Is it getting better?

I'm not going to tell ya how many times I've tried to reinvent myself this year.

I'm not going to tell ya how many times I've seen my hopes and dreams crushed into mush before I even had a chance to bring them to life, in the world of the 21st century.

I'm not going to begin to explain how the previous two statements are related to my own shortcomings...as I'm sure on some level we are - already relating.

So As I was strolling to my local sports bar to watch the football games today, I came up with a thought that went something like this.

CUT TO: PERSONAL AD # 346
IT READS
SF, slim, attractive, fit and fun, seeks SM 26-36 with no baggage.

Yeah. So whilst I'm walking down Hollywood Boulevard and thinking about that "no baggage" part, and I thought...the only way that anyone is ANYONE worth knowing, is because of the stuff they've been thru, and the stuff they carry out of those experiences.

I am literally unable to respond to such a statement like "no baggage." What the fjuck is that?!!? I am, in fact, nothing but a bunch of walking baggage, much like everyone else on the gjoddang planet.

There's nothing wrong with living thru something, and taking it with you forever. It says you're aware you're experiencing life as it happens, and taking something out of it, something that can change you forever. That's profound. No, really. It is.

But. There's also believing, on a night like tonight, that none of that matters. That tomorrow will be the beginning of something so amazing - such a clean break from everything you've lived through, and held on to, that all that baggage will be nothing but what it is...luggage from an outdated time.

Either way it works out for you, it's okay with yer pals at the WCB of Fjord.

Happy New Year.


P.S. 07's bringing it - are you?

Channel Fjord

How's the transmission on your end?

It's a matter of honor...

Continuing our efforts to put the world in a more
Fjordian perspective...

By now you've heard/read/seen that Saddam was executed Saturday. As a follower of world events for the past...ooh I dunno, two decades, I have no real personal opinion on the matter. But there is one small, and overlooked item from 2002 that I think is relevant.

Saddam Challenges George Bush to a Duel.

"The American president should specify a group, and we will specify a group and choose neutral ground with Kofi Annan as referee and use one weapon with a president against a president, a vice-president against a vice-president, and a minister against a minister in a duel."

The White House responded

Mr Bush's spokesman Ari Fleischer rejected the idea saying, "there can be no serious response to an irresponsible statement like that".

Well, I could think of one serious response that would make for some AWESOME teevee.

For those of you like me...

without any definate plans for the New Years Weekend.

Buy 5 bottles of vinegar and try some of these.

I Come up with this one today

"I like my women like I like my coffee...
spilled all over my lap."




Anyone else hear Friday comin?

Gettin' Ready?!?

07's about ready to bring it. Are you?

Maybe you should listen to the Lady for a sec.

Umm...

Yeah - so I know...yeah, yeah, yeah...

However...happy Chrjistmas.

(and '07 will be totally worth it.

I promise.)

-Tsunami-

The Casa Aloha Never Sleeps!

"There's things you'll learn about yourself when you're about to smuggle three Keys of coke across the Tijuana Border crossing..." Friday said deliberately, "There's things you'll learn about yourself when you've been sitting on the couch for three days after you've watched every DVD in your collection, and are relying on your iTunes or network television to supply you with entertainment."

He made a dramatic gesture with his arm, which ended with him taking a washcloth off his head. He dipped it in a stainless steel bowl full of cold water. He squeezed it out, and put it back on his forehead, with a sigh. He was reclined on a very nice couch, and moved nothing but his arm with the action. The gathered weekdays shifted uncomfjortably. Tuesday said what they were all thinking.

"Friday, we've heard this before."
"Yeah," Said Friday, "But did you understand?"

Monday stood up, and walked to a cooler full of ice and beer. He grabbed one, noticing Wednesday throwing up his hand, tossed it to him, before grabbing one for himself.

"Sure." Thursday said, throwing his legs up on the coffee table. "We get it. You'll never know what your capable of until you do..." He dropped off, but the thought was picked up by Tuesday.

"You do something you've never done before. We fucking get it." Tuesday went to the cooler, grabbed a beer, and standing next to Monday cracked it and had a mighty gulp. Friday let out a groan as he made an effort to move himself into a sitting position.

"That's good." He said. "however..."
"However - what!?" Monday spit. "There's only so much of this we can take Friday. You're not Buddha! You're only recognized as an ENTITY on a single stupid (altho underappreciated) WEBZINE CALLED FJORD! I mean, c'mon man..."

Friday - sitting up, looked around the room filled with weekdays who were fed up with his words. As a being who was used to having things work out his way, it was reasonably unusual. He fought against the pain in his head for a few moments, and realized he could beat that. It was the other fight he was more interested in. He threw the cloth with passion (landing on Thursdays' outstretched left boot) across the table, and his eyes burned.

"You say you understand...but do you? I mean really?"

The gathered weekdays nodded, and took reassuring sips from cans of beer.

"Cause there's one thing knowing you can...and another saying you will. Willing yourself into doing something is a HELL OF A LOT DIFFERENT..." Friday realized he was clenching his fists, and yelling...and he shouldn't be taking this so personally. He dropped about six decibels, and repeated himself.

"Willing yourself to actually do something, and doing it, is a hell of a lot different than telling people, or thinking to yourself that you can do something."

He reached over the table, and grabbed a drink sitting there.
"And that's a fact." He took a sip, and locked eyes with Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

"Fine." Said Thursday, reaching up and grabbing the washcloth off his boot, and throwing it back on the table. He reclined back in his chair and had a sip off his cocktail. "So what are you driving at?"
"Yeah!" Was echoed by the rest.

Friday stood up, and as he did, all traces of fatigue left his face...and he gave them a profile that could be etched in stone.

"Tonight, we're going to smuggle five live Kimodo Dragons through customs!"

Happy Friday!

WCB - Representin'

So yeah...and that's, [YEAH!] 700.

700 is a lot of anything. If there were 700 people that came to your house, you'd be hard pressed to find enough seats for 'em - even if you offered up your floor.

700 individual dollars could get yas 700 scratchers, or near 90% of the electronic devices (that's devices -singular) on display at the local Best Buy.

700 tanks would scare the crap out of you if they were driving down your street right now, and 700 mummies...well, even with the most advanced mummy destroying technology, it's hard to imagine overcoming 700 mummies.

Anyhoo - with 700 posts in the bag, the fate of Fjord is kinda' up in the air.

The West Coast Branch is clearly focused on other things, and obviously without the full attention of the WCB, Fjord suffers horribly.

So, with that said...I'd like to offer up this million-dollar idea.

A gang of cat buglaresses goes on a rampage led by their sexy, but strangely vacant heroine
indulging themselves in the glamorous life, until one man devotes himself to busting up their crime ring.

And that, my friendly Fjordlings, is an entertainment equation that equals deliciousness!

-Tsunami-

699

Yaknow - I'm a big enough fella to know that it would be really easy to die, if, on occasion, the universe did not conspire to please me.

However, on the eve of Fjord's 700th post, the webmonster spat this in my face.


Which is exactly why the webmonster is pretty damn cool. I grabbed this off of the Table of Malcontents...which, apart from the rapidly dwindling cool-assed text you find here, is rapidly turning into my favorite place to visit.

-Tsunami-

Oh thank fjucking

GJOD!

For this piece of good news.

Urine for a treat! Or - The mathematical formula for making a Fjordpost(tm) quality post for your blog or webzine!

So, lots of people come up all the time and ask me,
"Tsunami, if I wanted to turn the Empire State Building into a giant laser cannon that
could destroy the sun, and build an undersea fortress where I could control it from, and fight off the combined might of all the world's navies...what should my first step be?"

This question always makes me laugh and laugh, cause, they honestly
have no idea how many extension cords this kind of project is going to
require. (in excess of 6.2-MILLION!) And even funnier, they're almost
sure to be short (if they've even thought of it) hundreds of tons of gruel, with
which to feed their army of slave laborers.

Remember people - free labor is only free if you intend to work your
slave workers to death - and quickly!

However, other, less mad people, come up to me all the time and ask,
"Tsunami, how do you come up with such inventive, revolutionary posts
for Fjord? Because I want posts like those to grace my blog and or webzine.!"

To these people I ask three very simple questions.
1) Do you own a hovercraft?
2) Are you able to call up goons at any hour to break someone's legs?
3) Do you know for a fact that you - personally - can survive without air?

Now inevitably the answer is, "No" to all three of these questions.
(If I had just asked you these three questions, would the answers also be
"No?" Well - no matter.) My response is "In that case, - you're going to have to use your imagination!"

Imagination. This is key here people. If you don't have an imagination, this is not going to work. In order for you to have your very own - nearly Fjordpost(tm) quality - post on you blog or webzine - you're going to have to make it up! Entirely from your own head! From scratch!

Wait, wait...seriously, don't panic...just breathe.

I'm here to help you through this, and it's easier than you think.

"How easy?" You would ask hopefully.
"Pretty damn easy kid!" I'd say, snapping my fingers and pointing at you in one gesture. "There's only one thing we need, before we can apply "THE FORMULA!"
"What's that??" You ask excitedly.
"A topic we can write a post about."
"How about Mummies!" You exclaim.
"Well, that is sorta' my thing...see..I mean, couldn't you...ahhh hell, look at your beady little eyes all peerin' up at me. Okay kid - knock yourself out."
"Yaaay." You say now very happy, however, you do realize your Fjordpost(tm) quality post, has not yet been written. (very astute of you, I must say) "What do I do now?"
"Now - now we apply THE FORMULA!"
"What's the formula?"
"The formula is simple! In order to create a Fjordpost(tm) quality post for your blog or webzine, you need to apply this equation to your chosen topic.

10% inspiration + 90% perspiration +110% Booze =1 Fjordpost(tm) Quality post!
Well, I gotta' get going, but remember kid - those Fjordpost(tm) quality posts ain't going to write themselves!"

I'd drift off into the crowd, jauntily swinging my swordcane, and disappearing as you process all that. But just as soon as I had become lost in the crowd, you'd realize there was one more answer you really needed to know.
"Tsunami! What's inspiration!!!"

Since I'm a kind and benevolent Tsunami, I'll give you a hint. It's really just simple algebra. If you add 90% perspiration with 110% Booze, and you don't have a Fjordpost(tm) quality post, you haven't added the inspiration - you're just drunk. Well, happy blogging!

-Tsunami-

Happy...err, uh, it's monday isn't it...

Howdy Fjordlings!

Here's a quick little niceity to cheer you up.

If yer in El Ay...

This might be something to check...

T.G.I.T.K.O.A.W.

Friday walks down the five stairs of the gantry from the official King Of All Weekdays hovercraft. He waves to the multitudes which have gathered on the banks of the canal. They hang from the windows and balconies of old European styled buildings, and throw confetti and bouquets of flowers - and they peer dangerously from the tops of modern skyscrapers throwing streamers and lingerie. (all of the objects above fall well short, and drop onto those gathered below)

They stand hundreds deep on the streets - some womenfolk are perched on the shoulders of men. A few blocks down a security services tank sits nearly invisible, it's armor and gun covered like a chia-pet, with citizens sitting, standing, crouching, trying for a better spot to see.

High above a Red-Baron styled tri-plane tows a huge banner that reads, "Welcome Back Again!" Friday turns his head left and right to take it all in, and gives a wave in as many directions as there are people. The crowd goes into a frenzy! They cheer, clap, whistle, wave back, and some even expose the best parts of the human anatomy that usually remain covered in public.

Friday walks another twenty feet to where a modest podium sits. Behind the podium, is a massive wall of speakers hundreds of feet high, and at least an acre or two wide. Friday dribbles his voice into the microphone,
"Hi there."
It comes out of the speaker wall at eighteen billion watts, and promptly breaks every window within two square miles. Hats fly from heads! Scarves and coats pick up and dance backwards! People stagger - their faces look as if they were undergoing a NASA g-force test! After the initial sonic blast - it's a good thing the wall of speakers is blaring out eighteen billion watts, because nobody in the crowd would register a human voice (even shouting) for weeks afterwards.

"Ooh, sorry,"
Friday says, looking startled and apologetic, but still releasing another assaulting blast of sound from the speaker wall. He realizes it's too late to stop, so he adjusts his tie-knot and plows ahead. "I was in a spot of being overwhelmed with requests, of showing up early, making plans, being relied on...so I decided to try an experiment. This experiment was so dangerous that it could not be undertaken in this universe. I...you might find this hard to believe, but I traveled to another dimension, and had myself cloned."

At this exact moment, six stealth bombers flew overhead in a precision wedge formation. To the ringing ears of the entire crowd, they made no sound, and finally, truly, lived up to their name. In fact, over two million eyes didn't notice a military fly-by, and it wasn't caught by cameras. Friday continued. "I actually had myself cloned five hundred thousand times...since that's about the number of Friday's you all seem to need - and even then, that's one of me for some eighteen thousand of every one of you...rounding of course."

Friday takes out a silver flask from his sportscoat, unscrews the cap, and has a long pull. He fastens the cap back on, and tucks it away.

"To be blunt..." The mega-amplified voice of Friday continues, "It was such a horrible failure, that the only way to contain the catastrophe, was to completely destroy the dimension that contained five hundred thousand me's. Believe me when I say," Friday says knowingly, "that wasn't an easy task. I'm pretty resourceful!" A million people laugh, and not one person there heard anything but ringing through their ears. "Anyways, the experiment revealed that after a factor of two - there became too many conflicting desires, and too many equally matched powers for anything but a befuddled mess to occur. No fun, no accomplishment, just conflict. It turned hideously ugly. In fact, had we not demolished the dimension, most everything would have exterminated itself, and whatever remained (or computer models suggested) would have been forced into a pre-civilization Neanderthal like existence...and I don't have to tell you that couldn't have been too much fun!"

Heads nod in agreement, as people, just normal folk who like Friday, who have been trying to wrap their heads around his words, finally have something tangible to deal with. Then a huge black hull drifted down the canal, between Friday and his audience. A supertanker drifted up without a sound and was made fast, and a gangplank came down. Behind another massive hull, and another, and another and another and another.

"And since I've been gone for a while..." Friday speaks to his now mostly obscured audience, "I've got something special planned! Hop on board, real quick-like! There isn't much time!"

On the other side of the canal, people rush up to board the gigantic ships. Friday turns and walks from the podium. He makes his way, down a staircase of brick to the edge, where a massive and yacht-like hydrofoil waits. He springs across a walkway onto the ship, where he returns the salute of a white uniformed Captain who appears to have been waiting for just this moment. The Captain spins about and moves off to the windowless bridge of his craft, and Friday opens a door set in the superstructure, and walks down a teak-paneled hall.

After passing ten doors, Friday turns and moves down a stairwell that emerges in a luxurious room where Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday sit around a huge television, playing Madden 2006. Wednesday lets out a triumphant yell as his fullback powers through the goal line defense. He stands and hi-fives Thursday!

"Who's winning?" Friday asks. The four weekdays look back. "All tied up." Says Monday. "Nice to have you back."
"Thanks. Good to be here."
Tuesday picks up a glass from a coffee table and drinks a big sip.
"So..." Wednesday waves his controller in a sweeping arc as he speaks, "You done with allllllllll that?"
"Yeah," Friday moves a little closer, "Done deal."
"I guess the question is," Thursday looks up with a serious face and voice, but happy eyes, "What are we going to do tonight?" The others wait transfixed for the answer.

"I put together ten drilling platforms, built a city on them, linked them together with bridges, helicoptered in eighteen great bands, fifty DJ's, and enough liquor to get Europe drunk. Should be fun!" Friday looked excited about it.

Tuesday leaned back in his chair and made a sour face. "Don't want to rain on your parade, I mean it sounds like fun, but everyone that's coming is going to be deaf for weeks." Friday let an "Ahhh..." slip from his lips.
"See, the sound system that's set up there, beats the one here...I mean, I know it's going to piss off the whales and dolphins, but they can swim away pretty quick."

"But what about the people Friday?" Asked Wednesday, "They won't be able to talk at all!" Friday stood there for a second, watching a replay of the video-game touchdown.

"That's the cool part. You think a million people can get along at a party without talking to each other? I mean, you think they'll get the gist of it, of everything without words getting in the way?" The four weekdays reacted in different ways, and with different speeds, but all began to smile and nod. At that moment, and not a second sooner, the hydrofoil took off, and flew down the canal, out to sea.

Dang!

This looks purtty fuckin' cool.

Someone else

has been thinking about this particular issue.

Oooh! Using the power of the internets - you can watch and listen at the same time!

The King of the Swamp People's house band.


And this little niceity is like...a makeup for no Friday posts over the last month or so.

-Tsunami-

Getting tired of looking at things?

Here's something nice to listen to.

With a little thanks to
Warren.

Yes...I know

I'm not writing much for your hungry eyes. But my most attractive of all internet readers, if you want my dazzling prose - read some of the fjucking Fjord archives! (There's only a YEAR AND 10 MONTHS of amusement over there)

In the meanwhile, I'm still keeping my eyes and ears open for yas.

So, watch this!


Allriiiiight.
Now,
who loves ya!?

Speaking of...

here's another nice thing to look at.

Lookie here

I'm not much of a comic guy, but this is nice to look at.

There's no doubt...

I've tried (lazily, no doubt) to tell you to read Pop - over at Pop's Bucket. It seems like more than a few times, we're on the same page. Just three days after that crocodile guy gots killed by a ray, I was told a crazy story from my diver friend (back from the Gulf Coast - reconstructing messed up underwater pipelines from Katrina) about one of his co-workers who was killed by a MANTA RAY... It was a long and drawn out tale, but basically this dude had just done his job, and was decompressing hundreds of feet under the surface, when a manta got tangled up in his oxygen line (from the boat far above...fixed to his helmet) - and the beast dragged him straight to the surface...whereupon the rapid change in pressure blew out too many regulating systems (I'm no expert at human/underwater physiology so I can't tell you exactly the cause of death) but it killed him - as sure as a stinger to the heart. So, back to the idea of me and Pops being on the same page...he's talking about an underwater army of stingray bent on killing us - and I couldn't agree more. I blame Bush, since he's clearly broken a number of international treaties (ABM, Geneva...err that thing...Habeus Corpus...(do you know how the Swiss have fjucked up everjything? (maybe not that Geneva deal-i-o, but I'm a blogger so I'm just sayin') Versallies, Potsdam...sorry it's pretty obvious after the first two I'm just making stuff up) Irregardless - something has happened. Where the Human/Ray/Skate non-aggression pact , which has been intact for eons, has now been broken. Clearly we are not equipped as a species, to deal with this threat. I'm only wondering when the first deadly skate attack is going to occur, and what the government is going to do about it. These species are obviously more effective than the terrorists...which might mean they even have some sort of creepy alliance. Now, knowing what I know about alliances/non-aggression pacts/political wheelings and dealings from the past...I have to say, it's kinda' obvious - when a friend becomes an enemy, then the enemy of my friend becomes my friend. And I don't like where this is going. I really don't.

-Tsunami-

The Wandering Rhino wrote something nice

And we're going to post it without his permission! (this is gonna be grate!!!)

It goes like this...
The next Morning.

"So why the hell did it take that long" Doug said with a quizical look on his face. Doug was the only friend Geoff knew with any power, he was a logistics manager.
"It was just nuts", he replied, refferring to time the writers were at his home, compiling the half page feature on him.

He had made the 2nd page, the first fully Bionic man. His article was the 3rd most bought and viewed around the planet. Since electronic newspapers became common, actual newspapers were infreqeunt and heavily priced.

"So, " Taking a further sip of his coffee "I have a bit of fame, but I want to .. "
"..make some money off it" Doug concluded."
"Yep"
"Well, you are moderately unique," Doug remarked lazily, stretching his arms, "so you could make a moderate amount of money. What do you want to do?"
"Well, thats why I asked you - how can I make this work for me?"
Doug, scratching his head, "Well, there's so many things - Public speaking, talk shows, radio - all short term. Movies, management, counselling, peace keeping, science.."
"What's peace keeping?"
"Well, diplomtic stuff, between robot and human unions, you could be quite an ambassador. You would need to be taught Robot logic."
"mm, what do you think I could do? Should do?" sounding reluctant.
"Make the most of it short term, don't wait. That will buy you time - you'll have enough credits for year, maybe two if it goes well."

"And then..." Geoff interrupted eagerly,
"Well, I'd say your best bet would be a professional position, one of the major hospitals. They'd, well, you'd have to look really switched on in your press stuff. You know, human/robotic relations. Do some reading, etc. I'll hunt around, but you know I am busy, it will take a while."
Doug sat there, look intently with his bionic eyes.

" I will pay you, based on what happens." understanding Dougs subtelty
" I will need some start up capital, if you're serious, you know that."
" Yeah, I know" he looked around slightly agrieved, "OK, thanks, look I gotta go, thanks for talking." They parted ways, dawn was now fully fledged daylight and he had work.

He sat, the incessent hum of the robotics began, as work started for the day. He worked in a robotics factory - a long slender building with a production line running its length. They produced robot arms, for one specific type of window cleaning robot.

Geoff sat, quite accurately, half way between both ends of the assembly line. To his right, the first part of assembly, robots, different kinds of robots, assembled various parts of the robotic arm. Geoff hadn't never noticed any irony, he wasn't particularly bright.

He retrieved the half assembled arms, checked the robots job and then passed it on to his left. Here, a line of humans assembled the finer parts of the arms; humans were cheaper than robots for this job. Geoff had never noticed anything particular about his circumstance, as he gently scrtached his right ear with his metallic finger.

Somebody's been working.........

Not Quite...

Up to your regularly expected Fjordian information/content flow - but yer pal Tsunami does what he can.

But
Neatorama
has been kicking ass lately.

here's a couple of choice bits.

Ravens
Hotblack
Flying Cars
Ghosts in photographs!

The King of the Swamp People is not pleased.

Instead of obeying my decrees - (the only one of which so far - to bring me the corpse of Kenneth Lay) some idiot activist judge instead decided "because 'ole Kenny-Boy's dead, his record should be wiped clean." As if he never robbed 40 billion dollars from anyone. Like the Republic of California doesn't still owe 15 Billion dollars to Texas. Like the guy guilty by a jury of his "peers" died a multi-billionaire in his COLORADO VACATION MANSION - INSTEAD OF A PRISON CELL. Like the fucking guy is a goddamn SAINT! (Not to disparage the fine NFL organization (and your Monarch's Champions) that's currently kicking ass across the country - go Saints!)

No my fine feathered friends - it's true.

Not only did he fuck with truth, justice, and the American way - he died a free man, and unlike the punishment I think should be handed down - that his family should have to work until the entire debt of his thievery is paid off (clearly the work of generations of hardworking "Lays" who would curse their father's, grandfather's, great-grandfather's, and great-great-grandfather's name - as should be the case.) Instead, it's like he never committed a crime at all. Who is to atone for this one man's atrocious misdeeds???

No one.

And his family will live off of the spoils for generations.

And The King of the Swamp People still want his corpse to decorate the Superdome.

Just trying to help...

Just quick look at this.

Something to look at

This is pretty nice

Earlier today

I killed 120 zombies from the last link.

In other news...
September was mad. I went from Mexico to a few miles from the Canadian border, back to L.A., and then to New York. I was back in time to get fitted for a tux so I could be in a wedding last weekend. I've got a day job running the Casa Aloha, and am working on a television project which is coming along but demanding further hours of mindspace. I'm enrolled in a writing course at UCLA, which seems encouraging, but sooner or later I'm going to have to get around to writing the 6th draft of my cat-burglar script. Along with all this, it's football season, and I still need some time to find a nice damsel out in the world. So there might be some light posting for a bit.

But I did kill 120 zombies.

-Tsunami-

Fjord - now content free!

Yea friends...I am aware.

But, since I am a kind and benevolent lord,

here is a sweet video game for you to pass the time.

DEET...DEET DEET...FJORDNEWS...DEET...DEET..

With the recent (and finally) scientific push to actually, do something in order to protect us from the growing mummy menace (i.e. "The Global War on Horror") I've been invited as the key note speaker at a symposium in NYC tomorrow evening. Afterwards, I'll be pressing the flesh at East Siiiide fundraisers and will hopefully meet some of the other "real" players - at least on the Atlantic side of things.


Meanwhile...

here's some enlightening mummy news that we've been highlighting through 2006.

Chinese Mummy.
L.A. mummy.
Mummy bank robbers

-Tsunami-

But then today...

There appears to be a greater effort into mummy destruction than I previously realized. Seems now even the mysterious and elusive (and nearly constantly maligned) dentists are working on research into how to stop the mummy onslaught!

It seems to me that this research is going to have a lot of practical applications. I don't know why this news isn't on the front page of every newspaper, encouraging others to jump into the field. There are a LOT of R&D contracts going around right now with the Global War on Horror.

'Course, right after that last post...

there's this.

Yes, sadly, more mummy dogs popping up. And right after I thought we had finally made a little progress in this War on Horror.

In better news...
I was able to find a couple video-clips from SRL, working on some robots...at least someone's working on something that might actually help.
Here and here.

Took ya long enough...

Finally, some good science work on this mummy issue I've been flogging for the duration of 2006.












-the caption reads-
Stanford University radiologists used a CT scanner to look inside an unopened, intact 2000-year-old mummy.

We're watching yoooou!
Fuckin' mummy.


thanks bbc.

The Toast of the Town made up some rules about lunch

I thought I should post them. Kindly used without even asking.

Since there has been some confusion on what to do during your
"relaxing" Lunch/Dinner hour/ half-hour, these are some rules I set up to follow
regarding how it is spent.

1) One has the right to spend Lunch/Dinner by themselves
2) One has the right to spend it the way they want so long as it does
not affects another's enjoyment of their Lunch/Dinner
3) One may invite someone to Lunch/Dinner.
A)One may spend this time with people with the understanding
that it is for the sake of the Lunch/Dinner.
a)This is not a commitment. This is Lunch/Dinner, not
a marriage.
b) There is no such thing as a universal invitation.
B) One may decline an invitation(excuse is Optional).
C) One is not "stood up" to Lunch/Dinner if one is not invited
to Lunch/Dinner (see Rule #1)

4) If Person A is out for Lunch/Dinner and runs into Person B, Person A
may to join B if Person B chooses to revoke Rule #1
5) Food and drama don't mix. This isn't "Hell's Kitchen"
6) What's said at Lunch/Dinner, stays at Lunch/Dinner. . . unless Rule
#2 is broken.
7) See Rule #1


Now that this is established, I can continue on with my menu reading .

PS Yeah, I'm a jerk. . .


Fjord - helping luncheon-goers everywhere. Know your rights!

And...GO!

Okay kids we got a lot to do and a short time to do it.

At the moment I'm working on a project for television which (altho it's
tippy-top secret, I'll spill a little of the beans) is a mashup of
every
popular television show ever. Only BETTER~!

Upon completion of the pilot episode I plan to be very, very rich.

I liked this one...

I give you, Pop.

Altho, I'm afraid I don't share Pop's optimism about the Swiss and pacifism. I think they're insidiously plotting their next move of global domination. I also suspect they have a time machine.

Thursday entered the room softly...

wearing slippers that were sewn in the shape of rabbits.
"Shhhh," came out of his mouth. Then he whispered, "Try not to wake
the little ones!"

I attended the Banksy show on Saturday, and it was definitely worth it.
What was striking was for a guy with no known public face, and from
what I gathered was a small public following...the place was packed.
Since the exhibition took place in a artsy-sized warehouse space, that's
actually saying something. I'm not at liberty to say how many of those
visiting were just L.A. scenesters, and how many were actually fans,
but Banksy's stuff is pretty accessible, and it'd be hard to see this
many pieces of his work and not walk away thinking it was pretty cool.

I took some random shots - but since my technology-issues - I seem to have misplaced my usb cable that fits my digi-cam. Until I find it, we'll have to settle for some more...err, public shots...

The most mind-boggling piece was the elephant. It took me a
little bit of time to process...I thought it was stuffed. Then after
I saw it move, a few more seconds before thinking, "cool - animatronic
robot elephant!" Then I watched it eat some hay. "Holy crap! Real
elephant! Stenciled to look like the wallpaper."

Anyways - there was some press about the elephant where some
people got pretty mad at him for using a real creature for this piece. I'm not going
to say I didn't feel a little sorry for the guy, but got a hell of a lot
more out of the experience when I read the back of his little card...

There's an elephant in the room.
There's a problem that we never talk about.
The fact is life isn't getting any fairer.
-1.7 Billion people have no access to clean drinking water.
-20 Billion people live below the poverty line.
-Every day hundreds of people are made to feel physically sick by morons at art shows telling them how bad the world is but never actually doing something about it.

Anybody want a free glass of wine?

***
I haven't seen anything else pop up on the radar...so I'm assuming Banksy's skipped town.


In a very Bansky-esque performance there's this guy who dressed up like
a terra cotta soldier in china - and jumped in with the rest of them, and stood really still while guards looked around for him. If that's not art, I dunno what is.

I've been a bad, bad blogger

Yeah - but whatchoo gonna do huh?

Cut off my federal funding?
Stop payments on my nubile young women account?
Steal my blogspot address? Good luck!
Write me nastygrams?

You and I both know, doing even one of those will take waaaay too much time, since the only reason you swing by is to consume some free content while yer surfing around looking for free content.

So here's one more link to wrap up this totally uninspiring week.

Tho I did think the previous post was kinda clever.

Happy Friday

DR. ROBOT!!!

Sooo cool!

Snake-arm robots on the other hand can move in up to 30 different directions at once. Their supple bodies can bend and flex to fit the shape of the confining space.

So this story came along and then I stumbled upon THIS

Which is cool 'cause it says...The motions are coordinated and smooth because his left arm is a bionic device controlled by his brain. He thinks, "Close hand," and electrical signals sent through surgically re-routed nerves make it happen.

So, it's now perfectly logical to assume that it's possible for there to be...This guy!

This weekend in L.A.

Here's the Banksy goods.

See ya there.

The neighbor of the beast

*sigh*

I didn't realize that yesterday's post was 666. That would have been cool to know at the time. Anyways, I'm just hyping the news that our favorite grafitti artist BANKSY (who we've covered previously) is in town and stirring up trouble. He just put a blow up doll dressed like a Guantanimo Bay prisoner in Disneyland.

If I see anything else, I'll letcha' know.

More of the same...

Busy on another project, so no time for creating Fjordian masterpieces.

But, there's a great little net-show called "the show." Most are very funny, but I really liked this one alot.

This is just pretty awesome

cat

Some Thursday Night Lite Fiction For Youse

She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would rip the legs off of a
cricket. But then again, how well do you know anyone? The incident
happened shortly after I was fired from my sex-line phone-chat job.
I'm not going to say I was good at it, or even that I liked it. But,
loosing that job put me into a state of unease over my liquidity.

Since I didn't have any prospects, and there are only four things I
hate more than daytime teevee, (tuna, cockroaches, acid burns, and phone
companies, ohh, and clowns. Okay - five things...maybe more - never
really thought about it until now.)

Anyways, for fun I would go down to the more seedy districts of the
metropolis - and meander around the bums and muggers, and con-men.
This gave me a marginal thrill, since I knew even if I got rolled or taken,
I really had so little to loose that it would be far cheaper than going
to a movie.

So around there one afternoon, I bumped into her coming out of one of
those falling down hotels that might have been nice back in the day.
She had the look in her face like she wasn't in a hurry to get
to her destination, and I wasn't going anywhere - so we started
talking.

After a walking who knows where, talking about crazy shit like black
holes, urban renewal, micro-climates, and good war movies, we ended up
back at her hotel room with a cheap bottle of wine, or whisky or
something that tasted awful, peeled skin off the inside of your
stomach, and did a number on your brain-pan. That was the beginning of what
became a bi-weekly ritual. It wasn't like it was an amorous thing, it
was just that she was nice to me, and I like it when people are nice to
me. Plus, there was that whole daytime teevee thing.

About two weeks down the line another fellow started showing up at her
place, with the name of Rex Bowen. I don't know if she knew him from before, or if she met him after me, but it was her place, and she could invite in whoever she wanted. But Rex couldn't talk in a conversation if his life depended on it.

Rex wasn't all that bad of a guy, but he had annoying streaks. Like he'd come in all strung out on meth, and then drink some of our drink and start singing show-tunes, or worse, lousy renditions of Deep Purple and Motorhead. I didn't think much of it, cause she kept on opening the door for him when he came around, I just got ready to cringe whenever he came by.

Anyways this one time he comes in - lit up like an electrical storm - and grabs the bottle, slams down a good fourth of it, and then begins singing this ridiculous made-up tune that went something like this.

Motion picture
Mo-tion Pic-ture
I wanna be in a motion picture...
motion
picture...
motion
picture
I wanna be in a motion picture...

Well, from out of nowhere this girl shouts out at the top of her lungs - and I mean a real scream,
"REX YOU RETARDED DOOF! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Only Rex was waaay too into his song to care. I mean, he was feeling the groove. Swaying around the room with a bottle in one hand, and his other clenched around an air microphone.

Mo-tion Pic-ture
Mo-tion Pic-ture
I wanna be in a motion picture...lalalala

So she came up from his side, and from out of nowhere, latched a handcuff around the wrist that had the bottle. And with shocking strength, pulled him straight to the iron bedframe - at least 10 feet away, and locked the other bracelet around a big pole. The big doof barely even noticed. He just kept on singing his damn stupid song.

I wanna be in a motion picture.

"Rex," she said loudly and clearly. "If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to pull off your legs." He really didn't hear her. Or else, he really didn't believe her. That was, in my opinion, his mistake.

She got up, and went into a closet. She dragged out a large, and very heavy cardboard box. In the middle of the room, she opened it, and pulled out a big winch - like the kind you see on the front of heavy Army trucks. She carried it into the bathroom, which was sort of kitty-corner from the bed. There were some clanking noises that came from in there. Then she came out with a cable, and wrapped it around Rex's legs. Rex was still lost in song.

Mo-tion pic-ture, mo-tion, picture, motion picture, I wanna be in a...

"I'll show you a fucking motion picture." She said, walked into the bathroom, and the next thing I knew there was the sound of mechanical grating, and the cable got tighter. Rex stopped singing, and started screaming. I watched as his pants got tighter around his legs,
and his body began to straighten out - pulled from the one arm handcuffed to the
bed rail, and his legs wrapped around a winch cable. I decided it would be best if I didn't watch the rest.

When I opened my eyes, the bed was across the room, Rex was pouring blood from two stumps where his legs used to be, and she was covered in blood from head to toe. She said,
"How's that for a goddamn motion picture."
I paused for a second, and spoke,
"I think we're going to need more booze. I'll go get some. Start figuring out how to clean this shit up." I stood up and headed for the door.
"Yeah," She said, "that sounds like a good idea. I sure can't go out for anything!" She cackled madly as I walked out.

I walked away from the scene, never intending to buy her, or us anything ever again. She was a nice girl. She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would rip the legs off of a cricket. God, did I just think "cricket?" I must not be in the right frame of mind after just going through all that. She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would rip the legs off of a man. But then again, how well do you know anyone?

It's not as exciting a comeback as I'd hoped...

But I have been trying to catch up on all the information I've been missing over the last two months.

However, I did find some suuuper kickass rayguns!

Happy hunchbacking.

How to tell the difference

between a bomb and things that are not bombs.

Yeah - the last few months have been grim

But I've still been looking out for yas.

My explanation is a couple posts down. But this is worth checking out.

Mmmmm...

Just exactly what did you expect?

Where'd you go?

I miss you so...seems like forever since you've been gone...

So - after numerous adventures, tall tales, long stories, and hideous piles of crap...we're back up here at the West Coast Branch of Fjord.

In the last week and a half, I've violated the southern boarder, spread my own particular brand of mayhem across Mexico (which I highly recommend) slept for two days, took a jet to the pacific northwest for a long weekend of island-hopping around the San Juan Islands.

Now that the vacation gods have been satiated, consider me back - cool as fuck, dangerous as hell.

-Tsunami-

Whatcha' Doin'?

Since the crack team of Fjord Information Technology consists of three Recon Monkeys a rock and two sticks, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten anywhere. However, there are mumblings that in mere days, said I.T. monkeys will have discovered “fire” whereupon we can roast all the Fjordsmores™ we can eat.

This is all rumor and conjecture, but isn’t that what Fjord’s all about?

A short pronouncement by the Herald of the King of the Swamp People.

Three trumpeters stand forth and blow, trying to sound regal…but they are, after all, Swamp People and it's kinda' pathetic. The Herald walks forward with arrogant steps. His words will be the words o the King! He unscrolls a scroll, and the crowd falls silent. He reads.

“The King of the Swamp People commands that the rotting corpse of Kenneth Lay be brought before his throne.”

The Herald clears his throat, and continues.

"Time may have forgotten that scoundrel of the highest order, but the King of the Swamp People has not. So in order that those of his subjects do not forget that Kenneth Lay died in his mansion in Colorado, instead of in a jail cell fifty years from now, the King will display the corpse of Mister Lay in a 4x5 metal cage, until the day that all flesh is stripped from his body by the animals or elements, and from that moment, another five years. After that, Mister Lay will be free to be buried in a place of his choosing."

The man…or woman who accomplishes this task shall be deemed “Hero of the Swamp People, Upholder of the King’s Decrees, and promptly satisfied sexually in whichever way they see fit for a period of 40 days.”

The Herald scrolls back his scroll, spins on his feet, and walks away.

...standing...Hey SPACE MUMMIES!

Ohmygodohmygodohmygawd!

(please excuse the fake enthusiasm, but there's been little to be enthusiastic about lately)

...standing...(wow, long time no?)

Yep - got a compooter that works, but now some bad connection issues. I'll keep ya posted when I get a chance.

still standing...

Haven't been able to fix the problem yet.

Here's another good read tho.

Still standing by...(dang)

So after the internets were fixed, the whole compooter fell apart. So unfortunately there won't be much going on until that's fixed.

Until then you can read this.


Happy Friday

Standing by to blog...

It was the 4th o' July weekend, and there were more than a few things that blew up over that span of time.
1) my internets-connection
and
2) my liquor budget
3) my guts (see #2)

Anyhoo...since most of those things are nearly back to normal, Fjord is standing by...

Better late than never, I supposed.

So last (er...the weekend before the last) I went to see Tony Bennett. As you might remember I won a couple of seats, and was pretty dang happy about it. So, after finding a suitably awesome date, I found myself hurtling at a rapid pace towards the Kodak Theater.

Somehow the joint seems bigger during the Academy Awards, but it's still pretty pimp. When you stroll in, there's a great expanse of nice carpet, and at the end, a swank bar, the type that has bottles backlit on tall shelves. On the right is a wide curvey staircase that, to put it bluntly, made me feel like I was in a very glamorous 40's movie. The effect was capped by an upper level bar, that kind of drifted into view as I got to the top.

Anyways, since the show was the 10th Anniversary Celebration of the Mancini Institute, they had the Mancini Institute Orchestra step out, and they started with some number I'd never heard, while they showed a montage of Mancini video. After that they played the Pink Panther, which was pretty bad-assed.

Then they said some words.

Anyways, the Orchestra then did a medley of John Williams songs. Star Wars, Jaws, Superman, Indiana Jones...which was also pretty smashing. Then John Williams came out, and conducted something he'd written for Memoirs of a Geisha. I didn't know it.

Then they said some words.

However, what I caught was, "John Williams was Mancini's piano player when he wrote "Peter Gun" (Gunn? - anyways, I thought that was kinda' cool)

Then Bennett came out, along with a 4 piece combo, piano, bass, guitar and drums - who all really ripped. For a guy who's 79, Tony seemed to be pretty spry. He did some softshoe which was rad, and wasn't afraid to skat a bit on a couple of songs. He always pulled some great move at the end of each song, ending in a pose, or hand gesture that seemed pretty right-on at the time. As for selections, well, he did a bunch I can't name, but I totally loved "Stepping Out", and tho I'm not a huge fan, was happy to hear him sing "I Left My Heart In S.F."

After most of the set was over he commented about how much he loved the theater, and then had the sound guy kill all the amps, and set down his microphone. Then he walked up to the front of the stage with his guitar player - and he proceeded to sing "Fly Me to the Moon." That was the topper. He sounded great, even if it was really soft, he carried to the corners of the place.
Shortly after, he split, and came back for three separate rounds of applause, and that was that.

And now...[plans for Friday]

I'm not exactly saying it's over...

but it seems to be over.

"There are times..." Friday said while nimbly kicking a soccer ball up and juggling it with his feet. "That you get lost. Where you don't know what's coming next, and you're bored, and you have PLAN ZERO! It's just a thing. It happens to everyone." He kicked the ball high into the air, and headed it over to Thursday, who bounced it off his head, and proceeded to knock it around a bit.

"What do you mean?" Tuesday spoke, "Is that what happened to you?"

"Yeah! It's weird, no prospects, no contacts, no ideas...it's crazy man!" Said Friday, bending over a large Gatoraid cooler that was filled with savory margaritas, and he filled then drank a paper cup full, crumpled the cup, and threw it in the general direction of a trash barrel.

"So if I were to ask you," Began Wednesday, who then exclaimed "FUCK!" As Thursday passed the ball over. Wednesday lashed a foot out, and launched the ball high into the air. It seemed as tho Monday might have a chance. "What are we going to do tonight? You'd reply...?"

"Plan Zero."

Monday got under the ball, and trapped it off his chest, then he made it meander around his feet for a bit.

"It almost sounds like," Thursday said with a slow drawl, while pulling out a pack of smokes. He fired one up, and said while exhailing, "That Plan Zero is an actual plan."

Friday got another paper cup, and repeated his earlier performance. "Oh, believe me, it is! Now, all we have to do is get three tons of whipped cream, two helicopters, a mess of pastrami sandwiches on croissants, 500 banannas, and a bunch of "out of order" signs. That's just the start. The rest, we can get on the way!"

Happy Friday

Liars...thieves...

People, well, some people, appreciate a good swindle. (good word that, swindle)

Usually, those people are not the people that get swindled. They're the people who watch from the backside as it's happening, like a magic show. They snicker at the rube who fell for it, even though they would have fallen for the same thing. Like a game of three card Monte, it's tough to beat a guy who has all the cards.

The old saying, "can't cheat an honest man," was actually coined by the old con-men from back in the day...late 1800's, early 1900's. The way they operated back then was to hook a man with a sure thing. The sure thing was always something sketchy..."I know a guy who works at the track - he calls me when the race starts, and tells me who wins. The gambling den gets it's information by telegraph - there's a 2 minute delay between the time the race ends at the track, and the time the gambling house knows who won. We just walk up, place the bet, and it's easy money."

There's usually a small demonstration (or three or four) with low stakes, where the mark finds himself in the middle of a cash generating machine. An honest man, would have nothing to do with this, and even if he'd stuck around after a demonstration or two, he'd have some compunction against continuing. But a normal, greedy man would be hooked. That's when the con-man would say, "My guy's getting the can, he's loosing his job tomorrow. We've only got one more race where we can cash in. Get everything you can!" So the guy goes, invests his life savings into the sure thing, and sure enough, gets cleaned out.

I suppose that's where the real story is...if you're rootin' for the thieves, well, you'd now want to see what they spent their money on. Or if you felt sorry for the rube, I guess you'd want to see either 1) how he picked himself up from being ruined and became an honest man. Or 2) how he picked himself up from being ruined and hunted down the bastards that tricked him, and shot them all in the head. I obviously don't know much about anything, but I'm telling you this, I'd much rather see Bruce Willis in the starring role of #2.

1st Day of Summer

I walked through the big dirty city today. It was hot, and I was slimy...I should say covered with a layer of sweat, since I'm always slimy.

I went to a little far-away place I knew, and got a roast beef croissant sandwich, and ate it while reading about some rediculousness from the government in the latest New Yorker. I didn't much care about the article, there's always some crap you can read about the government, and you can find something every day. It doesn't change, I was just reading cause I don't like sitting and eating by myself.

I left the joint and asked for a light from a girl who was standing near the doorway. She fished out a sunglasses case, flicked it open, and pulled out a lighter. While she was opening it, I eyed her up like she was dessert. I didn't mean to, it just happened. I thanked her, and went on my way.

I strolled back, keeping to the side of the street that had the shadows, and wondered if anything interesting was going to happen today. Sometimes you go through the whole day in a city with 18 million people, and nothing at all happens. Maybe that's because I'm just not slimy enough.

You should probly watch this

It's pretty amazing

really.

It's not Mr. Scorpion, it's Mr. Scorpio, but don't call me that either. Call me Hank!

Might be the best boss ever.

From a hella good episode, I might add.

There's tons more to see over at my personal omniscience page.

The Fjordian Wold Cup

I'm pretty excited about the whole soccer thing - when I get a chance to watch. But apart from the crappy network coverage is giving - they're giving NONE to THIS!

Which is sad, cause I'd watch that too.

So now *shudders*

In the background, large creatures are circling over the remains of the week. Whatever it was, it was a BIG WEEK, since it took damn near two full months of real-time to get thu it. But here in the Fjords, one can hear the soft trickle of icy cold streams, and the wind blowing over soft yielding grasses. Not to mention the picture-esqe meeting of ocean and steep-walled valleys. Yes, things are all right here.

Over to the right, you might notice on the top of that large granite outcrop, a well built gazebo. Follow the stairs carved into the stone and you'll get right up there. What pleasures await you at the Fjordian Gazebo? Well, walk along the dark wood decking, and we'll start off with the huge pig on a spit, being spun over a fire-pit by two extremely Norse-looking dudes. That's going to be good later. Only ten paces away from that, and howabout the full bar? They only seem to have Scandinavian vodka, but that'll do in a pinch. (besides, it doesn't seem like they're charging for anything)

Past that, it seems there's a small casino with loaded dice and marked cards. It's hard to imagine how so many people could be winning without them. Past that, you'll see a small travel kiosk. Nothing too remarkable except they're flying people out of the Fjord (granted there's a long stairway down) on sweet flying boats to every destination on the planet for pennies on the dollar.

To the left, humungus television screens show various movies and relevant sporting events. (man this is getting to be a pretty big gazebo - huh?) Beyond that, a bunch of mechanics are working on specially designed hill-climbing motorcycles...come nine o'clock, there's going to be a race. It'll be great.

There's a stripper-pole exhibition at 10, and a limbo competition at 11, which'll be a ton of fun. Now, if you'll excuse me, I see Friday and his merry band of conversationalists, and I have to at least say "hello." So have fun, and don't be afraid to ask someone - anyone, where you might find something you might like. So, see ya. I gotta' scram.

Happy Friday

After all this time, you think I'm still joking around?

Now they're robbing banks!

Jackson, Miss. (AP) --

Jackson police have not said whether a suspect arrested Friday on firearms charges is the man who wore bandages like a mummy when he walked into a bank, jumped the counter, stuffed his clothes with money and escaped on foot.

Montaries Brooks, 26, of Jackson, was being questioned Friday night regarding the robbery and was charged as a convicted felon in possession of a firearm. He was being held Saturday in the Hinds County Detention Center.

Police arrested Brooks shortly before noon Friday at an apartment, where a SWAT team had converged shortly after the bank robbery. Sgt. Joseph Wade said the robber walked into the Trustmark Bank on Terry Road, wearing bandages about 10 a.m.

"He was fully bandaged," Wade said, including his face and arms. "The only things they could see were his eyes and lips. He asked a teller for help, then jumped over the counter and began taking money out of the drawer," Wade said.

The robber, who Wade said never showed a weapon, stuffed the money into his clothes and ran. Police would not disclose how much money was stolen.


Notice they didn't say that the suspect robber was a "man" or a "mummy" (probly in order to not cause a panic) In fact, they don't want to say if it's the mummy-robber they caught! And they also didn't mention (if they caught the actual mummy) why said mummy needed the cash in the first place. It's pretty damn suspicious.

I'd speculate the mummies need cash in order to:

1) Bribe potential (and foolish) humans to help them with their nefarious plans. (since inevitably helping mummies will lead to their downfall - either from those (like us) dedicated to eradicating mummies and their helpers everywhere, or by mummies themselves, who will surely suck their soul once their usefulness has expired.

2) Purchase weapons systems to defend themselves against my growing army of flamethrower-tanks, and my flamethrower-armed F.A.M.C's (Fjordian Anti-Mummy Corps - which you all know "corps" is pronounced KOR - right? Riiiight, I knew you knew that.)

Anyways, in case my forward-looking anti-mummy thinking has missed a mark or two, just be on high alert for the next few days/weeks/months...cause those insidious bastards might be up to something way bigger than what I/we've prepared for.

Thanks.
-Tsunami-

Wednesday Morning Robot Stuff

They're coming - err, sorta. (and sorta not work safe.)

This squidbot's pretty cool lookin'.

So, like, how much?

"How much for how much?"

"Yaknow, all night with the sexbot."

"You have to ask, it's too much."

APARTMENT ROCK

***Rare live appearance by APT.ROCK***
Set time is 11:00pm - 11:03pm. Right before Soho
Vamp. Witness history.


More than a few few people have criticized us for even thinking about performing a song, since our shtick is having no tunes whatsoever, and by default, being better than 94% of the bands that exist.

However...our pals Soho Vamp are soooo kickass that when they needed help, Apt. Rock couldn't say no.

So, if you happen to be in Los Angel-eeze tonight, swing by the Lava Lounge, and as the man says, "witness history."

YES!

Sometimes the world conspires to please me. There's really no other way to explain this.

I'm sure this is one of those links that will evaporate after not too long, so here's a taste...

A Missouri woman has been arrested for breaking into a dog breeder's home and beating her repeatedly over the head with a dead Chihuahua, local media reported.
(...)
When she got outside she started hitting the breeder on the head with the dead puppy, drawing the attention of a neighbour who called police.

You can get lost here

And you should.

I've found more than a few sites like this one, from various other locations. If anyone knows of others, lemme know.

There's nothing like

A sense of place.

I was reading a local rag in my local plaza, and came across an article that was an obituary for a local D.J. The quote that caught my attention ended with "[he had]...an undeniable L.A. based international swagger."

There's enough for anyone, anywhere, in everyone's daily life to never appreciate where their at - location wise - until you get to somewhere else, in which case you're instantly a representative of where you just came from.

It's not a matter of justification (altho sometimes it gets that way) tons of times "place" is just what works out thru circumstance. Having a "choice" of place is determined a lot more by economics than it is by personal desire or family gravity. (not to say those aren't super powerful attractions)

Still, every once in a while, it's nice to be reminded that there's something very important about the forces that bind you to a specific geographical location on a practically microscopic point on the planet. For some reason you're grounded right where you're at. Maybe it's cause you needed it, and maybe it's cause it needed you. Or maybe it's too complicated to answer. Either way, if you don't have a reason for being where you're at, find one. Since sooner or later, someone's going to ask, "Why are you there!?"

And most probly, the place that your at (in comparison with a bunch of others) doesn't really suck at all.

Happy Friday

So as I...

Sat around looking for things to blogger on about, I was listening to the better local college radio station their programming slid into their "post 6 o'clock" stuff which usually offers none of the good stuff, 'cept on Wednesdays where there's a show called "The Jazz Journey" which I'd usually shut down, but they have a nice intro-tune, and then the fella' usually plays stuff that's agreeable. Anyhoo, it turn out they have a couple of women on the show tonight - and those women turn out to be the daughters of Henry Mancini.

So I'm listening to some pretty groovy cocktail music while I'm still looking for things to write about, when I hear something in the background about Tony Bennett performing down the street from the Casa Aloha, which perks up my ears a little. Suddenly, the D.J. says, "Allright, I've talked to the lovely Mancini daughters, and we've come up with a question, that, if you can answer, you'll get tickets to the 10th Anniversary Party of the Mancini Institute, where Tony Bennett will be performing." One of the daughters gets on the mike, and asks, "What was the name of the cat in "Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

So I quick dial the number, and sure enough, (it being college radio and all) I get thru as the first caller. "KXLU." The D.J. speaks, which comes thru my phone receiver, and my radio at the same time.
"Hi!" I say, turning down my voice blaring out of my radio. "Was it CAT!?" I finish, which breaks everyone in the studio up, (as I guess they through it was hard) and after a moment or two, I'm getting my tickets reserved at will-call. After giving all my pertinent information, I hang up the phone and shout..."KICKASS!" Loud enough so the Casa rings with my triumph.

I've always wanted to see Tony Bennett...he's the last of the golden age of crooners that mingled with the likes of Sinatra, and he's still got pipes. (at least four years ago I thought so when I saw him perform on some cable deal) The cheap seats at this event are $62 bucks - which is way more than I'd ever pay to see anyone, seriously. So I guess to conclude, I'd like to take a line from a W.B. Cartoon and say...

"After all this time, things are finally starting to go my way."


'Course, that only leaves me with 10 days to find a date to a gala extravaganza. I imagine there will be more than a few misadventures while I try and make that one happen. If any are worth repeating, I'll be sure and let you know.

-Tsunami-