It took a Japanese cartoon

to make me love music again. For anyone who has ever shown the slightest interest in anime, BECK (no relation to the musician) is a must see. I point to an English fansite because it might be more useful for folk who don't speak Japanese. Also, I got the fansubs through Anime-Empire, who appear to do an excellent job.

What I like about BECK: first of all, I know everyone in it. The gifted guitar hero. The shy geek with hidden talent. The goofy friends, the aggressive hot girl, meathead bullies, all of them. Hell, there are even shades of my dad in the insane guitar/swimming teacher Saitou-san. The characters are so real, for the most part, that you can't help but connect with them almost immediately.

Second, it's a story about rock and roll, written by and for people who obviously love the music. They love it in a way that we no longer do. Exploring this soundtrack and a number of other rock bands from Japan, I'm pretty convinced that the best rock no longer comes from America. In fact, we've probably been behind the UK for some time since the mid-90's saw the demise of Kurt Cobain. (Did he ever wonder how often his name would be written when he was gone? Probably not.) But bands like the pillows are better than just about anything on the radio these days, at least, those radio networks that play new music. Apparently, now many of them are robotic as well, which further eliminates the possibility of good NEW rock being played to radio listeners.

Third, it's a beautifully told story about life, one boy's in particular, but also the lives of everyone around him. There are no space battles, no giant robots, no killer cyber-brains, and none of the fake raunchy Capital D Drama that we pass off as storytelling in most of our television shows. For twenty-six twenty minute slices of time, I lived another life.

That is storytelling. Plus, I totally fell in love with the lead female character. Well, not really, but I wanted to.


Holy Hell

I've discovered the AZN. The Asian Something Network on our digital cable package. There was just a commercial for the Circus Circus in Las Vegas, and it's the kind of thing that could only work in countries that are not this one. Or at least, on people that have not read H. S. Thompson, and who do not know the true story of that hideous pig hideaway.

This network is something else, though. It's like someone took all the surface duds of American pop culture, changed the names and the basic facial bone structures, and spun it back out in a subdued MTV format. There's a short film on called That Mischevious Ravi. The family store is called 7-Food. All the commercials on the network are American except for the all Asian cast. Even the fracking car commercials. Ford is releasing cars in other markets that they're not releasing here! Jeebus!

What's it been, like a month? And this is what inspires me to write?


We are watching

the airline industry collapse. There are some factors, such as poor business planning, that are entirely within the ability of airlines to correct. There are others, such as fuel prices, the cost of jet fuel, and the expense of fueling their jets, that are beyond anyones ability to change in the foreseeable future.

That's why I'm going home again this winter. I'll fly to Colorado, then drive to California with me Pops, and I will soak in every last detail of my journey because it may well be the last one I ever take.

Call me pessimistic. Ticket prices are already more expensive this year than they have been, and we're still months away from the peak travel season. Perhaps the airlines will make one last major push to drop prices in order to convince people to jet across the country for the holidays, but it seriously may be the last. All the romance of airline terminals and pressurized cabins and baggage claims will be gone within our lifetimes, and in the shorter term they will become unavailable to most Americans (especially as the rich-poor wage gap continues to widen due to high energy costs).

Speaking of high energy costs, I picked up a small space heater for this winter, and it's already proven it's worth. My room is easily the poorest-insulated in the house, yet it is many degrees warmer than any other. I'll be adding plastic insulation, replacing bulbs with CFLs, and buying a "Draft Dodger" or two (cute little draft socks that sit below the door). What bothers me now, that I just realised, is that the attitude most people are taking is that Yes, this winter will be Diffficult, but things will Get Better. There is little sense that our NG crisis is permanent, or that we are on the cusp of the post-carbon-energy era. For myself, I can't shake the feeling that a door is closing, rapidly, and that by the next springtime our reality will have been severely altered.


A Powerful Funk

Settled on my brow this evening. It was one of those infamous Grey Days in Pittsburgh, when no rain fell, no sun shone, and the wind was just cold enough to remind you that summer has ended. My professor for history writing has serious doubts about my ability to pull enough research for my term paper, and I know that he is justified. As a part of my reasearch on cold war era SAM silos I watched the documentary "Fog of War" about Rob MacNamera, and it was useless for my topic but tragically fascinating for my inner Historian. He sat in front of the camera and with almost reptilian calm discussed the war that we never fought, the one in which 58,000 Americans died because of a lack of understanding, and it made me depressed and fearful because we are so obviously repeating the same mistakes all over again.

I told my friend Wonko that the neat thing about history is that you can tell who's learned from it. The unfortunate corollary is that you can tell pretty damned easy who has not learned from it, and this would include just about everyone in politics today. We're living through a massive tragedy that never had to happen.

The walk home always gets me down too. There are too many people, for one, and almost no human beings. Cigarette smoke gets puffed at you, sluts yell insult-greetings across the crowded streets, crazy people mumble at ghosts and ask you for change. You have to detour around half-dried vomit-splatters.

I took a route through a hospital parking lot, following a pair of flighty dancers chatting about who did this and who said that. We all pass a mother and two children sobbing on a sidewalk corner, yelling No! and Oh my God... I felt the same tears in my eyes, and suddenly all the desires I had for relaxing the rest of the night seem selfish in the face of whatever loss they'd suffered. I didn't know them, but I loved them.

Then I walked through a gang of thuggish teenagers on a street corner just outside my house and it made me want to tear and rend the world. Don't they know people are suffering?

As I walked up to my door I saw that my Netflix DVDs had arrived, three red bundles of fantasy. So I could spend the rest of the night escaping.


Proof #397

that Macs are easier to use than Windows PCs:

I got a Razr when I re-upped with my cell service. This is slightly ironic since I'm the kind of guy who guards my phone number with almost the same zeal as I guard my SSN. Point being, I'm not the type to be using it very much, but it was free and every gadget geek is obligated to acquire the most awesome hardware he can.

I was under the impression from the reviews on the Internets that it would be possible to use MP3 ringtones and customise the display with my own pictures and so forth, by downloading them from my computer. The Razr has both a standard USB port and Bluetooth, and since Ruri is an older iBook and didn't come with Bluetooth, I thought it might be possible to use the cable to transfer da goods.

Silly human. iSync will work with calendars and address books, but not simple file transfers. So I went on a search for some software that would let me do it with a Windows laptop, since we have a bunch of those at work and I could possess one temporarily. After ONE HOUR of downloading software that said it would work then didn't, searching Motorola's help site and dozens of other cell phone sites and trying to find the drivers, all I could get was a form for buying, at $29.99, the sync package from Moto that would enable the basic communications features I was seeking.

So I gave up. I Grabbed a 17" PowerBook, turned the Bluetooth on, paired the device, and sent my files over. It took three minutes with built-in software to accomplish on a Mac what it would have taken thirty bucks and two Install Wizards to do on a PC. That is proof #397.


This struck me

as odd, and sad. I think they've missed the point:

Let me zoom in on the top of the container, in case you missed it.

Yes, friends, this coffee is superior because it is Patriotic.

I have no idea why. Why? Why? Why?


There are few

words, phrases, or expressions that suit my mood at approx. 7:15 AM this day. This is when I saw Charlie Gibson sail a courteous greeting at Bill O'Rielly, welcoming him to Good Morning America.

Here's the phrase:
What the FUCK?

Ow. Oowoww. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.
This happened just after they introduced Robin Roberts live from some disaster zone, wearing a t-shirt that said "GMA - Getting It Done." When a news organisation has to try out new action-oriented slogans while covering a token rebuilding effort in the middle of the worst natural devistation in a hundred years, you know you're in trouble.

Or you're in the Twilight Zone! Doo dee doo doo, doo dee doo doo! That's how What the FUCK?-ed up it was.


I just told

Lindsay B. to follow the dream that I abandoned. She seems to have something I don't, a belief in the basic goodness of Humans, which should make her far better equipped to write in a way that people will pay attention to.

It follows that I do not have a belief in the basic goodness of Humans. This has been said before, and is the primary source of my tendency to be an asshole, which I have just realised creates a very serious feedback loop of Negative Vibes. It is easy to feel superior or inferior to people when you believe that a person can be either. It is hard, in the course of a day, not to believe it honestly. I watch people throw trash out their car window and I think, "I have a superior understanding of the consequences of littering. They are ignorant." I hear people talk about how awesome their drug and alcohol use makes them feel, and I think, "I have a superior understanding of the effects these have on the human body and spirit. They are self-destructive."

I watch parents shopping with their fat children, buying them candy and junk food and yelling at them to quit running around, and I think, "These people have no idea the damage they wreak upon their heirs. They will cripple the civilisation that sustains them. But I know better."

All of which is despicably self-congratulatory, and yet, feels right. I suppose that's just as scary as listening to some crazy Revelationist describe the lake of fire that we'll all be cast in to, for they are no less certain of themselves. This is my weakness.


Could it be true?

Am I really watching a fat woman outside this cafe hand out pamphlets by Jews for Jesus? What kind of spiritual/racial/personal clusterfuck is going on there?

At least we're heading for the End Times. Not in the silly teleport-the-nice-ones-to-Heaven kind, but the social upheaval that will likely result from the extraordinary cost of natural gas heating this winter. Combined with a real gas / refinery shortage and the orgy of debt spending that will surely come with the Shopping Season, these factors will start causing real problems for an awful lot of folks in the near future. I had a long talk with mum the other day about what I really believe will happen, and why I'm not doing more about it - educating people, writing, working for environmental groups and so forth.

It comes down to the fact that there's damn-all we can do at this point. The disease - growth-dependent capitalism and mass consumerism - has spread too far. The cancer is now in virtually every system. The body feeds its growth. To kill it is to kill the host.


So yeah, researching old ABM missile systems for history class isn't exactly the foremost thing on my mind right now.


Ah well.

I assured me mum that when the Navy finally arrives at New Orleans in force, some serious relief can get underway. The small boat capacity alone, together with all that helo space parked right next to the worst of the flooded areas, would make a huge difference. That is, if FEMA were interested in utilising them. Or if they felt like allowing people to leave the city. Is any of this real? How fucked up in the head do you have to be?

Something tells me that Bush could have waited a week before nominating a ghost like Roberts for Chief Justice of the Supreme Fucking Court, which raises the question of Why Now. Abysmal poll numbers and clearly videotaped incompetence during the nation's largest modern disaster relief effort, together with the blatant efforts at spinning massive death and utter destruction point to a lame effort to divert some smidgen of attention from his failings. I shouldn't even be able to consider this about anyone, it's wholly inhuman, but with these jokers...


Yes. The Devistation

is indeed nearly complete. It now appears certain that a number of "actionable items" were in the works to repair critical weaknesses in the levies and pumps that kept the water out of the New Orleans bowl. Funded in large part by government monies, these plans were cast aside as the more critical War On Terr'r sucked funds away from all sources. The Treasury, which once boasted of a tremendous budget surplus, has been wiped out, so that all our national savings, the product of past productivity, are gone. There is no room in the current budget - indeed, there could be said to be negative room, as the deficit en masse continues to grow. And all future plans, especially planned programs like Medicaid and Social Security, are endangered by this Terr'r. Is it scary, or merely strange, that we are siphoning funds from the entire American space-time continuum, past, present, and future? It no longer seems real.

I, like a not-insignificant portion of My Fellow Americans, have been to The City That Was. My time was spent wandering the old street fronts during Mardi Gras, the peak time for partying and chicanery of all sorts. I have fond memories, what memories remain intact, and of course the human loss should be enough to sadden even those who have never ventured outside their home counties. In the end, that's all there is in the state of LA. Loss.


Yes, Journal,

it's been a while. If Future Self is reading this, then he might be asking, why? Why did you shut off the treadmill and park yr. keister on the couch for more than two months, eating delicious donuts and drinking expensive forms of coffee?

Part of it was the exasperating prospect of trying to keep up with all the bloggable news - it's a Shit Storm, allright, and only the most dedicated of reporters will venture out into it on camera, shouting futile weather-truisms into their microphones while expensive waterproof parkas slap and flutter around their jaws.

I return because my prof in Writing Seminar for Majors, and to a lesser degree my sister, reminded me that we learn by doing. A gross Tonne of writing will be required of me this semester, and I must get the juices flowing again. Time to plug the treadmill back in and start sweating. Ruri's desktop has been recast, I am living in a new abode (equipped with wireless Internets and 48-inch TeeVee, the techie equivalent of a split morphine/caffine IV drip), and mum supports my plan of moving to Ireland and working for Apple when all this school nonsense is over with.

Blammo! Back into the Life.


Extremely Strange ad

of the day: Microsoft's web based XP Media Version flash ad, which claims, among other things, that "It will make your teeth whiter."

's True.


I'm sure the transcript

will be available somewhere online, but I had to get this down before it left my head.

In a report on ABC News, Bob Woodruf is exploring the parts of North Korea that North Korea wants him to see. In the capital of Pyongyang there is a large school for young children which lavishes them with money and attention, what few fruits of Kim Jong-Il's retarded economy can be directed their way.

The kids put on a remarkable music and dance performance for visiting dignitaries, and Woodruf ends his broadcast with something along the lines of, "It's remarkable what children can learn when the state is willing to teach them."

This has some interesting implications, and they cut both ways. On the one hand, there is clear evidence that a well-funded state standardised educational system benefits children, adults, and society. If every citizen were able to read and write coherently, and were fluent in not only the language of math and science but of art and music as well, is there any doubt that all of America would be richer in ways money cannot count? On the other, only the most careful monitoring by it's populace can keep the government from teaching it's own revised history, as the abuses of the governmental monopoly on telecommunications that North Korea so adeptly demonstrates.

Fascinating bits like this are mainly found on ABC, although their coverage of Jesus is second only to the Cornerstone Network and tends to irritate me. I particularly liked the bit about hand-fishing being made legal again in rednecked bits of the nation if only for Charlie Gibson's deadpan one-word response after the peice ended: "Okay."


I find myself

pining for the end of our world. Particularly after a bad day on the bus, full of smelly noisy freaks who yell into their cell phones then yell at strangers about what they were yelling about before. The GODDAMN ENDLESS MINDLESS THUMPING of the downstair's neighboor's stereo. My German teacher asked us why we enjoy camping. "Nich so viele leben" was my reply- "Not so many people."

My inner Destroyer longs for a semi-lawless wasteland of abandoned cars and looted store fronts. I'm even fine with being lost to the Die Off that some have posited will by necessity come with the end of cheap fuel. Being aware of both the remarkable damage we're doing to our planet and the near-total apathy we feel towards it, my mind is peirced by a constant ache, and perhaps the only cure for such pain is for the cause - what we so pompusly call Western Civilisation - to be removed.

Right now that part of me is ascendant. Every day that passes I long intensely to stand amongst the rubble of America. Tyler Durden leaps to mind;
In the future I see, you're stalking elk through the deep forest canyon that surrounds the ruins of Rockefeller Center.


I feel a little

used now. The Fam and I had gone to see Star Bores Episode 3: Revenge of the Pith (-y Dialogue). It's the least sucky suck of the three sucks, but that still implies an unfortunate degree of suckage. Basicaly, mum fell asleep twice and we all laughed and cringed whenever a character talked. Every time they started talking, in fact, I found myself waiting for them to stop. And I kept hoping, against all evidence and past experience, that it wouldn't turn out to be a complete disaster.

It is. But the worst moment came when I caught a commercial for Burger King that featured new Star Wars merchandise in the kiddie meals. I realised then, as I suspected all along, that the new movies weren't really about the story - you could sum up the plot of all three in a fortune cookie - but about the Merch. The bulk of Lucas's profits won't come from theater tickets, but from cross promotions and plastic figurine sales, from an epic sort of exploitation. And I gave my money to the machine responsible, believing that I had to participate in this cultural phenomenon. It is a culture of Blind Consumption, and now I feel used.


I'm only through the

first installment, but this series in Harpers is fabulous for many reasons. Having grown up in Colorado Springs, and having many direct tussels with the Fundamental folk, I delight in reading that they've forsaken the center of the city - which is highly walkable and bikable - for the "exurbs" of the north and east. If NASCAR is the perfect sport for christianity (making simple and endless philisophical circles until The End of The Race) then their weird desire to make the exurbs the center of their revolution is also perfectly appropriate. Suburban development is by definition soulless, with every house and street mind-numbingly identical, across states and countries. Any calling to faith that demands unquestioning obiedience to one line of ideology seems to me as horribly conformist as those off-white Lego brick family boxes.


I'm disappointed that

Ken Salazar, from my own home state, has turned out to be a far more conservative sort of Dem than we were all hoping for. Although, given the general "redness" of Colorado - excepting spots like Boulder and Manitou Springs - getting anyone with a capital D after their names into national public office is a real challenge.

So I was greatly encouraged when I learned that he's been sparring with our good friends at Focus on the White Christian Family. I suspect that what stings Mr. Dobson is not that Salazar compared their desire for theocracy to a similar Saudi affliction, but that they really, truly desire an all-Christian government. In other words, it's not the comparison itself that stung, but the truth that underlies it.



One of my favourite

fortune cookie fortunes, to date at least, is now my AIM away message.

"There can be no existance of evil as a force to the healthy-minded individual."

Allow the profoundity of this statement to penetrate your forebrain and percolate for a time. You will recognise it as a Truth, one of those near-magical ideas that allows you to slice through the thicket of deceit we trudge through every day. I share it with you freely.


Now that I'm working

I have too much time to read stuff. Blogs, news wires, almost any form the english language takes upon my tiny screen.

Oh, tiny? Yes, Pallas has been sold and replaced with a delightfully lightweight 12 inch iBook named Ruri. I upgraded the memory and hard drive myself, which was fun and surprisingly exhausting the first time through.

Week Three of Super German Class began with our first test, and today I got it back graded - "B." That might be the best grade I've ever gotten on a German test in four years of trying to pass the first term. I told my current teacher that I'm a poor student in foreign languages because of my love affair with English, and I'd likely find something wrong with every language that isn't English. Still, to mind it seems as though there's a few things utterly perverse about the German language, which were hilariously summed up by Mark Twain in his essay, "The Awful German Language." Google it, then be like me - read it!


For the first time

in a long long time, words have failed me.

Actually, that's not true. They regularly fail me when it comes time to describe some new and exciting form of idiocy in human life. But in this case, all I'm trying to do is describe the weather in Pittsburgh.

It's so nice, so genuinely enjoyable, so picturesque that I just don't know how to describe it. Even when it rains, it rains solidly and with great assurance, so that you feel that your time is not wasted. Don't worry, says The Weather, I'm serious about getting you wet today. No light halting showers. Relax and enjoy. The sun, as it shines, heats you pleasantly, not oppressively, and when a breeze blows to cool you it feels like a fine light spray of moisture, like those little mister/fan combo things.

I want to burn these days into my limited memory, so that when conditions again become awful, when the air is thick enough to chew and hot enough to melt hip kids' hair gel, I can have a few positive thoughts to draw on.


The Barbarism of Certitude

Ooh, that's some catchy English. I happened upon a Tract, or small illustrated booklet by a man named Chick, which told the tale of an Olde West Gun Slinger. This Gun Slinger came to town to stir up trouble, for some mysterious reason attends church on Sunday morning, and gradually comes to accept the line that God loves all sinners and Jeebus can save him from going to Hell. In the meantime, the local sheriff has posted a reward for his capture and is gathering the forces of Decency, or perhaps Greed and Self-Interest, to capture this Nefarious Bad Guy.

The Gun Slinger emerges from church a converted man, but the locals have him surrounded and cart him off to jail to await his hanging. There is presumably a preponderance of evidence that this dude has done some Heinous Crimes, such that no trial was necessary to determine his guilt. The Sheriff watches his neck snap, the Reverend stands by and covers his eyes. The Nefarious Bad Guy, who may have burned down orphanages, shot countless innocent people, and otherwise engaged in the worst possible criminal behaviour in mid-19th century America, goes to Heaven because he clapped his hands together the night before and agreed to believe in a magical book and special Power Words.

After he's buried, the Sheriff is rejoined by the Reverend to accept Jeebus as well. The Sheriff declines, rides off into the sunset, get's bitten by a snake, dies, and is immediately sent to Hell. Apparently, no amount of Doing Good on Earth can get you into heaven, but no amount of Doing Evil can keep you out. It all hinges on whether or not you believe that a 2,000 year old dead dude can erase a lifetime of moral crapulence.

But Wait, There's More! Apparently a lot more, although I won't link directly to this man's website. I realise no one reads this journal, but I don't even want to take the chance that someone might increase his business. Let it be said that there are plenty of other Tracts on other subjects, including the absolute truth of the Bible in regards to the creation date of the Earth, roughly 6,000 years ago.

The light from distant stars that's been traveling for millions of years? The measurable radioactive half-life of the most common life-giving element on Earth? The less than 2% variation between higher ape and human DNA? The amount of evidence and provable fact that you must ignore in order to arrive at the conclusion that only an invisible Super Man could have built the universe is staggering. It's just not even worth conversing with these people. If that sounds horrible it, is, but I cannot believe that anyone who buys this crap whole could make any useful contribution to human society. It's just flabbergasting.


My sister discovered

an old word for me, one that apparently sums up Who and What I Am in This World.

She said I was a Navigator.

And the moment she said it, I felt a little tingle of certainty, as in yes, that describes "Me" perfectly. What does it mean? In the context of our conversation, it does not refer merely to an aptitude with maps and star charts, although I've demonstrated that as well. To make it through this world one must know how to Navigate the endless streams of desire and need, fact and fiction, possibility and apocalypse, Reality and Unreality that we are presented with minute by minute of our mediated existence. More than anything, I think, no matter what the circumstances a Navigator knows instinctively how to find their way, and aide others in finding theirs.

That is an immense gift, terrifying and humbling yet strangely comforting as well. It should not be confused with an ability to know the absolute truth, or to disseminate such truths to those who lack them. That's a bit egotistical. Finding your way, in the traditional Bhuddist sense, means coming to an understanding of your place in this world and making the care of others your highest charge after eliminating the root of selfishness, your Self.

Mystical gobbledygook, perhaps. The Bus Stop Prophet told me that I would be a Warrior, who would show "all the rest of us how to do things right." Who the fuck knows? I think I can do both.

The Awesome New Book

That Is Currently Occupying My Thought Processes For Most of the Day: The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason by Sam Harris. He makes some difficult points and some outrageous-sounding claims, but the logic of his central position seems solid. Here are some tastey bits -

"The idea that any one of our religions represents the infallible word of the One True God requires an encyclopedic ignorance of history, mythology, and art even to be entertained... for there is no more evidence to justify a belief in the literal existance of Yaweh and Satan than there was to keep Zeus perched upon his mountain throne or Poseidon churning the seas."

"The belief that certain books were written by God... leaves us powerless to address the most potent source of human conflict, past and present. How is it that the absurdity of this idea does not bring us, hourly, to our knees? It is safe to say that few of us would have thought so many people could believe such a thing, if they did not actually believe it. Imagine a world in which generations of human beings come to believe that certain films were made by God or that specific software was coded by him. Imagine a future in which millions of our descendants murder each other over rival interpretations of Star Wars or Windows 98. Could anything - anything - be more ridiculous? And yet, this would be no more ridiculous than the world we are living in."

As I said, many rough points about the unsustainable influence of religious faith on what we think of as modern understanding. Somewhat perversely, I am now gripped by a real desire to read the Bible, or at least as much of it as I can manage to get through, just to confirm my own worst suspicions about this oddly powerful tome of myths and legends.

At the very absolute minimum, it will Get You Thinking.


My job is so much easier

when raving lunatics actually begin raving. Not in the hipster Party Scene sense, but in the jabbering foam-mouthed caveman oratory sense. And I hope that when I say Right Wing Religous Nuts are completely hypocritical, not to mention dangerously ignorant of many of the basic tenets of modern civilisation, more people will pay attention. Here's a juicy bit:

Conflating the right to participate with the right to evangelize, Mohler said, "We are not calling for people to be moral, we want them to be believers in the Lord Jesus Christ."

How are the two not connected? When did they teach that lesson in Sunday School? I sometimes feel like I'm missing something, but no, I understand completely. They are missing quite a bit more than just something, they're missing pretty much everything, which is a nice way of saying that they're Bat Shit Crazy.


The Weirdness Of

Selling Via Online Auction has become known to me. I set up a five-day auction for my beloved Pallas, with a reserve price of $1200 - far below what other 17-inch PowerBooks are selling for, but respectable considering the two-pixel defect of her otherwise beautiful screen. Four days and 22 hours later, there are two bids, one of them for the reserve price exactly. Plenty of people are watching the auction, I was just hoping for, ya know, a few more bids. A little bit more than the absolute minimum. A sliver of wiggle room for when I purchase Ruri, my lighter and slightly faster new sidekick. Ah well, we'll see. We'll see.


Allright. Calmed down and

started reading some more, mediating the impact of the Doomsday Article on my consciousness. I found myself walking by a car dealership that was busy promoting that "press a button and win a car" sweepstakes, and I wondered just what I'd do with the monetary windfall that selling that car would represent.

I did not, for more than one second, seriously consider keeping any vehicle obtained in such a manner. That's hardcore, or maybe just pessimistic. I have family in the upper ranks of a Major Car Manufacturer whom I will be visiting with this summer vacation time, and I will ask him just what he's planning to do about the coming of the Downward Slope of the Bell Curve, representing the end of cheap gas. He's a crypto-conservative, which is to say his wife is Conservative and he doesn't often disagree, but he's also smart like a bull-whip and eminently practical, so there's hope.


The theories put forth

in this blasted article are exherting an unhealthy grip on my latent Fascination Engine. The brain, in other words, cannot shake the idea that this man's predictions are founded on Logic and Reason and are thus deserving of serious consideration.

P'raps. Those who sound the alarm in time are often ignored as alarmists.

Just as an exercise, then, let us consider a few of the things that will END when oil/natural gas disappear from our nation:
Cars. American society for one hundred years has depended on universal access to this mode of transportation. Not just cars, but interstate trucks and airplanes hauling goods. When gasoline is too expensive for anyone to afford, interstate travel and trade will cease almost entirely, bringing an end to all things that depend on it. Fast food will end. Supermarkets and mall shopping will end. Commuting into town and back out from a suburban home will end. Wal-Mart, Kaufmanns, Journeys, GAP, Abercrombie, all of them will cease to exist.

Planes. If automobiles will be too expensive to run, forget airliners. It will cost more to fill the plane with fuel once that it would cost to build the plane in the first place, and so all these jaunts across the country to visit the relatives will end. The massive organisations that depend on air transport, including all freight shippers and government/conglomerate entities organised on a national or international level, will end. International travel will once again be limited to those forms of transport which require no fossile fuels, namely sailing ships.

Electricity. Or, the ability to produce it in anything like the amounts that we have become accustomed to using so blithely. All the massive buildings in massive cities that require constant ventilation and lighting will empty, being completely unsustainable. Television and the internet and the radio and cell phones will end. All these things rely on a power grid fueled mainly by natural gas and coal, which will run out or become unusable within our lifetimes, perhaps within twenty or so years. There will be no more Daily Show or The West Wing, which will be sad, but there will also be no more The Simple Life Interns or Entertainment Tonight or Fox News. I would trade all the best television of the past fifty years to expunge the influence of all the worst, but that deal has already been struck. When it comes to a choice between running the water pump from your biomass battery or watching twenty minutes of a national broadcast that will never again matter to your life, people will make the right and natural decision.

Celebrity Culture will vanish. All these daft neo-conservative Projects For a New American Hegemony Under GOD will collapse of their own weight, when the lines of communication and hatred that they rely on disappear like the oil that fueled them.

Our vast International Military will end. The ships and planes and tanks and Jeeps that place our troops overseas will no longer be operable, and so our ability to "project power" will disappear as well. Obviously, this will have some tremendous consequences, but in the long run it will largely be a reversion to our pre-WWII posture, that of an impregnable fortress-continent, isolated from the rest of the world by the oceans. Of course, given that our entire society will collapse to a pre-industrial local agrarian form, there won't be much incentive for anyone to try and pick a fight. India and China will be very very busy dealing with their own collapse. Russia has been collapsing for decades, but they've got the internal resources to maintain themselves for a while longer, at least. Africa will be largely unaffected, except that all outside aid in the form of either arms or food will cease. The only people that will survive will be those who have lived off the land since man evolved on those plains, although millions will continue to die from AIDS and starvation until the population stabilises itself at a sustainable level.

Europe will be an interesting case to watch, because the continent was built for horse and buggy, then later upgraded to handle cars (with varying success). To a degree they have immitated Western centralisation, but the rural landscape of Europe remains largely intact. Their transistion to an oil-less world will be far smoother, and much more of their civilisation will survive.

Yeah, and now I've got a book to read about how the media shapes our perceptions of everything. Seems kinda redundant, knowing that the media will shortly cease to exist.


This is literally the saddest

thing that I think I've ever seen, and it does much to confirm my opinion that there is absolutely nothing redeeming about organised religion.


"The American Dream

is that an individual in this country should have every opportunity to go from the guttermost to the uppermost."
-George W. Bush, March 2005

I cannot describe the physical sensation of Deep Hurting that this caused me. Every day, it seems, I am confronted with some jewel of Cross-Eyed Badger Spit Lunacy that confirms all my worst fears about the future of human kind. We're thoroughly doomed, kids, it ain't even funny, if this AWFUL JACKASS could wriggle into the Presidency for eight solid years of pain.

I dunno how long this article will be up, but it made me think a bit. Actually, it just sort of reaffirmed not a few of my own suspicions. I can't argue for the accuracy of some of the predictions that this man makes, but the underlying facts seem solid. So draw your own conclusions.


I was bored, so

last night I rented The Incredibles and Outfoxed, being respectibly curious about both. The first was a high-energy and heart felt action romp, entertaining on many levels and generally the kind of quality cinema that so rarely makes it's way from the California coast into national theaters.

The second, which had been shown here at Pitt in the past, was incredibly disappointing. As a documentary, the production values are so cheap and rediculous that I had a hard time sitting through it, possessed of the tingling knowledge that I could have put together a superior product with my PowerBook Pallas.

I am not even making that up. The cue-card cut scenes, "animated" graphics, and boorish use of splicing styles are painful for a man in 2005 who, six years ago, produced a video of similar, even slightly superior quality in a high school media class.

Having said that, the footage that the producer garnered from Fox News is absolutely chilling. As article after article demonstrates, these people literally inhabit a completely different world than the rest of us, which totally precludes rational argument. You cannot make a case against their world view because, simply put, the facts which govern your own are not present or so deeply twisted in theirs that they might as well not exist. Fact is wholly subordinant to ideology, and thus reality is subordinant to religious phant'sies.

It's not an isolated bastion, or even an occasional gathering of like-minded Bat Shit Crazies. It's an entire cable news channel, with the money and resources of the second richest man in the world, and it's on 24 hours of every one of your days. Sometimes, imbicillity really does seem like the only realm that happiness could be found in, for anyone ignorant of such monstrosities would be much happier.

"The English have devised...

an extraordinary scheme for the military defense of their homeland, which is that they have no money." - Monsieur le comte de Pontchartrain, The Confusion, 2004 by Neal Stephenson

Had I been sipping a favoured beverage at the time of my reading these lines, I am certain that a not-insignificant amount would have burst through my nasal cavity and onto the unfortunate book from which they were gleaned. For if one were to make a minor substitution, replacing "The English" with "The Americans," one would have a Jan van der Meer-esque rendering of our current fiscal reality.

Correct me if I am wrong, but the definition of debt is when you (or an organisation) have made expenditures for which you lack the specie to render payment. In other words, you spend money that you do not have.

We do not have any money. In fact, we may be said to possess negative amounts of money. That's what "red ink" is. And yet, the government continues to spend as though the consequences of such policy belonged to the past, and not the future. This is fascinating, in the way that a flash food might be to a valley farmer - all is abstract beauty until that wall of water erases your pasture and home and life.


Today I saw...

1. A shop's busted window sign that read "Good Luck Harms."
2. A man on the bus holding a telephone conversation with a calculator.
3. A Renaissance reenactment troupe on the lawn of the Cathedral of Learning.
4. A magnetic disco dance number.

My shopping trip was otherwise a failure, as it seems the premium price for a pair of Chuck Taylors is now about $40. That's $15 higher than the last time I bought a pair, which was around high school. They can't be that popular.

This is why I will...

forever be loyal to Apple. A week or so after I bought my iPod Shuffle, I noticed that static would creep into the left earbud at random intervals for irregular spans of time. Sometimes it was all day, sometimes it was never, but when it did my music listening experience suffered. And I know we all hate to suffer unnecessarily.

So I walked into the Apple Store this fine afternoon, and let the dude at the Genius Bar know what the problem was. I'd been using the buds for about an hour already in an attempt to duplicate the problem, but as is the natural course with such things my equipment operated perfectly. This I relayed as well, after the dude attempted to discern for himself the conundrum. I couldn't tell by the look on his face if I was successful, but he went into the back for one point two minutes, then emerged with a brand new plastic packaged set.

"Here you go."

"What, really? You don't need my receipt or anything?"


"That's outstanding. Thank you."

It seems unreasonable, somehow, to expect this level of service. Their profit margine on something like earbuds is thin enough, never mind giving away a new set any time someone complains of a problem. But they do, with a grace and efficiency that borders on ephemeral. No other earthly institution is so fantastically agreeable to deal with, at least not in my experience.


Much postage today...

but I thought this was funny when, the other night, I attempted to obtain a file via a groovy program which shows you where the file is coming from.


Too Freakin

Weird. I'm listening to Missing, from Beck's latest brilliance, and all of a sudden I find the clouds and snow outside the window of the cafe have disappeared. Curious, I seek a map of the current cloud cover for America, and on one site I am treated to a dancing ear of corn, kernels labeled with the two-letter abbreviations for all the states of the union. It jiggles itself from left to right, shakes off invisible dirt, allows butter patties to carress it, all in time to this strange strange song.

For a time, this is real entertainment.

For yr. amazement....

and general edification, herein I shall present a list of Logical Fallacies, straight from my freshmen year in college, which you may use to deconstruct or destruct any argument yr. favorite Pundit or Dumbass Colleague may attempt to use against you.

Appeal To Force We are riteous because our Army kicks Major Ass!
Appeal To Pity Conservatives are under attack because the Liberals hate us!
Appeal To The People Hey, everybody else is accepting Jesus. Shouldn't you, too?
Ad Hominem Liberals are wrong because they're stupid.
Enclosed: Two Quoque Don't tell me I'm immoral, look at you and your immoralality!
Accident Surgeons are responsible for thousands of stabbings. Arrest them before they stab any more innocents!
Straw Man I may oppose gun control, but you're pro-abortion, so you're for more killing!
Missing The Point It's snowing in the north-east, so God must hate you liberal heathens.
Red Herring The Republicans have ideas on taxes, therefore, we must generate similar ideas on taxes, since the public wants us to be tough-minded about taxes.
Appeal To Authority If Jerry Falwell says that God hates all gays, then God must hate all gays, because Jerry Falwell sure knows God.
Appeal To Ignorance Since you DON'T know God, you heathen, then everything Jerry Falwell says about God is right and true.
Hasty Generalisation That Liberal is a Communist, therefore, all Liberals must be Communists!
False Cause The President lost the debates whenever he wore a red tie. No more red ties, and he'll always win!
Slippery Slope If we start letting gays marry, then all our children will grow up gay and no more children will ever be born!
Weak Analogy My tax plan is big and full of loopholes for major corporations. Therefore, if your tax plan is big, it must also be full of loopholes for major corporations.
Begging The Question Snowflakes are so complex that only God could make them.
Complex Question Why do Liberals hate God and America?
False Dichotomy Either the President is wrong or the Liberals are wrong, and since the President can't be wrong, then the Liberals must be wrong.
Supressed Evidence Most Americans worship God, so if you see an American, go ahead and pray with them.
Equivocation Any theory can be proven wrong. Gravity is just a theory. Therefore, gravity can be proven wrong.

Seen or heard any arguments like these? I know I have, and it drive me INSANE. Don't fall into the trap of using these when it suits yr. ends! Keep that Logic clean!


Kinda scary...

but perhaps more honest. My "wu name" is Arrogant Killer. I certainly have a reputation for being arrogant at times, and perhaps this refers to my ability to kill men's souls by flaying them with icy shards of truth. I dunno.

I feel terrible, but the fact that Spinsanity.org has been closed up for months completely escaped my attention. They did good work, and I proudly own and display for my conservative family members All the President's Spin. So today I'm replacing it with an entertaining blog I found via Tom Tomorrow's site. Say hello to Pandagon.net. Good Stuff.


Well Thank Jeebus...

something is finally going right.

"You won't be bored for long! New adventures are on their way."

Thus opined my lunch special fortune cookie. It is different from the more typical prognosticating foreign pasteries in that the English is decent, and the text is blue not red. In this it is slightly disappointing, because half the fun of these magic slips of paper was trying to interpret their obscure yet strangely confident verbiage.

Some of the best reside here. Some are truly as mystical as a Zen koan, and some are obviously the unfortunate result of trying to espouse profound universal truths in a language you barely understand.

In other news, the sun shines today. Do whatever you can to bask in it. Now!


The Awe-Inspiring

Time Waster. I have 7 and a half pages of an 8 page paper to write, due tomorrow, I've been here at school for two hours now, and have yet to add a single word to it. Reminds me of the time I was editing a multimedia presentation for Government and Law class right up to the time we presented it - my skill at procrastination is surpassed only by the intensity of my apparent academic deathwish.

Time to calm down. Focus. You can do this.

...Bathroom break!


Three Steps To...

Dealing With Rejection:

Actually, I don't have a plan of any kind. The most common response when one is not hired for a highly desired job is to soak the inside of the head with a favoured liquor, and thus obliviate yr. knowledge of any form of existance outside of the bar. If one is confident enough, and skilled enough, one can simply move on to kick some ass in say, HALO or CoH. That is guaranteed to Restore Confidence. Find something you can do better than anyone else... indeed. That is the key to survival in all circumstances.

So FUCK YOU APPLE STORE SHADYSIDE. I may not have been the loudest person at that Hiring Event, but my understanding of the product and the philosophy is pure and highly contagious. Whorefaces! I sell more product without even working there than ten of yr. best men. SHIT, now I shall have to return to the coffee industry for money.

Or maybe not. My Writing Professor insists that I should be making a living writing columns for many different Big Time Publications, which was a wet dream for a long time when I was young and thought that Journallism would be the key to my future. And she is a published Author, with books and many other peices living under her byline. Shit! I should be that lucky, put into exactly the right place & time with the skills developed here, in this worthless rantage space. Why not? Ride whatever comes along.


Oh, and this...

There just aren't enough words in the language. I know that some people think there are too many, but there aren't.

The raping and pillaging continues. And the one magic word that describes it all?


God Fucking Dammit...

Just when you thought it was okay to believe in a politician, any politician, they go and do something like this. The consensus seems to be that this legislation is built to please the Mega Rich and the credit companies who use small print and legal trickery to suck money and life directly from their customers, like the Christopher Reeve in South Park, snapping the spines of the weak and drinking their life-giving fluids like nectar.

Yes, Mr. Barak I Believe In America Obama. How is voting for this bill taking a stand against the financial rape of the middle and lower class? It's not!

Just when you thought it was safe to start paying attention to politics again, when it seemed that there might be one or two days of the week when you wouldn't feel like slaughtering the guilty in an endless stream of blood and broken bodies. Something happens, always, to confirm your suspicion that where the world to end today in a firey cataclysm, the rest of the universe would be much better off.


I've read a bunch of posts...

on the problems that we Athiests have in relating to Religious folk. Many people argue that lefties operate under a severe handicap when we display an unwillingness to engage in religious debate on religious terms. But if it's true that the Antichrist is supposed to be good at quoting scripture, where exactly does such a debate get us? I don't think it can really go anywhere, because honest debate relies on having a set of agreed upon facts to work from, and religion by it's very definition eschews facts in favour of faith. In other words, it is impossible to reason with someone who is, in the purest sense of the word, unreasonable. "Faith defies Reason, and without Faith I am nothing..." I might have butchered that a bit, but Douglas Adams was straight on. Forgive me, then, if I display little interest in fighting about whether or not God exists, or if America was founded on religious principles.

It was, BTW, but only because we wanted to escape a world in which Religion ruled public life. I think most NeoCons choose to forget that little, monumental detail.


The Rude Fat Man

At the Internet Cafe who did not even purchase food or drink from the cafe and instead waltzed (waddled) in with a Wendy's cup a dirty three-day near-beard B.O. and a wheeled cart packed with wires and cheap or free computing devices looking for a power outlet since his circa-1995 laptop had no battery power and he wanted free web access.

Breath. I was sympathetic until he made a big show of unpacking said wires in an attempt to find his AC adapter. He placed his laptop on another table across from a girl who not long after asked him to leave her alone. I had nabbed the last free outlet in the place, and when he said he had a three-way adapter I gladly agreed to share.

My sympathy evaporated pretty quickly when I realised that he hadn't actually bought anything. This is the WiFi equivalent of running into a restaraunt, pissing on the toilet seat, then running back out. I rarely make assumptions about a person's hygenic habits, since some folk are just born dirty, but this man clearly did not take care of himself and didn't particularly care. As he swung his substantial gut around to take a seat I noticed that his belt buckle was straining and nearly failing to keep that gut in check.

His cell phone would ring, and upon every call he would peer down his nose at it's screen as though deciding whether the caller merited a slice of his invaluable time.

Then he leered at a young girl that walked past him to use the restroom, and that did it. My loathing became honest and complete, and I know that in a way that's bad for me. It's okay to say someone's behaviour is outside accepted social norms, but it's another to actively despise said person. That takes energy and produces no results other than self-riteous satisfaction, and Damn Me, that feels pretty good right now. I think I'll pick up something at the liquor store on my way home tonight.


God Damn It.

The Great Savage Beast has stepped off this landscape. Hunter S. Thompson could feel the warning signs in his bones, the sudden drop in pressure that foretells a gathering Shit Storm, and he was not prepared to watch the dying of the light again after all his insane efforts to warn and educate and ready us. He railed against the Dumbness of America in a time when no one else seemed to get away with it, and he was always painfully right, at least in some way.

I will not miss the writing so much as the idea of the man, which is what I think we all fell in love with. The thought that a stone-crazy shotgun-wielding peacock-owning Flower Child could still be alive in this age of Terror and Riteous Fighting in the name of Jesus was strangely healing. No matter how we despaired when debating our Republican office colleagues, or how out of touch we felt when the President told us that he could balance the budget by making 2+2=5, we knew that somewhere far away, even from the top of a mountain in Colorado, another man would back us up with a ferocity and honesty few could match. He was a sharp reflection of just how crazy one has to be in order to stay sane.

Did he really mean to emulate Hemmingway, a fellow in the realm of tortured intellects? Who knows. If the movies are right and you really do get to float up above your body before your spirit leaves the earth, I'm pretty sure I know what he'd have said.

Holy Fuck, look at that goddamn mess.

And now the Great Scorer will have to write against his name. For an unmatched honesty and purity of spirit, no matter how twisted it's manifestation, he deserves at least a council, a chance to speak for himself and his time. He will do well, and will laugh at his enemies in Hell through a tall glass of tea & Wild Turkey.


Darkness worshed over...

the Dude, darker than a black steer's tuckus on a moonless praerie night." Hey, I spat that right off the top of my head. Pretty good, no? Of course, that's a fairly accurate description of my mood. I used to write for fun, and because I believed that I was more than halfway decent at it. The sheer joy of the excersize was at one point worth it, but now I find myself applying this gift to meeting deadlines once again, and it's just as unappealing as it was when journalism was my profession of choice. I still hate being ordered to write things I have no desire or interest in.

Dealing with medical bills and taxes and my total lack of monetary income is another factor, of course. Nothing could be better calculated to make you feel like a victim than having expenses that are absolutely necessary outweigh your ability to earn the dollars to cover them. It is not, according to some recent research by Time, entirely our fault. I suppose that one major factor in my current ennui is that professional adults have finally admitted in plain language that our generation will be the first in the history of human advancement to experience a lower standard of living than our parents.

Goddam retards! The Sonic Wall Content Filtering Service has prevented me from accessing the online manual for a program I recently downloaded, apparently with the blessing of the same said service. Who designs this shit?

Anyroad, I've also got so many freakin' passwords and email accounts and whatnot that even forgetting one of them creates major headaches. I'm told the new Beck Hell Yes EP is fully worth downloading, but my iTunes store ID? What's your password, fucker? HA! NO MUSIC FOR YOU! Oh, and here's a few hundred spam emails. Enjoy! On the plus side, I found a Bittorrent client that gives you a neato 3D live picture of the swarm network you're sharing with. Bits of data that leave my powerbook appear as tiny red cars on a red beam of delicious freed information. It's priceless, especially when you have the bandwidth for some fast freaking connections.


Last week I finally accepted...

the truth that I'm not really paying to attend any of my classes. So long as I get a passing grade my attendance, and by extension anything I might otherwise have learned, means nothing. No employer with a sliver of working grey matter will ever care whether you earned an A+ or a B or a C- in your psyche class sophomore year (which for me actually was a rare A). They will care if you have a degree that's appropriate to the position you want, and they will want to hear stories about how life has prepared you for this and what an excellent employee you've been to others.

I'm paying Pitt for a diploma, and perhaps some neat experiences, but precious, precious few of my classes are actually worth attending regularly, and it's an equally rare prize when I end up learning something worthwhile in a lecture. Hey, for fun let's make a list of Good Classes I've Had:
Biology for Non-Majors: Taught by a hilarious Scotsman, this class is thoughtfully structured in a way that assumes that you don't already know everything about biology. The reading follows right along with the lectures, and is available as a cheap Xerox from the bookstore. Sadly, the site of my sole falling-asleep-and-drooling incident.
The American Way of War: Professor Goldstien ("Goldy") is priceless. Hilarious and serious, well-read and experienced, he'll tell you about life in post-WWII Air Force and actually fucking know what he's talking about. Well structured class means that you rarely leave without being enlightened in some way.
Introduction to Art: Fucking hard, basically a memorisation course, but it literally gave me an entirely new appreciation for the "art world." Plus the Prof (Gretchen Bender) was way, way cute. Sounds a tad immature, but dammit, it's true.
Explanations of Humans and Society: This sounds like one of those throw-aways, and in a way it was. The lectures were generally interesting but damned difficult to stay awake through. The recitations shined, though, and apparently, magically, somehow I convinced everyone that I knew the subject matter. Well enough to "A"ce a few papers, anyroad. And, Freud fucking rules!

So, four for fifteen so far. Actually, five, 'cause this Creative Non-Fiction is becoming enjoyable. Other profs have tried, many have not, but if only one in every three of yr. classes is anything but a bore and a hassle, something isn't jiving. My poor attitude towards academia in general, coupled with traditionally non-existent study habits, might have something to do with this opinion. And of course there are kids in any class who do well and even seem to enjoy it, but thanks to my Inner Rebel I have never ever been one of those. The classes I am interestsed in I have already studied for and quite likely know as much as the teacher does, and the ones I don't care about I cannot bear to expend effort upon. I just want my degree, please, and there's no need for it to be painful for either of us.


A new class...

requires me to write things quite frequently. It's Creative Nonfiction, something with which I should be intimately familiar. Unfortunately I've not felt very, well, orignial as of late. I'm sure that my observations and interpretations of current and past events is in some way unique, set apart from all the rest of the rantings and the ravings of the press-slash-blogsphere. Even the topic on which I will do much of my writing this semester, Religion in America and/or American Politics, has recieved much coverage thanks to Dubya's supposed ability to harness the Fundamentalists as a viable voting bloc, a theoretical counter to the Crazy Commie Lefties who would ban all guns and make dope legal and use Bibles to fuel the melting machines of the recycling plants.

Perhaps there are a few more words in there than I thought. At any rate, things should get interesting when I have to infiltrate some religious organisation and write up its nefarious operations. Having the experience that I do in this area should also provide some grist for the word-mills, as it were, although being predisposed to certain positions (i.e. right-wing religious nutters aren't rational and cling like children to made-up stories about a benevolent invisible Superman named "God" who will reward them for eliminating individuality in His name, but only once they die) is supposed to be bad for honest reporting. So, to what degree are we supposed to be "creative"? Sounds like a good question to ask the instructor, no?


This might be illegal or something...

but this must be preserved / exposed. An icy hand from the past, risen once again to remind us that nothing, really, changes in this country. It might be past the Statute anyways, I dunno, it's from a past edition of the Onion. Let's just see if anyone finds it.

To Hell with Journalistic Objectivity, Vote for George Bush, Dammit!
Onion Election Watch

by Victor Runbeck
Onion Campaign Reporter

I've been a political reporter for The Onion longer than most of its readers have been alive, and never have I compromised my duty as a journalist to further my own agenda. Until now. I simply cannot stand by any longer without voicing my fervent support for the sitting president of these United States, George Bush. Furthermore, I feel safe in assuming the majority of Americans - indeed Onion readers - agree with me.

Lend me your political scruples and let's take a look at George Bush, quite possibly the most qualifie person to lead this country who ever lived.

George Bush is a President who'll keep American women obliged to our proud Puritanical past. (Hey, I don't plan on having an abortion this year!) Now girls, no matter how you stack your blocks, having children is what you do best. Who would take care of the kids if you decided to try your hand at being a corporate attourney? Your husband? Ladies, there's not a sane man alive who would allow that to happen. A vote for George Bush is a vote for Leave It To Beaver's June Cleaver. You wouldn't see Mrs. Cleaver trotting downtown to her obstetrician for an abortion and she certainly wouldn't be pulling in bigger paychecks than Ward.

We need a President who values individual rights - as long as they ain't gay rights! OK, you're gay. Fine. Great. Sorry. You should have thought about that before you signed up for the U.S. military. Sexually harassing women isn't exactly what we teach our boys-in-uniform, but at least it's better than sending love notes across enemy trenches to the other side. And that's precisely the sort of thing gays do. Fellow Americans, this is a call to arms - a rally to reelect our President and to assure that our military is rife with brawny, masculine, thick-necked, hairy-chested, back-slapping heterosexual men.

If ever there was apolitical party that had an affinity with God allmighty, it would be the Republican party. As a matter of fact, looking out of my study right now I see Jesus Christ sitting on a cloud smiling down upon the GOP. (He's wearing a little elephant lapel on his tunic.) Seperation of Church and State is a fine idea, but when we can't make our teachers lead classroom prayer, we're no better than the Communists! A vote for George Bush is a vote for every little boy who folds his hand for the first time to murmur The Lord's prayer. Pick up your cross and vote my friends!

George Bush and the Republican Party represent everything that is right and just in the aggregate American mind. We Republicans know who we are. The Waltons, Harry S. Truman, and yes, even the blond-haired Jesus Christ is at home in our party. When our ideals no longer offer the reassurance they once did, the American people will look to the future. It's happened before. Social Security and Civil Rights were the product of a society that oculd no longer hold off change. The 21st century will produce new problems demanding new change, but I ask you, has that time come? Hell no! Hang on to the last century with all your might and vote George Bush in '92!

Scary, no? Put a W between the George and Bush in that story, and replace the lond mention of Commies with the word Terrorists, and blammo, that damned History thing, like a busted-ass record, repeats itself.


"Back in the burgh..."

says a friend's IM away window, and the same applies to me. When I arrived it was raining and hovering around 55 degrees, which according to the weather predictor will be the norm for the rest of the week and beyond. The occurences of brain-killing holy-fuck-it's-cold temperatures have been few, and concentrated in the period when I was enjoying sun in California. BTW, the two trends emerging from the Governator's Domain are large, internally lit inflatable lawn figures, and big-screen HD televisions. EVERYONE has or will soon aquire one, so hop on the wagon and be the first on yr. block!

Navigability Q. Anthropoid sent me an email the other day regarding some lasses who had recently lost their innocence. That's probably the neatest automatically generated spam name I've heard. I should use that as a spoof address...