Got this one from the AP archives, folks. It's hard to fathom being this incredibly stupid...but then again, maybe he was high when he did it? If you need yet another reason to just say no...
OREM, Utah (Jan. 31) - An man who called police to report the theft of a quarter-pound of marijuana was arrested when police recovered the bag of pot and then invited him to come to the Public Safety Building to identify it.
Kory C. Tippetts, 18, identified the pot as his and then was arrested and booked into the Utah County jail for investigation of possession of marijuana in a drug-free zone with intent to distribute, police said Tuesday.
Tippetts had called police on Monday evening after he returned home and found that someone had broken a window, got cut on the glass, and crawled into the house. Tippetts told police the only thing missing was the quarter-pound of marijuana he was selling.
Tippetts also told officers that earlier in the day a man had called him about buying some marijuana, but he was on his way to work and told the caller no.
Tippetts gave police the man's name.
Officers found Richard W. Hight, 23, at his mother's home in Provo. He had a cut on his arm and blood-soaked pants. Police also recovered six ounces of marijuana at the home.
Hight was arrested for investigation of burglary, theft and possession of marijuana in a drug-free zone with intent to distribute and booked into the Utah County jail.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Thursday, February 02, 2006
What, Me Worry?
My company, in a flash of generosity, handed out emergency kits about two years ago (after the blackout we had here in New York). The usual; a sippycup of water, foil blanket, mini flashlight, first aid. Nice gesture.
Today we got a memo to "please check your emergency kits" and make certain everything's working properly, and that you have comfortable walking shoes stored away under your desk.
Now I'm a little concerned. When your company starts saying things like "oh by the way...you've got that first aid kit handy, right? Okay good"...it doesn't put me in a happy happy joy joy frame of mind.
Do they know something I don't? Is there another orange alert and they're just not telling me? I mean hell, I'm about to head home here...do I need to watch out for the guy in the long trenchcoat? If I hear the squeal of tires, should I turn and look for the truck or should I just haul ass in any direction away from the noise? Should I keep finding reasons to walk down to the lower floors during working hours, just to make sure I'm not one of those people taking a dive into the concrete pool on the evening news?
Paranoid? Maybe. But it's the paranoid ones that're getting interviewed the next day, while the ones who said "oh it doesn't mean anything" are the ones getting their pictures posted up on lampposts in Union Square.
I'm cold. But I ain't stupid.
Today we got a memo to "please check your emergency kits" and make certain everything's working properly, and that you have comfortable walking shoes stored away under your desk.
Now I'm a little concerned. When your company starts saying things like "oh by the way...you've got that first aid kit handy, right? Okay good"...it doesn't put me in a happy happy joy joy frame of mind.
Do they know something I don't? Is there another orange alert and they're just not telling me? I mean hell, I'm about to head home here...do I need to watch out for the guy in the long trenchcoat? If I hear the squeal of tires, should I turn and look for the truck or should I just haul ass in any direction away from the noise? Should I keep finding reasons to walk down to the lower floors during working hours, just to make sure I'm not one of those people taking a dive into the concrete pool on the evening news?
Paranoid? Maybe. But it's the paranoid ones that're getting interviewed the next day, while the ones who said "oh it doesn't mean anything" are the ones getting their pictures posted up on lampposts in Union Square.
I'm cold. But I ain't stupid.
Ni**a Can't Take a Joke!
Why is it some people just can't sit back and laugh at themselves? Hmm?
I'm a big fan of Aaron McGruder's "The Boondocks". Have been since they started popping up on the comics page of my local paper, started reading them online and was thrilled when it became an animated feature on the Cartoon Network's Adult Swim series.
Now Aaron's been censored before; not too long ago, he used to strip to suggest that Condoleeza Rice just needed a man, and maybe she wouldn't be so eager to blow up the world. The New York Daily News, among others, decided that Aaron was "on vacation" and filled the space where his strip was with something less controversial until the joke ran its course.
Now...this past January 15th, the Boondocks showed an espisode that had the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King not being dead, but instead having been in a coma. He comes out of it into today's world, and is appalled by what he sees. He goes into a fiery tirade against today's black culture, and his pacifist ways are seen as "pro-terrorism" in this post 9/11 world. He moves to Canada and sparks a second civil rights movement.
"Our" erstwhile mouthpiece (mainly because we can't shut his black ass up), Rev. Al Sharpton, has decided that this is just too far over the top. To have the honorable (womanizing) Dr. King actually mouth the N-word...heavens above, oh lawdy miss mabey, shut yo' mouth!
"Cartoon Network must apologize and also commit to pulling episodes that desecrate black historic figures," Sharpton said in a statement. "We are totally offended by the continuous use of the N-word."
This same highly offended man also says in the same statement that McGruder deserves much praise for his past work, and hinted that if no apology is forthcoming he and his supporters will picket the corporate headquarters of Time Warner, which owns the network.
Here's the thing, Al. I'm betting that if the good Dr. King were in fact alive today...he'd have been laughing his ass off, because HE would have gotten the joke. YOU, Al, have your head so far up your own ass you wouldn't know good parody if it made a nest in that hair of yours.
I personally think Rev. Al is offended for an entirely different reason, and has been looking for a reason to blast the cartoon:
He knows he looks too damn much like Uncle Ruckus!
See? A nigg* don't lie!
I'm a big fan of Aaron McGruder's "The Boondocks". Have been since they started popping up on the comics page of my local paper, started reading them online and was thrilled when it became an animated feature on the Cartoon Network's Adult Swim series.
Now Aaron's been censored before; not too long ago, he used to strip to suggest that Condoleeza Rice just needed a man, and maybe she wouldn't be so eager to blow up the world. The New York Daily News, among others, decided that Aaron was "on vacation" and filled the space where his strip was with something less controversial until the joke ran its course.
Now...this past January 15th, the Boondocks showed an espisode that had the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King not being dead, but instead having been in a coma. He comes out of it into today's world, and is appalled by what he sees. He goes into a fiery tirade against today's black culture, and his pacifist ways are seen as "pro-terrorism" in this post 9/11 world. He moves to Canada and sparks a second civil rights movement.
"Our" erstwhile mouthpiece (mainly because we can't shut his black ass up), Rev. Al Sharpton, has decided that this is just too far over the top. To have the honorable (womanizing) Dr. King actually mouth the N-word...heavens above, oh lawdy miss mabey, shut yo' mouth!
"Cartoon Network must apologize and also commit to pulling episodes that desecrate black historic figures," Sharpton said in a statement. "We are totally offended by the continuous use of the N-word."
This same highly offended man also says in the same statement that McGruder deserves much praise for his past work, and hinted that if no apology is forthcoming he and his supporters will picket the corporate headquarters of Time Warner, which owns the network.
Here's the thing, Al. I'm betting that if the good Dr. King were in fact alive today...he'd have been laughing his ass off, because HE would have gotten the joke. YOU, Al, have your head so far up your own ass you wouldn't know good parody if it made a nest in that hair of yours.
I personally think Rev. Al is offended for an entirely different reason, and has been looking for a reason to blast the cartoon:
He knows he looks too damn much like Uncle Ruckus!
See? A nigg* don't lie!
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Best New Joke I've Heard In Years
(thanks to Todd for passing this one along)
Golf's Worst Foursome:
1) Monica Lewinski
2) O. J. Simpson
3) Ted Kennedy
4) Bill Clinton
Why?
Monica is a Hooker
O. J. is a Slicer
Ted can't drive over water
and Bill can't remember which hole he played last!
Golf's Worst Foursome:
1) Monica Lewinski
2) O. J. Simpson
3) Ted Kennedy
4) Bill Clinton
Why?
Monica is a Hooker
O. J. is a Slicer
Ted can't drive over water
and Bill can't remember which hole he played last!
Maybe Lysol Can Help You Lose Weight
Since the CDC is obviously slacking, I nobly take it upon myself to issue the following bacterial warning:
Fat people may be contagious.
Yes indeed, true believers; that craving you have for that 3rd or 4th Big Mac? It's got nothing to do with a lack of self-control, or over-indulgent behavior. It's a virus.
I shit you not! There is "mounting evidence" that obesity is contagious, and viral related. A human pathogen called the adenovirus Ad-37 has been found to cause obesity in chickens, according to a new study led by Leah Whigham of the departments of Medicine and Nutritional Sciences at the University of Wisconsin, Madison.
"We still need to more definitively establish the link with these adenoviruses and human obesity," Whigham told LiveScience. "We also have no idea how the virus interacts with other factors such as diet and exercise."
The new findings are detailed in the January issue of the American Journal of Physiology-Regulatory, Integrative and Comparative Physiology published by the American Physiological Society.
I can see the lawsuits now. Don't sue McDonalds, sue that fat bastard who stood behind you in line! "Hey, I originally went in there for a yogurt parfait...but then, suddenly, I had a craving for a super-sized double quarter pounder with cheese meal! I couldn't control myself!"
Can you imagine the wave of viral compulsion that must happen if you get a bunch of overweight people in a room together? It's like having Darth Vader in a room with you, forcing your will. "Join us, and together we will fatten the galaxy!"
Come to think of it, I've stood next to some of these, shall we say, weight-challenged individuals on a summer day with them breathing down my neck.
"Hssssh. Hsshoooooo. Hssssh. Hssshoooo."
Maybe that Darth Vader analogy isn't so far off after all.
Fat people may be contagious.
Yes indeed, true believers; that craving you have for that 3rd or 4th Big Mac? It's got nothing to do with a lack of self-control, or over-indulgent behavior. It's a virus.
I shit you not! There is "mounting evidence" that obesity is contagious, and viral related. A human pathogen called the adenovirus Ad-37 has been found to cause obesity in chickens, according to a new study led by Leah Whigham of the departments of Medicine and Nutritional Sciences at the University of Wisconsin, Madison.
"We still need to more definitively establish the link with these adenoviruses and human obesity," Whigham told LiveScience. "We also have no idea how the virus interacts with other factors such as diet and exercise."
The new findings are detailed in the January issue of the American Journal of Physiology-Regulatory, Integrative and Comparative Physiology published by the American Physiological Society.
I can see the lawsuits now. Don't sue McDonalds, sue that fat bastard who stood behind you in line! "Hey, I originally went in there for a yogurt parfait...but then, suddenly, I had a craving for a super-sized double quarter pounder with cheese meal! I couldn't control myself!"
Can you imagine the wave of viral compulsion that must happen if you get a bunch of overweight people in a room together? It's like having Darth Vader in a room with you, forcing your will. "Join us, and together we will fatten the galaxy!"
Come to think of it, I've stood next to some of these, shall we say, weight-challenged individuals on a summer day with them breathing down my neck.
"Hssssh. Hsshoooooo. Hssssh. Hssshoooo."
Maybe that Darth Vader analogy isn't so far off after all.
Monday, January 30, 2006
A Record Label vs. the RIAA?
Hold on to your flash drives, boys and girls. Armageddon has come, it's the end of the world as we know it - except in this case, all I'm feeling is euphoria about it!
Yes, the title says it all. A major Canadian record label, Nettwerk (Avril Lavigne, Sarah Mclaughlin, Dido, Barenaked Ladies) is standing up against the lawsuits brought by the RIAA, in SUPPORT of a defendant. Wowzers.
"Suing music fans is not the solution; it's the problem," Terry McBride, chief executive of Nettwork, said in a statement this week.
“Litigation is not ‘artist development,’" McBride said. "Litigation is a deterrent to creativity and passion and it is hurting the business I love. The current actions of the RIAA are not in my artists’ best interests.”
Nettwerk has hired Chicago-based Mudd Law Offices to represent (the defendant). Attorney Charles Lee Mudd Jr. has represented individuals subpoenaed and sued by the RIAA since 2003. The record company said it would also pay any fines should the family lose the case.
Mudd declined Friday to discuss his legal strategy against the RIAA, until he files his response to the complaint, which is due Feb. 24. In general, however, Mudd said the RIAA has "misused" U.S. copyright law, and said the people he has represented against the industry trade group are average Joes who get caught in litigation for doing something they didn't realize was illegal.
Fucking awesome, isn't it? It's about time somebody spoke up in defense of this. My argument has always been this: if file sharing is illegal, why was the technology made available? Why aren't they going after the people who created the technology, rather than the people who used it AS ADVERTISED?
Because the ones who build it have the money to defend themselves, so the RIAA figures they'll go after the user base and get the companies from the "back door", so to speak.
Bastiches.
Here's hoping Nettwerk wins, because baby if they do it's a whole new ballgame.
Yes, the title says it all. A major Canadian record label, Nettwerk (Avril Lavigne, Sarah Mclaughlin, Dido, Barenaked Ladies) is standing up against the lawsuits brought by the RIAA, in SUPPORT of a defendant. Wowzers.
"Suing music fans is not the solution; it's the problem," Terry McBride, chief executive of Nettwork, said in a statement this week.
“Litigation is not ‘artist development,’" McBride said. "Litigation is a deterrent to creativity and passion and it is hurting the business I love. The current actions of the RIAA are not in my artists’ best interests.”
Nettwerk has hired Chicago-based Mudd Law Offices to represent (the defendant). Attorney Charles Lee Mudd Jr. has represented individuals subpoenaed and sued by the RIAA since 2003. The record company said it would also pay any fines should the family lose the case.
Mudd declined Friday to discuss his legal strategy against the RIAA, until he files his response to the complaint, which is due Feb. 24. In general, however, Mudd said the RIAA has "misused" U.S. copyright law, and said the people he has represented against the industry trade group are average Joes who get caught in litigation for doing something they didn't realize was illegal.
Fucking awesome, isn't it? It's about time somebody spoke up in defense of this. My argument has always been this: if file sharing is illegal, why was the technology made available? Why aren't they going after the people who created the technology, rather than the people who used it AS ADVERTISED?
Because the ones who build it have the money to defend themselves, so the RIAA figures they'll go after the user base and get the companies from the "back door", so to speak.
Bastiches.
Here's hoping Nettwerk wins, because baby if they do it's a whole new ballgame.
Friday, January 27, 2006
It's About Time!
Add this to my list of "must have" silly tech toys.
Talus is putting out a series of watches that...well, defy time. In a sense.
It's based on a premise that "time is not uniform, but flows from moment to moment". Instead of giving you an exact time you get: "A bit past 6", "Going on 6 fifteen"...I LOVE it!
Really, I haven't worn a watch in years except as ornamentation. I figure what's the point - I know what time it was when I left, I know roughly how long it takes to get where I'm going. If I'm running late, is knowing the time going to change that fact? No, it's just going to make me feel worse because I'll know exactly how late I am.
This way I get a watch that has the same nonchalant attitude I do. "Ehh...it's almost 2."
Now all it needs to do is talk. "So...whaddyoo wanna do?" "Dunno...whaddyoo wanna do?"
Fucking nirvana, man.
Talus is putting out a series of watches that...well, defy time. In a sense.
It's based on a premise that "time is not uniform, but flows from moment to moment". Instead of giving you an exact time you get: "A bit past 6", "Going on 6 fifteen"...I LOVE it!
Really, I haven't worn a watch in years except as ornamentation. I figure what's the point - I know what time it was when I left, I know roughly how long it takes to get where I'm going. If I'm running late, is knowing the time going to change that fact? No, it's just going to make me feel worse because I'll know exactly how late I am.
This way I get a watch that has the same nonchalant attitude I do. "Ehh...it's almost 2."
Now all it needs to do is talk. "So...whaddyoo wanna do?" "Dunno...whaddyoo wanna do?"
Fucking nirvana, man.
Ask the Trickster
There's a certain advice columnist in a certain paper in a certain city that I happen to live in who I, in the interest of attempting to be tactful, will only say that I think is an idiot. Or tries to be too politically correct. Which isn't really helpful in the long run, IS IT HARRIET?!?!
Ahem. Anyway. Let's face it, secretly we all think we can give better advice to the people who write in to these columns. "Are you kidding me?" we say, our faces turned up in righteous indignation. "This is what you should have told that numbnut..."
Well. In the interest of feeding my own ego, I've decided to pilfer this certain columnist's pilgrims and offer up a Trickster brand of advice. Which may not exactly be delivered in the friendliest manner, but I guarantee you this much:
It'll make me feel better.
So with little more fanfare...
Ask the Trickster
Dear TRICKSTER:
My father is gaining more and more weight, and I am concerned for his health. Whenever I gently bring up the topic of weight loss, he accuses me of not accepting him, and will not continue the conversation. I am legitimately worried, especially since high blood pressure runs in my family. Are there any steps I can take to make him more active, and less hostile?
--- Damian, Philadelphia, Pa.
Dear Damian,
Sieg Heil! Back off you hellspawn, and quit being a little Adolph. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you're just fixated on your own anorexia, and you're secretly ashamed of the buffalo you have to admit to your friends is your father? Why do I suspect your use of the word "gently" is a metaphor for "constantly"? Quit haranguing your pops; if he wants to veg on the couch sucking the meat off beef ribs and munching on doritos, so be it. You can't force him off his ass, so quit already - he's got to WANT to do it, and it's pretty obvious the fat fuck has no intention of buying a bowflex anytime soon. If I were you, I'd pay more attention to his life insurance policy, know what I'm saying?
Harri...um, Henrietta says:
Oh shut up with this hippie shit! "Give him a workout outfit"!? With a matching set to yours?! Oh my god, kill me now. I can already hear "Jesus Loves me this I know..." playing in the background. God, do you believe the crap you actually dish out? If my adult kid EVER came to me with a matching workout gear I'd bitch slap him and send him out for pizza. Extra cheese, bizzatch!
Dear Harri...Trickster:
I can't stand my boyfriend's friends. I believe that they are a bad influence on him, and I really would rather he stop interacting with them. I know that him leaving his group of friends to please me does not sound like a realistic desire, but I know his friends are involved in troubling things, and I would hate to see my boyfriend get blamed because what they do.
--- Nancy, Baltimore, Md.
Dear Nancy,
Funny that your name is Nancy, because you obviously want your boyfriend to be a little nancy-boy! "I believe they are a bad influence on him" translates to my testosterone-saturated mind as "that's time he should be spending with ME, not them!" You little shrew you. Here's the deal - you may not be ASKING him to leave his friends for you, but you're obviously THINKING it and probably even hinted at it. What "troubling things" are his friends involved in, other than trashing your skanky over-controlling high-maintenance ass every chance they get? Let me guess, I bet you call him every half hour when he's out with the boys, "just to make sure he's okay and when is he coming home?" Here's my advice. Leave him, because otherwise he's going to leave you - and he'll do it once he's found some other chick to bang, cuz let's face it as long as you're dishing out the coochie he's still thinking it's worth listening to your nagging ass if it'll get him some. Once he's found a new honey pot, babe, you're out the door - so you may as well cut the chains you're forging now and move on. Find yourself a meek little sub to dominate and you'll live a happpier life, trust me.
Well. I certainly feel better, don't you?
Ahem. Anyway. Let's face it, secretly we all think we can give better advice to the people who write in to these columns. "Are you kidding me?" we say, our faces turned up in righteous indignation. "This is what you should have told that numbnut..."
Well. In the interest of feeding my own ego, I've decided to pilfer this certain columnist's pilgrims and offer up a Trickster brand of advice. Which may not exactly be delivered in the friendliest manner, but I guarantee you this much:
It'll make me feel better.
So with little more fanfare...
Ask the Trickster
Dear TRICKSTER:
My father is gaining more and more weight, and I am concerned for his health. Whenever I gently bring up the topic of weight loss, he accuses me of not accepting him, and will not continue the conversation. I am legitimately worried, especially since high blood pressure runs in my family. Are there any steps I can take to make him more active, and less hostile?
--- Damian, Philadelphia, Pa.
Dear Damian,
Sieg Heil! Back off you hellspawn, and quit being a little Adolph. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you're just fixated on your own anorexia, and you're secretly ashamed of the buffalo you have to admit to your friends is your father? Why do I suspect your use of the word "gently" is a metaphor for "constantly"? Quit haranguing your pops; if he wants to veg on the couch sucking the meat off beef ribs and munching on doritos, so be it. You can't force him off his ass, so quit already - he's got to WANT to do it, and it's pretty obvious the fat fuck has no intention of buying a bowflex anytime soon. If I were you, I'd pay more attention to his life insurance policy, know what I'm saying?
Harri...um, Henrietta says:
I have a few ideas for you. Invite your father on outings with you. Start with a short walk in the neighborhood. Give him a workout outfit complete with athletic shoes - maybe a matching set to yours. Sure, it may seem corny, but it will show your interest and devotion to him and to yourself.
Make a lunch date at a healthy restaurant. Recommend a dish that you enjoy...
Oh shut up with this hippie shit! "Give him a workout outfit"!? With a matching set to yours?! Oh my god, kill me now. I can already hear "Jesus Loves me this I know..." playing in the background. God, do you believe the crap you actually dish out? If my adult kid EVER came to me with a matching workout gear I'd bitch slap him and send him out for pizza. Extra cheese, bizzatch!
Dear Harri...Trickster:
I can't stand my boyfriend's friends. I believe that they are a bad influence on him, and I really would rather he stop interacting with them. I know that him leaving his group of friends to please me does not sound like a realistic desire, but I know his friends are involved in troubling things, and I would hate to see my boyfriend get blamed because what they do.
--- Nancy, Baltimore, Md.
Dear Nancy,
Funny that your name is Nancy, because you obviously want your boyfriend to be a little nancy-boy! "I believe they are a bad influence on him" translates to my testosterone-saturated mind as "that's time he should be spending with ME, not them!" You little shrew you. Here's the deal - you may not be ASKING him to leave his friends for you, but you're obviously THINKING it and probably even hinted at it. What "troubling things" are his friends involved in, other than trashing your skanky over-controlling high-maintenance ass every chance they get? Let me guess, I bet you call him every half hour when he's out with the boys, "just to make sure he's okay and when is he coming home?" Here's my advice. Leave him, because otherwise he's going to leave you - and he'll do it once he's found some other chick to bang, cuz let's face it as long as you're dishing out the coochie he's still thinking it's worth listening to your nagging ass if it'll get him some. Once he's found a new honey pot, babe, you're out the door - so you may as well cut the chains you're forging now and move on. Find yourself a meek little sub to dominate and you'll live a happpier life, trust me.
Well. I certainly feel better, don't you?
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Power At the Flick of a Wrist
Cheesy-but-cool factor alert.
The United Nations, along with MIT, have developed a $100 hand-cranked laptop, which they hope to distribute among the world's poor schoolchildren.
Hand. Cranked. Laptop. For $100.
Intel, not surprisingly, is somewhat against this project. They believe "the world's poor would not want the $100 "gadget", since it will have a limited range of programs and capabilities."
Lemme tell you something, Intel. *I* want this gadget. It's cheap. It's tacky looking. But fuck man, it's a crankable computer!!!
I want to take this baby, dressed in my bohemian finest, down to the Astor Place Starbucks in the East Village. I want to order my mocha, plop down and start cranking away. And you know what?
I bet - BET - I'll be the most popular guy in the place. Because everyone will want one, just for the novelty of seeing what it can do.
Hell, often all I'm doing is going to sit and write. If this thing has USB capability and a long power life - and depending on just how much cranking I have to do - I'd gladly get this puppy! I'd trick out the casing with paint and decals, and be the belle of the ball, man!
Admit it. You know you want one too.
The United Nations, along with MIT, have developed a $100 hand-cranked laptop, which they hope to distribute among the world's poor schoolchildren.
Hand. Cranked. Laptop. For $100.
Intel, not surprisingly, is somewhat against this project. They believe "the world's poor would not want the $100 "gadget", since it will have a limited range of programs and capabilities."
Lemme tell you something, Intel. *I* want this gadget. It's cheap. It's tacky looking. But fuck man, it's a crankable computer!!!
I want to take this baby, dressed in my bohemian finest, down to the Astor Place Starbucks in the East Village. I want to order my mocha, plop down and start cranking away. And you know what?
I bet - BET - I'll be the most popular guy in the place. Because everyone will want one, just for the novelty of seeing what it can do.
Hell, often all I'm doing is going to sit and write. If this thing has USB capability and a long power life - and depending on just how much cranking I have to do - I'd gladly get this puppy! I'd trick out the casing with paint and decals, and be the belle of the ball, man!
Admit it. You know you want one too.
Chips Ahoy!
What is it with you Brooklynites and chocolate all of a sudden?
Earlier this month, a freighter hauling 800,000lbs of cocoa beans tipped over (!), dunking the raw chocolate into the East River.
Now...we all know the East River isn't exactly the cleanest in the country. To say the least. But you have to wonder how a freighter manages to capsize just within sight of the pier in a major harbor, and - most importantly - what became of the chocolate?
I know there are strange people who actually fish off the East River. Which, if you're that hungry for mutagenic fish, should make for some interesting dinner table displays. Who needs candles when your fish glows in the dark, right? But now I'm wondering...did the fish that week have a distinctive cocoa flavor? Was there, by chance, a freight container of marshmellos on that ship? Cuz that would have really enhanced the water's flavor.
Going with the chocolate theme, just last week the Port Authority has refused to allow another chocolate freighter to dock. The pier operator, American Stevedoring, has - according to the Port Authority - overbooked themselves, and are asking the PA to allow the ship to dock at another port. Which they're saying no to.
I personally think they're hoping this boat will capsize too, raising the chocolate content of the East River. Then the Port Authority can start selling off bottled East River water ("it glows!") with new Choco-Power flavor, adding some mainstream appeal.
I can already see those little Ooompa Loompas in wetsuits, doing a water ballet in the chocolate river.
Okay that might have been...
...wait for it...
...in slightly poor taste. Hah!
Earlier this month, a freighter hauling 800,000lbs of cocoa beans tipped over (!), dunking the raw chocolate into the East River.
Now...we all know the East River isn't exactly the cleanest in the country. To say the least. But you have to wonder how a freighter manages to capsize just within sight of the pier in a major harbor, and - most importantly - what became of the chocolate?
I know there are strange people who actually fish off the East River. Which, if you're that hungry for mutagenic fish, should make for some interesting dinner table displays. Who needs candles when your fish glows in the dark, right? But now I'm wondering...did the fish that week have a distinctive cocoa flavor? Was there, by chance, a freight container of marshmellos on that ship? Cuz that would have really enhanced the water's flavor.
Going with the chocolate theme, just last week the Port Authority has refused to allow another chocolate freighter to dock. The pier operator, American Stevedoring, has - according to the Port Authority - overbooked themselves, and are asking the PA to allow the ship to dock at another port. Which they're saying no to.
I personally think they're hoping this boat will capsize too, raising the chocolate content of the East River. Then the Port Authority can start selling off bottled East River water ("it glows!") with new Choco-Power flavor, adding some mainstream appeal.
I can already see those little Ooompa Loompas in wetsuits, doing a water ballet in the chocolate river.
Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-do
I have a perfect puzzle for you
Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-dee
If you are wise, you'll listen to me
What do you get when the water is sweet?
When fish-on-a-stick is a chocolaty treat?
Maybe this is all just a terrorist act
Using chocolate in the water so we'll be lazy and fat?
Okay that might have been...
...wait for it...
...in slightly poor taste. Hah!
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Underworld: Confusion
Spoiler alert. You've been warned.
This second installment of what I'm now hoping to be a two-part series is, by my reckoning, a more story-driven continuation of the first vampire vs. lycan movie. Which you'd think would be an improvement.
Don't get me wrong, the movie didn't suck - but why did I walk away with my brain hurting from trying to understand the convoluted logic?
Here's about the most sense I could make of it. Apparently, the now-dead vampire (dead? he's already dead, what is he now?) Victor was not the first vampire. I'm guessing he was the second.
The first is Marcus, who was buried in the monogrammed sewer grate that the vampire guard conveniently spilled his lifeblood into, effectively giving the now-awakened Marcus the 411 on what's been happening with his coven.
Incidently, folks - a coven is for witches. Not vampires. But I guess they wanted to steer clear of the word "clan", lest the lawyers at White Wolf gear up for Round 2.
Okay whatever. Marcus wakes up, blah blah we find out that he's numero uno, the Alpha, the Big Bang. And his brother William is the first werewolf, the lycans.
Now believe it or not, I'm okay with this. It has a very Romulus/Remus, Cain/Abel kind of feel to it. I can groove on this.
But there's where the logic ends. How did they become lycan and vamp?
They got bitten by a bat, and a wolf, respectively.
This is what we call a What The Fuck moment. Or a WTF.
Not a magic bat, or a magic wolf. No. We don't even get an explanation.
You see, their daddy-o - Alexander (not the Great) - was an Immortal.
What kind of immortal? WE DON'T KNOW! How did he become an immortal? WE DON'T KNOW!
I'm making a leap of faith and assuming he got in with some bad mojo, and the heebie-jeebies passed down to his little rugrats. Somehow. Assuming they were born after. Which makes you wonder what the mamma was. But I digress.
So. Papa was a rolling...immortal. And his kiddies picked up the X-gene, and were bitten by a radioactive bat and a radioactive wolf, and became Batman and Wolverine.
Then Wolverine went off and started biting everything that moved. I guess because he was teething, and couldn't find his favorite chew toy. Bad William! Bad!
Okay so Marcus sits back for...who knows how long. Let boys be boys, I guess he figured; little brother wasn't his responsibility. Not like Daddy was doing anything about it. But then he gets a guilty conscience.
So Marcus goes and finds Victor, who's like 105 years old and on his deathbed. Except he was like some king, or warlord, or vegas casino owner - cuz he's a transylvanian version of a capo, and has an entire army outside his castle waiting around doing nothing. Kind of like Homeland Security.
Anyways. Marcus tells Victor "hey...I'll bite you, make you a really, really old-ass immortal...and you bite your entire army, turn them into slaves who'll follow you into death (hah!), and then you can hunt down my brother and his pups for me."
"But don't hurt him."
Surrrrrree, Marcus. Whatever you say buddy. Now make with the fangs already, cuz I'm seeing that white light thing and I ain't goin' out like that!
Explain this to me, would you folks? Why did he need Victor? Why not just go bite the army himself? I mean, it's what I woulda done. Cut out the middle man. Sheesh. Some people just don't know how to shop.
Okay, jump ahead a billion years or so. Victor kills Selene's family, bites the girl (wouldn't you?), she's part of the family now, blah blah. Marcus is out, William is sealed up like King Tut.
What about Daddy Alexander? He's off playing Captain Nemo. Or Sky Captain in the World of Tomorrow, I couldn't really tell.
Yes Virginia, Daddy's alive. Cuz he IS an immortal. And he's been roaming around with a really high-tech team of uber-ninjas who I shall name the Pooper Scoopers. Cuz that's all they really do.
Whatever.
Needless to say, kids are too much for Daddy. In his dying breath, he has Selene drink of his blood, eat of his flesh, and the way to the kingdom of heaven...
Sorry. She drinks, cuz he's the oldest living immortal. Which, if you think about it, is kind of a dumb statement - cuz is there a dead immortal who's older? And does it matter, even if they are?
She drinks. She becomes...what? Ummm...we don't know. Cuz we don't know what Daddy Alexander is. Except she's stronger, we know that much. Just enough to beat up on Marcus, nice and easy if you pleasy.
Who writes this shit anyway?
I have a theory. Alexander is really a Highlander. And Selene will now have to go around killing all the other vampires and lycans. Why?
Because there can be only one.
This second installment of what I'm now hoping to be a two-part series is, by my reckoning, a more story-driven continuation of the first vampire vs. lycan movie. Which you'd think would be an improvement.
Don't get me wrong, the movie didn't suck - but why did I walk away with my brain hurting from trying to understand the convoluted logic?
Here's about the most sense I could make of it. Apparently, the now-dead vampire (dead? he's already dead, what is he now?) Victor was not the first vampire. I'm guessing he was the second.
The first is Marcus, who was buried in the monogrammed sewer grate that the vampire guard conveniently spilled his lifeblood into, effectively giving the now-awakened Marcus the 411 on what's been happening with his coven.
Incidently, folks - a coven is for witches. Not vampires. But I guess they wanted to steer clear of the word "clan", lest the lawyers at White Wolf gear up for Round 2.
Okay whatever. Marcus wakes up, blah blah we find out that he's numero uno, the Alpha, the Big Bang. And his brother William is the first werewolf, the lycans.
Now believe it or not, I'm okay with this. It has a very Romulus/Remus, Cain/Abel kind of feel to it. I can groove on this.
But there's where the logic ends. How did they become lycan and vamp?
They got bitten by a bat, and a wolf, respectively.
This is what we call a What The Fuck moment. Or a WTF.
Not a magic bat, or a magic wolf. No. We don't even get an explanation.
You see, their daddy-o - Alexander (not the Great) - was an Immortal.
What kind of immortal? WE DON'T KNOW! How did he become an immortal? WE DON'T KNOW!
I'm making a leap of faith and assuming he got in with some bad mojo, and the heebie-jeebies passed down to his little rugrats. Somehow. Assuming they were born after. Which makes you wonder what the mamma was. But I digress.
So. Papa was a rolling...immortal. And his kiddies picked up the X-gene, and were bitten by a radioactive bat and a radioactive wolf, and became Batman and Wolverine.
Then Wolverine went off and started biting everything that moved. I guess because he was teething, and couldn't find his favorite chew toy. Bad William! Bad!
Okay so Marcus sits back for...who knows how long. Let boys be boys, I guess he figured; little brother wasn't his responsibility. Not like Daddy was doing anything about it. But then he gets a guilty conscience.
So Marcus goes and finds Victor, who's like 105 years old and on his deathbed. Except he was like some king, or warlord, or vegas casino owner - cuz he's a transylvanian version of a capo, and has an entire army outside his castle waiting around doing nothing. Kind of like Homeland Security.
Anyways. Marcus tells Victor "hey...I'll bite you, make you a really, really old-ass immortal...and you bite your entire army, turn them into slaves who'll follow you into death (hah!), and then you can hunt down my brother and his pups for me."
"But don't hurt him."
Surrrrrree, Marcus. Whatever you say buddy. Now make with the fangs already, cuz I'm seeing that white light thing and I ain't goin' out like that!
Explain this to me, would you folks? Why did he need Victor? Why not just go bite the army himself? I mean, it's what I woulda done. Cut out the middle man. Sheesh. Some people just don't know how to shop.
Okay, jump ahead a billion years or so. Victor kills Selene's family, bites the girl (wouldn't you?), she's part of the family now, blah blah. Marcus is out, William is sealed up like King Tut.
What about Daddy Alexander? He's off playing Captain Nemo. Or Sky Captain in the World of Tomorrow, I couldn't really tell.
Yes Virginia, Daddy's alive. Cuz he IS an immortal. And he's been roaming around with a really high-tech team of uber-ninjas who I shall name the Pooper Scoopers. Cuz that's all they really do.
Whatever.
Needless to say, kids are too much for Daddy. In his dying breath, he has Selene drink of his blood, eat of his flesh, and the way to the kingdom of heaven...
Sorry. She drinks, cuz he's the oldest living immortal. Which, if you think about it, is kind of a dumb statement - cuz is there a dead immortal who's older? And does it matter, even if they are?
She drinks. She becomes...what? Ummm...we don't know. Cuz we don't know what Daddy Alexander is. Except she's stronger, we know that much. Just enough to beat up on Marcus, nice and easy if you pleasy.
Who writes this shit anyway?
I have a theory. Alexander is really a Highlander. And Selene will now have to go around killing all the other vampires and lycans. Why?
Because there can be only one.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Lights, Camera, Action!
It looks like I'm about to take that plunge into the world of cinema magic.
I just need to learn how to actually film. And produce. Maybe direct, too.
At least I've got a camera.
I won't get into the hows of the acquisition of this camera; it's enough for me to say that there, but for the grace of the gods, go I. I'm always in search of a new medium to tell stories with; writing, programming, art. Now video. And occasionally, just occasionally, the gods see fit to provide me with the tools I need to explore these new mediums.
I know diddly about film, except to know what I like and what I don't. I've watched enough Project Greenlight to know that film production isn't anywhere as easy as every Joe with a vidcam may believe it is, and I want to take this seriously. So, I've started looking into film classes. Just enough to give me an idea of what I need to know, and go from there.
The Learning Annex has a class that interests me (and I may take), but I'm a little apprehensive. The person teaching the class, one Dov S-S Simens (that's how it's spelled, folks), seems to be one of those "them that can't do...teach" types, so I'm concerned. His film credits on IMDB include a "thanks" in the credits on a 1998 film "17 and Under", and a cameo as himself in an industry movie "Fever Pitch" in 2001.
Oh, and if you pass the class you get a "Producer's Diploma", whatever the hell that means. I'm sure it'll open a whole lotta Hollywood doors.
But perhaps I don't give this guy enough credit. He does seem to be a "name" in the film industry, right up there with Michael Moore. Except Michael Moore actually made a few films.
I'm way too cynical NOT to be in this industry.
I just need to learn how to actually film. And produce. Maybe direct, too.
At least I've got a camera.
I won't get into the hows of the acquisition of this camera; it's enough for me to say that there, but for the grace of the gods, go I. I'm always in search of a new medium to tell stories with; writing, programming, art. Now video. And occasionally, just occasionally, the gods see fit to provide me with the tools I need to explore these new mediums.
I know diddly about film, except to know what I like and what I don't. I've watched enough Project Greenlight to know that film production isn't anywhere as easy as every Joe with a vidcam may believe it is, and I want to take this seriously. So, I've started looking into film classes. Just enough to give me an idea of what I need to know, and go from there.
The Learning Annex has a class that interests me (and I may take), but I'm a little apprehensive. The person teaching the class, one Dov S-S Simens (that's how it's spelled, folks), seems to be one of those "them that can't do...teach" types, so I'm concerned. His film credits on IMDB include a "thanks" in the credits on a 1998 film "17 and Under", and a cameo as himself in an industry movie "Fever Pitch" in 2001.
Oh, and if you pass the class you get a "Producer's Diploma", whatever the hell that means. I'm sure it'll open a whole lotta Hollywood doors.
But perhaps I don't give this guy enough credit. He does seem to be a "name" in the film industry, right up there with Michael Moore. Except Michael Moore actually made a few films.
I'm way too cynical NOT to be in this industry.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
You Call Yourself A Guy?
So. I was leaving the building at work a while ago, getting my starbucks fix. We've got the big revolving doors in the entranceway, you know the type. There are three of us; the one up front is an associate at my firm, I think a 4th year.
He gets into the revolving door...and stops. I see his hand go up to - I shit you not - TOUCH the door, but he's very obviously not pushing it. He's waiting for the person behind him - not me, lucky for him - to push it for him.
Prick.
I get annoyed when I see women do this. I'm happy to push the door for you, but for gods' sake women - make the attempt at least. The door has to get around to where I can push it first; it doesn't move on it's own.
But for a guy to do it? Pathetic.
Last time I saw someone try that crap with me, I made an abrupt turn and went through the regular doors to the side. The look on his face was priceless; he was actually annoyed at ME for not pushing the door behind him.
Dumb asses.
He gets into the revolving door...and stops. I see his hand go up to - I shit you not - TOUCH the door, but he's very obviously not pushing it. He's waiting for the person behind him - not me, lucky for him - to push it for him.
Prick.
I get annoyed when I see women do this. I'm happy to push the door for you, but for gods' sake women - make the attempt at least. The door has to get around to where I can push it first; it doesn't move on it's own.
But for a guy to do it? Pathetic.
Last time I saw someone try that crap with me, I made an abrupt turn and went through the regular doors to the side. The look on his face was priceless; he was actually annoyed at ME for not pushing the door behind him.
Dumb asses.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
My Card, Sir
What is it about a business card that makes you seem official? Even when you're not?
I got my business cards in the mail today, which is a pretty funny development considering I have absolutely no product to promote. Yet.
But it looks good, doesn't it? Forgive the poor image quality; trust me when I say the card itself looks much better.
Being an old man and far too well read for my own good (and modest, too!), I decided on a "title" for myself, within my non-existant company, that reflected the idea that I do pretty much everything. Since it's only me, you understand. There's an old book/movie, very pre-Grisham, about espionage in British Intelligence: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Good story.
Anyway, I figured that simple sing-song phrase pretty much summed up the idea that I do everything. And it sounded much more interesting than "Creative Director", "Owner", or "Big Chief Mucky Mucky".
Sadly, no one has a clue what it means. You neophytes, you.
So now: I have a business card. I'm rebuilding the web site, and thanks to the discovery of mouseover/image swapping (one day I'll actually take a class on this java/dhtml stuff), it's looking pretty damned good if I say so myself.
And I just did. So there.
I got my business cards in the mail today, which is a pretty funny development considering I have absolutely no product to promote. Yet.
But it looks good, doesn't it? Forgive the poor image quality; trust me when I say the card itself looks much better.
Being an old man and far too well read for my own good (and modest, too!), I decided on a "title" for myself, within my non-existant company, that reflected the idea that I do pretty much everything. Since it's only me, you understand. There's an old book/movie, very pre-Grisham, about espionage in British Intelligence: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Good story.
Anyway, I figured that simple sing-song phrase pretty much summed up the idea that I do everything. And it sounded much more interesting than "Creative Director", "Owner", or "Big Chief Mucky Mucky".
Sadly, no one has a clue what it means. You neophytes, you.
So now: I have a business card. I'm rebuilding the web site, and thanks to the discovery of mouseover/image swapping (one day I'll actually take a class on this java/dhtml stuff), it's looking pretty damned good if I say so myself.
And I just did. So there.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
I Thought You Knew Me
My conversation, ordering for lunch today:
her: Thank you for coming to McDonalds, what would you like?
me: I'll take a #9 (10pc nugget)
her: Coke?
me: No, Hi-C Orange
her: Super size?
me: No, medium
her: BBQ Sauce?
me: Only if you have Chipotle.
She didn't bother asking me if I wanted an apple pie with my meal. I guess she figured she just didn't know me as well as she thought she did.
her: Thank you for coming to McDonalds, what would you like?
me: I'll take a #9 (10pc nugget)
her: Coke?
me: No, Hi-C Orange
her: Super size?
me: No, medium
her: BBQ Sauce?
me: Only if you have Chipotle.
She didn't bother asking me if I wanted an apple pie with my meal. I guess she figured she just didn't know me as well as she thought she did.
Monday, January 16, 2006
We Have Nada III
I don't know what it is about that Gamefly commercial that cracks me up every single time, but it strikes something in me and I can't help but laugh each time I see it.
If you don't know what I mean, it's the commercial for the rent-by-mail videogame company, a la Netflix. Two people walk into a video store, there are only a few games on the rack. "Watching Paint Dry", names like that. Boring. So the guy goes up to the counter, upset. "You guys never have anything! You've got zip, zilch, nada!"
The sales clerk - off camera, reaches out with a game cartridge and says, very enthusiastically:
"We have Nada 3!"
Funny stuff.
Which sort of reminds me of my local hardware store. It has to be the only store I've been in with shelves full of nothing. I mean, this place is stuffed full in every single nook and cranny; old boxes, cartons, shelves, trays, racks full of stuff. It's a total mom and pop operation.
But every single time I go in there looking for something, they're either out of it, never had it or don't know what I'm talking about.
They're locksmiths, and - I shit you not - I went in there to have copies of my keys made. Know what they told me?
"We have Nada 3!"
Close enough. "Oh, we don't have that kind of key. Or that one."
?!?!
That's some valuable real estate they're taking up. I could have a Starbucks in walking distance, but no - I'm stuck with Zilch. Zip. Nada.
If you don't know what I mean, it's the commercial for the rent-by-mail videogame company, a la Netflix. Two people walk into a video store, there are only a few games on the rack. "Watching Paint Dry", names like that. Boring. So the guy goes up to the counter, upset. "You guys never have anything! You've got zip, zilch, nada!"
The sales clerk - off camera, reaches out with a game cartridge and says, very enthusiastically:
"We have Nada 3!"
Funny stuff.
Which sort of reminds me of my local hardware store. It has to be the only store I've been in with shelves full of nothing. I mean, this place is stuffed full in every single nook and cranny; old boxes, cartons, shelves, trays, racks full of stuff. It's a total mom and pop operation.
But every single time I go in there looking for something, they're either out of it, never had it or don't know what I'm talking about.
They're locksmiths, and - I shit you not - I went in there to have copies of my keys made. Know what they told me?
"We have Nada 3!"
Close enough. "Oh, we don't have that kind of key. Or that one."
?!?!
That's some valuable real estate they're taking up. I could have a Starbucks in walking distance, but no - I'm stuck with Zilch. Zip. Nada.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Chutzpah
Slight rant here.
Had an ex call me up, and I'm somewhat notorious for still being friends with ex's. It's all good. But this one recently pissed me off, I'd cut her off for my own good - realized I was partially mad for different reasons so eventually let her know I'm not hatin', but just don't see us staying close. No problem. This was...maybe about 2 months ago.
I just got a phone call from her. She's looking for a new job, and wanted me to know she's using me as a reference. In and of itself, this isn't really a problem.
But I haven't heard from this chick since our conversation. Which means: no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no New Years. No birthday, which was just last week.
So my immediate response was, "You're using me as a reference, and you actually WANT the job?!"
Chuckle chuckle. Wink wink nudge.
A little more chit-chat as she gets my work address for her records, which is fine - because I have no intention of answering the phone when they call. But then, after considerable silence and grunts on my part, she goes:
"So...how was your birthday?"
Why ask? Really? Because it's not like you said "hey, happy belated birthday by the way...how was it?" Don't ask me how it was if you can't even wish me one! At least have the common decency to do it BEFORE you ask me for a favor!
Yeah. Good luck with the job interview. Hope you've got some other references handy.
Had an ex call me up, and I'm somewhat notorious for still being friends with ex's. It's all good. But this one recently pissed me off, I'd cut her off for my own good - realized I was partially mad for different reasons so eventually let her know I'm not hatin', but just don't see us staying close. No problem. This was...maybe about 2 months ago.
I just got a phone call from her. She's looking for a new job, and wanted me to know she's using me as a reference. In and of itself, this isn't really a problem.
But I haven't heard from this chick since our conversation. Which means: no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no New Years. No birthday, which was just last week.
So my immediate response was, "You're using me as a reference, and you actually WANT the job?!"
Chuckle chuckle. Wink wink nudge.
A little more chit-chat as she gets my work address for her records, which is fine - because I have no intention of answering the phone when they call. But then, after considerable silence and grunts on my part, she goes:
"So...how was your birthday?"
Why ask? Really? Because it's not like you said "hey, happy belated birthday by the way...how was it?" Don't ask me how it was if you can't even wish me one! At least have the common decency to do it BEFORE you ask me for a favor!
Yeah. Good luck with the job interview. Hope you've got some other references handy.
I Would Not Eat Them With a Fox
Now here's something to be proud of. Apparently, Taiwan has announced their success at breeding FLOURESCENT GREEN PIGS, which they hope will aid them in development of stem cell research.
Day-glo pigs, people.
"There are partially fluorescent green pigs elsewhere, but ours are the only ones in the world that are green from inside out. Even their hearts and internal organs are green," professor Wu Shinn-Chih of the National Taiwan University's Institute and Department of Animal Science and Technology said on Thursday.
Glowing, green pigs. Why am I the only one who has a problem with this concept?
Now I'm just waiting for the matching chickens.
I do not like Green Eggs and Ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am.
Day-glo pigs, people.
"There are partially fluorescent green pigs elsewhere, but ours are the only ones in the world that are green from inside out. Even their hearts and internal organs are green," professor Wu Shinn-Chih of the National Taiwan University's Institute and Department of Animal Science and Technology said on Thursday.
Glowing, green pigs. Why am I the only one who has a problem with this concept?
Now I'm just waiting for the matching chickens.
I do not like Green Eggs and Ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
My Stars Say:
Capricorn
Yeah. What they said.
Daily singles love (by Astrology.com)
It's tough to find someone to share your life with and still keep sight of who you are and your goals. It's not that you're impossible to please, it's just that you know what you're looking for.
Yeah. What they said.
The Grim Reader
Now, I've heard a few strange and odd things in my time, but the news article a friend forwarded to me tops them all.
Apparently a number of this country's finest institutions - Brown University and Harvard among them - have in their possession books. Books, that are bound in human skin.
Hu. Man. Skinnnnnnn.
Ya'll think I'm shitting you, don't you? I know you do. This is classic "get the fuck out of here" response moment. Go ahead, have yours. I had mine.
Get this. Centuries past (which sounds oddly like "Once upon a time"), the best libraries belonged to private collectors. Some were doctors who had access to skin from amputated parts and patients whose bodies had gone unclaimed. In other cases, wealthy bibliophiles acquired skin from executed criminals, medical school cadavers and people who died in the poor house.
I need to explain something first, because I KNOW you're thinking: sick occult would-be witch mofo's! Evil! Evvillllll!
Wrong. These weren't copies of the Necronomicron, or the Satanic Bible, or the Republican Charter and Bylaws. No, these were medical books. Dr. Frankenstein, eat your heart out! (just, you know, not literally!)
The College of Physicians of Philadelphia has some books bound by Dr. John Stockton Hough, who diagnosed the city's first case of trichinosis. He used that patient's skin to bind three of the volumes.
...why...?!?!
Brown's John Hay Library has three books bound in human skin — the 1568 anatomy text by the Belgian surgeon Andreas Vesalius, and two 19th-century editions of "The Dance of Death," a medieval morality tale.
One copy of "The Dance of Death" was rebound in 1893 by Joseph Zaehnsdorf, a master binder in London. A note to his client reports that he did not have enough skin and had to split it. The front cover, bound in the outer layer of skin, has a slightly bumpy texture, like soft sandpaper. The spine and back cover, made from the inner layer, feel like suede.
"The Dance of Death" is about how death prevails over all, rich or poor. As with many other skin-bound volumes, "there was some tie-in with the content of the book," said Sam Streit, director of the John Hay Library.
This is some serious Michael Jackson level of sick shit, ain't it? But I gotta tell ya...it gives me some ideas!
No hear me out - what better way to have my remains, umm, interred, than in a book? Get this: before I die, I write up my own memoirs. Who cares, I'll make shit up and make myself sound good. It'll be a fictional autobiography; I mean, who wants people reading about boring crap I did when I'm dead? I mean to entertain folks!
So I write up my own memoirs, and have copies of the book BOUND IN MY OWN SKIN!!! How fuckingly awesome is that?
Wait, there's more!
Then, at my funeral, I'll have copies of my autobiography given out to all my special friends! That would be so cool! I mean, there you are, curled up in bed at night, reading a book about myself that I wrote...and every time you touch the book cover, it'll be as if I'm there in the room with you! What stronger declaration of friendship is there, then to be there with you even after I'm dead?
And...this is so great, there's precedent for this! hahah! The Boston Athenaeum, a private library, has an 1837 copy of George Walton's memoirs bound in his own skin. Walton was a highwayman — a robber who specialized in ambushing travelers — and left the volume to one of his victims.
So the next time you're in an old bookstore and start admiring the soft, supple feel of the leather-bound volume in your hands...think about this.
It might just be touching you back.
Apparently a number of this country's finest institutions - Brown University and Harvard among them - have in their possession books. Books, that are bound in human skin.
Hu. Man. Skinnnnnnn.
Ya'll think I'm shitting you, don't you? I know you do. This is classic "get the fuck out of here" response moment. Go ahead, have yours. I had mine.
Get this. Centuries past (which sounds oddly like "Once upon a time"), the best libraries belonged to private collectors. Some were doctors who had access to skin from amputated parts and patients whose bodies had gone unclaimed. In other cases, wealthy bibliophiles acquired skin from executed criminals, medical school cadavers and people who died in the poor house.
I need to explain something first, because I KNOW you're thinking: sick occult would-be witch mofo's! Evil! Evvillllll!
Wrong. These weren't copies of the Necronomicron, or the Satanic Bible, or the Republican Charter and Bylaws. No, these were medical books. Dr. Frankenstein, eat your heart out! (just, you know, not literally!)
The College of Physicians of Philadelphia has some books bound by Dr. John Stockton Hough, who diagnosed the city's first case of trichinosis. He used that patient's skin to bind three of the volumes.
...why...?!?!
Brown's John Hay Library has three books bound in human skin — the 1568 anatomy text by the Belgian surgeon Andreas Vesalius, and two 19th-century editions of "The Dance of Death," a medieval morality tale.
One copy of "The Dance of Death" was rebound in 1893 by Joseph Zaehnsdorf, a master binder in London. A note to his client reports that he did not have enough skin and had to split it. The front cover, bound in the outer layer of skin, has a slightly bumpy texture, like soft sandpaper. The spine and back cover, made from the inner layer, feel like suede.
"The Dance of Death" is about how death prevails over all, rich or poor. As with many other skin-bound volumes, "there was some tie-in with the content of the book," said Sam Streit, director of the John Hay Library.
This is some serious Michael Jackson level of sick shit, ain't it? But I gotta tell ya...it gives me some ideas!
No hear me out - what better way to have my remains, umm, interred, than in a book? Get this: before I die, I write up my own memoirs. Who cares, I'll make shit up and make myself sound good. It'll be a fictional autobiography; I mean, who wants people reading about boring crap I did when I'm dead? I mean to entertain folks!
So I write up my own memoirs, and have copies of the book BOUND IN MY OWN SKIN!!! How fuckingly awesome is that?
Wait, there's more!
Then, at my funeral, I'll have copies of my autobiography given out to all my special friends! That would be so cool! I mean, there you are, curled up in bed at night, reading a book about myself that I wrote...and every time you touch the book cover, it'll be as if I'm there in the room with you! What stronger declaration of friendship is there, then to be there with you even after I'm dead?
And...this is so great, there's precedent for this! hahah! The Boston Athenaeum, a private library, has an 1837 copy of George Walton's memoirs bound in his own skin. Walton was a highwayman — a robber who specialized in ambushing travelers — and left the volume to one of his victims.
So the next time you're in an old bookstore and start admiring the soft, supple feel of the leather-bound volume in your hands...think about this.
It might just be touching you back.
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