Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Watch out Gordon Ramsey...
Monday, May 19, 2008
I found these two stories on the same page. Cause? Effect? You tell me.
|Food With Urine|
Two major supermarkets were cordoned off by police today after a man shocked shoppers by allegedly spraying urine on the food.
The raider entered Morrisons in Glevum Way, Gloucester at around 11.20am and fired a "foul-smelling substance" - thought to be urine - on meat, salad and fruit.
He fled the store and went to Tesco four miles away in Quedgeley, where he again terrified customers and staff by spraying the fluid on produce.
|Food Gets Thrown Out|
Americans waste about 20% of their food. You know: if someone sprayed my food with urine, I would toss all of it out.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Reporters are circling the carcass.
Shrillary is fixed on CNN.com waiting to see Obama's super-delegate count drop by one should Kennedy die.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
There's this great bit that I keep going back to from Bruce Sterling's Schismatrix: they found an immortality serum and administered it to test mice. Three hundred years later, one of the mice is still alive scurrying around his cage. The protagonist lifts the cage away from the mouse and it keeps tracing out the confines of the cage, pulling itself up imaginary bars. It is so used to the cage, so locked into its patterns that it cannot deviate: the bars are hardwired into its brain.
We've been stuck in our transitional house for seven years-- the shit hole between rental and a real house. I am tired of pretending that will change; so I've picked up a Judo master's skill of taking a fall, so that when I trip over piles of crap or cables or toys, I don't break anything. Really, I shouldn't bother: that would be something new. For that reason alone, I should be cavalier: I am immune to change so I can dare the universe into showing its hand-- that it's keeping things static no matter what. Most of my world consists of a 3'x 3' corner of the living room. I wonder if the next place shouldn't solely be a half-bathroom with a hot plate and Internet: then it would have everything I am allowed to experience.
I am on a perpetual diet: my weight does not move. Seven weeks ago, I threw an exercise routine into the mix: that changed nothing. I am openly breaking the laws of physics.
I pay our debts for the sport of it: they will never really go away. In the last few years, my income has grown enough that the difference between then and now alone could, in one year, swallow up our entire debt load, but still it remains. No matter much I pay and how little I spend, the levels shift like balls in a shell game, but they do not change.
The Internet is the font of all murk. No matter what I do or say or post, nothing noteworthy comes of it: you and the other six people who read this can confirm that. I do side projects because that's what I hit in one corner of the cage. Perpetually, the projects don't close off or pay off: they just go on. And on.
I have seen all of the movies I want to see: they're stuck in my brain so much so that I will turn off the sound, turn my back on the movie and keep belting out the dialogue in it's place. I know what people will say in new movies because Hollywood only produces gray water now. This is the real reason why there are no immortals: 500 years of this is too cruel a trick for the Cosmos to play. If I could literally drill out the memories of those movies, I would do so in a second just to get back novelty. Forgetfulness isn't a curse: it's a blessing. I have over 14,500 days of crap stuck in my brain.
I have not been on a plane in almost twelve years. I have not been east of the Rockies in 32 years. I get offers dangled out there but then they're snatched away from me at the last minute with Truman Show-like Deus Ex Machina. I'm no longer interested in doing the trip-planning dance because I know how it always plays out. I've gotten so tired of the game, that I have tried a new game: I now actively push away trips to see how much reverse astrology kicks in. Some work emergency or family emergency or financial crisis pops in to kybosh it; so there is no jeopardy in pushing to go or pushing to stay, there is only one outcome. I should provoke a Taliban orbital bombardment of O'Hare and Heathrow by buying a plane ticket.
If Sebastian Cabot came out from behind the curtains and said, "But, this is the other place." I would reply, "Sorry, fat man, I figured that out five years ago."
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
I'm wondering, what broke this image for me. It's 2008-- we're living in the future. Guys with tattoos are a part of that, but still it's a giveaway of circus folk. Is it the shirtless couple in jeans? Maybe. Maybe it's the shit-eating grin on the wigger: the looks that says, "yeah... I got bareback action last year... yeah, bro. Check it out. I got a photo of me grabbing this chick's ass." Or is it the girl who looks like she's thinking, "JC is awesome. He's got a good job at Walmart and I'm gonna have his baby..."
This couple reminds me of a couple that came to Eaton's with a $200 voucher for items for their new baby. They zipped past the diapers and clothes; then went straight for the stuffed animals and baby monitors. Sorry: unless you live above a bar, you can't use the monitor while you're out getting liquored up.