with a whole host of awesomeness including a heavy duty Dana / New Ventures / Atlas drivetrain and a diesel engine. Price is just a Costanza-wallet waft away from 6 figures but man, how fucking cool is that? Capable, reliable, and most importantly, not a douchemobile. I drive a 2000 Chevy Shillverado 4WD for work, and man, is that thing pussified. Far too many critter comforts combined with steering about as effortless as falling down a flight of stairs. Get this: you get in and the Information Center tells you that the windshield wiper fluid is too low. Apparently Americans don't like to pop their hood ever.

Despite that, it's nearly time to face facts once again that I'm just a truck type of dude. I've driven my dream car, a Subaru WRX, for over 3 years now, and technically speaking I have access to two other pickups (worktruck: above mentioned Chevy Thing, womantruck: Dodge Ram 2WD, which is in fact a man's truck because despite being an automatic, everything else is bone dry stock), but even then I still feel the need to have a dedicated truckular vehicular once again. The only new one I ever owned was a Tacoma, which was great, but I made the mistake of getting it in 2WD. All of my vehicles have been 4WD, even the Lezzzzzzzbian Wagon which is AWD. 2WD is absolutely useless for anything but basic street driving, I don't care how many dune morons you see racing their lifted 2WD F-150s in the desert, fact is unless you have 500rwhp and a locker, even the smallest strip of softsand can get you stuck.

So the next truck, which will either be something old, abused, and Toyota, will be a Nissan Frontier (the new Tacomas suck, come on), or perhaps if the Tundra ever gets a fuel-efficient diesel.

This particular boog is a bit haphazard and stupid, so in closing:



Cliffsnotes: Hurdy Hurdy Gurdy Hurdy Hurdy Hurdy Gurdy Gurdy...
Wednesday, June 27, 2007

*squawrk* I'll tip her!

I've started tipping more the past month or so, I'm not sure why. I used to just double the tax, and depending on how many boozings were on the bill, it amounted to somewhere between 9.2% and 15.47%. I'm trying to do 20% across the board now, unless I get shit service, but honestly that's pretty rare because, well, I don't really know, but the last time I truly had a bad waiter was about 5 years ago at a Denny's.

I don't even know what the going rate for the food industry is these days, but I'm sure it's lower than what it should be. So maybe this is my Good For Society bit, and now I'm going to fondle myself for feeling so self-important.

Cliffsnotes: Did I say homo?
Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Vamp Tramp Camp Slramp

Major overhaul to Ze Booger Shite, now includes a decent chunk of my photography. Also since I ditched my MySpork account I had to reorganize the menu bar anyhow, so I added some extra shit to peruse, just for the halibut.

Been staring at the computer for the past 4 hours, so it's about time to pass the fuck out.

Cliffsnotes: Hello, I'm Mr. Snrub.
Monday, June 25th, 2007

GET TO THA CHOPPA!



I had a set of these about a year ago, and tried them on my Sterling. They felt AWESOME, but the tone mellowed that instrument's aggressive character too much. However, I simply could not forget the marvelous feel of them. Their loose tension, odd gauges, and full nickel wrap (as opposed to typical nickel plated steel), make them a relatively unique string, so I eventually bought another set.

This time they ended up on my Lull M4V, which despite having single coils, a maple fretboard, and an ash body, is a very smooth instrument. I figured this would be a good match, and after a few truss rod adjustments, it really is. Mellow but not like flats, and when you dig in they still have a decent bite to them.

I originally posted this on a bass forum, and since that place has a pretty strict swear filter I'd like to close by saying FUCK SHIT PISS BALLS CUNT RABBIT TREBEK.

Cliffsnote: YOU SISTUH IS DY-INK.
Monday, June 25th, 2007

Staqnky Omnibussodimo

Went to two industrial shows this weekend, VNV Nation and Skinny Puppy. The woman is into such things, I only ever listened to the fringe/metal elements of that type of stuff such as NIN and Ministry. A good time was had, even if a meaningless fight took place betwixt the two love birdturds. VNV Nation put on one hell of a postive vibe (what I'm aimin' for), and Skinny Puppy were beyond impressive. Definitely will be picking some more of their stuff up, and first thing I thought was "wow, I'll be this dude hates Marilyn Manson for ripping him off."

Deleted ye olde MySpork profile today since it seems more people visit my tunes here than there anyhow. I suppose I'll have to change around a few links in the process. Even if that one article about Spam 2.0 wasn't exactly enlightening, I started to buy into said schtick I suppose. News Corp can suck it and smile anyhow, what a bunch of butt pirates. Not that I have anything against gays, because I don't, and furthermore I don't have anything against saying rad shit like FAG! and DUHG IS A HOMOSEXUAL! in an offensive manner, but hey, I mean buttsex is a little gross. Too much shit involved. No thanks.

I've tried to cut down my forum time spent on the intarweb, mostly because I find myself wasting away precious moments of soon-to-be history that would be better utilized to do more writing, reading, and possibly drinking. Speaking of cutting down, I've had about 7 drinks this entire month, and we're coming up on the end of it all. What in the god damn name of unholiest poop is that all about? Maybe that's the main reason I'm losing weight. Well, I ditched soda as well. Ha! No wonder I'm so surly lately, all my fun is getting sucked out. Although I think I'm getting more life accomplished in the process. Or not. Whatever. Who cares?

Cliffsnotes:
Wednesday, June 20th, 2007

Wilson! Wilson! ... you SUCK!

I read The Da Vinci Code last year. I never read best sellers. What a piece of shit.

I watched The Da Vinci Code tonight. I never watch blockbusters. What a piece of shit.

Cliffsnotes: Tom. Hanks. SUCKS.
Wednesday, June 20th, 2007

Uh oh, fart. Uh oh, fart. Uh oh, fart. Uh oh, fart.

At around 11pm last night, my Cyberduck FTP client decides to no longer allow me to upload or download from my website(s), even though I could logon with no difficulty. Wrestle. Wrestle wrestle wrestle. Give up. Next morning, wrestle. Wrestle wrestle wrestle. Ask for help, upload shit from work because CoreFTP on Windows is jim dandy (just like candy). Received help response. No help. Fuckit, reinstall Mac OS X. It's been less than 2 months since I got this computer, but since it was my first of the Mac variety I didn't know shit about shit so needed a clean sweep anyhow. I had assumed that I borked something when fucking with the hosts file anyhow. Reinstall, took over 2 hours. Download various programs, number two on the list was Cyberduck. Did it fix the god damn problem? Nope.



So I set the computer up how I had it before, which took another hour, then go to check out what is happening with Ye Olde Airport Extreme wireless interface. Needs a software update, took about 3 minutes. Which of course fixed the problem. Didn't even require rebooting the computer or modem.



Cliffsnotes: Tom, what have you been eating.
Monday, June 18th, 2007

What am I, made out of cheese and gum?

Really god damn tired of being sick. Day number 9 is closing, and I stopped feeling like a neardeath experiment gone horribly right since a week ago, but my throat feels like someone shoved two overgrown uncracked walnuts down it, every evening around 9pm or so. At least I'm down to 800mg of Motrin per day now, I'd be addicted to pain killers (again) if these stupid things would do something, fucking christ.

Onto lighter news, umm... no. Well I guess not that. Time for a nonsensical journey into somesville:

Peter was an old man, an old man with 3 type shoe. Over unto his god damn boxing glove did he recite today's paper into a cat like every month at this time of the month (month. fly). But this time, Herlba didn't quite see eye to teeth with the teeth, and the jazz, and the eye, and THE EYE, but what about the kids at the pool? Nobody really thought Mrs. Sykes was funny anyhow, but she needn't be treated as such by some uppity flim flam. Oh, botanist.

Right, onto difference now. Deathspell Omega moves toward Kayo Dot, I can now get back to making a coherence into the face of faced reality bytes. Perhaps. Still sick. Still not liking it. Still buying basses, total will be 6 by year end. Not bad considering how many I bought (and later sold) last year. I'm finding my way through time. At least I'm writing though, that's the only thing that makes me happy in terms of music these days. Playing is just sort of there, if I'm not permanently creating I'm unsatisfied. It's a disappointing place to be, but at the same time forces me to record and complete, which is something still very new to me, and has always been hard to do. That's why it's new, you see. My first 4-track was in my posession nearly 10 years ago, perhaps longer. How many songs did I complete between 1996 and 2006, when the first run of demos herein began? One. Well, one and a half. The complete one wasn't even all that good, the drum machine was out of sync with the guitar line. Killer. The other sounded like a very poor Opeth ripoff, which ended for no good reason whatsoever during the first breakdown. So anyhow, two 5-strings are making it to my stable now. I'm not sure why really, I've never honestly been happy with anything more than 4. But I'm feeling the limits. I'm feeling constricted so much that I've already picked out a 7-string, in case the two 5-poppers don't allow me stretch out completely. Apparently I plan on skipping the whole 6-string affair, seemingly as if right out of a Douglas Adams and/or Monty Python bit. Anyhow, cry proceed:



No, not in that finish, don't be daft. This one is far away anyhow, believe you me. I think 5-strings and 24-frets will be enough, that's over a 4-1/2 octave range, compared with my first 10 years of playing being perfectly comfortable with a halftone under 3 octaves, I'll be fine for now. Or not, whatever. Fuckit if I do, who cares? I think ol' greeny above is a $5,000 instrument though. Not sure I want that sort of responsibility. Yet. Perhaps a Warr guitar instead, hmm...

Tried to upload this latest mess, getting some weird error. So I'll write for a bit longer. Not like sleeping too much has ever helped me, unless we're talking warding off a hangover, and I haven't had a real nasty one like days gone by in a good many years now, thankfully. Life is much better without my head swimming too much, I'm slightly unhappier overall but much less prone to outbursts of vague homicidal behaviour. I say the tradeoff is worth it. At least when I am happy these days, which is more often than not, usually, for the most part, slightly more than occasionally even daily perhaps, it's genuine and not rocketfuel'd. I'd say that's a winning battle right there.

Upload still not working, aye? Well then. I'll just bide my time before crushing him like an ant. I love my woman, she continues to amaze me. I miss my mom, haven't spent any time with her since being sick. Portable laptop 'puter battery almost dying, must be off now. Damn the FTP server to hell if'n it still dun't feel like functioning properly.

Cliffsnotes: Start my own amusement park, with blackjack and hookers.
Sunday, June 17th, 2007

One Flew Over the Mortician's Desk

So I've been sick for a week now, and it's starting to get a little irritating. Not that it matters much because the superill bits tormenting me left after about 2 days, but I'm starting to think maybe I shouldn't've have thrown away my leftover vicodin after getting addicted to them. Ibuprofen doesn't exactly give the same buzz, but at least it reduces the girth of my tonsils to more manageable, younger, unripened grapefruit sized objects. The greener type, not the sweet, sweet, bitter, unsweet yelloworangish types. Mmm.

So apparently I like my job now. I'm not exactly sure why, but it seems to be the case these days. Maybe it's the money, which means I sold out. I have no problem with that, not like I'm writing jingles for MacDougles commercials: I'm Eatin' It? I'm not sure how much longer I'll stay in the whole builder industry thing, but I suppose long enough to get this small joint I'm working for off the ground, then perhaps longer if I become co-owner or something. If that were to happen I'd much rather move my self toward consultant type status because... right, I'm starting to get a little ill talking about it. If it happens, great. Whatever. Goamz.

I'm not even sure what inspired me to write this evening, just 10 minutes ago I was passing out into a Bukowski book, honest to poop missing my woman who was only 38 feet away upstairs falling asleep for the evening, but I went in to grab the laptop and commence doing whatever it is I'm doing now. I don't know if it's working or not, but I do see words falling in front of me (also some weird Google half-ad in the background because I had to look up the spelling of ibuprofen).

Apparently a 2-year old debt I have is about to be repaid, maybe. It's been on the verge for awhile, but it looks like it might happen this time, maybe. Bought a former bandmate an amp 2 years ago, later quit band, never received payment. At this point I'm not sure what I'd like more, to get beyond all this crap or just start working with the dude again because he's asked several times to get me back playing with him, and my only stipulation is to make things right concerning this garbage. Bad blood faded some time ago and I honestly miss working with a musician whose skill I truly respect, so there you go. Maybe.

I love staring at HTML code. I finished that website for work on the whole iWeb program thingy and it turned out pretty nice looking, but I open the file in TextEdit and it's all gibberish to me, unlike this page. XTML? I don't know what that means but I'm able to change basic images around okay so that works. I suppose. I guess. It doesn't. You won't. It can't. It shouldn't. It might. And even not.

I'm buying too many basses lately, but I don't care. Currently living under cheap (nearly nonexistent) rent conditions and I'm paying off huge amounts of debt, so why the hell not. Custom bass #2, which is a full on custom instead of just a Super Expensive Nicey With Some Individualized Options like my Lull, as well as hopefully ordering a 20th Anniversary StingRay 5 tomorrow:





Since making a few linebreaks just above there, I've just spent the last 15 minutes farting around online, so it would seem to be that I'm done writing for the evening. Perhaps not though, as here I go! AGAIN ON MY OWN. Something something something!! RHYMES WITH CHONES... yeah, we're pretty done here.

Cliffsnotes: Everyone Has An Asshole
Wednesday, June 6th, 2007

Mercy, mercy me.

So today I'm designing a website for work right, and I figure well, it's probably going to have to be more than just basic text and HTML like this one, so I started to use iWeb. This is the first time I've used a website generator software in about 13 years. I tried them out when the first came onto the scene, and quickly realized how pointless they were to anyone with any knowledge of basic computer code. It's been well over a decade and ALL KINDS OF RADICAL TECHNOLOGY has happened since then right? Well apparently none of it spread to these stupid fucking programs. Observe:



See below that double line right there? I'm trying to put the company address right there. I figure that shouldn't be a tough request, after all that line is just a simple horizontal rule which takes a whopping 4 characters to type in HTML right? Wrong. That entire shit at the bottom is an image, so you can't type over it without deleting it. WTF!

Cliffsnotes: Still a hardcore HTML typer, still a dork.
Saturday, June 2nd, 2007

Adrift and at Peace







Cliffsnotes: Lyckantropen Themes
Thursday, May 24th, 2007

Miller Lite sucks. Coors Light sucks. Bud Light sucks.

Look. This is very simple. If you drink any of the three mentioned above, you are not a beer drinker. You are a douchebag, plain and simple. It's watered down. It tastes like shit. It doesn't have any alcohol content to speak of. Does your weekend smell like no buzz and a headache? Congratulations, you're an idiot.







EOM.

Cliffsnotes: Fuck you and your Volcom stickers.
Sunday, May 20, 2007

Barnyard Tankimals

Tonight a few things happened. First, the Simpsons had their 400th episode, along with what I assume was the 399th as well. I've been a fan since the Tracy Ullman days, and I have said many times before that they no longer have It. I'm not damning them for this, just reaffirming what we all know. Granted, the last 5 minutes of ep. 400 had me in stitches what with their Faux News bashing, but they greatness they once achieved is long gone. So why am I still looking forward to the movie? Because much of the older crew is along for the screenplay ride, and I have faith that the cleverness of years gone by shall return, at least temporarily. The key to the Simpsons was always in the subtle jokes, and the writers haven't paid attention to making those happen for years. The reason I own the first 8 seasons on DVD is because you still see new, funny, or thought-inducing stuff on the 10th, 20th, and even 50th watching because so many small details were packed in, and not made obvious of their existence except for the most astute devotee. I'll likely rent the later seasons when they are available via Netflix, but considering I don't even own the Arrested Development boxsets, there is very little chance in me adding Simpsons season 14 to the permanent collection.

Also I watched my first Hal Hartley flick tonight, Surviving Desire, the DVD of which came with two additional shorts by him. Pretty killer stuff, I see where alleged pioneers such as Robert Linklater and Kevin Smith stole their ideas from. Note: those two made some of my favorite films that have ever existed, I'm not attempting to insult them, rather just state something I readily observed.

Went to another play/musical with Ma today. Mermaids, which was pretty funny and co-starred a usually-seen-in-Skinemax movies bint, which I just found out via Google, LOLIPOPZ. Anyhow, that was fun as per usual, two weeks from now is the last play of this season. We didn't renew our passes as next year's schtick is to include more "family oriented" productions, which, to be perfectly frank (oh how unusual for me), is FUCKING GAY. Fuck family oriented bullshit! You want to take your kids to a god damn play? Have them go see a classic like Oliver Twist or open their sure-to-be-closed-if-raised-by-you-automatons minds with something like The Black Rider. Assholes!

I'm feeling so artistic I put all my Silver Mt. Zion albums into my iToones this weekend.

Cliffsnotes: Pretty Little Lightning Paw, that other London kid
Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Merciful, Mercurial, Mephistopheles.

So I didn't even realize it until last night upon completing another demo-grade song that I have a whopping 7 total written, recorded, and completed over the past 5 months, with several other ideas in the works. Not too shabby really, considering I'm at least relatively happy with all of them. Even the one I didn't dig on at first, well I let it sit for a few weeks, gave it a spin, and quite enjoyed it. Granted it isn't great, and I did steal the one part I always liked about it to be put elsewhere, but it works for now. I'm glad I'm getting these out, since for years all I've ever done with song ideas is get one, record 45 seconds of it, then give up long before the structure is even finished. Up until last year I had only recorded two songs in over 15 years of playing, neither of which were completely written, and then made scratch tracks to 4 more songs that were done in terms of structure, but only on acoustic guitar with no other instruments present. So now that this is finally happening, I see that time, practice, and effort is the only way to get better. That being said, my first song is probably the best. Oh well. Still need to find a drummer and start working on vocals and lyrics more seriously. These aren't instrumental songs really, but I'm trying to make them as interesting as possible before adding the real soul to the cheese.

Also I played a Warwick Corvette 5-string yesterday, and fell in love. I don't like Warwicks normally, and I'm quite picky with 5er necks (my biggest complaint with Warwicks in general are their necks), but man, that sumbitch just fit perfectly. Now to find the scratch.



Cliffsnotes: Man, Unida kicked fucking ASS.
Monday, May 14, 2007

Oh, the quilt.

Well a few things have happened as of late. First, I became a Mac user. Yeah so this is being typed on Micro$hit Notepad as per usual, but that's because I'm at work and I haven't downloaded an FTP client for Apple yet. I still have my XP computer and will for some time, it's a good machine and I can play my phree bideo games on it. I used an Apple IIe way back when before the days of 8088 processors (first computer I owned was a 286 at 10 MHz, w00t Nelly!), and then later on one of the later blockhead Macintosh 'puters at school for some career finding thing, but didn't really fall in love with Apple until 1995, when I used an at-the-time newfangled PowerPC doodads in a high school computer class. That thing was a piece of work. It was like everything good on the 486 and Pentiums at the time, but with a user interface that not only made sense, but was fun to use. So for two years I had free reign with that, along with some very fancy graphics programs in the early days of Macromedia that my teacher had me test run for him. Thinking back, I'm a bit surprised that I never got into anything artistically creative for college, but hey, there's no time like the present, yet I digress.

So now I have a fancy-schmancy MacBook Pro, which, quite simply, is the most amazing computer I've ever used. Granted, I've been out of the loop lately and don't know much about the real pricey stuff like a G5, this thing is ridiculously fast and is a vast improvement in nearly every way over my XP computer. Things just make sense. I bought an iPud last year and thought it was sorta cool, sorta kitsch, but now with this sumbitch I'm a full Apple convert. Goodbye frustration, hello expensive hardware. I'm in the middle of the next Farewell, Shootka! demo and am going to try recording on the Apple to see how that goes. I've always wanted a full Apple studio, and now is a perfect time to give it a whirl before dumping 5 bills into an entire setup. Also, I'm using a Camino web browser from the Mozilla team that not only kills popups (standard fare these days), but ELMINATES IMBEDDED ADVERTISEMENTS AS WELL.

Get Camino!

Oh yeah and I'm starting week 2 at newjob. It's quiet and boring. I like it. Whatever.

Cliffsnotes: Children of Húrin, Klax Wave (oooh!)
Monday, April 30, 2007

A man is not measured by his handshake, penis size, or ability to hold alcohol, but rather by number of Ozzy Osbourne solo albums that reside in his collection.

My two week notice at my job expired this past Friday, but I had not worked for those weeks because I was quickly escorted from the building for fear of me stealing company secrets. Now that I have exactly 1 week from today left of this vacation, it's time to list my accomplishments since mid-April:

-Finally "got" Celtic Frost after seeing them live, and have purchased and listened to many an album since.

-Watched the entire first season of Futurama on DVD within first 36 hours of vacation, began a hearty attempt at season 2.

-Found the fifth 2006 quarter to add to the collection:


-Wrote and recorded two complete songs, one of which was awesome (see previous booger on Tsongas March), the other sucked completely and already has been reworked into yet another incomplete song.

-Went camping.

-Read another Vonnegut book (Slapstick).

-Gave up wearing underwear.

Honestly I'm about ready to rejoin my duty as a productive member of society, but then again, I'm still having a lot of fun doing nothing. Take today for example, so far I've eaten breakfast, jerked off, and commenced listening to Agalloch, Burzum, and VNV Nation, now currently onto more Celtic Frost. Coming up soon will be Aphrodite's Child followed by Deathspell Omega, At the Gates, and a bowl of ice cream. Hopefully by 11am I'll start watching more DVDs and then I'm off to read Gates of Fire and perhaps start on another Kerouac.

On second thought, I'm not ready to go back. I could do this forever.

Cliffsnotes: Life is Beautiful, I like pie
Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Here they come here come the bastards
Bury your head deep in the sand
Anonymity is a virtue in this day and age


New song recorded tonight, which is the first fruit born from my demo 2007 recordings that started about a month ago. Conceived and recorded this afternoon, I was recording some bullshit punk song to test out various distortion pedals and a doomish riff hit me square in the face. Later this evening while cleansing the naughty bits in the shower, the ending riff lambasted itself upon me, and a few hours later that's all she freakin' wrote. Apologies as usual for the shitty drum machine. At least this time it's low in the mix.

Tsongas March

Cliffsnotes: Electric Wizard ripoff instead of Primus, good show old man.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007

I quit my job, I (didn't) cut my hair...

I finally did it. I finally left that stinking hellhole of a career I once had. My two week notice expires on 4/27/2007 and then I'm done. Of course, I haven't been working for 10 days now, because right after I gave my notice of pending resignation, I was escorted from the building without a chance to pack up my personal belongings. The joke was on them though, I had spent the entire week packing up and getting ready to go because I know my end there was nigh. So rather than it ending there, with a quick "don't let the screen door hit ye on the ass on the way out" exit, that's when the legal garbage started. By law, I'm not supposed to talk openly about this, but considering my signature does not exist on ANY of these legal pieces of donkey shit, I'll share my favorite bits!

The first document I received was from the attorney's office, which to me was funny because it was delivered in 3 forms: certified mail, first class mail, and hand delivered. Okay. I get it. You want me to have this letter. Awesome. It serves as a reminder that I am not allowed to divulge company secrets now or in the future. No parting gift like the home version, or even mention of thank you for the past 8 years and countless millions of dollars worth of business, no. Just a reminder to me that hey, I'm just some peon they would gladly sue if given the proper chance. To which I say eh, fuck you.

So after receiving the copy of this threatening letter (in triplicate), the real fun begins. That's when The Deal makes an appearance. Said deal is basically to keep me from working for a competitor for the next month, with full pay and additional cash incentive, just so they can discourage my influence in working with another similar company, for at least a little while. Well okay, I can do that, my next job is willing to wait 30 days before employing me, it's free money and a free vacation, right? No. For starters, there were several loopholes present. I pointed out one, and they admitted that yes, they knew of it and were prepared to use it. Most importantly though, the 4 page contract also had a real gem attached to it. Essentially, if they used one of the loopholes to refuse to pay me what they offered, I would simultaneously lose any and all legal rights, so would, in essence, be proper fucked. Observe:


Company name deleted because I truly do not trust these fucks to try and sue me for something ridiculous such as defaming their "good" name on this webpage where only 3 people, including myself, my girlfriend, and my mother in fact know the URL, and even then odds are each of us misspell it at least twice before getting it right on every bi-monthly visit. No, it's not bookmarked, as this mess is simply not that important. Yes yes, cry proceed.

The final paragraph is the real cheese, in other words if I would have signed this moronic chunk of nothing, they could simply give me the finger and walk away with a freebie, leaving me cold, dry, and alone. Well not really, but I would definitely feel like I sat on the wrong side of the bar stool for a bit there. While the money was tempting, once I realized that it was just a pipe dream laced in legal mumbo jumbo which would never actually come to fruition, I refused to sign it. Apparently they didn't bank on the fact that I actually read things before inking my name to them, even though, assholes, you used to pay me to read your fucking contracts before having them signed. Eh, fuck you.

Best part about this whole mess? My boss told me I made the right decision by quitting. Ha!

Cliffsnotes: Good. Fucking. Riddance.
Tuesday, April 3rd, 2007

The Battle of Marvin Gardens

I've been a big fan of The Mars Volta for a few years now. I really like De-loused in the Comatorium, albeit not as much as the frenzy surrounding it, but it's still a damn fine full length debut. Working back toward their Tremulent EP was a decent journey, and then of course Frances The Mute truly kicked my dick in as one of the finest albums of this double goose egg decade so far (note: the other modern masterpiece albums in question are Tool - Lateralus, Hammers of Misfortune - The August Engine, Jerry Cantrell - Degradation Trip Volumes 1 & 2, and Kayo Dot - Choirs of the Eye). Then there's Amputechture, the new one, which has been a pretty good sized disappointment. I don't know if it was a change in personnel that did it, but after many spins I plain just don't like it. Oh well, 2 greats and 1 dud, who cares. I'll go see them live anyhow, which the woman and I did tonight.

They.
Fucking.
SUCKED.

Granted, those fucks know what they are doing. Talented musicians having a balls to the wall noise funfest on stage, in particular that little monkey Cedric, who is pretty much out of his gourd. So I can't fault them for accomplishing what they wanted. However, I can say that I did not enjoy it like their albums. Not even close in fact. The problem fell upon two things:

1) The new drummer. He is talented, yes. He can keep up with the rest, yes. He will not shut the fuck up, yes. I've never seen someone overplay that much. The beauty of former drummer Jon Theodore's playing was that the dude could completely spaz out but it always remained tasteful (at least on the recordings, never saw him in concert), like with the whacked out snare hits during the opening tracks of De-loused and Frances. It shouldn't sound good, but it does. A beautiful disaster. This new guy turns chaos into noise. So many times I thought "ease up there buddy, you aren't raping your girlfriend" but no. SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM THUD. Ugh. Right, okay, the dude is better than me but I play bass so neener.

2) The dynamics were shot to shit. I've always been big into dynamics, which is why I thought perfectly normal bands like Live were extraordinary because they could harness perfect dynamics. Songs like The Dam at Otter creek started off slow and quiet, and took the entire length to build into ruination. Fucking killer. So yeah, The Mars Volta does a lot of scream/release/quiet stuff on their recordings, but live it was all scream/scream/SCREAM with only the occasional quiet section for 14 seconds before the drummer spaz-assed himself back into oblivion. Sounded like a god damn screamo band performing in a middle school cafeteria.

Anyhow, we left early. Fuck all that.

Cliffsnotes: The old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be.
Monday, April 2nd, 2007

Hell. Fucking. Yes.



Cliffsnotes: Summer of '67 all over again.
Friday, March 30th, 2007

Countless ways to skin a third cousin.

I keep neglecting what is my means of escape from the world. Well okay it isn't quite that dramatic but there has been a serious lull in my writing as of late, and it's time to get back to it. Not that it has to be squeezed out like and orange/lemon but rather just harnessed into the proper net whenever something falls out. The whole point is to purge and purge and purge and when the purging is done perhaps some leftover froth will be worth holding onto. But without the Massive Squeezing there can be no frothy Orange Julius goodness to be had, and that right there is just no fun. No I won't be adding any sugar, fruit is sweet enough by itself. Let me just hope that in fact the cane is unnecessary, unless of course we're speaking metaphorically in which case then mode it be (hint: nothing).

Hey it's either this or start saving Sent email messages. Please remove me from your monthly newsletter.

Cliffsnotes: Arrowhead Brand Aquapod Mountain Spring Water, Blasphemy of the Holy Ghost
Friday, March 30th, 2007

A quick bathe in acid.

I walked across the room, to find a pail of water. I went into myself and found another glass case of dead snakes. Over on the floor over there in overt overland I came back to the water and took a large Bear-like gulp (Bear is a beast of unquestionable non-burden). It taste of elderberries and 3-day old ham sammitch, but I kept at the record pace anyhow because the underground dwelling G-Nomes were coming my way. Little did I know that all you have to do is turn around and give them a swift shin-kick to avert their gaze, glance, sight, vision, touch, taste, smell, and sometimes y. But who went that direction anyhow not me not you probably not your mother either. It's so simple but I keep ignoring the solution. Maybe I don't want the solution. Perhaps the solution isn't the solution after all. I'm really not sure but I can just about guarantee my heroes (what few there be) have no problems like this. Other problems of course, everyone has other problems but not one so petty yet so mind-numbingly overly compensated at the same time. I'll always have certain queries, propositions, nomenclature aversions, but I'm still convinced This One Thing will solve a lot of the glass casketscenario. If not I mean why not who not where not is not will not won't not not not but that. Which. Is. There. Across. The. Wait.

Cliffsnotes: Oh bitch bitch bitch, plastics my boy!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Fuck Michael Bay. Fuck Spielbergo. Fuck GM. Fuck EVERYTHING.

"All of the Autobots are based, character wise, on their Generation One incarnations, despite modern interpretations of their alternate modes: in particular, all of the following except Optimus Prime are now GM-owned vehicle lines, as part of a tie-in deal."

Jazz as a Pontiac Solstice? Fuck you! Even the 30 year old Porsche 935 he's SUPPOSED to be would smoke that piece of shit car!

Bumblebee as a Camaro? Fuck you! He's a Bug, a Wagen, a Vee-Fucking-Dub! Not some god damn sports car!

Ratchet as a Hummer H2? FUCK YOU! He's a god damn VAN, always was, always will be. Everyone who drives a Hummer H2 is a FUCKING MORON.


FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU.

FUCK YOU.


This kind of shit makes me contemplate suicide, and by suicide I mean MASS GENOCIDE. I can't believe I'm still going to watch this piece of shit.

Cliffsnotes: De-energon'd, Blast Tyrant
Tuesday, March 27th, 2007

It's my birthday, and I'm getting drunker.

28 years on this planet so far, and for the first time that I can remember in any recent history, I have become reflective. Contemplating the past often leads to fun memory of times gone by with some great music, good friends and a bottle of anything, and even the thought ofan ex-girlfriend so far behind that it turns pleasant. Reflection is different because it forces you to look inward, instead of trying to feel like it was on the outside back whenever then it was at the time. I think back to the first time I heard Nirvana's Nevermind and how it set me on the path I still follow today, the first time I tried scotch out of that weird plastic champale glass, how much I liked it, and how bad sleeping on a water bed the first time you got drunk was, and even the time I first touched a boobie on the Jurupa Hills golf course, in the bushes of whatever hole is near the bridge on Lakeside.

But today is a little different. Maybe I'm just getting old but all I can think this morning is about what I've actually accomplished that is worth a damn. I finished school. I've read a shitload of books that nobody cares about. I've done a good bit of writing in my day. I've played in some decent bands. I finally got my shit together and made my own solo demo. Even got a blowjob every now and then. Yet I feel the harpoon of mundanity sucking me down. I'm stuck in a job I haven't given a shit about since the turn of the millenia. Granted the pay is good, but I'm starting to realize the accoutrements it affords aren't exactly paying off in any worthwhile manner. What good is a custom bass without the time to make an album? I dig my car, but what fun is having it sit in the driveway because traffic is terrible even on the weekends?

So I'm depressingly optimistic I suppose. I wouldn't be depressed about what I haven't done if I thought I couldn't still do it someday. There is time to finish my book, which is just barely getting its landlegs anyhow. The songs are piling up, slowly, it's just a matter of finding the proper time to sit down when the midnight oil burns just so. The job still blows, but nobody is forcing me to be here.

Cliffsnotes: Yggdrasil, microwavable bacon
Friday, March 9th, 2007

I wrote this title 3 weeks after typing the following:

So I went home to my apartment for the last lunchbreak after 4 years of living there (tomorrow is moving day). Sitting there on the couch in a mostly empty room I started to take a nap, but was instead awakened by a particularly large bout of gas. Afterthe inevitable release, I began pondering my many years there, most of which were spent as a very single bachelor, and I realized how almost every Friday evening was spent therein: Jeff and I sitting there, getting absolutely loaded, smoking, farting, and watching Life of Brian for the 4 millionth time. So I laughed hysterically for 3 minutes, got up, took a shit, and then jerked off. My work is done there.

Cliffsnotes: security deposit refund, idiot children
Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Nothing is quite as attractive as a grown man masturbating.

Things are skidding along haltingly at this current ass-structure, the redux of all times is here. We once were young and fruity but nowthings have gone round the bend over on up toward skyline. Talking about things that are not things other than things themself yet things do not like to be things or things for that matter of things anythings.

I'm not sure it would be prudent wouldn't be Judas but mightbe sarumbunctious in the fact that making eeeeeeaaaaaaaaassssssyyyyyyyy mmmmmooooooonnnnnneeeeeeyyyyyyy might Wetton my way through Frippering toward the middle of 1999. We'll see how clowns turn out up on the in within without (withwho? withyou!) but maybe perhaps being poor up to the noir could be the ticket to get us into the theatrehouse anyhouse.

It really is the case of being George but not Paul, no tbecause an old man dies a little girl lives, but rather because how can I laugh tomorrow when I can't even smile today is something that rings a bit true, just like a bad face on a good day. Calm demeanouring will be the necessity of the Word of the Day for this one, and I'm okay he's okay she's okay we're okay but why because well why not, I mean we'll have to make copies of all The X-files DVDs but hopefully just temporarily because MUTHAH! MUTHAH! Sing it... will be just fine.

In some attempt at closing I can only observe that these are Good Things not to be Taken Lightly or even Round Numbered up to the Iced Cream status that heretofore has never existed in the first place. Once on that train, you know it won't slow down.

Cliffsnotes: Lindsay Lohan, Mel Brooks is Jewish?!
Monday, February 12, 2007

I NEED SOME ALE. I NEED SOME ALE. I NEED SOME ALE.

Yeah so I'm staying up far too late this evening playing Ys VI: The Ark of Napishtim. Ys I, II, and III were released in the US in the early 90's, the last time I was a True Video Game Addict, which happened to occur within that small window between growing pubes and discovering masturbation, which could explain all the rapid button mashing with reckless abandon that consumed my being back then, before discovering a stash of pornography buried under an older chum's spank pile.



Anyhow, parts IV and V were never released in English, and since I'm more into the storylines than the actual gameplay, I never played any of those. Part VI was released in the US a few years ago, and even though I beat it shortly thereafter, I've gone back to discover hidden things several times since. Tonight was one such occasion, and it was good. Also in my recent travels, I found a newly translated version of Part IV that I'll be playing this week, on a handydandy SNES emulator. Oh man. I'm cool.



Also, I've been drinking a lot of Shirley Temples lately. My latent homosexuality has finally come home to roost. Fehk.

Cliffsnotes: Crevia is one hot bitch.
Sunday, February 11, 2007

Carnigamehen

Three developments as of late:

Black Sabbath tribute band dissolves, making way for an all originals possibility. Good people, good music, time to see if this will work. Hopefully it will. If not, eh.

Demo 2007 is underway, the skeletons of two new songs were completed today. That combined with 1 song nearly completed last time, 5 skeleton leftovers, and a plethora of ideas from years past, things should be done within a month provided I keep working on them. I also added some stuff to Demo 2006. A full length album is a great possibility for 2008. Cool.

Southern California life is ending in 2007. Job transfer accepted and the details are currently being worked out. Here's hoping for a smooth transition. This is me:



Cliffsnotes: Happy Slappy Hero Pup
Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Got any dimes?

So a few things have happened lately. First, apparently I'm in a Black Sabbath cover band now. Not sure how long I'll last but hey, it's worth a few jams because a) I can't find a drummer and b) I'm bored anyhow. I got my 3-song demo done last year and I haven't much worked on new material yet, so this will bide my time before I crush him like an ant. Maybe I should've tried harder than just posting on Craig's List and Myspork trying to find the right drummer, hmm. This just in: Christina Aguilera doesn't look like either of her names.

I have a new plan for The Move North. For starters, since I'm stressing m'lady out by trying to push her far far away too too soon, the revised time table is now back to "out by 30" like it used to be. That gives us just over 2 years. I can survive that long. Also, although this might just go back on what I just said, I can always ask for a transfer up north for work. We have operations based out of Sacramento, and I'm already a corporate whore as it is, so I could offer to further our business model up north. Yeah so just saying that makes me want to puke, but what am I going to do? My music doesn't get me paid (too weird / bad to be popular), and the writing shit hasn't paid off. I'm only a sellout because I prefer paying the bills instead of living in my parent's basement. Most importantly is the fact that my parents don't even have a basement. In other news: recycled notebook paper was always called Kermit The Frog paper but nobody knew why.

Got ye olde Comic-Con hotel registration today. $1,200 for 4 days, that hotel better rub my balls every time I walk through the lobby. Fuck it dude, Comic-Con kicks ass. Even though I say I claim to be a dork, I'm probably only about 40.79% dork, but when I went to Comic-Con last year I felt like 0.0158% dork. I mean those are the dorks man. SUPERdorks. ÜBERdorks even. Goat love 'em, fuck the majority, let's get stupid and nerdy! A new development: cocaine-free Coca-cola Classic obviously is not Even Better Than the Real Thing.

I've been reading a lot of Vonnegut over the past year. I could totally write like that guy if I had better lifestories. Not saying I would, but in theory, it is possible. However I don't even want to. If I did I'd be a Vonnegut ripoff. I think the best I can hope for is being a Rushdie ripoff because I make up my own words every so often, but even that is unintentional. Also, pretty weak when you come right down to it. I don't write like Rushdie, and I couldn't pull a Vonnegut. In fact I don't even know what I write half the time, like that mess from the other day, what the fuck was that? Half that shit is stomptype, which is only funny to a select few individuals, and even then only fleetingly. Stomptype is the process in which you lose all mind, digit, and bowel control toward midsentence, hoping to get toward the end without swearing any less than more than half the time. For example: fud kt oiyt oufjaotik ehrUF I EIELSYTEIRU FU ATBASTD! Eyes Only: Area 51 is as much of a secret as the hidden, tucked away aspect of The Crying Game.

Oh, rapture.

Cliffsnotes: this d'n druc amsd kfkc uroi fkfju jpinesi pfart FJAIRT!
Monday, February 5, 2007

Talk to the Manimals, Squawk at the Seminoles, Peep and Squeak and FLOCK WITH THE HERBIVORES!

Oh joy, it's 3 for Scumday. Hey you know what Scumday is, it's actually Monday but I changed the name because I'm SO FUCKING CLEVER. It's because Mondays signify the beginning of another pukepile workweek dealing with scummy people get it? Get it? GET IT?!

Right, now that that is out of the way, I can get onto the business at hand. The Business at hand is people at large. The ratio of people I'm talked to by compared with the people I talked with is somewhere around 19:1. Okay so I just made that number up but I like it. In the ratio sense only of course, honestly the number 19 has never had any significance in my life. Hmm, except that I'm pretty sure I gained 20 pounds that year, but then that would lead one to assume that the number 20 would hold a similar sentiment toward and/or within it, yet that is not the case. Anyhow. Handbusiness:

I don't even know why I do this. It's not like I can write any better than a chimp, being the blurst of times after all. So what is this for? Some feeble attempt that justifies my arse being glued to a chair 4 hours + 4 hours every god damn day of the week? Well I suppose it could be worse, I could be glued to a couch the same amount of time and thereby glued to someone else's wallet. Could I suck dick for rent? Technically yes, I could. In theory. In theory communism works. In theory. But I don't think I would. Granted I've never tried sucking cock before, not even my own (thought about it maybe, attempted almost once, but never actually did it), but I can say that I much prefer to be on the receiving end of any dicksucking scenario rather than the performing. I mean shit, my left knee is bum enough. So yeah, I'd rather do this than suck dick for probably less money.

The best part is the fact that I'm "working" right now as I write this mess. I complain my job sucks but I'm able to complain about it while getting paid. Well, I also bitch about how much America sucks while reaping some of the inherent benefits that every other middle class white boy has. I used to think that I was seeking perfection in an imperfect world, simply because theoretically speaking near perfection was nearly possible, but I'm starting to realize I just like to complain. It's fun. Check this out:

Fucking piece of shit black background with tiny white text! Think you're too good to look like any other typical crappy website or word fucking processor? Sonsabitching god damn cunting Times New Roman looks all fancy but is squished together giving me a fartinducing headache! You dirty fucking twat! FUCK!

See I mean that right there was fun. I'll totally read that in a few days and laugh like a hyena for a solid 13 seconds. That's what life is about, the whole orgasm metaphor once again. Everything in the world sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks and then sucks some more, but blowing yer load for 2.3 seconds makes it all worth while. Fuck it dude, I'm going bowling.

Cliffsnotes: It's all just a fucking joke anyway.
Monday, February 5, 2007

Donating Tetris

So I went to the butcher this weekend and bought some bacon. I like bacon, and I like the grease it produces. When you eat bacon you're almost like back in the pen when we were both monkies, although oh that's right I almost forgot, evolution was all a big lie anyhow. Next thing you know pisstians will be claiming that global warming is not only a tool of... THE DEVIL! and therefore a bunch of other lies as well. Well shoot I guess I'm just a bacongnasher aferall, and nothing more. I can agree to that part I suppose, but the fact remains that when facts are debated, the world has lost. I lost. You lost. They lost. She lost. Her shoe. At Denny's. Drunk night. Nobody lived. Everyone gone. Coffee bad. Tennis late. Speaker spoke. Shake shook.

In case you didn't notice, I'm full of sushi right now. Sushi is pretty good, I must say that eating barely dead fish is one of life's great pleasures, sprung from monkeys or not (trust me, the answer is sprung, not not as it were). I don't even know why my car is still dirty, I could barely see upon backing up out in forward toward left from the sushi joint, in which case I debated the merits of children. I mean I don't want to choke them really, but at the same time I sure as fuck don't want to spawn them. Evolution went Are We Not Men? quite some time back and were it up to me, I'd announce that the fuck stops here.

That's why I'm never in charge though, I wouldn't so much kill everyone as just turn existence into nothingness, saving George Carlin for last so we could all get a decent laugh on the way out. Maybe he could kick The Pope in the shin as he went first. Ah, now I'm just getting sentimental and catholich, my apologies. What do I know about diamonds?

Cliffsnotes: John Lovitz, Pizza the Hut
Monday, February 5, 2007

The Silent Silence

There was once a man who had 6 ears, but they were all buried in mud out back. Not the steakhouse mind you, but rather over yonder into the Hills of Bore in which he planted many a penny across his face and into said ears. Granted, the silent silence, which heretofore has not yet to be discussed (currently), is one of those touchy subjects that cannot simply be sent forthwith into false demeanoUr on the battlefield. Excepting of course a good Tuesdaying in where how when which we all get faultered.

He spoke once to each ear in backward sequence beginning left to left, only stopping once the dog found out which bone hid his hiding spot necklace bootlick. Over and abound, his face was consumed by earrings that had not yet been worn by any Yeti that he met across the Serengeti. So once and again, and twice after that, his foot was planted across a boot and into socks.

To be Frank, or Pete, or Dave, it's all a load of bollocks anyhow, nobody paid attention to that guy's interpretation of Evil Dead 2 in the first chequered past. The X-Flies made a good point once, masticating upon a small head as they were waiting roundabout the Yes-man Yes-sir Coming-sir You-got-it-fuck-pants. On the other hand there were strange as folk time capsules sitting on the bench that day anyhow and nobody could ever understand what my ears looked like broccoli everday day before tomorrow up until last Thursday. A deck of cards, a deck of cards. Chaucer liked footrubs. I pissed on a cat, the only truth to rear its stupid head thusfar anyfar, unless you farcount the faruncle discussion farback along the fareastwestwing. WE ARE THE DEAD!

Little John Duffy was once again deafened by the silent silence.

Cliffsnotes: Q, teeeeeeeeeeeveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Saturda, Feverayr 3, 3077

I got earthed.

Went ot a casino tonight, one fot hem the fancy Injun gaming shitz, OH MAN was it a piel A big pile of POOP. What a bunch of cray.

Cliffnsotiesa: BBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
Tuesday, January 30, 2007

The Wait

Steven Broadshares was a bitter old man by the time he reached his 37th birthday. A life spent waiting on other people had done this to him. At first he was a young boy, a fledging kickball career cut short by lack of desire. Later he went to school to eventually morph into a stock junky. Not that he played Wall Street every day, but whenever the well began to run dry he'd move around a handful of future digital artifacts in order to pay the rent for the next few months. He didn't work often, as his inherited miniature fortune was enough to kickstart his daytrading, that combined with his extremely frugal nature allowed him to coast by most of the time.

So on this particular birthday, engaging in Watched Pot Syndrome with his kettle, he calculated how many hours of his life were spent waiting. Waiting for a check to clear, waiting for his internet browser to open, waiting for his older sister to stop bitching at him, waiting waiting waiting. 3 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 17 hours, 46 minutes, and 19 seconds. 20 seconds. 21. 22. Ah, tea time.

Cliffsnotes: Yeah-ee-yeah-ee-yeah-uh, Superman's Dead
Monday, January 29, 2007

Monday like whoa.

I have the unmistakeable feeling of being steamrolled. It's almost like that one Dream Theatre song I never heard is coming true, although perhaps I should check the lyrics before making a statement like that. Okay apparently that song is about death, nevermind. Anyhow, yeah. So this is a work thing and I don't like to talk much about work because, quite frankly, it's not much to talk about. I go in, I suck, I leave.

A few years ago it was me and some dude. Then some other dude came in, but another left. A third dude surfaced, and then only two other dudes were considered our Superiors, and things were okay. Boring and inefficient, but paying well and not sucking me dry. So now it's a bit different. I'm still here, and so are the other two dudes, but now one of the two Superior dudes is gone, and another is probably leaving. In their place is another dude. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. I would continue on because there are more And another.s to do, but I think I got the point across and I'm not sure of their exact numbering anyhow (more than 10 either way). Young dudes, old dudes, medium dudes, even some old women along the line. Some ask if I'm married or how my weekend went. I don't even remember your name, why are you asking me to share specific details? My would-have-been father-in-law died last week, and the repercussions are just beginning, but my weekend "went alright" as far as I want the faceless to know.

So I have a choice. I can work for one of my former Superiors who received the business end of a gavel just recently, or suck it up buttercup like I've been doing for about a year now anyhow. The worst part about trying to care is that I really don't in the first place. The only thing that keeps me anywhere is the comfort of a steady paycheck, and, you know, a place to accomplish a little writing now and then. Not that I haven't been treated well, because 7 out of 10 days of the 13.62 day workweek I am. But I was once running a race at a steady, sensible pace along with everyone else, but now the And another.s are all hepped up on goofballs, outrunning even their own feet in the process. Nobody has tripped yet, but I think it's because the adrenaline rush is still strong, once another 6 months to a year passes, it'll be a different story. Unless of course I'm wrong, and hey, not like I know a damn thing about Proper Business Ettiquette anyhow, or even how to spell it most of the time. Etiquette. Damn I was close. I should've listened to my mother when she told me "never trust a 4th T," but odds are that conversation never happened anyhow.

If we're talking ideals, and hey why not, the hopeful, probable, usually unwritten and therefore partially spooky option is to get the fuck out of Dodge and move to Far Away, Someothersville. I can deal with being rolled upon for a few more months. I hope. Maybe I should start lying about who I am when approached concerning personal questions in order to pass quickly the time. I've never really lied before. I could innovate my own social construct on the fly. Just wing it. Like a bird. In the air. Flying. That might be fun.

Cliffsnotes: Corrosion of Conformity, Jimi Hendrix
Monday, January 29, 2007

You can catch more naked women with turnips than you can with a house made of dead squirrels. I mean, I've always assumed and planned my life accordingly to that apparent truth.

Ah yes, fighting the hysterectomy of our time by hating crabgrass and the military. Yes, one might wish to watch Ow, My Balls! over and over again on the title screen DVD thingy like I did just a few hours, but we don't all have that luxury late on a Sunday night / early on a Monday spooning.

Pause for mail break.

I once met a man who used to eat turkey every day for lunch. He had a varied life, going from job to job in different marketplaces throughout his pilgrimage into the realm of the employee'd, but every day without fail, turkey for lunch. He had friends that warned him about various side effects such as tiredness, overconsumption of processed byproduct, and overall bad taste in the mouth due to the sometimes low quality deli meat, as prescribed dependant upon his given working situation at the questioned time. Yet he went on unflinching through his desire to continue such an ordealed lunchrepeating scenario, mostly to prove the fact that he would never get tired of this turkeymealing. One day he ate tuna on accident, somehow forgetting 38 years buildup of this turkeyfied lunchstyle, and promptly got hit by a truck crossing the street on the way back to his coop at his officejob. In case one might wondering if it was a turkeytruck he was hit by, well let's just say you're wrong. It was a truck transporting saline solution to the local hospital. There is no irony or coincidence, life is just a bunch of random stuff that happens, and people have been known to get hit by trucks, turkeyeaters and otherwise. Not to mention the fact that I just made all that shit up anyhow. Oh wait, I just did mention it. Well scratch that last part, and this one too.

So this guy I never met who probably didn't eat any turkey outside of one or two holidays throughout the year if he even existed anyhow which he did not, he used to call me Franco. I don't know why because nobody else did, ever, and the closest relation I could think of was the connection to Spain (I'm not Spanish), or perhaps fact that I was once a casual Steelers fan (but that was in the 90's anyhow). I don't suppose that matters, because he only referred to me by name one time when he saw me in a grocery store, mistaking me for someone else. Someone else named Franco apparently.

He had a mother named Myrtle, but she resembled no turtle. Well except maybe one of those sizeable desert turtles because she was big, lumbering, adorable, covered in shell, green skinned, and had a peeky tail. Other than that, no relation whatsoever. So she would always yell at him when eating the Turkey of Destiny, as it was never before called until now, mostly because she thought it unfathonable that a winged, feathered, and waddled bird could be reduced to thin salty slabs such as those raised upon the lettuce bed of his sammitch. She was just difficult is all.

This is how Myrtle's son who once called me Franco on complete mistaken identity accident is memorialized. He doesn't even get a name. Didn't anyone warn you that life is just a bunch of random stuff that happens?

Cliffsnotes: no ideas, leaky pipes
Friday, January 26, 2007

Subjectivity and at-fault demeanour

In order to complete one's life cycle, many comparisons are necessary. Should I marry young or old, is a hard life worth a big payoff afterwards, is it worth $0.50 to get a side of jalapeños with my nachos, etc. So on this marvelous day (and believe you me, life has been tough for some loved ones lately so convincing myself that today is in fact marvelous is about the only way I can hope to survive), I bring about a comparison of two seemingly unrelated, but wholly unattachable, perceptions of reality. Each example shall be given, discussed individually, and then finally summarized into one large theorem about life, the universe, and everything.

Exhibit A.1:

U.S. slams Canada for complaining about Arar case (01/24/07)

By David Ljunggren

OTTAWA (Reuters) - The United States told Canada on Wednesday to mind its own business after Ottawa said a Syrian-born Canadian citizen once suspected of terror links should be removed from a U.S. security watch list.

Ottawa says there is no evidence against software engineer Maher Arar, who was deported by U.S. agents to Syria in 2002. A Canadian investigation last year cleared Arar of any links to terror groups.

Canadian Public Safety Minister Stockwell Day said on Tuesday that Arar should be able to travel where he wanted and promised to keep pressing Washington on the case.

His comments prompted a sharp response from David Wilkins, the U.S. ambassador to Canada.

"It's a little presumptuous for him (Day) to say who the United States can and cannot allow into our country," Wilkins told a news conference in the western city of Edmonton.

"Canadian officials would rightly never tolerate any American official dictating to them who they may or may not allow into their country. So we would simply say we respect Canadian officials and their decisions ... We would ask them to show us the same respect."

U.S. officials say Arar will remain on their watch list because of unspecified information possessed by law enforcement agencies.

A spokeswoman for Day said the minister would not change his stance.

"We have made our position clear on this issue. We have repeated this position many times. We have nothing new to add. The United States has stated their position clearly as well. We agree to disagree," said Melisa Leclerc.

Arar was arrested during a stopover in New York on his way home to Canada from a holiday. He says he was tortured during the year he spent in Damascus jails before his release in 2003.

The Canadian investigation concluded the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had given faulty information to U.S. authorities suggesting Arar was an Islamic extremist.

Arar is suing the United States and Canada over his treatment and is seeking monetary damages from both.

Exhibit A.2:

Canada to apologize to Arar, pay compensation: CBC (01/26/07)

OTTAWA (Reuters) - Canada will formally apologize to software engineer Maher Arar on Friday, who was deported to Syria by U.S. agents after Canadian police mistakenly labeled him an Islamic extremist, and pay him C$10 million ($8.5 million) compensation, the Canadian Broadcasting Corp. said.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper is due to make a formal announcement on Arar at 12:15 p.m. (1715 GMT). Harper officials did not respond when asked about the CBC report.

Arar, who says he was repeatedly tortured during the year he spent in Damascus jails, had initially sued Ottawa for C$400 million, a figure he later cut to C$37 million. Separately CTV said Ottawa would also pay Arar's C$2 million legal bills.

The affair tarnished the reputation of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and strained relations with the United States, which has kept Arar on a security watch list despite Ottawa insisting he has no links to terror groups.

Arar was arrested during a stopover in New York in 2002 on his way home to Canada from a holiday.

An official probe into the case last September found the Royal Canadian Mounted Police h