January 18, 2003

class lists

Moose: what classes you takin’ for your final load?

Sun Ra: Impractical Graphix, Web Paige Carnage and Permutation, Family Values and Stoichiometry, Jump Ass Ensemble 1, Miscommunication and Elasticity, and Crucibles of Persuasion.

Moose: Nice.

Sun Ra: What are you taking?

Moose: Hmmm, Acting Detrementals, Next-Dimension Digital Discourse, Visual Illiteracy, Picasso for Dummies 2, and Ecohellology with lab in global non-issues. I’ve even been given forwarning that in one class “imagery that some people may deem objectionable may be introduced for the purpose of educational discourse.”

Sun Ra: Whoo!

Moose: I’m excited.

Sun Ra: You collect the babies and I’ll burn them alive!


it’s a wacky worker’s world

Little nuggets of joy, brought to you by the Workers World Party, your favorite leper standing behind International A.N.S.W.E.R.

In addition, the heroic uprising of the Palestinians has mobilized the population of many Arab countries against U.S. imperialism and increased the support for Iraq.

Urm. I wouldn’t exactly call suicide bombings ‘heroic’.

In a meeting with Deputy Prime Minister Tariq Aziz, Clark denounced U.S. policy toward Iraq. “This is genocide,” he said. “The progress that Iraq has made must not be lost at 12 noon on Jan. 20 when George Bush is inaugurated. Inspections teams and the oil-for-food program were both frauds from the beginning. There is no justification for the sanctions. They are a war by other means.”

There was that little thing with Kuwait and the Gulf War, but there are NO JUSTIFICATIONS!

Before returning home the delegates will meet the minister of health and visit a pharmaceutical plant, a school for the blind, the Iraqi Women’s Federation, a food distribution center and a battleground with known concentrations of depleted uranium in its soil, among other places.

And the orphanage and the zoo and the circus and the chocolate factory and the fisherman’s wharf and the pony farm and the micro-brewery and the Wal-Mart and the anthrax plant.

Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein put rumors he was ill to rest by delivering a 20-minute address on Iraqi television Jan. 17. He said the war was a confrontation between good and evil, which was continuing till this day.

Well, he’s got one thing right.


bedfellows

Reports on the anti-war protests in Washington are comin’ in. It should be known that the principle organizer of these rallies, International A.N.S.W.E.R. (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism… is anyone else concerned that they conflate war and racism?), is really a front for the Workers World Party, a sect that broke off the Socialist Workers Party in 1956. They are pro-Stalinists and anti-Americanists. Capitalism is to fall. Private property is to be seized. Cuba, China and North Korea are to be shining beacons of justice once the U.S. steps off their throats. Oh, and after they kill all their dissenters, of course.

Saddam runs one of the most efficient communist rackets in the world. Iraq cannot be invaded, because if conditions in the country suddenly improve after the Great Satan ousts the jerk, it would kick sand in the face of the socialist movement. The WWP is afraid because they know this will happen, so what are they to do in defense? Prop up A.N.S.W.E.R., recruit some neo-hippies and let them do all the work. America, keep your hands off Iraq because Iraq rocks. Let them develop a nuclear program, point some warheads at Israel, take over the Arab world and let the Reds inherit the earth. I’m willing to take Saddam on his promise of fame and power and glory, aren’t you?

A November 2002 L.A. Weekly article on A.N.S.W.E.R. and the WWP.

Look who else is on their side!

Power Line‘s got pics and words ’bout the rally.

Look, even the Baghdadians are protesting.

There’s always International A.O.W.C.U.T.G.D.F.P.

Be careful who you allow between the sheets.



walnut slant

Sun Ra: Do you want to speak, too? Everyone wants to speak.

Tova: Sure

Sun Ra: Cool.

Sun Ra: So. Uhh… Walnut.

Tova: Small put

Sun Ra: quell soot.

Tova: Mail poot

Sun Ra: Chainmail moot.

Tova: Mammal prude

Sun Ra: Crude Manimal.

Tova: Lewd Samurai

Sun Ra: Lawn Sprinkler Eye

Tova: Pawn trinkling sky

Sun Ra: Prawn sinking by and by.

Tova: Clown blinking, cry cry cry

Sun Ra: Round inkling: octopi, pi, pi.

Tova: Sound crinkling: sigh, lie and try

Sun Ra: Crowned kindling

Tova: Cow dumplings

Sun Ra: Thou lump things?

Tova: Tower pump kings

Sun Ra: Glowering pumpkins.

Tova: Empowering chunky chins

Sun Ra: Emperor Spunky Shins

Tova: Heh, I like that one

Sun Ra: hehe

Tova: Pimping Clunky Tins

Sun Ra: Ha!

Sun Ra: Crimping lanky twins.

Tova: Slippery cranky limbs

Sun Ra: Flippery skanky whims

Tova: Nipples bank criminals

Sun Ra: Triple swank cripples

Tova: Lip tank chips

Tova: Mine are starting to suck

Sun Ra: You just need to focus… by not focusing.

Tova: Indeed

Tova: I am definitely distracted

Sun Ra: Mine Lars Cuttings in lieu of the fuck.

Tova: Pine bars shutting two woodchucks

Sun Ra: ooooh…

Sun Ra: Line stars with a few good lucks.

Tova: That’s the winner

Tova: Thank you ladies and gentlemen and goodnight

Sun Ra: whee!


mixed bizziness

Question: Why did Kentucky Fried Chicken change its name to KFC?

a) They genetically engineered a creature called Animal 37, which is like a chicken but has three breasts and no beak and needs to eat all its meals from a hamster bottle filled with a thin gruel mixture and is affectionately called a ‘cluck’ by people in the biz because that’s the sound it will never be able to make. For legal reasons, Kentucky Fried Chicken could no longer claim that what they sold was chicken.

b) In an attempt to raise funds for a failing public education system, Kentucky copyrighted the name of their state. Now any company that wishes to use the word ‘Kentucky’ in their name must pay the state of Kentucky. Kentucky Fried Chicken, keen both to the lunacy of this newfangled government policy and the fact that their association with the state of Kentucky has nothing to do with the success of their chicken business, changed their name to the mysterious KFC.

The answer may surprise you.

Lots o’ things goin’ on here in Duluth. Pulled in a bit after 5:00 last night, carried some crap into the apartment, took four tons of boxes and trash that had been sitting around since the beginning of the semester out to the dumpster, and went to the Geek Prom meeting at Robin Goodfellow’s (a new and geeky RPG hang in Duluth that has a nice cold basement with rock walls and kids with nicotine patches on their faces playing magic and Warhammer 40K). Our plans are top secret, but I assure ya’ll they are super geeky.

This morning I worked on my webpage and made green tea and boiled off half the water from the teapot before I remembered I put it on the burner. I left the apartment for school to mail a letter, check out the Wooch! lounge and look up the books I’m gonna need for next semester. I wrote down all the names and authors in the Bookstore, then went online and found ’em all cheaper on Amazon.com (with no sales tax and free shipping, too). Saved over $80 buying my books online.

Later I drove to the t-shirt place to look at possible colors for this year’s Wooch! shirts, and on the way passed a random lady that was standing in the middle of the street, holding up traffic from both directions. On the drive back I stopped at Global Village for some Nag Champa incense and KFC for some honey barbeque wings. The two scents did not mingle well.

When I got back to the apartment I found that I forgot to lock the door, but I suppose that’s ok because I don’t even remember leaving the apartment in the first place.


redo redux

Got a new site design brewing in the pots. A fresh table on the main blog page should make sure everything is lined up and happy in all but the most poorly orchestrated browsers. The templates for the blog, the monthly archives AND the individual archives all look similar, now. Feel free to tell me if ya love it or hate it. What could possibly be next in my bag of tricks? Just wait and see.

Geek Speak has finally come into being, complete with saucy dialogue and typos. Go there if you’re at all interested in all the smoke and mirrors that hold this place together. If there’s anything else you want to know that would be appropriate to know, let me know.


January 13, 2003

damage assessment

1 broken toe.

cause: preexisting affliction from apartment staircase. Remedied by shoving foot in tight snowboard boot, forcing toe to rethink its slow battle toward recovery. Further serious injuries managed to dull pain from toe.

1 bruised tailbone.

cause: numerous, numerous falls. Many were caused by icy conditions resulting from Colorado’s pathetic snow drought. Others were caused by recklessness in terrain park.

1 cracked skull.

cause: many falls. Impact with ice. Impact with snow. Impact with trees. Impact with rail in the terrain park.

1 split lip.

cause: wind, dry, sun and cold… or falling off the picnic tables.

1 bruised ass.

cause: grinding a rail in the terrain park on my ass.

1 deep blister on heel.

cause: snowboard boots that fit just right.

8 layers of skin missing from feet.

cause: warm socks, moist socks, tight boots, et cetera.

1 mysterious scab on ankle.

cause: snowboard boots or ringworm.

1 missing fingernail.

cause: dry and cold air would split nail up the middle. Various falls knocked the splinters loose. Toothy manicure sessions on the chairlift sealed its fate.

1 dislocated shoulder.

cause: serious spill off a kicker in the terrain park. Injury makes it difficult to take off shirts.

1 bruised thigh.

cause: same spill in terrain park.

1 session of reverse deja vu.

cause: hitting head on same spill in terrain park. If I wasn’t wearing a helmet I’d be dog meat. It was kind of neat how time slowed down digitally so I could hear the gaps between individual waveforms. There was also some kind of familiar music that I can’t quite place, where each thematic variation was associated with a different color. The colors were neon green, orange and magenta, so I assume the reverse deja vu was referencing a hard fall I took while skiing in the early 90’s.


January 5, 2003

transmission from mountain

This will only hurt for a second. After 14 hours of driving and 6 hours of killing time in Boulder and 36 straight hours of being awake, we are finally raising a ruckus in Summit county. With a solid day of skiing at Breckenridge under our belts we are chilling to Rusted Root, playing Vice City and fixin’ some brownies and spaghetti. A steamy hot tub soak still awaits. Tomorrow it’s Breakfast Coors and Copper Mountain.

Please, no shouting in front of the internet.


January 3, 2003

nobody likes a setlist

Well… I’ve been on break for what? two weeks, now, and my feet have hardly skittered across the cold pavement since it started. In this, and in celebration of my friend finally getting my father’s computer working which now allows him to gripe about other more important things in life like the Shell Lake diversion project, I’ll try to account for all these lost days. I should really choose a stylistic tone… like epistolary, mock epic, or from-the-eyes-of-a-brain-suckling-zombie-child…

Whatever. I’ll just list things and recount the details that I haven’t forgotten, yet.

I got home the Saturday following finals, as my Methods class had a hang at Old Chi Friday night where we got drunk and turned in our 15 page papers (none of which actually reached the required 15… funny how that works). This allowed me to forget everything I knew about social constructionism and evolutionary psychology, both which are great stumbler words to get your friends to say at a party, and are sure to make 90 percent of the people nearby bleed from the ears.

Early Sunday morning we left for Madison to spend Christmas with my sister and my brother-in-law and a dog and another smaller dog and a cranky cat that yowls at 4am to go outside. What followed was a four day binge of book reading, bar hopping, street shopping, hobby lobbying, coffee drinking, beer guzzling and the swellest food eating imaginable. It was a perfect Christmas. My sister got a finger wall for rock climbing and they put it up in the hallway right off the living room. I got a bottle of Fireball whiskey.

On Thursday (immediately following Christmas day) we kidnapped Shara (Greta and Tyler’s black lab/dog-from-across-the-street mix, that shares the name of a mutual friend of theirs. Human Shara has since vowed to get a dog and name it “Stupid Greta and Tyler”) and booked back up to the Cities so I could volunteer for Yukon Days at Camp Ihduhapi. Piles and piles of wonderful people showed up, and we spent three days mostly ignoring kids and catching up on old times. Derik showed up with a Siberian husky/American sled dog puppy in tow and became an instant chick magnet. Sure, the chicks were 12, but the point was made. I kept running around (I conveniently forget about my broken toe, most of the time… especially when it came to climbing the stone fireplace in the dining hall) shouting “It’s a dog!”. Not surprisingly, this is the same response Keeva gets when she runs into the crazy house down the street from Derik’s Duluth residence.

Thursday night Montana fired up the sauna, and between blasts David and I ran to the island and back, barefoot, mostly devoid of clothing. Onshore the dominating thought was how stupid these men are, and that “at least if they fall in, we’ll hear them scream.”

Friday night Thomas showed up, bringing with him frightening stories of air travel and terrorism from England. A turbaned fellow set off the metal detector at the airport. The attendants wanded him, and the turban set off their handheld detectors. Satisfied that it was only his hat pin, they let him go. “No, don’t you see, he’s a terrorist! Now the only thing that stands between the free world and terrorism is me and this novelty chocolate Swiss Toblerone!”

Saturday afternoon after camp we reinstated a delicious tradition, and went to Buffalo Wild Wings for wings and beer and mixed drinks. The asshole craptacular bartender was working, and he made sure that any drink that required more than screwing the top off a bottle sucked.

Saturday night, after scouting some spelunking entrances, we met up with Thomas, Bobby and Kyle (who was down in the Cities before Yukon Days, and then suddenly had to be in Duluth during Yukon Days, but amazingly could be down in the Cities again for the post-Yukon Days party) and went to the liquor store and Pizza Hut in Dinkytown. There were a lot of homeless people at Pizza Hut, and we all watched the latest sporting craze to wash across the shores of television. SLAMBALL. It’s just like basketball, only with taller hoops, body checking, and trampolines.

After Pizza Hut we arrived at the post-Yukon party, where things were just starting to warm up. Pip was upset that he forgot the necessary components for pulling off Edward Fortyhands. Anna was trying to figure out what to drink, and Bobby offered her one of his malt beverages. I flipped out at him. “Look at you! Don’t try to pawn your malt beverages off on the poor girl! She deserves a beer or a mixed drink! Your Smirnoff Ice exists soley so that it can be advertised on tv!”

As the first hour of the party marched on we began to realize how bad the music was and would continue to be if one did not intervene. It was rap. Bad rap. Thomas started moving his head to the music, and after an hour he didn’t have to change the motion a bit as one song ground into another. We started making up our own lyrics.

Fuck her in the boot

in the boot?

there’s no room in the boot

there’s a body in the boot

there’s no place to put the loot…

bass is the place, London.

Fuck Sharing Cross.

I went out to my car and grabbed a few cds. I assumed that if people thought Phantom Planet and String Cheese Incident sucked, people could just switch it out and I wouldn’t complain. I also whipped out the Fireball whiskey. Montana refused to try it, pointing out that it came in a plastic bottle. With Fireball, they assume that you will get so messed up that dropping the bottle is inevitable.

Eventually it was 4:30 in the morning on Sunday and everyone but Jon and I had filtered out. Strangely, there wasn’t even anyone that actually lived at the house remaining. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 6:00 to give Jon a ride to the airport to catch his 7:15 flight back to Colorado. I finally got home at 7 and slept until 2 in the afternoon.

On Monday Luke and I went on a scouting mission looking for some spelunking entrances. We found a ladder, a few bum towns, some abandoned mill ruins, and really big big tunnel that we couldn’t get to without a rope or a ladder (wink, wink). After the sun went down we got in the basement of an abandoned rec center, and then decided to head back to Luke’s to get some dinner, equipment and recruits. Sandy and Ryan soon showed up, and we headed back to the sites. We left the car in the Red Cross parking lot and brought the ladder down to the big big tunnel. After figuring out how we were going to get down, Ryan pointed out that the tunnel was a drain for the river lock, and if they were to drain the lock we’d all be screwed.

We scratched that plan and instead explored the mill ruins. It was a large tunnel that followed a bunch of old wooden planks suspended five feet above deep, murky brown water infested with flesh-eating carp. After getting our kicks we went to the other side of the river to find a way down the cliffs to the flats, but our attempts were unsuccessful, to say the least. We called it a night.

New Year’s Eve Day morning I had an eye exam, which determined that my vision was piss-poor and I needed glasses. I got glasses and by noon was driving up to Duluth to retrieve my Playstation 2 for a New Year’s night of drunk video games. The Lake was calm and deep blue. I collected the booty and was back down in Hopkins by 6:30. We played Vice City and ate chicken wings and drank beer until 4:00 in the morning.

We got up at 10:00 and had breakfast. At 3:00 in the afternoon my family and I went to a friends’ house so Shara could play with their black lab. They played for hours as we sat around, talked, drank beer and checked out the 1970’s Porsche they were rebuilding. We ate wild rice soup and crescent rolls and went home around 8:00.

Yesterday I ran errands and got mittens and a snazzy coat from REI. Yesterday evening I saw the Jackass movie, which isn’t nearly as bad as some reviewers make it out to be. It was, however, too fixated on the out-hole, which is an area of stupidity that I would rather was left unexplored.

Today I ran more errands and called some companies out in Hood River to figure out what I’m going to do this summer.

Tonight I leave on our ski trip out to Colorado.

w00t!