| a return to watership down |
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| 06:30pm 20/07/2004 |
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Went to Death Guild last night, for the most part on a whim, because I was dropping by somewhere closeby. In any case the plan was to just make a quick stop just to say hi to Stephan, when I was surprised and delighted to run into (drum roll please) Rabbit! Somehow I had managed to completely forget that he was going to be in town, and have the distinct misfortune to be without a phone until thursday (roomate change), so all in all it was quite a piece of luck for me that he didnt come and go while I remained oblivious. Not wishing to shrug aside this little bit of statistical providence, I went down to San Jose, and had a great time hanging out with him and the people he is staying with (who are also friends, and not only cool, but also apparently undaunted by my ability to just hang out in their kitchen.... staring at stuff) . Indeed, I had so much fun hanging out with the 'generation G.A.P' and his (probably) felonious associates, that I plan to make the trek all the way back down to see them again wednesday evening, which is either tommorrow or 'later today' for those of you picky and pedantic enough to start correcting people after midnight. Sadly, this means I am probably going to have to encounter San Jose pre-dusk, and definately means I am going to have to take *cal-train again.
*for those of you from out of state, or perhaps just lucky, cal-train is basically a collection of rail mounted turds. Which are government subsidized for some reason. |
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| personal zoo |
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| 08:09am 13/05/2004 |
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I was out last night when something amusing happened which in turn gave me a great idea, I should aquire a pair of glasses and paint vertical lines on the lenses. Then if I was perhaps also armed with a camera, and some sort of generic animal food in a paper cup, I might feel better equipped to view one or two of the more squalid denizens of our particular jungle in what could only be a more appropriate setting. With them running about willy nilly and unfettered, which sadly is very much the current state of things, the (albeit metaphorical) poo-flinging tends to get out of hand. Usually this sort of thing, having little to do with me, goes completely under my radar. However on the rare occasions that I end up having to cope with my share of wierdness, it always depresses me. I like to think or hope, although intellectually I can't fool myself, that deep down everyone (excepting anyone in marketing, advertising or the government) is a good person, and that cruelty and ignorance are merely the defensive reactions of the developmentally arrested. That basic human nature, not considering outside pressures, is altruistic. While sounding like a romantic ideal, I consider it to be more of an internal mechanism for coping with the society we live in, and it usually does its job pretty well. Like I said, usually, otherwise I would have been up on a water tower with a rifle long before now, trust me. The sort of person who goes out night after night, dumping some (extremely and in this case exclusively) personal problem in the laps of bystanders in order to fix their emotional state by campaigning for some bizarre non-existant majority-rule sympathy vote, tend to to strain that particular mechanism alot. The solution to this situation, of course, is simply to let them whine themselves out. Refrain from any involvement in the shit slinging, don't even dignify rumours with a denial unless specifically asked, even though they will surely use this as an oppurtunity to fabricate whatever they like unchallenged. This is the trick. Eventually people get tired of self pity, they most definately get sick of obsessive lies and rumours, and as interest flags the antagonist has to make his stories and accusations more and more serious and elaborate. Of course, like the .com boom, this can only go on for so long. Then, like the current situation, it becomes plainly obvious that the shit-talker is either lying out his ass or has diverged significantly from reality. The rumours dissipate, and the villain fades into the background, in a wispy cloud of their own vanishing credibility. I know all this, it is far from rocket science, it is simply how adults sometimes have to handle children. Yet it still made me angry last night, as the worm turned heel and squirmed away, thinking that my life could be affected at all by someone so pathologically bathetic. But then again, after venting a little I feel much better. You see I have the option of getting over it, just moving on.
These people on the other hand,
are stuck right where they are,
throwing tantrums and sucking their thumbs.
Forever. |
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| A Dream |
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| 05:59pm 30/04/2004 |
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mood:  cynical music: Misfits-where eagles dare
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So I had this dream last night in which I was controlling the Presidents body via some sort of radio transmission device. I dont remember much, except for the bits where I lusted after his daughter or wandered around (through press conferences and military meetings) clad only in a blanket wrapped loosely around my body. I hope that this dream was actually factual, and yours truly was in control of the largest and dumbest military force on the planet (albeit briefly), but it is a hard thing to confirm. For two reasons, reason one being that I cant recall making any decisions in the dream that didnt involve cooking a huge lobster, and reason two being that our esteemed Head Murderer appears to be mentally on par with someone stumbling to the bathroom in the middle of the night to pee. Indeed, not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
For whatever reason this might actually be just the next in a series of thematically linked dreams. That is, dreams in which influential societal figures appear in my dreams in 'compromising' positions. I'll tell you a little about the first of these dreams. About a month ago I had a dream in which I was fucking Jesus Christ, I am still not sure if it was a good dream, and the details are swiftly escaping me. It could not have been that good, I failed to ejaculate, though in all fairness I lay the blame for that on J.C.. In any case, if I am fortunate this trend will continue, as there are so many possibilities....
I have always wanted to have the Pope caught in a trash compactor, for instance.
til next time
increasing papal density on a nightly basis
surfeitofexcess
pps on a serious note here is a little something for all us americans to wonder about.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Secret Service interrogate 15-year-old for making forbidden art
A teenager drew some anti-war posters that were critical of Bush's policies, and his art teacher alerted school administrators, who in turn called the police. The cops went to the feds, and the Secret Service questioned the boy about his art.
The drawing that drew the most attention showed a man in what appeared to be Middle Eastern-style clothing, holding a rifle. He also was holding a stick with the oversize head of President Bush on it. The student said the head was enlarged because it was intended to be an effigy, Cravens said. The caption called for an end to the war in Iraq.
( via boingboing.net http://www.boingboing.net/2004/04/27/secret_service_inter.html ) |
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| Information is addictive. |
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| 03:55pm 17/04/2004 |
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Yay! My dsl has successfully switched over, a procedure that requires a whopping fifteen minutes of actual industry on the part of the provider was compressed to an amazing thirteen days! On the upside all the bits of our collective superego that had grown stale and boring have been miraculously revitalized. So like a hopeless addict robbed of tolerance I once again glory in our spurious cultural detritus. I know it will never be like the first time again, but for this brief period, I can once again be amused by flash animated kittens singing laibach. Joy. |
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| 01:46pm 05/04/2004 |
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mood:  crazy
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Dear Friends,
As much as I hate to dissapoint my thousands of err... many *ahem* both of my readers. There will be a two to three week halt in my frequent posting of funny well-written live journal entries. This is due to a change in my dsl service which, while merely being switched over to a different phone line, is a gordian knot sized problem for the phone company.
Meanwhile, I will be going insane. If I know your phone number, and you have DSL, chances are that you will be hearing from me. |
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| No morning cartoons for me |
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| 05:51pm 27/03/2004 |
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For some reason, no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to get anything done before 4 pm.
Probably due to some character flaw. |
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| an aside |
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| 02:34pm 18/03/2004 |
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mood: crazy music: Radiohead - Talkshow Host
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So last night, my girlfriend and I had sex, which is hardly strange. It was the kind of sex that, when combined with a long day, knocks both participants right out afterwards. So we are laying there, and she is starting to snore, and I am driftng in and out of conciousness. When suddenly she snaps awake and jumps out of bed. This wakes me up, and we have this bizarre conversation.
Me: (blinking groggily) Whats going on, is everything ok?
Her: (wandering around in the dark) no, everything is not ok..
Me: whats wrong?
Her: I think your ceiling is leaking.
Me: (squinting at ceiling, clearly incredulous) Um, I don't think so, why would you say that?
Her: my back is all wet.
Me: *sigh* I don't think that is from the ceiling.
Her: Where is it from then.
Me: Err, probably me, thats not water. I am pretty sure that is.... something else.
Her: Ah. Nevermind.
There might be a moral to the story here. But I have no idea what it is. |
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| Damned Daiquiri -continued- |
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| 02:15pm 18/03/2004 |
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mood:  bitchy
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pt 3. securing the appropriate materiel
to make daiquiris we would need these items.
1) one bottle rum (white) or vodka (um, no options here)
2) Daiquiri mix (preferably the kind that comes frozen in a tube like OJ)
3) Ice (made of frozen water, which may surprise some of you out there)
4) Paper Umbrellas (optional)
5) the will to carry on
Here is where some of you, no doubt the naive ones with well equipped kitchens, are thinking something like this, "Whats the big deal? Just jump in the SUV, cruise down to the local upper middle class shopping area, and throw everything onto the WhiteGuy (tm) Platinum Card." This is the sort of thing I was talking about last time. What you just saw was a perfect example of the kind of confused thinking employed by people who have opted for the kind of lifestyle that requires more than one kind of spaghetti strainer. Let me go ahead and show you where you went wrong here.
A: I do not have an SUV, mainly because I am not a yuppie assneck. In fact if you own an SUV, please just go ahead and kill yourself. I'm not kidding, its the only way you could possibly begin to redeem yourselves.
B: I live dead smack in the middle of downtown, ground zero, right in the middle of the "O" in "downtown". I could virtually hit powell street BART spitting out of my window, well, if it werent for the thick layer of people smoking crack I could. You have no idea what my immediate locale is like during the middle of the day, unless you are one of the thousands of dickheads wandering around down here, in which case you already know the answer, "full of thousands of dickheads". more on this in a minute. (see item D)
C: While there are so many liquor/convenience stores near my house that it would be impossible to throw a rock ten feet without hitting four Dorito (tm) promotional displays, not one among them is very helpful. Not unless what you are in the market for is either 40 ounces of something or Ramen so old that the ambient light has bleached all of the color out of the plastic label, if you will refer back to the top, neither of those are ingrediants in a sane Daiquiri.
D: D is the big one, in fact it is goint to get its own section.
D: The Great Unwashed
As I mentioned earlier the streets around my house are filled with what I will loosely define as people, millling about without purpose, and just sort of getting in the (my) way. In addition to this there are a lot of people in cars, and I am going to go out on a limb here, but I think they are attempting to drive them. What I didnt really go into earlier was exactly what kind of 'people' these are. In a very rough general way, almost arbitrarily even, these bipeds (or rough approximations thereof) can be split into two distinct and equally odious groups. These are:
Fat, Stupid, and Ignorant Tourists: (the walking fed) As far as I can tell most of these quasi-ambulatory horrors come from the midwest, though occasionally there are German or French specimins as well, which just goes to show that Europe has its share of gluttonous cretins as well. Presumably there would be more from overseas, if not for the fact that twelve of these monstrosities would fill a jumbo jet like a carton of eggs. These people have obviously been training their entire lives for this, and they are very good at what they do, which is take up the entire fucking sidewalk. On top of this everything(this may in fact include you), no matter how utterly asinine, requires them stopping to gawk at it. You have no idea how many times I have choked back angry rants, 'Have you never seen a parking meter you fat fuck! It is not edible, move the fuck on!'. Try to understand. These people don't walk, they sort of drift along at geological speeds. Sand dunes, or glaciers from an ice age made of meat. The fact that they usually have offspring, who are just as fucking humongous, frankly scares the shit out of me. Do people that huge actually fuck? Or do they have the kids back when their bodies still conform to the shape of their skeletons, and then get fat? Are their chubby spawn inflated from birth? These things (hopefully) will always remain a mystery to me, one which I wouldn't even have to contemplate, if it weren't for all the time spent in the wake of these pieces of walking geography.
Everyone You Wanted To Set On Fire In High School: You all knew people like these in high school, they werent exactly Jocks, in fact they were worse. They were the kind of people who just had a whole bunch of school spirit. The boys were all named Mike or Craig, and they wore Vans(tm), but never skated. Their female counterparts were named Chelsea, and were probably on the soccer team. The ones with a lot of drive, that the adults liked, but who you knew were obviously violent sociopaths. Unfortunately, the world is not a just place, many of those creeps were not doused in gasoline and incinerated as they should have been. You should have tried harder, because lo and behold, those preppies have become yuppies. Even worse, they became yuppies who spend all day on the streets around my house. I havent been able to figure out exactly why they hang around out there, I think it may be to use their cellphones, they all appear to be hanging out in front of their respective buildings engaging in their respective retarded cellphone conversations.
um more on this later
-------to be continued------- |
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| God Hates my Daiquiri |
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| 04:43pm 17/03/2004 |
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pt 1- Christ! its fucking hot!
It was hot today. Now I know those of you who are from the South, or posssibly from deep underground near the Earth' s Core, are going to thrust some sort of deformed flipper-laden appendage into the air to refute this. Please relax, I can happily assure you that I know it was merely hot for San Francisco, I am well aware that whatever bayou/wasteland where you sit around fingering your first cousin is often far more hot and unpleasant even on a cold day. The point is, that for the City, it was fucking hot.
pt 2 - Roomate finds blender, which actually IS important
So there I am sitting at my desk in my stuffy-ass second floor apartment, depressed at the mere thought of having to exist for the rest of the day without killing myself, when (it seemed) Destiny called. You see my roomate, with his Gigantic(!) head and pigeon infested crotch, had made a find up in our storage area. It was a blender. You might be confused as to why this would seem even remotely important to someone, this is because you are stupid, but I like a challenge every now and again so I shall attempt to explain.
I am guessing that the primary reason you might be confused is because you come from a sane household where not only do you have a blender, you have access to vast and powerful array of electrical labor-saving kitchen devices (not to mention more than three forks, cups without handles etc etc). My kitchen affords me so few modern conveniences that sometimes I feel painting a crude buffalo on the wall might go well with the decor. I would like to note something here. You are probably assuming that my kitchen is bare because I am either lazy or apathetic about it. Again this is because you are stupid, the actual reason it is in such a state of disregard is because I feel a well stocked kitchen would lead one to develop a dangerously skewed and naive world view, or at the very least set oneself up for a let down. Take this for example. At one time we did have a blender, which sat for many months happily on top of the toaster oven, until my (gigantic, pigeon infested, and inestimably intelligent) roomate decided to leave the aforementioned toaster-oven set to 300 degrees for approximately a day and a half. By the time I had tracked it down by smell its plastic casing had begun to bubble and drip over the sides of the toaster-oven. I remember thinking at the time that the manner in which it had melted made it look almost dispirited, sort of like the later career of an actor who was in the original Star Trek, dramatically slumping to the side under its own weight. In any case, since then we have had no blender to speak of, although we did keep the toaster, which must be indicative of the sort of social darwinism that goes on amongst kitchen implements. So we now had reasonable access to a blender, which while being handy and whatnot, probably still doesnt seem important. Unless of course, like me, you had also spent the past three days mightily fiending for pina colada's to help you stave off the heat induced lassitude (or at least replace it with a far more pleasant drunken variety of same) and I certainly had. This is when I had the stroke of genius, for although pina coladas were a great idea, they are hardly the be all/endall penultimate blended beverage. Then the answer came to me in a flash (with a little paper umbrella sticking out of it), forget pina colada, forget margaritas, forget mudslides.... today will be about daiquiris.
Now I will be the first to admit that, as far as strokes of genius go, this was sort of a washout. I mean next to such colossal brain hemorrhages such as; Albert Einsteins Theory of Relativity, Archimedes bathtub Inspiration and the discovery of France in 1962, my Daiquiri revelation may seem a little lackluster, but it was a hot day, and frankly Ill take what I can get. So now armed with what seemed to be a simple goal I quickly foisted the idea off on GiantHeaded-PigeonBoy and together we put the plan into action.
now, I am tired. You thankless crackwhores will have to wait for the rest.
----------------To Be Continued--------------- |
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| BareFaced Messiah |
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| 04:02pm 15/03/2004 |
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Here is something that truly depresses and disturbs me. Once upon a time, in a far away and more sane place, there was something called the 'Cult Awareness Network' (or C.A.N.) to which you could refer people to if it looked like they were becoming dangerously infatuated by some sort of compound-owning religious entity. Not anymore. For now the real CAN has been forced into bankruptcy by one of its biggest foes, and to add insult to injury, then replaced by something called the 'reformed' cult awareness network (which I shall refer to as RCAN for conveniences sake). So now when you refer someone to their hot line, because it looks like they are about to buy an assault rifle and a pair of nikes, the phone will be picked up by a (you wont believe this) fucking SCIENTOLOGIST! Thats right, they are the tinfoil hat wearing masterminds behind the bankruptcy of CAN, in addition to that it looks like they were given the non profit rights to its name as part of a bargain with the IRS, presumably in connection to the tens of millions of dollars the IRS accused L. Ron of skimming from the Chruch in the late Eighties. Anyway, before I get too angry here is a link to a news article containing most of the pertinent information. *Sigh*, you fuckers probably deserve it anyway.
here you go, fuckers
ps if any of you are ACTUALLY interested there is a book called 'Barefaced Messiah' which is sort of a tell all about the church of Scientology, there is strong evidence suggesting the author was killed for making it. |
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| a different conspiracy |
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| 02:32pm 15/03/2004 |
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mood:  sore music: Covenant - 2D
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Last night I watched Jan Svankmeyers 'Conspirators of Pleasure', which is a film beyond any mortal powers of description. The best I can offer is that either it is a work of genius, or Jan Svankmeyer should be stripped nude and chased by wild bears through city streets full of broken glass while men in clown suits shoot at him from helicopters, or possibly both. I advise you horrible mob of shitheads to see it. Again, you probably deserve it.
Stay clear of the moors, stick to the roads.
Watch out for the Giant Porno-Chicken |
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| byzantium |
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| 08:23pm 14/03/2004 |
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mood: weird
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I am in a strange mood. I am not sure exactly why, either its the fact that -again- I couldnt sleep more than two hours, or perhaps the stress I have been under for the past couple of (weeks) days..... Or then again, maybe it's the fact that I sat in bed wide awake for six hours reading an encyclopaedia of conspiracy theories. You know, I have known (at least intellectually) for years that people were indeed huge fuck-off wierdos, but flipping through page after page of bizarre conjectures about Rosicrucians, Z.O.G., 'Castro is a CIA mole'. Even if you ignore such counterintuitive theories like 'Project Dumbo' (thats right, its just what it sounds like -sigh-), even then, the thought that each of these naive/paranoid brain relics has its share of actual believers sometimes numbering in the thousands! I mean I guess I shouldnt be surprised, I mean for fucks sake I used to live in a country where ninety percent of the population believed that every sunday a piece of flavorless cracker magically transformed into the messiah, just in time to wash down their gullet with a swig of grape juice.
You know now that I think about it, if Jesus is the messiah or whatever, there is no fucking way he is coming back. He isn't dumb, he has to realize that after thousands of years of sunday mass catholics have become his natural predators, if he comes back they'll eat him. Either that or have to wash the feet of most of south america (not to mention italy) personally I would prefer being eaten.
Anyway, back on subject, so there are dozens (thousands really but I only read about dozens last night) of these crackpot theories, vascillating between hilarious and pathetic, usually with a dash of insane or reactionary for flavor. I am going to inflict some of this shit on you fuckers now. You probably deserve it anyway.
deros
file this one under amusing, Deros are diminutive subterranean young republicans, or possibly miniture demonic nazis. Responsible for spontaneous human combustion and poltergeist phenomena etc etc. Apparently all effects of their dwarfy 'bad vibes' war machine. Hi Ho
-rating 2/5 tinfoil hats. funny, but only marginally connected to JFK assassination
the gemstone file
It was Onassis, that conspiring greek drug dealing fuck! he did it all! Yes, the gemstone file itself is actually over a thousand pages of stream of conciousness about the supervillain so good you didnt even know he was a supervillain (the link is to something called skeleton key to the gemstone file), thats right Aristotle Onassis. He killed Kennedy and ran the CIA and killed jfk AND TOOK HIS WOMAN! In fact the author of the Gemstone file died of a tumour he was convinced the CIA induced in him (on Onassis's orders presumably). So keep this in mind, and if you encounter Onassis, do NOT attempt to detain him. Instead immediatly call a crisis support line and tell them you are seeing dead greek men everywhere.
-rating 4/5 tinfoil hats. has secret meetings in "Nut Tree" resteraunts....JFK explained!
PROMIS
this is one of the 'not so funny' conspiracy theories/govmnt rip-off jobs. Apparently the Justice Department commisioned the Inslaw Corporation to create an enhanced (for surveillance) version of the PROMIS case tracking software, and then promptly used it to create backdoors in the existing PROMIS systems (presumably for the CIA) and then stole it outright. Inslaw sued and then promptly sat in several years of dubious litigation and wierdness, til finally they hired a man called Danny Cosalaro to investigate the case. Then it gets wierder, as either Casolaro was a little bit funny or things are not quite what they seem. He claimed some time later to have uncovered some vast conspiracy, or collection of conspiracies, which he dubbed OCTOPUS and incorporated not only the Justice Department but also everything from Area 51 to the italian P2 banking conspiracy (which means the Vatican as well). Shortly after this he told several people close to him not to believe it if he died by accident, a few weeks later he was discovered in his bathtub wrists slashed et al.
-rating 3/5 tinfoil hats. to wierd for my taste, and electronic surveillance threatens my pr0n dloads
ps you are all filthy fucks. I hate you.
pps DOOM! *fist waving* |
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surfeitofexcess's journal