For as long as I could remember, I've wanted to have my own house built.
Keep in mind, I really have no intention of buying a house. It's something I've never had a real interest in, and I have no explanation why I don't - it's more something I ask people to explain why I SHOULD. However, in the event I become a Lotto-millionaire and have money to burn, I've always said I would build my own house.
And it would be a pyramid.
I don't know why this is. But on some spiritual level, it's always felt "right", like that's exactly what it is I'm destined to have. So I accept it as a waking dream, a spirit vision, or some vestigal memory from a time ages ago in another lifetime spent crusing down the Nile, happily whipping my slaves into a frenzy. Whatever, right?
Certain elements have, over the years, remained true about this vision of my future home:
- it will be in the Bronx. I don't know exactly why this is, considering how much I worked to get OUT of the Bronx, but I no longer question. And let's face it, a pyramid in the Bronx would just kick ass.
- it will be black. Originally it was going to be black glass, but the impracticality of that while living in the Bronx is something to consider. However, thanks to modern technological advances, I've brainstormed that it can now be a smooth black marble - no glass. And that leads us to a more recent revelation...
- it will have no windows. That's right, true believers, my home will be a solid mass of stone and concrete, impervious to its environment. What occurred to me is that I could, instead, have large LCD SCREENS giant lighted florescent panels on the walls of the interior, with strategically placed cameras on the outside walls. Those cameras would transmit the outdoor scenery - weather, lighting, passerby - onto the interior screens at my discretion. Or, I could simply change the scenery to fit something I prefer - a wooded glen, a sandy beach by the ocean, a mountain villa - with appropriate ambient noise filtered throughout the house, at my whim.
Yes, I know I rock.
More recently I hit upon another evolution in my so-called plan. It will no longer be a pyramid.
It will be a ziggarut.
For one, a Ziggarut looks more...imposing. Also the word: Ziggarut. It just says "don't fuck with me", doesn't it? You read about pyramids being plundered, but you never read about ziggaruts being...aw hell, there's no "z" word for being robbed, but maybe that's the point. It breathes "rock", "stone", "trespassers will be crushed by massive slabs of falling marble". It says "danger, will robinson, danger", to anyone considering scaling it.
Within this sudden inspiration, I see a four-story structure. The ground level will be a garage and library, perhaps a home theater area. Living room, kitchen, dining area. The underground level will be a recreation center - archery lane, indoor volleyball court (or maybe the ground level). Bar. Things to consider, in placing them.
Second level? Bedrooms, guest rooms.
Third level? An atrium, of sorts. You see, the ancient ziggaruts actually had shrines at the very top of their structures; I would have mine as an arbortoreum, with a retractable room and solar panels reflecting light. I would have seats, an outdoor bar, a full barbecue setup, a sound system...a way to access it from the outside. A balcony, looking out. Natural plants, trees...who knows, maybe even birds. My way of giving back to the natural world.
Now granted, this is all a dream - we're easily talking a few million to build it, let alone get the land rights I'd need and hire the architect to handle it.
But hey, all we need is a dollar, right?
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Brainfart: Let's Go Mets...or Not
6th inning, Santana's being taken out with the Mets up 4-2. When they lose, tell the police my body can be found in Field section 14E - cuz these fans will lynch me, rooting for Pittsburgh.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Toymaker Extraordinaire
This one is a shout-out to all the big kids out there, the ones who still get a grin on their faces when they see a cool looking toy.
There's a man by the name of Sillof who, just for the pure fun of it, decided one day to lop off the head of his X-Wing Pilot Luke Skywalker, and replace it with the blond-headed Tattoine-robed version - just to see what it looked like.
From those humble beginning, it's safe to say that the man's talent didn't just bloom. It exploded. He's become the Modder's modder, someone who takes existing action figures and...well, in the words of Emeril, adds a little BAM to them.
His specialty seems to be taking "modern" designs and turning them into historical-period or Steampunk versions. His WWI versions of Star Wars figures are amazing to look at, the level of detail is incredible. I found myself chuckling at his Snowtroopers, if only because he included a handy snow shovel on their equipment belt. He's done a Victorian version of the Justice League that's reminiscent of DCs own Gotham by Gaslight alterverse - I especially like his take on Green Lantern and Aquaman (the water-filled scuba bubble is GENIUS!)
You'll also never forgive yourself if you don't look over his steampunk versions of Star Wars.
You can see his whole line here at: http://www.sillof.com/index.htm
Friday, April 18, 2008
Brainfart: Emergency Exit
this was scrawled on the wall of the construction zone that is my workplace. Makes u wish u had one for Life, doesn't it?
He'll Probaby Be Pitching For the Yankees in 10 Years
And yes, Virginia, I DO make fun of my own team. So what. :-p But I saw this article and laughed:
I love that line, "there was a danger he could get injured". Hey coach, news flash - maybe you should have taken your boy out of the game in, oh, I don't know...the FIRST inning? I mean, what - did you think your team could come BACK from giving up 26 runs in the first? Seriously, never mind that this poor kid threw more pitches in an inning than Mariano Rivera throws in a season; you were worried only because you figured if he got to 500 pitches, he'd start having problems?
This coach must work for the Dodgers organization.
TOKYO (Reuters) - A Japanese high school pleaded for a regional game to be abandoned after surrendering 66 runs in less than two innings, local media reported on Thursday.
The coach of Kawamoto technical high school threw in the towel to spare his pitcher's arm with his team losing 66-0 with just one batter out in the bottom of the second.
The hapless hurler had already sent down over 250 pitches, allowing 26 runs in the first inning and 40 in the second before Kawamoto asked for mercy.
"At that pace the pitcher would have thrown around 500 pitches in four innings," Kawamoto's coach was quoted as saying. "There was a danger he could get injured."
Opponents Shunshukan were officially credited with a 9-0 victory, giving the scoreline a tinge of respectability for the luckless Kawamoto school.
I love that line, "there was a danger he could get injured". Hey coach, news flash - maybe you should have taken your boy out of the game in, oh, I don't know...the FIRST inning? I mean, what - did you think your team could come BACK from giving up 26 runs in the first? Seriously, never mind that this poor kid threw more pitches in an inning than Mariano Rivera throws in a season; you were worried only because you figured if he got to 500 pitches, he'd start having problems?
This coach must work for the Dodgers organization.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Mobile Brainfart: Office Gypsy
Moving day @ Le Dew. 3rd move in 7 months, thx to the merger. My next office should be a wagon hitched to a horse.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Mobile Brainfart: Green Graffiti
Someone in the park by my home has been going nuts with the chalk, every day writing new messages of green Earth & Native peace. My fav: "And maybe one day will come when color will mean nothing more than a rainbow in the sun."
Sometimes They NEED An A** Whipping
Every now and then, you read a story about a single Mom who finally gets it right and you can't help but applaud her.
This 13yr old kid in Virginia - for lack of a name, we'll call him Damian - was told to get off his Xbox and do his chores. Clean his room, vacuum, take out the garbage. The usual. The snotty little anti-christ decides to go all 9/11 on his mom, and BROKE THE VACUUM. No more chores, right? La-la-la, ha-ha-ha.
Well the joke's on him, because while my mom would have ripped the cord off that vacuum and beat my brown ass red, Mother Theresa here packs up his Xbox and all of his games, and put them up for sale online.
Fucking A, you go Mom!
The great part is, she doesn't stop there. She checks out his computer, and what does she find hiding among all the cookies? Porn sites. Well hell no, says Militant Momma; she locks down the computer with a password, then decides to give him the ultimate payback by pranking his Myspace page: changing his profile so that it's filled with cutesy Snoopy images all over the place.
Take that, you little shit. Mom 2, Devilchild 0.
I've always said that any kid of mine would have to be infinitely sneakier and smarter than me, to get away with shit - because I've definitely been there/done that, and since I'm a mistrusting bastard anyway I'm damn sure not going to assume my kid is the second coming of Christ. The problem is...if I do find out I've been getting scammed, I'd probably be proud of the kid for managing to beat me.
Then I'd whip his little ass. But it'd be done with love.
This story does have a nice ending. Since word got out, the Dyson company sent Mom a $500 vacuum as a replacement.
Mom 3, Damien 0.
This 13yr old kid in Virginia - for lack of a name, we'll call him Damian - was told to get off his Xbox and do his chores. Clean his room, vacuum, take out the garbage. The usual. The snotty little anti-christ decides to go all 9/11 on his mom, and BROKE THE VACUUM. No more chores, right? La-la-la, ha-ha-ha.
Well the joke's on him, because while my mom would have ripped the cord off that vacuum and beat my brown ass red, Mother Theresa here packs up his Xbox and all of his games, and put them up for sale online.
Fucking A, you go Mom!
The great part is, she doesn't stop there. She checks out his computer, and what does she find hiding among all the cookies? Porn sites. Well hell no, says Militant Momma; she locks down the computer with a password, then decides to give him the ultimate payback by pranking his Myspace page: changing his profile so that it's filled with cutesy Snoopy images all over the place.
Take that, you little shit. Mom 2, Devilchild 0.
I've always said that any kid of mine would have to be infinitely sneakier and smarter than me, to get away with shit - because I've definitely been there/done that, and since I'm a mistrusting bastard anyway I'm damn sure not going to assume my kid is the second coming of Christ. The problem is...if I do find out I've been getting scammed, I'd probably be proud of the kid for managing to beat me.
Then I'd whip his little ass. But it'd be done with love.
This story does have a nice ending. Since word got out, the Dyson company sent Mom a $500 vacuum as a replacement.
Mom 3, Damien 0.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Gives "He That Eats My Flesh" a Whole New Meaning
Curators at the museum of Vienna’s Roman Catholic Cathedral
put on display a set of artwork as part of a retrospective honoring Austria’s cherished artist Alfred Hrdlicka, who turned 80 earlier this year. Among the works presented is this painting, which depicts the Last Supper as a homoerotic orgy.
This bears repeating. The Viennese Roman Catholic Church. Put up a picture of the Last Supper, showing Jesus as gay.
And none of the officials at the church saw a problem with this.
Hmm.
People. We're not talking John Doe here, pal. We're talking a literal or figurative diety, depending on who you ask. Being pictured jerking off his apostles.
I gotta tell you...I know the Church is trying to be a little more mainstream, but I think this may be taking it *bit* too far. Maybe this is their way of trying to appease the millions of gay and lesbian Catholics back into the fold.
"Look, look, it's okay, Jesus liked a little tickle tickle too!"
Can you imagine the rewrite on that whole New Testament? Maybe Mary Magdalene was really a Mark. Perhaps this is why Yeshua...30 years old and never married, btw...wasn't into chicks. We know he touched the lepers and the lame...but WHERE did he touch them?
Hey, this goes a long way towards explaining the current problems in the Church, doesn't it? "No, my child...I'm not molesting you. I'm reenacting the Last Supper."
Think that'll hold up in court, Padre?
Happy Passover!
put on display a set of artwork as part of a retrospective honoring Austria’s cherished artist Alfred Hrdlicka, who turned 80 earlier this year. Among the works presented is this painting, which depicts the Last Supper as a homoerotic orgy.
This bears repeating. The Viennese Roman Catholic Church. Put up a picture of the Last Supper, showing Jesus as gay.
And none of the officials at the church saw a problem with this.
Hmm.
The museum’s director defends both Hrdlicka’s work and his decision to host the artist’s controversial versions of biblical imagery in a museum tied to the Catholic Church.
"We think Hrdlicka is entitled to represent people in this carnal, drastic way," Bernhard Boehler said in his small museum office, across the street from Vienna’s imposing St. Stephan’s Cathedral.
People. We're not talking John Doe here, pal. We're talking a literal or figurative diety, depending on who you ask. Being pictured jerking off his apostles.
"I don’t see any blasphemy here," he said, gesturing at a Crucifixion picture showing a soldier simultaneously beating Jesus and holding his genitals. "People can imagine what they want to."Of course. I totally understand. A roman sodomizing the Son of God. And there's no blasphemy.
I gotta tell you...I know the Church is trying to be a little more mainstream, but I think this may be taking it *bit* too far. Maybe this is their way of trying to appease the millions of gay and lesbian Catholics back into the fold.
"Look, look, it's okay, Jesus liked a little tickle tickle too!"
Can you imagine the rewrite on that whole New Testament? Maybe Mary Magdalene was really a Mark. Perhaps this is why Yeshua...30 years old and never married, btw...wasn't into chicks. We know he touched the lepers and the lame...but WHERE did he touch them?
Hey, this goes a long way towards explaining the current problems in the Church, doesn't it? "No, my child...I'm not molesting you. I'm reenacting the Last Supper."
Think that'll hold up in court, Padre?
Happy Passover!
Bejewels Are A Girl's Best Friend
I have to give this guy some serious kudos for a very interesting way to propose to his girlfriend.
As found in Yahoo! news (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/odd_programmer_proposal):
This was pretty cool, in a dorky sort of way. However, it begs the question:
What if she sucked at the game?
Bernie Mac there programmed it to a "certain score"; I'd love to know what that score was. Did he set the bar low, making sure she'd get it? Or did he decide to draw it out a bit, give her a high score to reach - so that she'd get that extra surprise when she won?
Can you imagine if she DIDN'T reach the score? "Umm...honey...don't you want to play Bejeweled tonight?"
"Nah I'm SO over that game. I got sick of it and deleted it from my phone."
"Nooooooooooooooooo...!"
Or worse, what if she was more offended that he HACKED her phone for this marriage proposal? "You trashed my game...for this?! No I'm not going to marry you!"
I've got another question. The article doesn't say...but did she get a REAL ring? Cuz if all she got was the virtual ring and she's still happy...
...does she have a sister?
As found in Yahoo! news (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/odd_programmer_proposal):
Bernie Peng reprogrammed Tammy Li's favorite video game, "Bejeweled," so a ring and a marriage proposal would show up on the screen when she reached a certain score.
Li reached the needed score — and said yes.
The reprogramming was a tricky task and took him a month.
This was pretty cool, in a dorky sort of way. However, it begs the question:
What if she sucked at the game?
Bernie Mac there programmed it to a "certain score"; I'd love to know what that score was. Did he set the bar low, making sure she'd get it? Or did he decide to draw it out a bit, give her a high score to reach - so that she'd get that extra surprise when she won?
Can you imagine if she DIDN'T reach the score? "Umm...honey...don't you want to play Bejeweled tonight?"
"Nah I'm SO over that game. I got sick of it and deleted it from my phone."
"Nooooooooooooooooo...!"
Or worse, what if she was more offended that he HACKED her phone for this marriage proposal? "You trashed my game...for this?! No I'm not going to marry you!"
I've got another question. The article doesn't say...but did she get a REAL ring? Cuz if all she got was the virtual ring and she's still happy...
...does she have a sister?
Monday, April 14, 2008
Who Needs Shakespeare When We Have 1,000 Monkeys
You very likely, by now, have heard the Monkey Typewriter Hypothesis. Take 1,000 monkeys (or 1 million monkeys, or 10 Republicans), 1,000 typewriters/computers, and given an infinite amount of time there is a chance that those monkeys will type out the equivalent of one of Shakespeare's plays. Granted that chance is about as slim as Hillary Clinton ever accepting a Vice Presidency, but there's still that possibility. Or so they say.
Well apparently one man decided he didn't want to wait for those monkeys to come up with something, even if it only looks like an article from the New Yorker. Instead he's written a program that does its own research and will then write a book.
It writes a book. You heard me correctly, true believers. The future is now, my friends.
The video is long, tedious and boring - but if your curiosity has the death of thousands of cats on its hands, by all means check out the vid here:
The short story. The man in this picture (he's not in a corner slowly going insane. I think., Philip M. Parker, has written over 200,000 books with the help of this poor slave of a computer program that he, himself created (there ARE child labor laws in this country, pal!). And that number is real, folks; pull yourself a search on Amazon, and you'll find his self-made publishing company that he uses to sell his books, and there you'll find an insane number of books he's authorized.
Parker Posey there lets his fingers do the cyber-walking; he's developed computer algorithms that collect publicly (i.e., on the internet) available information on a subject — broad or obscure — and, aided by his 60 to 70 computers and six or seven programmers, he turns the results into books in a range of genres, many of them in the range of 150 pages and printed only when a customer buys one.
He's the king of the plagerizers, you might say, and you might have a point. Except the info is public domain, and his 1,000 cybermonkeys aren't writing Shakespeare. More like, How To books on writing Shakespeare.
As a writer...this frightens me, somewhat. I'm still of the opinion that I have nothing to fear from a motherboard, in terms of phasing out human writers - but what if there's a Big Blue out there, it's robotic arm grasping eagerly for a Pilot pen, it's relays firing with anticipation as it begins to pen the Great Cyberamerican Novel?
Books as we know them are a dying art. People on the whole are drifting away from printed media, at least the ones that don't have pretty pictures or can't summarize everything in 100 words or less. Why read a newspaper when you can catch the news on your Yahoo! personal portal? Who needs a book, when they have audio books on CD - or better yet, let's just wait until the movie comes out!
Even as I sit here typing this blog, I'm fully aware of my own hypocricy as I lament over the endangered species known as the Hardcover Book, but I could give a flying fig and I'm going to cry in my milk if i want to, so there. Nyehhh.
Anyway. The point is this: books are already dying...and now there's the spectre of this evil machine out there, slowing growing in knowledge and power and ready to begin its slow takeover of the world via the might of the publishing universe. Book.net is real, folks, it's out there...I know it! And one day, in the distant future, an android will be sent back in time to destroy some poor, young librarian, ensuring that PDAs and eBooks will one day reign supreme!
I know. I sound insane. And I very well may be. But is that any reason not to believe me?
:)
Well apparently one man decided he didn't want to wait for those monkeys to come up with something, even if it only looks like an article from the New Yorker. Instead he's written a program that does its own research and will then write a book.
It writes a book. You heard me correctly, true believers. The future is now, my friends.
The video is long, tedious and boring - but if your curiosity has the death of thousands of cats on its hands, by all means check out the vid here:
The short story. The man in this picture (he's not in a corner slowly going insane. I think., Philip M. Parker, has written over 200,000 books with the help of this poor slave of a computer program that he, himself created (there ARE child labor laws in this country, pal!). And that number is real, folks; pull yourself a search on Amazon, and you'll find his self-made publishing company that he uses to sell his books, and there you'll find an insane number of books he's authorized.
Parker Posey there lets his fingers do the cyber-walking; he's developed computer algorithms that collect publicly (i.e., on the internet) available information on a subject — broad or obscure — and, aided by his 60 to 70 computers and six or seven programmers, he turns the results into books in a range of genres, many of them in the range of 150 pages and printed only when a customer buys one.
He's the king of the plagerizers, you might say, and you might have a point. Except the info is public domain, and his 1,000 cybermonkeys aren't writing Shakespeare. More like, How To books on writing Shakespeare.
As a writer...this frightens me, somewhat. I'm still of the opinion that I have nothing to fear from a motherboard, in terms of phasing out human writers - but what if there's a Big Blue out there, it's robotic arm grasping eagerly for a Pilot pen, it's relays firing with anticipation as it begins to pen the Great Cyberamerican Novel?
Books as we know them are a dying art. People on the whole are drifting away from printed media, at least the ones that don't have pretty pictures or can't summarize everything in 100 words or less. Why read a newspaper when you can catch the news on your Yahoo! personal portal? Who needs a book, when they have audio books on CD - or better yet, let's just wait until the movie comes out!
Even as I sit here typing this blog, I'm fully aware of my own hypocricy as I lament over the endangered species known as the Hardcover Book, but I could give a flying fig and I'm going to cry in my milk if i want to, so there. Nyehhh.
Anyway. The point is this: books are already dying...and now there's the spectre of this evil machine out there, slowing growing in knowledge and power and ready to begin its slow takeover of the world via the might of the publishing universe. Book.net is real, folks, it's out there...I know it! And one day, in the distant future, an android will be sent back in time to destroy some poor, young librarian, ensuring that PDAs and eBooks will one day reign supreme!
I know. I sound insane. And I very well may be. But is that any reason not to believe me?
:)
Friday, April 11, 2008
Mobile Brainfart: Chocolate Goodness
I'm going to regret this later, but how can anyone resist the lure of Thin Mints & a Java Chip Mocha Frap?
Spare The Rod, Spoil The Child
Believe it or not, this isn't a post on disciplining kids. I happened to see the latest toys that are coming out, specifically in relation to the Iron Man movie. They look good, they do...but it got me thinking. When did we become a society that coddled our kids? These Iron Man toys are...plastic. Plastic Iron Men. That doesn't even sound right. I want an Iron Man action figure that's made of steel, dammit! I should be able to hurl him at a wall and see it DENT!
So I'm sadistic. But those of you from the "older" crowd, you feel my pain, don't you? Remember...Micronauts? Shogun Warriors? The original Transformers? Those...now THOSE were toys. If you wanted to break them, you had to really try to put a hurtin' on them. And boy, did we try! Dropping them from buildings, tying firecrackers to them, standing across a room from each other and throwing the toys at each other, trying to make them crash mid-air...that was fun!
When we did we start being so afraid to let our kids get hurt? One of my favorite toys was Kabangers, aka Click-Clacks, aka Clackers. Take two ceramic balls, baseball sized...insert a thick rope between them. In the center of the rope, add a plastic handle. Package and give to your kids, "Have fun!" I gotta tell you, that thing drove me nuts - but I freakin' loved it! You held onto the handle, and basically tried to get keep the balls "clacking" against each other by flipping the handle up and down. If you missed...your got a nice, nasty bruise for your efforts.
Ahh, good times.
But. Things like this got me thinking about the past, and I remembered coming across a very nostalgic post a few years ago, showing the difference in mentality between THEN and NOW. It makes you wonder, why are we so overprotective of our kids - if we turned out relatively okay?
Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!
So I'm sadistic. But those of you from the "older" crowd, you feel my pain, don't you? Remember...Micronauts? Shogun Warriors? The original Transformers? Those...now THOSE were toys. If you wanted to break them, you had to really try to put a hurtin' on them. And boy, did we try! Dropping them from buildings, tying firecrackers to them, standing across a room from each other and throwing the toys at each other, trying to make them crash mid-air...that was fun!
When we did we start being so afraid to let our kids get hurt? One of my favorite toys was Kabangers, aka Click-Clacks, aka Clackers. Take two ceramic balls, baseball sized...insert a thick rope between them. In the center of the rope, add a plastic handle. Package and give to your kids, "Have fun!" I gotta tell you, that thing drove me nuts - but I freakin' loved it! You held onto the handle, and basically tried to get keep the balls "clacking" against each other by flipping the handle up and down. If you missed...your got a nice, nasty bruise for your efforts.
Ahh, good times.
But. Things like this got me thinking about the past, and I remembered coming across a very nostalgic post a few years ago, showing the difference in mentality between THEN and NOW. It makes you wonder, why are we so overprotective of our kids - if we turned out relatively okay?
TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 50's, 60's and 70's !!
First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.
They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.
Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.
We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.
Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.
We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.
We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.
No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.
We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!
We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.
We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!
The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!
These generations has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem
solvers and inventors ever!
The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!
You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good. And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.
Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Mobile Brainfart
It's 70 degrees & sunny today in NYC. I say we all get up, say "screw work" & make today a citywide Spring holiday. Workers Unite! Who's with me?
Gives CyberSex A Whole New Meaning
The human imagination never ceases to amaze me.
This device, if you sicko bastiches don't already know, is called a Fleshlight. It's basically a tube with a latex, fleshy interior lining. It's designed so that you - and by you, I mean you poor lonely video-game obsessed living-in-your-mother's basement guys out there - can...for lack of a more graphic term...get your rocks off. So that you no longer have to date your favorite girlfriends: Lefticia and Rightanna. Basically it's a reverse dildo, for men.
Yes, you put your schlong in it and wank yourself silly.
Now...as oddly captivating as the idea of this is...this device on its own isn't why I'm posting this up here. No, I'm posting this because someone took this idea and decided it SIMPLY WASN'T ENOUGH. No, this poor soul modified this simple gadget and installed wires, a microprocessor and a gasket to control the airpressure...and created this monstrosity:
Do I need to explain the purpose of this steampunkish, "Metropolis"-inspired sex toy? Of course I do!
It's so that you can use your weiner as an input device for your computer.
You've heard the old Yellow Pages slogan, "Let your fingers do the walking?"
...well, you don't need your fingers anymore. Not thanks to the wonderful world of computers!
But wait. There's more!
The genius who came up with this device, not content to simply break the 4th wall, went balls-out (pun intended) with his creativity. I mean, what good is a cybershlong....without cybersex?
Yes, true believers...you have to thrust yourself using the interactive fleshlight to satisfy yourself and, presumably, Nicci the Nurse here. This is probably the most innocent scene I can show you, but the others are considerably more graphic. I don't know what happens once we come to the climatic end - or what happens if your end cums considerably earlier than Nicci's programming - but it is truly amazing what a bored, socially repressed computer geek will come up with.
Now all this guy needs is to get his...hands...on one of those Japanese female robots, and things REALLY get interesting.
This device, if you sicko bastiches don't already know, is called a Fleshlight. It's basically a tube with a latex, fleshy interior lining. It's designed so that you - and by you, I mean you poor lonely video-game obsessed living-in-your-mother's basement guys out there - can...for lack of a more graphic term...get your rocks off. So that you no longer have to date your favorite girlfriends: Lefticia and Rightanna. Basically it's a reverse dildo, for men.
Yes, you put your schlong in it and wank yourself silly.
Now...as oddly captivating as the idea of this is...this device on its own isn't why I'm posting this up here. No, I'm posting this because someone took this idea and decided it SIMPLY WASN'T ENOUGH. No, this poor soul modified this simple gadget and installed wires, a microprocessor and a gasket to control the airpressure...and created this monstrosity:
Do I need to explain the purpose of this steampunkish, "Metropolis"-inspired sex toy? Of course I do!
It's so that you can use your weiner as an input device for your computer.
You've heard the old Yellow Pages slogan, "Let your fingers do the walking?"
...well, you don't need your fingers anymore. Not thanks to the wonderful world of computers!
But wait. There's more!
The genius who came up with this device, not content to simply break the 4th wall, went balls-out (pun intended) with his creativity. I mean, what good is a cybershlong....without cybersex?
Yes, true believers...you have to thrust yourself using the interactive fleshlight to satisfy yourself and, presumably, Nicci the Nurse here. This is probably the most innocent scene I can show you, but the others are considerably more graphic. I don't know what happens once we come to the climatic end - or what happens if your end cums considerably earlier than Nicci's programming - but it is truly amazing what a bored, socially repressed computer geek will come up with.
Now all this guy needs is to get his...hands...on one of those Japanese female robots, and things REALLY get interesting.
Mobile Brainfart
Microsoft has come up with LCD tabletop screens...imagine the advertising u could get with LCD bathroom stall floor tiles. I mean, really...what else are you going to look at?
Monday, April 07, 2008
What's a Brainfart, and Why is it Mobile?
Thanks to the Wide Wide World of Text Messaging, I've discovered that I can add mini-posts to this journal while ON THE GO. A sort of roving reporter, man-on-the-scene, here's what's happening RIGHT THIS MINUTE form of instant journalism. It's exciting, it's new, it'll cure what ails ya.
Okay, maybe not. But the idea that I could be sitting somewhere in Central Park on my lunch hour, watching some poor schmuck chat up a pretty girl while she completely ignores him...and I can not only take a picture of this embarassing scene with my cell phone, but I can SEND IT WITH COMMENTARY TO THIS BLOG! God help us, this is a dangerous weapon to put in the hands of a sarcastic, overly-observant cynic such as myself. The possibilities are endless; I no longer have to think back to what's happened over the course of my day and come up with a snapshot, I can literally give you that snapshot LIVE, FROM NEW YORK, as it happens. No waiting, move to the front of the line, that's right people keep it going keep it going...
Oh. You wanted to know, why brainfart? It goes back to a much earlier post, in another incarnation of this journal. Actually it goes back a little further, to a comment I made on someone else's journal; you see some moron had been heckling her on her posts. The reader in question felt she was obligated to respond to his commentary on her posts, because she chose to put her thoughts up in a public forum. In my defense of her, I said the following:
I rather liked that word. Brainfart. Much like the lingering odor of a good cheese, the name has stuck with me - and since these mobile messages are going to be short and to the point ("...I can name that tune in 140 characters or less, Alex..."), they tend to be more like mental farts than any of the drawn out, involved ramblings that you're used to from me. It could have been worse, I could have called them Mobile Ejaculations. "Ooo baby, yeah that's it, that's it, OHHHHHH!"
Mobile blogging. "I've got a smartphone, and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Okay, maybe not. But the idea that I could be sitting somewhere in Central Park on my lunch hour, watching some poor schmuck chat up a pretty girl while she completely ignores him...and I can not only take a picture of this embarassing scene with my cell phone, but I can SEND IT WITH COMMENTARY TO THIS BLOG! God help us, this is a dangerous weapon to put in the hands of a sarcastic, overly-observant cynic such as myself. The possibilities are endless; I no longer have to think back to what's happened over the course of my day and come up with a snapshot, I can literally give you that snapshot LIVE, FROM NEW YORK, as it happens. No waiting, move to the front of the line, that's right people keep it going keep it going...
Oh. You wanted to know, why brainfart? It goes back to a much earlier post, in another incarnation of this journal. Actually it goes back a little further, to a comment I made on someone else's journal; you see some moron had been heckling her on her posts. The reader in question felt she was obligated to respond to his commentary on her posts, because she chose to put her thoughts up in a public forum. In my defense of her, I said the following:
Here I am, she's saying; this is my pense au jour, my brainfart of the moment. I give it to you as-is, unedited and unapologetic. Read it if you will, or don't. It's therapeutic for me, and if you happen to find some entertainment in it...good for you.
I rather liked that word. Brainfart. Much like the lingering odor of a good cheese, the name has stuck with me - and since these mobile messages are going to be short and to the point ("...I can name that tune in 140 characters or less, Alex..."), they tend to be more like mental farts than any of the drawn out, involved ramblings that you're used to from me. It could have been worse, I could have called them Mobile Ejaculations. "Ooo baby, yeah that's it, that's it, OHHHHHH!"
Mobile blogging. "I've got a smartphone, and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Mobile Brainfart
With all the McD's lawsuits, u'd think asthmatics would sue 4 discrimination over their shakes. *slurp* *wheez* *slurp* *wheez*...
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Taking the Wind from Beneath My Wings
You know...I had this whole joking commentary I was going to make about an article I found that noted how Muslims have now outnumbered Roman Catholics something like 19.2% to 17.4% of the population worldwide. There was even a statement by a Vatican official who commented on how basically Muslims breed like rabbits, while Catholics are more chaste. Okay, he didn't put it exactly like that...but the subtext, people, was there.
Then I started reading the comments on the page and, well...angels cried. I decided that it wasn't the article I was there to comment on...it was the responses TO the article.
America. You people are freaks. Xenophobic, bigoted, close-minded Catholic freaks. And by America, I mean the collective holier-than-thou, Father-forgive-my-sins right-wing ultra-conservative red-state thou-shalt-worship-no-false-idols Catholics as a whole, not individuals who may have a more open mind. So don't flip out on me, cuz I know how self-righteous ya'll can be!
Case in point. Some of the responses to the article are as follows:
"Islam is a vile, evil religion of death, destruction, and hatred."
Way to spread that message of peace, love and tolerance there Mike. Because we all know how peaceful *coughCRUSADEScough*, tolerant *coughINQUISITIONcough* and loving *coughSALEMWITCHHUNTScough* the Christian heirarchy has been, historically.
"Ironic, though, there are hundreds of movies shown every year depitcing the Catholic religion (i.e. Ten Commandments, The Robe, King of Kings) and numerous books written about the subject.
But I have yet to see anything on the islamic religion, which is basically a cult. Is it because islam is ashamed of it?"
Yes, Schmetter("Sieg Heil")ling. Because the measure of a religion's greatness is how many hollywood films get made about it. Mel Gibson is a holy prophet, apparently. Although you'd think with that logic, Judaism would have kicked Catholism into obscurity, since we all know the Jews own it. Hollywood, that is.
"Islam will grow, islam might spread, untill us brits whip your ass's and send ya all packing which will happen :) watch this space"
...I don't even know where to BEGIN to make fun of this one. First: get over your identity crisis, because I'm sooooo sure the blokes in Westminster Circle really consider you a Brit. Second: the Brits couldn't whip their own asses if their heads were on backwards. Ehh, I'm done with this one.
Annnndddd....to show I'm not so biased:
"Muslims proably do not molest the young believers either as a big majority of catholic priests do to their young male church members.In certain countries you would proably be put to death for doing this if you are a muslim."
Now there's an advertising slogan. "Islam: Our priests don't diddle the choirboys."
They get my vote.
Then I started reading the comments on the page and, well...angels cried. I decided that it wasn't the article I was there to comment on...it was the responses TO the article.
America. You people are freaks. Xenophobic, bigoted, close-minded Catholic freaks. And by America, I mean the collective holier-than-thou, Father-forgive-my-sins right-wing ultra-conservative red-state thou-shalt-worship-no-false-idols Catholics as a whole, not individuals who may have a more open mind. So don't flip out on me, cuz I know how self-righteous ya'll can be!
Case in point. Some of the responses to the article are as follows:
"Islam is a vile, evil religion of death, destruction, and hatred."
- Matthew from Chicago
Way to spread that message of peace, love and tolerance there Mike. Because we all know how peaceful *coughCRUSADEScough*, tolerant *coughINQUISITIONcough* and loving *coughSALEMWITCHHUNTScough* the Christian heirarchy has been, historically.
"Ironic, though, there are hundreds of movies shown every year depitcing the Catholic religion (i.e. Ten Commandments, The Robe, King of Kings) and numerous books written about the subject.
But I have yet to see anything on the islamic religion, which is basically a cult. Is it because islam is ashamed of it?"
- Schmetterling from Sacramento
Yes, Schmetter("Sieg Heil")ling. Because the measure of a religion's greatness is how many hollywood films get made about it. Mel Gibson is a holy prophet, apparently. Although you'd think with that logic, Judaism would have kicked Catholism into obscurity, since we all know the Jews own it. Hollywood, that is.
"Islam will grow, islam might spread, untill us brits whip your ass's and send ya all packing which will happen :) watch this space"
- ScottishGirl, Port Glasgow
...I don't even know where to BEGIN to make fun of this one. First: get over your identity crisis, because I'm sooooo sure the blokes in Westminster Circle really consider you a Brit. Second: the Brits couldn't whip their own asses if their heads were on backwards. Ehh, I'm done with this one.
Annnndddd....to show I'm not so biased:
"Muslims proably do not molest the young believers either as a big majority of catholic priests do to their young male church members.In certain countries you would proably be put to death for doing this if you are a muslim."
- Annie, Florida
Now there's an advertising slogan. "Islam: Our priests don't diddle the choirboys."
They get my vote.
A Rose By Any Other Name
....would still prick your finger and draw blood, right?
So why the name change? "Trick Shots" yesterday, "Dreamcatcher" in L33t-speak today. Hell I can take it further back, when it was once "Brainfarts du Jour", and before that "the Monkey House".
Evolution, that's why.
I'd ignored this blog-space for a while; I'd been turned off by some people and their response to the things I wrote. So the Drama! It beat on me, wore me down. Maybe I'm older, maybe I'm wiser, maybe I'm not really giving a flying fuck...but I miss writing here, even if it is irrelevant, irresponsible bullshit. See, I'm not writing for YOU, and by you I mean the collective YOU out there who may stumble across this speed bump on the information highway and decide to stop and take a photograph. No, I'm writing this for me.
Dreamcatcher is both a way for me to reconnect with the person I once was, and tie that in to the person I am today. The l33t-speak lettering is my way of saying that with Dreamcatcher, I'm going to tie in several different concepts: creativity (dreaming), technology (l33t d3wdz); spirituality.
And really it's just to fuck with your heads. I'm not writing it for you, but that doesn't mean I won't mess around with you while you're here. Sort of like that freak museum in the opening scene of House of 1000 Corpses. You think it's there for you to go in, gawk, and have a good time...but really it's a trap to sucker you into their little freakish world.
So. Welcome. Or not. Totally up to you.
So why the name change? "Trick Shots" yesterday, "Dreamcatcher" in L33t-speak today. Hell I can take it further back, when it was once "Brainfarts du Jour", and before that "the Monkey House".
Evolution, that's why.
I'd ignored this blog-space for a while; I'd been turned off by some people and their response to the things I wrote. So the Drama! It beat on me, wore me down. Maybe I'm older, maybe I'm wiser, maybe I'm not really giving a flying fuck...but I miss writing here, even if it is irrelevant, irresponsible bullshit. See, I'm not writing for YOU, and by you I mean the collective YOU out there who may stumble across this speed bump on the information highway and decide to stop and take a photograph. No, I'm writing this for me.
Dreamcatcher is both a way for me to reconnect with the person I once was, and tie that in to the person I am today. The l33t-speak lettering is my way of saying that with Dreamcatcher, I'm going to tie in several different concepts: creativity (dreaming), technology (l33t d3wdz); spirituality.
And really it's just to fuck with your heads. I'm not writing it for you, but that doesn't mean I won't mess around with you while you're here. Sort of like that freak museum in the opening scene of House of 1000 Corpses. You think it's there for you to go in, gawk, and have a good time...but really it's a trap to sucker you into their little freakish world.
So. Welcome. Or not. Totally up to you.
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