Song of the Day

Ashes Of American Flags ~ Wilco

The cash machine is blue and green
For a bundle of twenties and a small service fee
I could spend three dollars and sixty-three cents
On Diet Coca-Cola and unlit cigarettes
I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a fuck
How hot and sorrowful, the machine begs for luck

All my lies are always wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

We want a good life with a nose for things
the fresh wind and bright sky to endure my suffering
I'm a hole without a key if I break my tongue
Oh, speaking of tomorrow, how will it ever come?

All my lies are always wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

I'm down on my hands and knees
every time I hear a doorbell ring
I shake like a toothache
every time I hear myself sing

All my lies are only wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

I would like to salute
the ashes of American flags
And all the fallen leaves
filling up shopping bags

Christmas Questions ... with different answers

Q. Why do reindeer have red noses?
A. They are not equipped with ABS and thus tend to bump into things on slippery surfaces. This is why Santa is often seen with a red nose (the sleigh doesn't have an airbag, either).

Q. Why does Santa use Elves?
A. There is no trade union for Elves. They're easy to exploit.

Q. Is there really a Mrs. Claus?
A. Highly unlikely. Since Santa is surrounded by male figures (Elves, reindeer named Rudolph, Donner, Blitzen etc.) his sexual preference seems to tend towards homosexuality. He is said to have some problems finding a gerontophile/zoophile Elf for a threesome with a reindeer, though.

Q. Does Santa really live on the North Pole?
A. Uncertain. However, rumor has it that the story of Santa and the North Pole has nothing to do with the Arctic, but that Santa is known to frequently ask the Elves and reindeer if he can shove his pole up north. Obviously, this is related to the cryptic description "up where the sun don't shine", which applies to both the North Pole and assholes in general.

Q. Does Santa really work all year round making toys?
A. Get real! Check the box in which the Christmas gift came! Does it say "Made at the North Pole"? ("Made in China" more likely!)

Q. Then what does he DO all year?
A. Uncertain. Chasing Elves and reindeer, most likely. Maybe he spends his winters in Florida.

Q. Is the story about the little angel and the Christmas tree true?
A. Without a doubt. Santa has a temper and can develop a nasty attitude (he doesn't take stress too well).

Q. If so, why do the little angels on Christmas trees look happy (given the fact they have a tree up theirs)?
A. Little angels are known to be kinky.

Q. Do the polar bears on the North Pole cause Santa any trouble?
A. Not since Santa equipped the guard Elves with M-61 sub-machine guns.

Q. So Santa is basically a gun-crazy, homosexual, angry old man who exploits little Elves, fools around all day, and drives around in a sleigh that lacks basic security measures?
A. You forgot about the bestiality thing.

Song of the Day

Time For Me To Come Down ~ Amy Rigby

I'm driving past a field of red poppies
Hiding my left arm from the sun
I wouldn't think of stopping now
I'm on my way to see you

All of these thoughts I've been having
Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one
I've been on top of the mountain
And I do believe

It's time for me to come down
I wanna touch you
I wanna love you
I wanna feel you
I wanna deal with you

I'm drinking from a can of warm soda
Trying to keep myself alert
I wouldn't dream of sleeping now
I'm on my way to see you

Coming out of anaesthesia
I wanna know how it feels to be hurt
I've been above it all
But I've changed my mind

It's time for me to come down
I wanna know you
I wanna show you
I wanna give you
I wanna live with you

Driving sixty miles and out
You can hear me ....
Now the sun is sinking down
And the road is very rough

Stopping at a fast food restaurant
Trying to feed the butterflies
I wouldn't think of choking now
I'm on my way to see you

Had enough of early retirement
I wanna know how it feels to try
I've been above it all
But I changed my mind

It's time for me to come down
I wanna touch you
I wanna love you
I wanna feel you
I wanna deal with you
I wanna know you
I'm gonna show
I wanna give you
I wanna live with you

I totally was Sheldon tonight

So despite my dislike of most sitcoms ... I have become a fan of The Big Bang Theory.  Perhaps because I've been told I'm a perfect mix of Sheldon and Leonard.  Sheleonard, in fact, was a name given to me by a friend.  I find it amusing. I'm nowhere NEAR that smart, nor that full of useless information, but to be recognized as such for the intelligence and randomness and ability to technical on people is rather amusing.

Then again, I do support Sheldon's take on astrology:  "Yes, it tells us that you participate in the mass cultural delusion that the sun’s apparent position relative to arbitrarily defined constellations at the time of your birth somehow affects your personality."

But anyway ...

Today, we had snow. And ice. And as anyone who lives in an area that gets such delicious precipitation in cold months can tell you, almost everyone hates cleaning off their car.  That's why they build garages and buy carports.

However, I got to use science on my (probably low-double-digit-IQ) neighbor who, as he said, plays guitar for a living.  Now that's not an insult at guitar players, but seriously ... you make a living playing guitar in Youngstown, Ohio? We're the cultural armpit of America. Hell, a local hero (Kelly Pavlik) couldn't sell out a Division II college basketball arena (Beeghley Center) for a world title fight (WBO and WBC Middleweight belts, which he holds) in his home town.

Then again, there wasn't beer at the fights because the fine people promoting the fight forgot to apply for a beer permit, assuming the venue would have one.  That's good work boys.

But back to my neighbor.  Who I've heard play guitar while he sits on his patio. I'm thinking people pay him to STOP playing, but what do I know?

I'm out there scraping my windows, in 25 degree temperature, wearing a hockey jersey, no hat, no gloves, jeans and shoes ... he's bundled up in a big-ol ghetto bubble jacket with fur-lined gloves and a hat under his hood, shivering like it's 50 degrees colder than it is ... struggling like hell to clear the ice off his windows.

I whip through my car, front, back, all four sides, and clear the snow off so it doesn't blow onto the front or back windows ... he asks where I got such a great snow scraper.  I said "Speedway Gas Station. Was all of two dollars."  He said he paid ten bucks for his, and his handle was metal and mine was wood.  I told him it's not the tool, it's how you use it.

"What?"

And then, my friends, it went all sciencey:

Me:  "You're scraping your windows wrong.  Because the glass is at an angle the snow or ice forms with a bottom heavy crystal structure. You're scraping side to side, which is against the grain of crystal. I'm scraping top to bottom, therefore, attacking the offending ice crystals at their weakest point, the top. That's why my two dollar ice scraper is out performing your ten dollar one. It's knowing how to defeat your enemy and doing it with the least physical output."

Him (trying and realizing top to bottom works much better): "You're pretty smart."

Me (externally): "Thanks."

Me (internally): "Bazinga, I don't care."

From the Bizzaro Files

A little bit of something I'm reading kind of hit me as ... well ... me:

It made me kinda glad I didn't have a relationship of my own; she'd probably leave me and become a nun. Or a lesbian. Or a lesbian nun. Are there lesbian nuns in real life? I could only assume so.

Maybe I should shave my head and become a monk -- then I wouldn't have any women problems. No more crazy women, no more awkward first dates, no more awkward encounters with parents, no more backbiting female friends of hers, no more lewd comments from mine, no more sex (not that I've been having much lately anyway), no more cuddling on the bed watching a move, no more lulled to sleep by her breathing, no more everything. Instead, I'll become one of those wire-fu monks that can shatter steel with his fist, and fly from tree to tree with my super awesome kung-fu grip, and then wander the earth like Quai-chang Kane.

When I Rule The World ...

Just random things popping into my head about what will be different when I rule the world:

• ALL candy canes will be pink and white and PEPPERMINT only. None of this fruit flavor or fruit color. NO. Candy canes are always meant to be pink and white and peppermint flavored.
  
• Basketball games will have a 2-hour time limit ... with a single 15-minute add-on for the 10-minute overtime period. There's no reason the last two minutes of a basketball game should take 25 minutes.
  
• The phrase "If the playoffs started today" would be outlawed. They don't start today. They start when the regular season is over. Period.
  
• John Madden will be executed for dumbing down the art of broadcasting.
  
• John Buccigross will be named Broadcasting Czar. His seat will allow him to execute, on the spot, morons like John Madden.
  
• A select set of drivers will have their cars outfitted with Star Trek type phasers that simply make idiotic drivers vanish.
  
• I will own the world's first teleportation device. After the bugs have been worked out scrambling up my enemies.
  
• Great Lakes Christmas Ale and Michelob's Winter's Bourbon Cask Ale will be available year round.
  
• Shitty flavorless light beers and lite beers will vanish.
  
• The size 0 will not exist in women's clothing. NOBODY is a size 0.

Oh, I'm sure there are more ... these are just the beginnings. What's your list?

Song of the Day

"Talking To My Angel" ~ Melissa Etheridge

Don't be afraid
Close your eyes
Lay it all down
Don't you cry
Can't you see I'm going
Where I can see the sun rise
I've been talking to my angel
And he said that it's alright

I've always had to run
I don't know just why
Desire slowly smoking
Under the midwest sky
There's something waiting out there
That says I've got to try
I've been talking to my angel
And he said that it's alright

This town thinks I'm crazy
They just think I'm strange
Sometimes they want to own me
Sometimes they wish I'd change
But I can feel the thunder
Underneath my feet
I sold my soul for freedom
It's lonely but it's sweet

Don't be afraid
Close your eyes
Lay it all down
Don't you cry
Can't you see I'm going
Where I can see the sun rise
I've been talking to my angel
And he said that it's alright

I've been a huge fan of Melissa Etheridge since I first saw her play a dive bar in the Strip District in Pittsburgh in 1985. Some friends and I decided to to dahn-a-Shtrip, as the natives say, and we headed to a bar we knew would serve a bunch of 17-year-olds and found out there was a cover charge of $3 ... I asked for what? Guy said, "Some girl with a guitar."

Yeah, she was that girl. It rocked. I've been a fan ever since. This just popped up in iTunes and made me realize why I have a playlist of Melissa Etheridge songs. She's great.

Ladies, let the beat down begin ...

A man was sitting alone in his office one night when a genie popped up out of a magic lamp sitting on his desk.

"And what will your third wish be?" the genie asked.

The man looked at the genie and said, "Huh? How can I be getting a third wish when I haven't had a first or second wish yet?"

"You have had two wishes already," the genie said, "but your second wish was for me to put everything back the way it was before you made your first wish. Thus,you remember nothing, because everything is the way it was before you made any wishes. You now have one wish left."

"Okay," said the man, "I don't believe this, but what the heck. I've always wanted to understand women. I'd love to know what's going on inside their heads."

"Funny," said the genie as it granted his wish and disappeared forever, "That was your first wish, too!"

Again, I *AM* Indie Rock Pete

see more hipster robot webcomics and pixel t-shirts


(darn blogger layout ... click to see full size ... and yes, you're welcome!)

Rock On, Natalie Dee

nataliedee.com

Dating Sites Don't Get Me

The latest example ... a woman in my age/distance wheelhouse looking for someone, in her words, humorous.

My response:

I have a humerus... does that count?

Her response:

What's a humerus?


*SIGH* even the womens wanting funny don't get me.

I'd be a monk if I had faith.

Random Wonderings, part 65

(BTW, the 65 is a random number. I stopped counting.)

I've not spent more than a couple of hours in Yonkers, NY, but I read somewhere in addition to no parking zones, they have no standing zones. WTF? And yes, it is a ticket-able offense to stand in a no-standing zone. And the fine for standing in a no-standing zone is being increased to $70.

I love reading the USAToday (known in the biz as McPaper because of they way they've dumbed down journalism). They are a classic example of how stupid a culture we've become, and how well they either mock us, or enable us to remain dumb. Now they're just trying to scare the fun right out of Halloween. Fuckers.

New NBA Season starts today ... and for the 41st consecutive year, I don't care.

A 19-year-old Norwegian is the World Champion of Monopoly. Damn socialist. Oh, he's a recent graduate of the Oslo Private Gymnasium school. (Wait, WHAT?) ... oh, and he beat a Russian for the title. Damn commies. (For the record, last time an American won ... 1974.) Monopoly, by the way, is banned in Cuba and North Korea.

And finally ... proof that some women will do damn near anything for shoes ... while hundreds died in recent flooding in the Philippines ... Imelda Marcos' shoes were not among them. Despite the fact she has pending graft charges still being fought out in court.

Broken Record, Track 7 - Windows 7 rocks

I hate to keep sounding like a broken record about how amazing Windows 7 is ... but check this out:

I just downloaded the new NVidia Graphics Drivers for my 512mb Video Card ... and didn't have to restart to apply the current (and proper) Windows 7 Driver so I can have my 1680 x 1050 native resolution on my 22" widescreen LCD.

Can anyone out there remember EVER changing a video driver in Windows and NOT having to reboot? Hell, you used to have to reboot when changing screen resolutions.

Yeah. Windows 7. It rocks.

Don't hate me because I'm Nerdiful

There are lots of other reasons to hate me :P

A Day In The Life of Manny Malhotra

So as I'm perusing the channel lineup (online, that is) for what tier of service I want to buy for cable at the new place (move-in date 9/15); I'm struck realizing for two channels, alone, I have to go with the whole package.

What two channels? The NHL Network and the NFL Network.

Yep, if they don't screw you with the ticket prices, they'll get ya with the TV stuff.

Oh well, I'll watch the hell out of both of those channels, so to me, they're worth the extra price level.

The NFL is a given ... but damn am I looking forward to the NHL network. Hockey, 24-7-365. Hell to the yes.

I mean, outside of the classic series and classic games and old-time hockey (Can I get a shout of Eddie Shore?), today I'd so watch "A Day In The Life of Manny Malhotra" ... formerly of the Columbus Blue Jackets. (Yes, it's a real show.)

I've not seen the show, but based on the fact training camp invites have been sent to several of his peers, he remains an unrestricted free agent with a telephone that's not ringing, it might go something like this:

"Hi. It's 6:30. I'm Manny Malhotra of the Please-Some-GM-Offer-Me-A-Contracts. I'm a pretty good center. By that I mean the freaking Blue Jackets let me walk away. So it's September, I should be in training camp, but here I am, sitting by the phone."

We cut to the kitchen. Manny is eating some Wheaties. They are the breakfast of champions. One has to admire his optimism. From the left, Mrs. Manny (Joanna, sister of Steve Nash ... for reals) appears. She sits down and pours a bowl. She asks Manny to pass the milk. He misses her hand by about 18 inches, and watches as the milk falls to the table, but somehow, doesn't spill.

You hear a door open. A man wearing a Red Wings jersey walks briskly through the kitchen, not even looking as Manny stands up. The stranger grabs the milk off the table. He slaps Manny in the chops when Manny says "Hey, that's my milk" but never slows down, nor drops the milk.

Manny and Mrs. Manny watch the guy walk away. Mrs. Manny hands her hubby a towel. He sits back down holding it up to his bleeding mouth. Nothing is said about him refusing to challenge his neighbor to a fight, or defend his honor, or get his milk back. Apparently, that's as common at home as a defender stealing the puck, slapping him in the shin and skating away is on the ice.

His wife looks at him. Says "Hey, since I can't eat dry cereal, can you at least put the bowl in the sink?" She watches as Manny walk slowly across the kitchen, all alone, and drops the bowl on the floor, missing a wide-open sink despite having no defense or goalie in the way. Again, his wife looks on as if this is nothing out of the ordinary.

Manny then trips on the hardwood floor as he turns around. Shaking his head, he stands up, looks around for a phantom call from the ref, then heads back to the living room. He sits at the end of his couch, next to the phone.

Which still isn't ringing.

"I don't get it. I was drafted in the first round by the New York Friggin' Rangers. And now the Blue Jerkits won't even sign me?" Sigh.

(Fade)

Hell yeah. I'd watch the shit out of that show. But you Blue Jackets fans saw that all last season ... didn't ya?