(courtesy Hrn. Hebig)

I'm off. Check-in is at 7:45 this morning and surgery's slated for two hours later. I'll have my phone back up and running this evening (provided that I myself am back up and running this evening) and am happily accepting visitors, as they'll be keeping me into sometime tomorrow. For those of you not down with hospitals but still wanting to play nice, give me a call or just wait til I'm back home sometime around the beginning of next week.

Wish me luck or I'll use my new bionic parts to whoop ya.

(courtesy Hrn. Hebig)

     Tomorrow, January 9th 2008, is set to be a day of reckoning of sorts. Unlike previous years, it's not the birthday that's got me off-kilter this time, but rather the pending surgery. If anything else related to this accident had worked out at all smoothly, I would feel infinitely better heading into months of recovery, excruciating pain, and a social life even more awkward/handicapped than the one I already had (hard to imagine for some of you, I know.) Not everyone qualifies as my kind of person, and I know the same can be said of me as applies to others, but I accept it as part of my strange charm, but putting me in a sling and making sure I can't drive for another few months is a surefire way to make things a tad tougher... and in the coldest winter months no less... can't really go for a walk when it's sub-zero and you can't close your coat, can you?

     Class begins this morning. I'll get a call tomorrow with my surgery time. I'll let folks know once I've rescheduled my Bday celebrating, though we'll see how portable I am in the wake of all this.

     Anyone wanna come by and play Scrabble?

Contest Number One:

I recently entered a joke work order for a window to be installed in my office area. In case you're unaware, that is physically impossible. I do, however, detest working nights without having the benefit of sunlight to herald morning's arrival.

Maintenance man Mel (a good cat by any measure) decided that, rather than install a window or rebuke me for my request, to provide as pleasing a view as he could. He really had no obligation to go as far as he did, so it made me smile. Nice little forest-with-waterfall thing.

Having gotten a look at the picture given to me as a substitute for a window in my office, I got to thinking that I could do a lot better (more specifically, that YOU lot could do a lot better) than that.

Here's what I have in mind: make a new view for me. I'm hoping to attach several good ones to my monitor (and frames for others ON my desk, since I don't have family pictures or the like.) I'd imagined something like a similar scene with Sasquatch somewhere in the background, or a frame of Homestarrunner, or whatever it is you guys can come up with.

The guidelines (if it's going to make it into my office area; otherwise, they'll be by my workbench at home): 5x7 (or 4x6), no nudity or profanity (unless it's in another language and non-obvious), and that about covers it.

Happy, sad, color, B&W, inside joke or not. It's wide open.

This is an exceptionally good way for first-timers to der Weg's site to get acquainted with the gang.

If you come up with something, I'll send my Email address to you (or, if you're feeling particularly sporting and want to send something by real mail [be still my cold, unfeeling heart] my actual address) and you can send away!

It is, on occassion, completely beyond me that people can behave (or misbehave) as they do. Though no one who knows me would ever suggest that I hold the greater part of humanity in too-high regard, they might still wonder how it is that I can continue to be so confounded and vexed at the hands (and mouths) of such vile miscreants as those populating almost every hour of my days.

Today's film was "The Shop on Main Street," and it was a horrific survey of a number of aspects of human behavior. As my luck would have it, some of those aspects on display were not part of the film, but rather put out there by my classmates. In a film that was made in 1965 and set in 1942 Slovakia, the center of the action is Tomo, an honest carpenter and husband who is set to "benefit" (at the hands of his brother in law) by being made the new owner of a shop belonging to an elderly Jewish women (as properties were being seized and handed over immediately prior to the camp deportations.)

This is not, as you may've gathered, a laugh-riot.

It is, instead, an examination of a number of difficult aspects of the human condition and, very significantly, the parallel roles of religion and authoritarian governments in subjugating people to the ends of carrying out evils that would've been otherwise unthinkable, were it not for the way those institutions utilize a tough father-figure approach of tough-love of the sort that makes blind obedience the highest virtue. "You don't need to understand my decisions. Trust that what I decide is right and for your benefit and you will be safe and cared for." Under systems such as these, the people who play along are already devoid of a truly developed self (because they have no inherent connection between conscience and action and, like Mel Gibson, will feverishly defend their fathers/ dictators/ gods regardless of the morality [or lack thereof] connected with the actions and inactions of those entities)and are easily and without much subversion manipulated into commiting heinous crimes against their fellow humans while at the same time feeling themselves merely "part of the machine", helpless, or even worse, innocent bystanders to the time and without culpability.

These are heavy subjects and themes.

I was growing sick hearing people laugh at times when that was the least appropriate reaction possible.

It's time to get ready for work and my head's a'whirl with contempt and revlulsion. It's been a rough last while. I'm back in class but feeling completely alienated by my peers (and a large part of my friends) to the point that I deleted over half of my phonebook this last weekend. Whether it's not being taken seriously or having friends who can't quit fawning over your disease-infested, (genuinely) crazy, selfish ex-girlfriend, or any of the other maladies currently afflicting me at the moment, I having a great deal of trouble coping now.

This is a dangerous mental space to be occupying as the days grow shorter and the air colder.

Who's with me? I'm just not feeling it.

Excuse the stupid font problems...they wouldn't go away...

I'm not gonna lie to you, boys and girls, as that's not my style. There's a been a lot going on in my neck of the woods, and der Weg has been having more than his share of difficulties in dealing with it all. Expect to see a bit of a personal inventory posted shortly (in order to get you guys caught up.) The things troubling me are not, however, all of a personal nature, though I don't mean to suggest that those that are make up only some small percentage of that which finds itself on my plate...

To business!

In no particular order (its 4:30AM, so give me a break, will ya?)

DISCLAIMER: As hard as I may rail on the Dem candidates, it's largely due to the fact that I consider it impossible to not see what a bunch of crooks, schnooks, and all-round bad people the Republican candidates are. I trust that you, my reader, have no trouble equating people who deny evolution in order to court the "crazy vote" with people who would also profess belief in the flying spaghetti monster (a favorite of mine) or would attempt to deny the existence of gravity. Those guys sink to a level that's somewhere below craven and brazen. The point here is to illustrate that the "other guys" are just a different turd sandwich (perhaps a lighter or darker hue of poo) that's going to leave just as awful a taste in your mouth.

I hate this part of my job…

If you don't feel up to reading my candidate appraisals (there're two), I must insist that you at least check out the "Big Picture" at the close. Don't make me give you all shaken baby syndrome in my efforts to wake you all up. Really. Whether on the left or right of the spectrum, you shouldn't have any reasons to argue with me (though my ears remain open and I'm always prepared to change my opinion should new facts [yes, FACTS, not rumors and bollocks] come to light.)

I'm only doing this because I love you.

Obama – I'm tired of this guy. In case any of you haven't had the chance to keep up lately, I'll get you up to speed. He's just as phony, power-hungry, war-mongering, and corrupt as all the other major candidates, regardless of party. You disagree? You just haven't heard? Check out the following:

1)       This guy had the audacity to make comments about how corrupt many politicians inWashington DC have become due to special-interest lobbying. This is coming from a guy who's already displayed craven loyalty to two despicable special interest groups, having first explained to everyone that our health care system doesn't need any drastic overhauling, but rather just a dab more government oversight of the existing companies who are, by his estimation, perfectly capable and willing to provide reasonable, comprehensive, and affordable services to everyone. He also continues to press for coal-to-liquid fuel initiatives, an option that is about as environmentally friendly as blasting off an endless string of shuttles to harvest Mars' ice cap and return it to Earth under the aegis of not disturbing existing aquifers (at which point someone'd claim to be a "friend of the environment" for having spearheaded the initiative.)

2)       Bombing Pakistan. Are you f'n kidding me?

3)       His opposition to investigations of current government actors (including the idea of impeachment) is evidence of a much wider range of maladies. Most of these can be summed up under the "don't shit where you eat" heading, as time and time again our two parties hold hands en route to another session of ass-dunking in the Beltway gravy.

4)       How can you go and trumpet your opposition to the Iraq conflict and simultaneously support an escalation of hostilities toward Iran? Right up until Bush inserted Iran into his "Axis of Evil" speech, Iran had been on a very steady course of reforms, both political and social, even aiding (the single largest cash contributor) to the reconstruction in Afghanistan. The whole Iran-thing is a post of its own, but suffice it to say that anyone slightly smarter than a can of pickled prunes would, upon reviewing the following, conclude that the evidence supporting political dialogue (instead of military intervention) constitutes a "slam dunk" (I hate you, George Tennet.) Iran's current president is a monster entirely of our own making. Without our threats of military action (including nuclear strikes), our hollow human rights rhetoric, and our recent military aid packages to all of Iran's neighbors, there'd be no fuel for Iran's newly-found (and only begrudgingly-accepted) nationalism. With an enemy in sight, it's easier for reactionary leaders in that country to shout about "traditional values" and to retreat back to fundamentalist ideals whilst rolling back reforms and freedoms that were brought about by a natural progression of national politics. We've already brought plenty of "regime change" to the region (including the overthrow of a democratically elected government in 1953, in which we handed control to the Shah (who proceeded to persecute [and in many cases, execute] large swaths of the Iranian population.) Once is bad enough, but we went on to do it again later.

Iranians have not forgotten these transgressions, but the majority of the civilian population is of the same mind as ours: They know that we, the American citizenry, are not the ones who approved and/or carried out these crimes. They are no more hostile toward us than we toward them. Mahmoud Blow-up-everything is not a nice man. Thing is, he's outside of the mainstream (politically and ideologically.) Much like our own ignoramus-in-chief he derives his power from existing threats that are in no small part his own creation. Were we to quit fueling those flames, he'd fall out of office in rather short order. There like here, the economy is in shambles, people are disgruntled, and personal freedoms are being limited, and all of it's happening because people are being brow-beaten with the "necessity" of trading all of those things for "protection" from outside forces. Though the governments have some distinct differences, the populations of our two countries have much more in common than those in charge would like us to believe.

AHEM!

5)       Can you claim to be on the moral high-ground in the face of so many Constitutional assaults and not stand up and loudly declaim the heinous, vomit-inducing awfulness recently perpetrated in the form of the FISA revisions. Doesn't the president take an oath to uphold and protect the Constitution? Think back to the 90's, when people were outraged by the existence of FISA and were appalled by the mere idea that there could exist in the US a secret court with secret proceedings. People at the time had dedicated themselves to getting rid of this abomination. Fast-forward to 2007 and we found ourselves clinging to FISA as if it were the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

Think about all those lame-ass excuses you've heard for why that bill got passed. How did the president, with no popularity, no political capital, and his own party abandoning him, get to simply demand whatever he felt like having, and have exactly that handed to him? Summer recess. Fear of name-calling. Concern that, if something happened, they'd be blamed. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseum.

INTERLUDE –

Why in the hell did anyone elect these assholes anyhow? We've stomped the 4^th Amendment into the ground (and put the authority to judge the legality of this nonsense into the hands of a man whose malfeasance is exceeded only by his incompetence [I'm fairly sure that, had Congress asked, "Did you put on underwear this morning, Sir?" as a control question, he's have unzipped to check, and then still claimed privilege of some sort, or that no one had discussed the status of his undergarments that morning]), pre-approved another un-winnable (and potentially far more disastrous military conflict) with a much more potent country in the Middle East (weren't they promising to END our war there?),  we've made NO steps whatsoever toward extricating out troops (a SPECIFIC campaign point for these weasels) and replaced that with more wait-and-see bullshit, the outcome of which we already know (name one major news outlet that calls it something other than a "progress report"), passed a completely ineffective reform bill on earmarks, and on and on and on.

CLINTON – See all of the above (with the exception of the coal and healthcare lobbies) and raise the express willingness to torture, invade sovereign nations, contravene the Geneva Conventions, and disregard UN obligations and rules.

Not an ounce better than any of the Republican thugs and, what's more, if there's anyone who can mobilize (i.e. scare, threaten, and get out the vote) people on the right, it's her. Let's be honest: regardless of party affiliation, there couldn't be a more divisive character than her. She's completely without ethics, without the slightest moral conviction, and no better than any other carpet-bagger land-pirate.

THE BIG PICTURE

                I've never been this distressed over the state of this country before. Never so thoroughly disgusted and hopeless. Never before have I felt that the difference between party A and party B was as miniscule as the label itself, and that, if the labels were switched, I wouldn't be able to tell.

Having read the 2-candidate laundry list above, you'll realize that it applies to pretty much every candidate on both sides. The only difference between Democrat and Republican candidates is that one side claims to be against all the things it ends up supporting or allowing, while the other side either refuses to talk about the topics at hand (preferring spin and redirection) or insists on blaming and problems with these ill-conceived initiatives on the other side, claiming thusly that they'd work beautifully if it weren't for all the DFH's (dirty fucking hippies) trying to sabotage this country and make sure we are all reciting the Quran within a decade.

I'm tired of lobbying in its present form. I'm tired of people being able to bribe (calling it what it is) our unelected officials as easily as the elected ones. I'm tired of food being filled with genetically altered substances, of cloned animals being used in the meat supply (as of June), of flavorless, brightly colored, genetically modified produce, and all number of poisons acquired either as part and parcel of the production process or through suppliers we "cannot afford" to scrutinize. I'm tired of AT&T censoring content it rebroadcasts (Pearl Jam from Lollapalooza) in such a brazen and egregious maneuver in the wake of the whole Net Neutrality arguments, whereby companies like AT&T promised to police themselves.

I'm tired of the elected and unelected alike forgetting that they are public servants. That the assholes feel entitled to "augment" their incomes at the expense of democracy is simply beyond my ability to comprehend. If you can't manage on $160,000 plus all of the included perks, then you shouldn't take the job. The FCC and FDA alike are even tougher to crack, as you and I have no say in the matter. There are no votes and I can't afford to send these guys on vacation for "consideration" of my views on the things to be determined by them.

I'm tired of mortgage companies making years worth of calculated decisions to loan money to high-risk borrowers at outrageous rates, only to have their empire start burning, at which point they insist that, for the good of everyone, they must be bailed out (and to have Congressman Dodd – (D) CT agree.) Where are all of those "invisible hand of the market" jerk-offs now? I'm not only tired of that, but I'm tired of hearing about it and thinking about it, only to come home and see more too-good-to-be-true loan offers from Ditech on TV.

I'm tired of our government threatening military and political action in selective and hypocritical ways that almost make me scream (and in some cases I actually do yell back at the radio or TV…anyone want to throw food at CSPAN with me sometime?) Quit bitching at Pakistan for having a man in a military uniform as a head of state, when 1) you willingly do business with him in spite of him being unelected and in power only because of a military coup 2) our own head of state makes all of his claims to power on the basis of his duties as commander-in-chief of our armed forces. Quit denying the Palestinians the right to have the government they elected for purely insane reasons. Almost every member of the Arab League (including Saudi Arabia the last time I looked) refuses to officially recognize Israel. Rather than force them out of office and cut off all financial support (including their own tax dollars) we sell them cutting-edge weapons. Quit yelling at Turkey and everyone else in the Middle East who's not on our X-mas card list for having religiously-driven governments and laws when we've got the nutholes we've got here. We're supposed to be free from enforced religion and yet are constantly trying to stuff one brand or another of faux-Christianity down everyone's throats. Anti-gay marriage, pro-10 commandments in the courthouses and schools, claiming the Earth's 6000 years old, and a system so f'd up that almost every Republican candidate has come out against the theory of evolution.

Lots of people talk about leaving for Canada or other destinations. They don't. I'll be graduating this coming May and my last reason to stay on this land mass is now a pipedream instead of a plan. If I'm lucky, I'll someday meet someone who can tolerate me and with whom I'll be lucky enough to build a life somewhere, maybe even have a child. Not here. Things are coming to a head, and that's not some brand of Chicken-Little speculation. Things are going to collapse here the same way they did with the USSR and this country will stay united only in as much as it will be a federation of largely sovereign states (more like the EU or the earliest days of the Republic than the current USA. I will not live in fear of my future, as I want to look forward to it. I will not raise children in an environment of fear, suspicion, and xenophobia. I will no longer be party to all of this.

When you realize it's time for you to go, maybe I'll be your first point of refuge. My arms will stay open. I've not given up on people. I've only given up on what this place has to offer.

You're all loved

- dWiF

Growth is necessary. Are these legitimate means?

This sequel's been too long in coming, but I assure you all it's not a cop-out when I say that circumstances have conspired against me. What's more, I'm composing this in wordpad on my work computer, after which I will have to transfer it to my flash drive and take home, so that I can add pictures and actually put it online. This is greatly disruping my mojo. One of the major advantages blogwriting has over songwriting is that you can, for all practical purposes, write the music and the lyrics at the same time (as long as you have internet access and can handle images as you work, as things will then follow a logical trail, so long as one's capable of following a logical path in the first place.) Of course songwriting has a major advantage over blogwriting in that
songwriting (very much unlike blogwriting) will get you laid if you are any
good at it. As someone who composes prose to be consumed by the greater
online world, it seems to me that one's sex appeal and "lay-ability" are
inversely proportional to the quality of one's writing (or at least
one's ability to use punctuation.)

But I digress.

Being no longer allowed to access the internet in any way whatsoever from work, I've had to break up the creative process (thereby facing up to the fact that I'd be a lousy songwriting) and slow down my production. I'll see what I can do to counter this.

How not to begin a Thursday in NYC

I promptly spent an exhausted Thursday wandering ever-so-aimlessly about town on account of being surrounded by a trio of the most ill-mannered, uptight, and illogical English biscuitheads on Earth. When it came time to decide on our destinations for the day, the two young-uns (age will eventually become a factor) trumpeted that they wanted to go "to Brooklyn." You and I have all heard of Brooklyn. Like me, you probably know that it is, in fact, a neighborhood and not a sightseeing destiniation or place with things "to see" (in a tourist-y sense.)

"Perhaps they know something I don't," I thought to myself. This is a thought that would only surface a few times, as I quickly came to realize that that would never be the case. Ever. Really. Never ever.

As would often be the case, "someone" (whom they could neither identify as being an expert on such things nor locate at all) told them they should go there and they decided that this person was knowledgable. Relative to them, perhaps. Then again, the same could be said of pickled prunes in cans, the green potato chip you find in every bag, and the majority of evangelical chrsitians (whose label I no longer see fit to dignify with capital letters.)

Side note: Ever notice that the same evangelicals who insist that the Earth is only 6,000 years old and that Adam and Eve rode their 87-octane-fueled dinosaurs side-by-side to church every Sunday are the very same ones who claim that recent global warming phenomena aren't a reliable indicator of anything since these are very very long cylces that have been going on for ages and we can't look at this snapshot as a reliable indicator of things?

Yes, I hate them too.

I was forced to involve hotel staff in the melee and was (thankfully) vindicated. It was off our list of destinations without destinations. They then explain that they don't want to do "stupid stuff" like going to museums, art galleries, or anywhere that's of any cultural or historical significance. This resulted in an extended stay in the cosmetics section at Bloomingdales. On the way to that section we passed through the cafe. Beautiful creations were to be seen gracing the plates of people who were making such hideous, contorted facial expressions that, were one unable to see what was on the plates before them, one could only assume that they were the test subjects in a bid to find the secret ingredient to eggserroneous (As long as at least ONE of you gets my Earnest Goes to Camp reference it was worth it.)

Subway posters (and what they mean)

I, for one, had always wondered what happened to tat guy from Kid N' Play. Not only did I find him on this advert for the circus (really), but it also shows that Michael Jackson's skin disease is more prevalent than I initially thought.

 I'm not gonna lie. In my sick, sick head, I first took this for a service which would aid you in anonymously outing friends who need that last nudge. Personal storage is NOT what came to mind.

Many were the times during the course of our wandering about town. Arm
in arm the bonehead sisters (cousins, actually, but who cares anyhow) would meander off at high-speed without knowing where were were headed. This had two primary effects on me. Firstly, I could't hardly stop to window shop or look at anything anywhere because they were so far ahead that we couldn't see them anymore. Secondly, when they would remain out of sight for too long a time up ahead, I would secretly begin hoping that they'd rolled under a bus or been bludgeoned by some really pissed off guy who may've been the 200th that day to whom they'd randomly tossed off a, "Heeyyyyyyy, Papi!" Invariably, they were only to be located via mobile phone and they'd have to stop (sometimes blocks ahead) and wait.

Complete and utter twits, I tell you.

The rest of the day was filled with blithering stupidity of a similar ilk.

If you know me (or merely read this with any regularity), ytou know I can be an ass. You also know I'm afraid of retarded people. That;s why I froze when confronted with the following flock of strange birds.

Yes, that's a gaggle of retarded orthodox Jewish youth. There was a lot of drooling and staring from them, so I felt justified. If I believed in Hell, I'm sure I'd be headed there.

More sights of the day

New meaning to "monster truck"

Only in New York, eh?

Sound advice...

Straight-up hilarious. "Down on the Farm"? "Stable Mates"?

Wow.

Just: Wow.

There was a mighty fine Turkish restaurant the girls had spotted the day before , the likes of which they insisted upon visiting for dinner that day. I love Turkish food, but these girls can agree on nothing. They didn't know where it was located ("somewhere in/near Times Square"), they didn't know the name, but they were dead set on eating there (which would, of course, come back to astound me later, as them agreeing on something was assuredly a bad omen.) After endless hours we came to the door of the Dervish. Dervish is a classy, comfortable dining establishment with a well-rounded menu or excellently prepared Turkish staples and a handful of items that cold be squeezed in under the roof if that sort of thing isn't exactly to your taste but you find yourself there
anyhow. One look at the menu and I was honestly salivating. As soon as one of
the girls opened her hole to our waiter, my appetite began to wane.

Rapidly.

There was argument over whether or not the meats were halaal. There was nothing on the menu saying they were (although the management and staff were clearly Turkish Muslims.) Mind you, my three dining companions are 100% non-practicing Muslims, but have decided to make this a crusade of theirs thoughout the trip. The waiter was asked the halaal question, to which he immdiately answered in the affirmative. This was, of course, not sufficient. I was puzzled and vexxed. They proceeded to insist on asking a manager directly. Upon the manager's appearance at our table, he too was asked, he too was quick to respond in the affirmative (even noting that the chicken, unfortunately was not halaal), and he too had his answer summarily dismissed. I was pissed and embarassed at this point. Why ask someone a question if you know in advance that you won't believe them? These miscreants went on to explain that, in London, restaurants post their halaal cerificates in the front window, and they want to see the store's certificate prior to ordering. Why ask people and dismiss their answers when a certificate is the only thing you'd trust anyhow? The manager explained that this is not how it's done in NY, but that he would see what he could dig up. How is London relevant here? The good man returned with a receipt from their meat delivery service, a company whose name consisted of two words, one of which was "halaal." Case closed, yes? Not a chance. They're not sure if it's good enough. They pass it around, each one looking over this entire slip (which isn't big) as if there were some other info to be gleaned from it outside of the company's name.

Here's how I looked by the time we got to order (and I'd have rather
gone somewhere else after that ordeal. I apologized to our waiter and the
manager en route to the bathroom.)

                   I did not enjoy what should've been a wonderful meal.

Not ones to rest on their laurels, this dinner fiasco was then capped by what had to be the Dos Amigos greatest (mis)adventure. Turns out they had their collective hearts set on going to "P. Diddy's club" and were insisting that I join them. I would sooner have my testicles ripped out and replaced with burning coals followed up by a swift kicking than do any such thing. The only thing stopping them was that they also really wanted to go to Jay Z's club as well, but maybe we could do one tonight and one tomorrow night.

I already felt ill from the whole pre-dinner mess, felt doubly unwell due to the lack of sleep, and all compounded by my travels the day before. The thought of standing in never-ending lines, paying exorbitant cover, listening to shitty music, and not wanting to pay NYC hip-hop club drink prices was too much for me. I announced that I was not feeling well and would be taking a nap, after which I would decide whether or not I felt up to accompanying them on this outing (knowing full well that, were the dogs of hell themselves to show up at that hotel room, the biggest reaction they could've gotten out of me would be the folding down of the sheets on the second bed.

I awoke hours later to discover that my inviting friend stayed behind (claiming a bad conscience about leaving me there alone...I would later discover that this was not the reason). We talked a bit, watched Law & Order, laughed at all the prescription medication adverts, and were otherwise lazy. I didn't get to go out for dessert, read my excellent book, consume alcohol, or enjoy a moment's peace.

My decision to stay in (though I knew it was the right one from the moment I heard mention of P. Diddy/ Puff Daddy, Guy with stupid smile/ awkward teeth/ head shaped like that of a brittany spaniel) paid extreme dividends upon waking the following morning and hearing about how the female equivalents of Mutt & Jeff spent their evening. They managed to find P. Diddy's club (no small wonder considering those two could fail a course in remdial asses and elbows) and proceeded to wait the eternity I told them they would wait before making it to the door ONLY TO BE REFUSED ON ACCOUNT OF ONE OF THEM NOT YET BEING 21 YEARS OLD. This would normally be chalked up by me as oversight, but they admitted to knowing in advance that 21 was the requirement and they thought someone'd just let them in. That's dumb. That's a collossal waste of time. That's nothing when you consider that the next action they undertook was to go over to Jay Z's club and REPEAT THEIR ORDEAL! All of this in well sub-freezing temps and not appearing to be the least bit ashamed.

I'm shaking my head just from recounting it all.

Friday was completely and utterly forgettable (I'll have to look and see what pictures I have from that day, having already displayed my steak [Good Friday, schmood Friday if ya ask me) and empanada lunch), so part three will skip to Saturday and the arrival of Dr. J (accompanied, of course, by far superior stories and actual fun.)

This no-internet-at-work stuff is killing me. It's 7:30AM, I've been
here 5 1/2 hours (though it feels like an eternity) and only managed 3
hours sleep last night (in some part due to a call from a friend in need,
and you all know I'm always there for that...besides, the call ended
with broad smiles to go around, so get out my aircraft carrier and flight
suit, because "mission accomplished").

I'll wrap this up soon...

Wow. I had NO idea such a product was haunting the shelves of urban
service stations! What's more, it was located next to three different
flavors of Jolly Rancher soda. These were located immediatey adjacent the
Tahitian Treat.

Nuff said.

So, at around 5:00 this morning, we (by "we" I mean my coworker
"Brünnhilde" and I) decided to give it a try. Being entirely honest with
myself, I realized I was going to require a second opinion, as my
expectations were clearly going to play a role in my assessment of this beverage.

As you can see, dear readers, we didn't exactly make a lot of headway.
My teeth are still screaming. The flavor's there, let no one put that
in question. There are, however, questions to be asked.

Who shouldn't buy this drink?
People with teeth (who want to keep them)
People on diets
People with diabetes but without a deathwish
People who are white
People with impressionable children
People who prefer to express themselves in coherent sentences


Who should buy this drink?
People who're frustrated that there's no more Tahitian Treat in the
cooler
People who're young enough to still liv with their parents (and want to
piss them off.)
People with diabetes and a deathwish
People who think full smiles are for pussies
People who've run out of Pixie Stix to pour on their breakfast cereal
People who're in search of a "soft" gateway drug

What are it's recommended uses?
Tooth decay demos
Stripping paint from household objects
Stripping paint from industrial objects
Huffing (I'm pretty sure it'd work)
Purely liquid solution to the munchies problem
Fuel injector cleaner
Proof of evil

As you can clearly see, this product is complete rubbish and should be
purchased by no one at all. Please do not buy it, not even for
novelty's sake, as the producers of it should not be tricked into thinking
there's even a niche market for this, a vile concoction of acetylene
and Satan's tears.

-dWiF

fell in a hole in the ground.

That is, in fact, the actual guilty party.

That thing engulfed my entire left leg! It would've had me up to my crotch if I'd not caught myself on the curb with my hand (which is also scraped up.) Who does that? Why is that GIANT hole there at a semi-major intersection along Queens Blvd? Alcohol wasn't even a factor (although darkness was.) I'm mildly amused by the whole thing, but that's only after realizing that I incurred no long-term injuries as a result of this fiasco.

Admittedly there were plenty of good things along the way.

I enjoyed Pepsi from a glass bottle (that one's for you, Alice)

An amazing lunch (Bife Chorizo, Empanadas de Pollo, and Frijoles and rice) at an Argentinian/Uruguayan steakhouse (I have the info if anyone's interested.)

A run-in with an army of angry-yet-harmless robots under glass

Oh, and this guy...

"Black actors"

The actual narrative and a collection of fine, fine photos will be posted in the following days. I'm completely exhausted and not sleeping well, but I should manage to get that stuff out in, say, two posts. Sorry it took so long to get it started, btu myspace was giving me guff when it came time to upload pictures.

Side note: English women are complete morons. Sorry, Shell, but your countrymen really let me down these couple of days.

I went to NYC and all I got was this shitty English accent (and a very nice replica A. Lange & Söhne watch courtesy of the fine merchants of Chinatown.)

Who wants seconds on this story?

It's no keytar...

Seriously though, folks. This IS a PSA. The guntar is there to speak to the theme.

That theme: crazy

There is no cure for crazy. You can fight it with medicine, you can fight it with love, you can ignore it. You cannot, however, cure it.

You also cannot stop it from trying to Email you or sending you instant messages, no matter how many you ignore.

The PSA portion reads thusly: It sometimes happens that perfectly good people try to kill themselves, Shit happens. Those individuals are not rendered undeserving of love because of having tried that. If, however, they do it once and don't change their ways and find themselves yearning for a second helping, now they're just plain crazy. Garden variety, tinfoil-hat, eating ketchup with a spork in the elementary school cafeteria crazy. Run.

"I'm not broken"

Oh, really?

What had been an otherwise thoroughly enjoyable day has since gone sour.

1) Anyone care to tell me how you can go on two dates with someone, make them beam and shine, and then have them say "It's clear it's not going to work out. You're great...blah blah blah, and I wish you all the best"? I'm not saying I know what to say instead (as I have no idea what the reason for this was, I didn't much care once I heard it.)

Score one for the "damaged goods" column, eh? Fuck that. I'm fine.

2) Little Cat tried contacting me. If I thought there was that slightest chance that she was still in posession of a single redeeming quality, I'd care in a meaningful way. I'm more pissed at the lack of respect. It's not as though I think she's waited weeks to try and sneak in a low blow (she doesn't concentrate that well anymore anyhow), but rather that, no matter what she may want to say, it IS a low blow. I explained that there was nothing left for her to seek when it came to me and that I've nothing to offer her. I asked her to leave me alone. I expected at least THAT much respect. That was foolish, I suppose, given how she treated me the last two months and some that I knew her. On top of it all, I didn't ever want to be included in the company of the heroes that make up her corps of ex's. People she claims to detest, yet to whom she is willing to remain "fiercely loyal" (with the exception of me, of course) as long as they continue to boost her ego by constantly suggesting she's the only one there ever was for any of them (translation: I have no ambition and I still want to fuck you, much like every single guy she knows, one highschool friend excepted.)

It must be an ego thing. She doesn't want me, but she doesn't believe that anyone would feel better without her.

She's not even human anymore.

I witnessed the death of a star. It was neither grand nor poetic. I do not recommend it.

I'm not be the smartest guy, nor am I the most handsome, nor the safest bet. I'm not an idiot. I'm not a punching bag. I'm not into being abused. I'm not a fucking doormat.

I AM entertaining, a good writer, reasonably creative, better than most at a couple of things, not the ugliest guy, caring and understanding beyond all reasonable boundaries, a genrous lover, a pretty good cook, always ready for an adventure, and in posession of some mighty fine genitalia.

Fuck anyone who wants to make themselves feel better by kicking me while I'm down.

I'm not down.

Who's with me?

Next weekend (the one following Easter) should include a trip down to Belle Isle for running some turbo-driven hotlaps. Anyone want in? I'm thinking there'll be free Burt Reynolds-esque moustaches for everyone involved.

Once I leave work at noon tomorrow, I won't be back within reach until late Sunday night, except by mobile or E-mail (my phone doesn't do myspace.)

I still haven't heard anything beautiful. People who want to take advantage of your good nature are not the equivalent of something beautiful.

I AM something beautiful, even with all my dents, scratches, high mileage, and worn interior.

Where's my lullaby, dammit!