Legal and ethical arguments around cloning (of which, I am staunchly anti-clone btw) and I saw two angels standing at the ticket machine in the subway-station.
This, I thought, was unusual.
One ran up to put money in the thing, while the other stood with an absolutely massive bouquet of balloons. Maybe 25-30 of 'em, floating gently about eight feet above her wings. It wasn't just that the angels were in yer typical angel costume, it was the talcum powdery color of their skin, that made me take a second look.
Anyways, since the one with the balloons didn't come over straight away to me and thrust the mass out at me, I realized, they weren't my angels, they were someone elses. (and don't think the fact that they were taking the train made me wonder if they were even real angels...after all, wouldn't a really good angel take the most responsible of all transportation - public transportation?) Now, I didn't so much as get jealous, as wonder, was there anyone out there trying to clone Angels!?
Being an inventive race of humanids, I'm sure we've nabbed a few (perhaps in the deep Pentagon Dungeons of the Special & Magical Creature Detention Facility) where they reside in anti-magic/holy power containment fields, next to Leprechauns and Unicorns and 3-headed Hell Dogs...all awaiting the same terrible fate...Weponization. But anyways, I digress. Apart from the difficulties in the basic genetic structure of these wondrous creatures that resists weaponization, I think there'd be a pretty big market for your standard Angel. Of course, there's probably a stigma that goes along with a cloned Angel. I mean, standard angel magic is one thing, but would you be 100% trustful of some Clone Angel Magic? It'd be like your car was falling off the edge of the cliff, and you go,
"Hey angel - make with the flying car routine!" You'd say. And the little Angel waves her wand or whatever and the car stops falling towards those jagged rocks, and instead, starts crossing the deep chasm. Whereupon, some slight defect (undetected by the boys at the lab, or Inspector 12 - who's paper slip was found in the bottom of the box that shipped your Angel via FedEx) in it's magical genetic makeup, causes your car to then turn into a giant colander - with holes just the right size for letting humans slip through. And you do.
I think that's the problem with cloned angels. (and Leprechauns and Unicorns, and 3-headed hell hounds) people just wouldn't quite trust them to come through in a pinch. Course, if they were really really cheap, I'm pretty sure I'd pick up a couple.
Maybe I'm not so staunchly anti-clone after all.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Monday
Hello fellow uber-hot Fjordlings!
Tonight, I've got to turn my fjormidable powers towards another project (that must get done tonite) and laundry.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll start a renaissance.
Tonight, I've got to turn my fjormidable powers towards another project (that must get done tonite) and laundry.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll start a renaissance.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Yeah..just one more weekend thing...
Then I'm done.
See, I posted about this a while ago, and not just cause I thought it was cool. If you'll bother to enlarge the photo's you can see, it's an amazing invention. In fact, most likely, the most powerful scientific sensor we, as humans have ever created to figger out anything. It's the CERN - (jeebus, thanks again to the kids over at B.B. for the help...I spend too much time over there) the Large Hadron Collider, and, I'm convinced that (If we over at the W.C.B. of Fjord continue our efforts for another year or so) many new posts will be inspired by what this device reveals. I'm a huge fan...and would just like to let you know, right now, that before all the shit this thing is going to do is on the nightly news...you read about it here.
On. Channel. Fjord.
(more than many apologies for the numerous ellipses...I'll use less in the future...promise.)
See, I posted about this a while ago, and not just cause I thought it was cool. If you'll bother to enlarge the photo's you can see, it's an amazing invention. In fact, most likely, the most powerful scientific sensor we, as humans have ever created to figger out anything. It's the CERN - (jeebus, thanks again to the kids over at B.B. for the help...I spend too much time over there) the Large Hadron Collider, and, I'm convinced that (If we over at the W.C.B. of Fjord continue our efforts for another year or so) many new posts will be inspired by what this device reveals. I'm a huge fan...and would just like to let you know, right now, that before all the shit this thing is going to do is on the nightly news...you read about it here.
On. Channel. Fjord.
(more than many apologies for the numerous ellipses...I'll use less in the future...promise.)
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Yaaay! Yaaay! Huzzah!
My kickass band Apartment Rock - has just released it's new record. It's a double-disk, called Expansive Pad. You'll have to look for it OVER HERE
P.S. - Let it be known, I am working my ass off to entertain you.
P.S. - Let it be known, I am working my ass off to entertain you.
BOOOO! Booo! boooooooo!
I'm sad, and dissapointed. Sony's discontinued production and development of the Aibo robot dog. I don't know why, cause ever since I saw one of these cute little robo-critters doing a little dance on the subway platform, I totally wanted to get one. I suppose it was probably the price - at about 2-grand a pop, it was just too far out of reach for most normal robot lovers.
Anyways, the guys over at We Make Money Not Art have a few more things to say if you're interested.
Man...I used to pretty much think Sony was the shit. But then they went and did that whole DRM thing with their C.D.'s, and now THIS!
We all knew the end of the world was coming...but now we have to face it without robot dogs?
Anyways, the guys over at We Make Money Not Art have a few more things to say if you're interested.
Man...I used to pretty much think Sony was the shit. But then they went and did that whole DRM thing with their C.D.'s, and now THIS!
We all knew the end of the world was coming...but now we have to face it without robot dogs?
Friday, January 27, 2006
This one kinda' snuck up on me
"snuck" is a very nijce looking word, if I do say so myself.
I was also looking through some old email today, and found I'd made the typo trying to write the word "don't" and instead wrote, "donk." Which is also a very nice word.
Thought I'd share.
Now...there's this post...
INT: ROOM
The teevee babbles in the background. "Tired of normal breakfast cereals? Then try Fjord-Flakes! They're made of three kinds of grain, formed with a tasty center where milk can..."
"Shut it off!" Shouts Wednesday. "I'm so sick of how those guys sold totally out."
"What?" Asks Thursday.
"Those guys at Fjord. They used to be cool." finished Wednesday moving over to manually hit the power button on the teevee.
"Still are if you ask me." Monday said.
"Oh yeah?" Wednesday fumed, "What about "Fjord-Flakes? Fjord-Curtains? Fjord-Sheets? What was the catchphrase for that one - oh yeah - 'Keep the barfly you picked up last night from sleeping too close to you.' The Ford Fjord? Man, whatta hunka' shit! The Fjord Valentine - 'Fjords help keep hearts together' I mean What The FUCK! They've sold out to everything and anything they could."
"You've got a point." Said Tuesday. "But..."
Whatever he was about to say, was lost forever as the door opened with a crash! A massive Chinese dragon costume entered, and as the door smashed to the wall, the sound of symbols and drums rang out. The dragon moved closer to the Weekdays, it was obvious, it was a very large dragon costume. Eight pairs of legs stuck out of the bottom of the dragon, and the whole thing wasn't yet in the door. The dragon's face stuck it's head at Wednesday, who staggered back.
The dragon moved around as the rest of it moved into the room. It stared each of the weekdays in the face, as the rest of the sixteen pairs of legs followed it around. Then, after the dragon had pointed it's face at Thursday - the drums and symbols stopped on a dime. Then Friday took the dragon's head off, and pointed it at himself.
"There! We're ready."
"Ready for what?" Asked Monday.
"For the Chinese New Year. It's tomorrow!"
"What?" Said Thursday.
"It's the year of the Dog!" Said Friday, "And not only that, I think...well, judging from what my astrologer just said, I think it's going to be a Fire Dog! How cool is that!?"
"Well not really..." Began Tuesday.
"Oh what the fjuck do you know? You're sitting here wondering what you're going to do tonight, after just barely mustering up the energy to turn off the gjoddamn teevee. You were just talking about what?"
"How those Fjord guys sold out."
"Fjordguys! You know...you know I consider Tsunami a friend of mine, and it's going to be his year. I for one am going out and celebrating the year of the Fire Dog."
"It's not really the new year...that already happened." Mumbled Thursday.
Friday looked over. "Yeah, and the Chinese had a civilization about three-thousand years before Rome was even a pimple on a map. Now, if I knew all of you would be so gjoddamn gloomy about the idea of celebrating, I wouldn't have gotten sixteen guys to run this dragon costume, and a bunch of drummers and cymbal-playing guys to come out tonight. Or, maybe I would have, and just wouldn't have come over here!"
"I'll celebrate with ya." Said Monday, getting up from the couch.
"I ain't doin' nothin'." Tuesday mumbled, and got up himself.
Outside there was a clash of cymbal hitting the sidewalk, and crazy warning shouts. Suddenly, men ran in from outside. The put down their instruments, and adopted martial-arts postures.
"What?" Asked Friday.
"Ninja!" Shouted a drummer.
Friday dropped the dragon-head, and looked out. "Ahh, the Japanese, traditional enemy of the Chinese."
Then a cymbal player flew through the room backwards, and came to rest unconscious against the couch. A flurry of sounds entered through the door. Then the remaining musicians fell back into the room. The last cymbal player was busy using his instruments to fend off throwing stars that rang off with loud clangs.
"I hate Ninjas" Said Thursday getting up.
And with that, the twenty-or-so occupants of the room were confronted with a likewise number of pajama-clad foes. A massive hand-to-hand combat broke out! A drummer used a big drum as a shield to stop three throwing-stars coming towards Wednesday! A Ninja cut down a hapless dragon-costumed fellow, before he came across another cymbal player, who deftly blocked a samurai-sword with his copper shields. Fists flew, kicks lashed out, strange objects were used as weapons. A telephone handset cracked a ninja on the head - a remote control was jammed into and down another ninja's mouth - a set of keys ripped off a nose - A back issue of Vanity-Fair was rolled up and shoved into another's eye! Tables broke, eazy-chairs were thrown, a cymbal came out of nowhere to slice across a throat. A jar full of pennies smashed across another's head.
The Weekdays were not idle while all this went down. Tuesday had grabbed the phone and used it's cord to begin strangling one, until another came to his help, a sword swinging down. Tuesday spun the strangling Ninja at the other like a shield. It worked. Not so well for the near-strangled Ninja, but still. On the other side of the room, Friday fought off three with a phone book, a throwing star embedded in it, altho it was rapidly being cut apart by swords. Then Wednesday picked up the teevee and smashed it over the head of one of Friday's attackers. The other's looked back, and Friday swung the throwing star embedded in the phone book across the throats of the other two. Red spurts splattered the walls as they fell. Monday held a cracked coffee table, in front of him were three unconscious or dead black-clad men. Tuesday was pinned in the closet, throwing wire hangars that arced crazily through the air at tremendous speed, until his attackers realized, they were the only ones left.
Three black-clad shadows rushed out of the place, followed by glasses, cymbals, and small statue figurines.
"Damn." Said Tuesday from the closet. The rest of them looked around at the carnage.
"Yeah" Mumbled Wednesday.
"So whaddaya say we go out now?" Said Friday to the stunned, and victorious crowd.
There was a tepid response.
"Yeah."
"I mean it. Something good is on the way. Fjuck! They tried to stop it! Anything good always has something trying to stop it. No?"
"YEAH!" The response was much better this time.
"All right then!"
Friday began ushering people past the bodies of the ninja's, and slapped his hand on the hump of Wednesday's back. Wednesday looked back to see a funny look on Friday's face.
"What?" He asked.
"One, thanks for the teevee move, that was cool."
"No Prob." Said Wednesday.
"Second, don't ever say Tsunami's a sellout. I'll be the one to let you know when that happens."
"Oh. Right."
Happy Friday
I was also looking through some old email today, and found I'd made the typo trying to write the word "don't" and instead wrote, "donk." Which is also a very nice word.
Thought I'd share.
Now...there's this post...
INT: ROOM
The teevee babbles in the background. "Tired of normal breakfast cereals? Then try Fjord-Flakes! They're made of three kinds of grain, formed with a tasty center where milk can..."
"Shut it off!" Shouts Wednesday. "I'm so sick of how those guys sold totally out."
"What?" Asks Thursday.
"Those guys at Fjord. They used to be cool." finished Wednesday moving over to manually hit the power button on the teevee.
"Still are if you ask me." Monday said.
"Oh yeah?" Wednesday fumed, "What about "Fjord-Flakes? Fjord-Curtains? Fjord-Sheets? What was the catchphrase for that one - oh yeah - 'Keep the barfly you picked up last night from sleeping too close to you.' The Ford Fjord? Man, whatta hunka' shit! The Fjord Valentine - 'Fjords help keep hearts together' I mean What The FUCK! They've sold out to everything and anything they could."
"You've got a point." Said Tuesday. "But..."
Whatever he was about to say, was lost forever as the door opened with a crash! A massive Chinese dragon costume entered, and as the door smashed to the wall, the sound of symbols and drums rang out. The dragon moved closer to the Weekdays, it was obvious, it was a very large dragon costume. Eight pairs of legs stuck out of the bottom of the dragon, and the whole thing wasn't yet in the door. The dragon's face stuck it's head at Wednesday, who staggered back.
The dragon moved around as the rest of it moved into the room. It stared each of the weekdays in the face, as the rest of the sixteen pairs of legs followed it around. Then, after the dragon had pointed it's face at Thursday - the drums and symbols stopped on a dime. Then Friday took the dragon's head off, and pointed it at himself.
"There! We're ready."
"Ready for what?" Asked Monday.
"For the Chinese New Year. It's tomorrow!"
"What?" Said Thursday.
"It's the year of the Dog!" Said Friday, "And not only that, I think...well, judging from what my astrologer just said, I think it's going to be a Fire Dog! How cool is that!?"
"Well not really..." Began Tuesday.
"Oh what the fjuck do you know? You're sitting here wondering what you're going to do tonight, after just barely mustering up the energy to turn off the gjoddamn teevee. You were just talking about what?"
"How those Fjord guys sold out."
"Fjordguys! You know...you know I consider Tsunami a friend of mine, and it's going to be his year. I for one am going out and celebrating the year of the Fire Dog."
"It's not really the new year...that already happened." Mumbled Thursday.
Friday looked over. "Yeah, and the Chinese had a civilization about three-thousand years before Rome was even a pimple on a map. Now, if I knew all of you would be so gjoddamn gloomy about the idea of celebrating, I wouldn't have gotten sixteen guys to run this dragon costume, and a bunch of drummers and cymbal-playing guys to come out tonight. Or, maybe I would have, and just wouldn't have come over here!"
"I'll celebrate with ya." Said Monday, getting up from the couch.
"I ain't doin' nothin'." Tuesday mumbled, and got up himself.
Outside there was a clash of cymbal hitting the sidewalk, and crazy warning shouts. Suddenly, men ran in from outside. The put down their instruments, and adopted martial-arts postures.
"What?" Asked Friday.
"Ninja!" Shouted a drummer.
Friday dropped the dragon-head, and looked out. "Ahh, the Japanese, traditional enemy of the Chinese."
Then a cymbal player flew through the room backwards, and came to rest unconscious against the couch. A flurry of sounds entered through the door. Then the remaining musicians fell back into the room. The last cymbal player was busy using his instruments to fend off throwing stars that rang off with loud clangs.
"I hate Ninjas" Said Thursday getting up.
And with that, the twenty-or-so occupants of the room were confronted with a likewise number of pajama-clad foes. A massive hand-to-hand combat broke out! A drummer used a big drum as a shield to stop three throwing-stars coming towards Wednesday! A Ninja cut down a hapless dragon-costumed fellow, before he came across another cymbal player, who deftly blocked a samurai-sword with his copper shields. Fists flew, kicks lashed out, strange objects were used as weapons. A telephone handset cracked a ninja on the head - a remote control was jammed into and down another ninja's mouth - a set of keys ripped off a nose - A back issue of Vanity-Fair was rolled up and shoved into another's eye! Tables broke, eazy-chairs were thrown, a cymbal came out of nowhere to slice across a throat. A jar full of pennies smashed across another's head.
The Weekdays were not idle while all this went down. Tuesday had grabbed the phone and used it's cord to begin strangling one, until another came to his help, a sword swinging down. Tuesday spun the strangling Ninja at the other like a shield. It worked. Not so well for the near-strangled Ninja, but still. On the other side of the room, Friday fought off three with a phone book, a throwing star embedded in it, altho it was rapidly being cut apart by swords. Then Wednesday picked up the teevee and smashed it over the head of one of Friday's attackers. The other's looked back, and Friday swung the throwing star embedded in the phone book across the throats of the other two. Red spurts splattered the walls as they fell. Monday held a cracked coffee table, in front of him were three unconscious or dead black-clad men. Tuesday was pinned in the closet, throwing wire hangars that arced crazily through the air at tremendous speed, until his attackers realized, they were the only ones left.
Three black-clad shadows rushed out of the place, followed by glasses, cymbals, and small statue figurines.
"Damn." Said Tuesday from the closet. The rest of them looked around at the carnage.
"Yeah" Mumbled Wednesday.
"So whaddaya say we go out now?" Said Friday to the stunned, and victorious crowd.
There was a tepid response.
"Yeah."
"I mean it. Something good is on the way. Fjuck! They tried to stop it! Anything good always has something trying to stop it. No?"
"YEAH!" The response was much better this time.
"All right then!"
Friday began ushering people past the bodies of the ninja's, and slapped his hand on the hump of Wednesday's back. Wednesday looked back to see a funny look on Friday's face.
"What?" He asked.
"One, thanks for the teevee move, that was cool."
"No Prob." Said Wednesday.
"Second, don't ever say Tsunami's a sellout. I'll be the one to let you know when that happens."
"Oh. Right."
Happy Friday
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Thursday slithered into the room...
Coiled up in a big snake-coil pile, and waited for yours truly...hunting through the maze of the day for some cheese, to come bumbling by. Whereupon he lashed out, constricted the fuck outta me, and then swallowed me whole.
Now don't get me wrong, being stuck inside the dark belly of a snake (er...Thursday) ain't so bad, as long as you don't mind the smell of bile, the sight of puss and vomit-like tummy-gruel, or the sensation of having your skin and muscles digested off your bones.
Now, being a man who's been in this kinda' pinch before, I just kicked back, and rode the digestive track to it's inevitable sphincterish end. Granted, there wasn't much left of me, but I figger it'll grow back come Friday.
I found out about some medical micro-bots a bit later, and thought they would be a handy thing in extricating myself from the tummy of a giant snake (er...Thursday) in the future. Here's the Quote which tied the room together.
"In tests on a live pig, the robots were were inserted through the animal's mouth, and once inside the stomach, surgeons cut a small hole in the stomach wall, which allowed the robot access to the whole abdominal cavity."
I suppose a pocket-knife would do the same job, but they're so hard to get through security. And besides, while pocket-knives are cool, robots are rad.
Right.
I'm outta here.
-Tsunami-
Now don't get me wrong, being stuck inside the dark belly of a snake (er...Thursday) ain't so bad, as long as you don't mind the smell of bile, the sight of puss and vomit-like tummy-gruel, or the sensation of having your skin and muscles digested off your bones.
Now, being a man who's been in this kinda' pinch before, I just kicked back, and rode the digestive track to it's inevitable sphincterish end. Granted, there wasn't much left of me, but I figger it'll grow back come Friday.
I found out about some medical micro-bots a bit later, and thought they would be a handy thing in extricating myself from the tummy of a giant snake (er...Thursday) in the future. Here's the Quote which tied the room together.
"In tests on a live pig, the robots were were inserted through the animal's mouth, and once inside the stomach, surgeons cut a small hole in the stomach wall, which allowed the robot access to the whole abdominal cavity."
I suppose a pocket-knife would do the same job, but they're so hard to get through security. And besides, while pocket-knives are cool, robots are rad.
Right.
I'm outta here.
-Tsunami-
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Deet...Deet Deet Deet...Deet Deet...Fjordnews...Deet
There's been more than a lot happening in the world since last we kept you updated. So let's dive right in.
Pirates Still Doing Their Dirty Work
Those British Sex-Fiends do 350 million pounds in damages...EVERY YEAR!
And there's this guy.
Finally, to follow up on the YEAR OF THE MUMMY...
Altho, if you ask me about the last one, I'd say, the guy was a mummy before the horrific torture was performed on him, and then after they'd slain the mummy-beast, then, they threw him in the bog. But, that's just me.
Pirates Still Doing Their Dirty Work
Those British Sex-Fiends do 350 million pounds in damages...EVERY YEAR!
And there's this guy.
Finally, to follow up on the YEAR OF THE MUMMY...
Altho, if you ask me about the last one, I'd say, the guy was a mummy before the horrific torture was performed on him, and then after they'd slain the mummy-beast, then, they threw him in the bog. But, that's just me.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Monday, January 23, 2006
Aaahh...CRAP! (and robots...)
I was going to make a further self-indulgent post about this being the 500th! Of course, when I saw the robot multi-media extravaganza, I was working, and just put up a quick link-post. At least it was a GOOD LINK POST.
So anyways, let me explain, if you have not heard of the robotic displays of Survival Research Labs, or the super impressive Robochrist Industries , we're not talking about things that can walk up stairs, play the trumpet, and do cute little robo-dances to Coldplay. We're talking massive destructo-bots, made of steel, belching out smoke, with massive hydraulic claws and chainsaws, and pneumatic harpoons.
The most impressive at the last performance was the robotic hovercraft. About twelve feet long, with two turrets of dual fire cannons. They were powered by massive tanks of...butane? methane? propane?...I dunno, but the thing was floating around shooting these extremely loud blasts of heat and blue flame, that made people cover their ears. With all the smoke and strange fumes belching from just about everywhere, and the omni-present sputtering of compressors and engines...(not to mention the destruction of everything) it's quite a visceral experience.
Anyways, at the end, this guy drove up on a forklift, holding a massive flame-thrower, and just torched everything. Like, a thirty foot blast of flame...that even set the hovercraft's weapons on fire. Even I thought that seemed a little dangerous.
Well, at least this time I got some pictures I can post up, when I get off my lazy ass. The link's got a ton of media, so go check it out. Or if yer nearing El-Ay, swing by the Casa Aloha, I'll show you the five minutes of video I got b-4 my battery went out. It's pretty fucking great.
P.S. - I just watched the stuff on the link, my shots are like 50 times greater than that. I don't, however, have the means to capture and post said material. For now, you'll just have to see it in person.
-Tsunami-
So anyways, let me explain, if you have not heard of the robotic displays of Survival Research Labs, or the super impressive Robochrist Industries , we're not talking about things that can walk up stairs, play the trumpet, and do cute little robo-dances to Coldplay. We're talking massive destructo-bots, made of steel, belching out smoke, with massive hydraulic claws and chainsaws, and pneumatic harpoons.
The most impressive at the last performance was the robotic hovercraft. About twelve feet long, with two turrets of dual fire cannons. They were powered by massive tanks of...butane? methane? propane?...I dunno, but the thing was floating around shooting these extremely loud blasts of heat and blue flame, that made people cover their ears. With all the smoke and strange fumes belching from just about everywhere, and the omni-present sputtering of compressors and engines...(not to mention the destruction of everything) it's quite a visceral experience.
Anyways, at the end, this guy drove up on a forklift, holding a massive flame-thrower, and just torched everything. Like, a thirty foot blast of flame...that even set the hovercraft's weapons on fire. Even I thought that seemed a little dangerous.
Well, at least this time I got some pictures I can post up, when I get off my lazy ass. The link's got a ton of media, so go check it out. Or if yer nearing El-Ay, swing by the Casa Aloha, I'll show you the five minutes of video I got b-4 my battery went out. It's pretty fucking great.
P.S. - I just watched the stuff on the link, my shots are like 50 times greater than that. I don't, however, have the means to capture and post said material. For now, you'll just have to see it in person.
-Tsunami-
Friday, January 20, 2006
And so ends the streak. *sigh*
My good pal Fjord-Borg (who co-incedentally kicks my ass at Halo on a near nightly basis) has just busted my streak of being the only author here...which has stood since 7-14-05.
Which is erm...umm..hang on whist l get my calc-U-lator. 190 days! Holy Moly that's a long frikkin tjime!
I guess all things have to end. And now, we'll see how long the next one goes.
Good to see some of the old gang still lurkin' around the internets. And wherever Q-Dog and the Mindfuck might be...hope your fingers are healing up nicely.
-Tsunami-
Which is erm...umm..hang on whist l get my calc-U-lator. 190 days! Holy Moly that's a long frikkin tjime!
I guess all things have to end. And now, we'll see how long the next one goes.
Good to see some of the old gang still lurkin' around the internets. And wherever Q-Dog and the Mindfuck might be...hope your fingers are healing up nicely.
-Tsunami-
Sit Back - Breathe...and pretend you're in a spy movie
Friday stood in the middle of the salt-flats in something resembling a space suit. He had a massive helmet in one hand, and rested the other on the driver's side door of a massive tanker truck.
He was in the middle of a conversation with the driver, who had the window rolled down.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The driver said.
"Sure." Said Friday with confidence
"Why?"
"It'll be fun!"
"Okay - well, it's your neck. I gotta go."
"See Ya!" Finished Friday.
The weekdays walked up across the flats in similar suits. They walked in a formation, with Tuesday in the front. He spoke first.
"Friday, we do a lot of things you say, but this...this is far beyond anything that I want to do!"
The other weekdays stood there, not exactly implying they agreed with Tuesday, but not implying they didn't.
"C'mon, it'll be a blast - literally! Besides, what else you got to do right now?"
"Friday," Tuesday began to seethe, "I'm getting tired of your platypus!"
"You mean platitudes?"
"See! There! You fucking know what I mean!"
With that, the giant fuel truck drove off, revealing behind it, a formation of five rocket-cars sitting sweetly on the salt-flat.
"Well," Friday began, "you don't have to come. I mean, none of you have to come along, but it always seems that when you end up doing your damnedest, you've got nothin', and you end up doing what I'm doing. And this is what I'm doing. Besides, you know how much work it took to line all this up?"
"It's just that it's! It's! It's..." Tuesday blathered.
"Tuesday," Friday said, "look, sit back - breathe...and pretend your in a spy movie." And with that Friday walked towards the rocket-cars, pulling on his space-suit helmet.
"Eh, what the fuck." Said Monday, and followed after, along with Wednesday and Thursday.
"What the fuck!" Stamped Tuesday. "What the fuck??! I don't want to end up an exploded weekday across a good chunk of Utah! That's what the fuck!" However, shortly after standing there by himself, and watching the others strap themselves in to their rocket cars, he looked around - and shuffled over to do the same.
He lifted the canopy that covered a small cockpit in front of a huge tail-fin, on the top of the big, massive rocket that steamed a dry-ice steam in the desert sun. He connected a few wire leads into his suit, and was privy to the radio conversation taking place.
"So we're doing this why?" Thursday spoke, then there was some static.
"Beacuse there's a party on Saturday in Tokyo!" Said Friday.
"Why don't we just take a plane?" Asked Monday.
"Cause it's already Saturday in Japan. It's the date-line that's our problem. We have to be there today, in order to make if for tomorrow."
"Oh. Copy that."
"Okay gentlemen." Continued Friday, "activate rocket-cars."
With that hands moved to buttons, flicked toggles, and the rocket cars sprang to life. Accelerating at great speed across the salt-flats, the five vehicles left behind them sonic booms as they broke the sound barrier. Then small in the distance, a curious dark shape emerged. The distance rapidly covered, the shape emerged into a gigantic ramp, made of dark steel. Around it massive cranes, trucks, and scaffolding stood.
"Crap." Said Friday.
"What's that?" Radioed Tuesday.
"Doesn't look like they finished."
"WHAT!"
"Well, I did just ask for them to do this today. I think they've done pretty good."
"Good! GOOD! WE'LL BE KILLED! THIS WAS WHY I..."
Friday cut him off.
"Sit back, breathe, and pretend you're in a spy movie."
"Oh Fuck." Wednesday finished Tuesday's thought.
As they covered the distance, they could see small figures with yellow hard-hats scrambling to get out of the way. The ramp itself was huge. Massive. Enormous. Like, Hoover Dam big. Plates were missing, and a work crew was still trying to affix a plate at the very top, held by cables from a massive crane. Friday switched to a different channel, and radioed the work-crew.
"Uh, please get off the ramp. Five rocket-cars heading towards your position. Thank you!"
At the foot of the massive ramp, they could see the men scrambling, and four cables swinging madly in the wind as the crane tried it's best to swing them out of the way! They rode up the gentle slope at an amazing speed. Thursday looked out the side of his canopy, and saw the astonished face of a metal-worker.
"Activate afterburners." Said Friday.
They all did.
The ramp shook, and began to fall apart behind them. Huge plates of steel were blasted back into the desert. Scaffolding fell apart, and tumbled haphazardly down to the ground. Then, in a split-second, Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, Monday and Tuesday left the ramp at an angle of 45 degrees, and at something like 25,000 miles per hour.
Which is pretty damn fast.
Which is what they all thought, as they sailed through the sky, and within moments were looking at the curve of the earth. From high above the Pacific, they could see the little green splotches of Hawaii, and at the far end, the glowing of the sun they were catching up to. At a certain spot (aided by navagational computers - of course) Friday said, "Okay, cut engines."
They glided through the perfect quiet of space, as the Pacific drifted past, and gravity began to tug on them.
"Hey Friday," Said Wednesday. How are we...exactly...supposed to land?" There was the obligatory static after he transmitted that.
"Well, if my mathematician's numbers are right, there should be a corresponding ramp built at our landing site."
"If your mathematician's numbers are right!" Said Monday.
"Yeah. Of course my translator didn't exactly know some of the words to describe what we're up to, so, hopefully the construction company got the information just right."
"Just right!" Said Thursday. "If they don't!"
"Okay, how many times do I have to say this. Sit back, breathe, and pretend..."
Happy Friday.
He was in the middle of a conversation with the driver, who had the window rolled down.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The driver said.
"Sure." Said Friday with confidence
"Why?"
"It'll be fun!"
"Okay - well, it's your neck. I gotta go."
"See Ya!" Finished Friday.
The weekdays walked up across the flats in similar suits. They walked in a formation, with Tuesday in the front. He spoke first.
"Friday, we do a lot of things you say, but this...this is far beyond anything that I want to do!"
The other weekdays stood there, not exactly implying they agreed with Tuesday, but not implying they didn't.
"C'mon, it'll be a blast - literally! Besides, what else you got to do right now?"
"Friday," Tuesday began to seethe, "I'm getting tired of your platypus!"
"You mean platitudes?"
"See! There! You fucking know what I mean!"
With that, the giant fuel truck drove off, revealing behind it, a formation of five rocket-cars sitting sweetly on the salt-flat.
"Well," Friday began, "you don't have to come. I mean, none of you have to come along, but it always seems that when you end up doing your damnedest, you've got nothin', and you end up doing what I'm doing. And this is what I'm doing. Besides, you know how much work it took to line all this up?"
"It's just that it's! It's! It's..." Tuesday blathered.
"Tuesday," Friday said, "look, sit back - breathe...and pretend your in a spy movie." And with that Friday walked towards the rocket-cars, pulling on his space-suit helmet.
"Eh, what the fuck." Said Monday, and followed after, along with Wednesday and Thursday.
"What the fuck!" Stamped Tuesday. "What the fuck??! I don't want to end up an exploded weekday across a good chunk of Utah! That's what the fuck!" However, shortly after standing there by himself, and watching the others strap themselves in to their rocket cars, he looked around - and shuffled over to do the same.
He lifted the canopy that covered a small cockpit in front of a huge tail-fin, on the top of the big, massive rocket that steamed a dry-ice steam in the desert sun. He connected a few wire leads into his suit, and was privy to the radio conversation taking place.
"So we're doing this why?" Thursday spoke, then there was some static.
"Beacuse there's a party on Saturday in Tokyo!" Said Friday.
"Why don't we just take a plane?" Asked Monday.
"Cause it's already Saturday in Japan. It's the date-line that's our problem. We have to be there today, in order to make if for tomorrow."
"Oh. Copy that."
"Okay gentlemen." Continued Friday, "activate rocket-cars."
With that hands moved to buttons, flicked toggles, and the rocket cars sprang to life. Accelerating at great speed across the salt-flats, the five vehicles left behind them sonic booms as they broke the sound barrier. Then small in the distance, a curious dark shape emerged. The distance rapidly covered, the shape emerged into a gigantic ramp, made of dark steel. Around it massive cranes, trucks, and scaffolding stood.
"Crap." Said Friday.
"What's that?" Radioed Tuesday.
"Doesn't look like they finished."
"WHAT!"
"Well, I did just ask for them to do this today. I think they've done pretty good."
"Good! GOOD! WE'LL BE KILLED! THIS WAS WHY I..."
Friday cut him off.
"Sit back, breathe, and pretend you're in a spy movie."
"Oh Fuck." Wednesday finished Tuesday's thought.
As they covered the distance, they could see small figures with yellow hard-hats scrambling to get out of the way. The ramp itself was huge. Massive. Enormous. Like, Hoover Dam big. Plates were missing, and a work crew was still trying to affix a plate at the very top, held by cables from a massive crane. Friday switched to a different channel, and radioed the work-crew.
"Uh, please get off the ramp. Five rocket-cars heading towards your position. Thank you!"
At the foot of the massive ramp, they could see the men scrambling, and four cables swinging madly in the wind as the crane tried it's best to swing them out of the way! They rode up the gentle slope at an amazing speed. Thursday looked out the side of his canopy, and saw the astonished face of a metal-worker.
"Activate afterburners." Said Friday.
They all did.
The ramp shook, and began to fall apart behind them. Huge plates of steel were blasted back into the desert. Scaffolding fell apart, and tumbled haphazardly down to the ground. Then, in a split-second, Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, Monday and Tuesday left the ramp at an angle of 45 degrees, and at something like 25,000 miles per hour.
Which is pretty damn fast.
Which is what they all thought, as they sailed through the sky, and within moments were looking at the curve of the earth. From high above the Pacific, they could see the little green splotches of Hawaii, and at the far end, the glowing of the sun they were catching up to. At a certain spot (aided by navagational computers - of course) Friday said, "Okay, cut engines."
They glided through the perfect quiet of space, as the Pacific drifted past, and gravity began to tug on them.
"Hey Friday," Said Wednesday. How are we...exactly...supposed to land?" There was the obligatory static after he transmitted that.
"Well, if my mathematician's numbers are right, there should be a corresponding ramp built at our landing site."
"If your mathematician's numbers are right!" Said Monday.
"Yeah. Of course my translator didn't exactly know some of the words to describe what we're up to, so, hopefully the construction company got the information just right."
"Just right!" Said Thursday. "If they don't!"
"Okay, how many times do I have to say this. Sit back, breathe, and pretend..."
Happy Friday.
Congratulations!!!
Normally - this kind of post would be reserved for a comments section but I decided that the magnitude and grandeur of what is being congratulated needed to be thrust into the limelight. I want to personally thank Dario Tsunami and congratulate him on what is truly one of the most entertaining blogs out there - some of these things should have a fee attached to them - way too good to be free. Anway, Dario, you're a great man and somehow an even better writer. The pure quality and dedication to what's in here is truly inspirational. All future verbs that explain whatever actions you are in the midst of should have the word "fjordly" attached to them. I can't wait until my next chance at a mad-lib.
yer pal,
Fjord Borg
yer pal,
Fjord Borg
Thursday, January 19, 2006
And now for something completely different
We're one year old today.
(Now before anybody goes all ape-shit here, I think it's fair to warn you: I will personally fuck anyone in the mouth with a shovel who says, "Yabba-dabba-doo!"
So, now...what to say about alllll that?
1) In one year, this little webzine has seen 7,584 visitors, and been hit 17,051 times.
That's probably 7,500 people I wouldn't have communicated at all with in the last year. I'm glad we kept in touch.
Now, if you would have told me last year at this time, that in this span of time, I would have lost three of my fellow writers to "blogging fatigue" I would have thought - "no way man, not these guys!" However, as has been mentioned at this site a couple of times, writing is hard. Writing in today's content driven era on a random electronic page (amidst 800 million other random electronic pages)...is practically meaningless. Still, as a body of work, Fjord's pretty much exceeded all expectations. There's a couple of stupendous posts, a few great ones, and tons in the "purtty good" category.
"Why are you saying this?" You ask.
Well, the other day, I went nuts on the blogger toolbar, and looked at some random competition. If I do say so myself, Fjord has no random competition. We have NO competition, period.
What this means, I have no idea.
-Tsunami-
And now, a re-post from back in the merry days of November.
Enjoy.
Well, there goes the neighborhood...a short, short story
I saw him looking out the window, on the fourth story of a brick apartment building that might have been built in the 40's. He was obviously sort of a man-sized bug, but what kind, I couldn't tell from the street, and what with the reflections off the glass window.
A man came out of the apartment building and I looked at him. It seemed as though he was pretty well human, which gave me at least a little hope that the whole place wasn't a big nest or hive of the huge creatures. Altho, as I looked closer at the man, (who had reached the sidewalk, and was now moving towards me) it appeared that his disguise wasn't as good up-close as it was from far away. a small bump stuck out on his forehead, under the skin. In the exact spot where an antenna would be.
"Not so fast Mr. Bug!" I said, and grabbed his neck by the crook of my elbow. "I don't know what you're doing in my neighborhood, or what your plans for humanity are, but I aim to stop you!" Then I began tugging madly at his hair and back of his mask's neck in order to pull it off him.
"Stop!" He cried.
"Never!" I said, pulling like mad at the scruff of his neck, "Not until you tell me what your species is planning to do to the earth!"
"Stop!" He cried again as I got a better grip on the top of his scalp and pulled like crazy. I could feel it move, but it didn't seem as though it would come off."
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Said a passerby.
"This apartment building is full of man-sized insects," I said, "and this is one of them in disguise. I'm going to unmask him and find out what their plans are!"
"Christ, another whacko." The guy said. Then he ran up to try and pry my arm away from the giant insect's neck. Eventually, and with much struggling, they were able to pry me off, however, as they did, I jumped back and whipped out my gun.
"Allright." I said. "Look Mr. I don't know if you're working for them, or if you're just a confused bystander, but whether this bug's dead or alive, I'm going to have his mask off." Then, I addressed the bug in the mask. "So what's it going to be? You've got three seconds before I fire!" The bug didn't move.
"One." I said quickly. The bystander's eyes moved rapidly between me, my gun, and the masked bug.
"Two!" I didn't wait long to say it, and then cocked the hammer back. The bug reached up and began pulling off his realistic-looking human mask. Underneath, wasn't a man-sized bug, but instead a man-sized duck!
"Holy crap!" The bystander said, jumping away from the duck.
"All-right duck." I said, keeping him covered, "What's this all about?"
"Quack." He said.
"So it's going to be like that huh." I turned to the bystander, "Hey buddy, see what I'm talking about!!??"
"Uh, yeah..." He said, confused.
"Well you'd better go fetch some law. Who knows what else is in that apartment building!"
"Yeah," He finished, and took off up the street.
I turned back to the duck.
"So, what insidious plots are you hatching in that apartment building?"
"Quack, quack." He said.
I shot him in the leg.
Lousy ducks.
(Now before anybody goes all ape-shit here, I think it's fair to warn you: I will personally fuck anyone in the mouth with a shovel who says, "Yabba-dabba-doo!"
So, now...what to say about alllll that?
1) In one year, this little webzine has seen 7,584 visitors, and been hit 17,051 times.
That's probably 7,500 people I wouldn't have communicated at all with in the last year. I'm glad we kept in touch.
Now, if you would have told me last year at this time, that in this span of time, I would have lost three of my fellow writers to "blogging fatigue" I would have thought - "no way man, not these guys!" However, as has been mentioned at this site a couple of times, writing is hard. Writing in today's content driven era on a random electronic page (amidst 800 million other random electronic pages)...is practically meaningless. Still, as a body of work, Fjord's pretty much exceeded all expectations. There's a couple of stupendous posts, a few great ones, and tons in the "purtty good" category.
"Why are you saying this?" You ask.
Well, the other day, I went nuts on the blogger toolbar, and looked at some random competition. If I do say so myself, Fjord has no random competition. We have NO competition, period.
What this means, I have no idea.
-Tsunami-
And now, a re-post from back in the merry days of November.
Enjoy.
Well, there goes the neighborhood...a short, short story
I saw him looking out the window, on the fourth story of a brick apartment building that might have been built in the 40's. He was obviously sort of a man-sized bug, but what kind, I couldn't tell from the street, and what with the reflections off the glass window.
A man came out of the apartment building and I looked at him. It seemed as though he was pretty well human, which gave me at least a little hope that the whole place wasn't a big nest or hive of the huge creatures. Altho, as I looked closer at the man, (who had reached the sidewalk, and was now moving towards me) it appeared that his disguise wasn't as good up-close as it was from far away. a small bump stuck out on his forehead, under the skin. In the exact spot where an antenna would be.
"Not so fast Mr. Bug!" I said, and grabbed his neck by the crook of my elbow. "I don't know what you're doing in my neighborhood, or what your plans for humanity are, but I aim to stop you!" Then I began tugging madly at his hair and back of his mask's neck in order to pull it off him.
"Stop!" He cried.
"Never!" I said, pulling like mad at the scruff of his neck, "Not until you tell me what your species is planning to do to the earth!"
"Stop!" He cried again as I got a better grip on the top of his scalp and pulled like crazy. I could feel it move, but it didn't seem as though it would come off."
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Said a passerby.
"This apartment building is full of man-sized insects," I said, "and this is one of them in disguise. I'm going to unmask him and find out what their plans are!"
"Christ, another whacko." The guy said. Then he ran up to try and pry my arm away from the giant insect's neck. Eventually, and with much struggling, they were able to pry me off, however, as they did, I jumped back and whipped out my gun.
"Allright." I said. "Look Mr. I don't know if you're working for them, or if you're just a confused bystander, but whether this bug's dead or alive, I'm going to have his mask off." Then, I addressed the bug in the mask. "So what's it going to be? You've got three seconds before I fire!" The bug didn't move.
"One." I said quickly. The bystander's eyes moved rapidly between me, my gun, and the masked bug.
"Two!" I didn't wait long to say it, and then cocked the hammer back. The bug reached up and began pulling off his realistic-looking human mask. Underneath, wasn't a man-sized bug, but instead a man-sized duck!
"Holy crap!" The bystander said, jumping away from the duck.
"All-right duck." I said, keeping him covered, "What's this all about?"
"Quack." He said.
"So it's going to be like that huh." I turned to the bystander, "Hey buddy, see what I'm talking about!!??"
"Uh, yeah..." He said, confused.
"Well you'd better go fetch some law. Who knows what else is in that apartment building!"
"Yeah," He finished, and took off up the street.
I turned back to the duck.
"So, what insidious plots are you hatching in that apartment building?"
"Quack, quack." He said.
I shot him in the leg.
Lousy ducks.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
All Right Then...
More and more, 2006 is resembling a horrible caramel spill where, you think it's really fun - what with all the screaming and the fact that it goes great with apples...that is until you loose your shoes, and socks, and even when yer actually out of the stuff, your bare feer are just picking up large rocks, pine cones, and stray bits of glass, (cause they're sticky too) and driving them deep towards your metatarsil bones (or whatever bone structure is deep within your feer...)
So anyways, I'm going to take a trip to a happier place. A place where candied panda run free, peering playfully from behind trees, awaiting you to get hungry enough to catch one. A place where you can pick up a kick-ass automobile for the simple price of twenty pushups. (hard for some, I know...but it's a damn fine CAR I'm talking about.) A place where the Lollipop Guild and the Leprechaun's Union have hilarious bare-knuckled brawls for control of the sugar-plum racket. A place where you can go to Reno, shoot a man - watch him die, and the cops'll say (over thunderous applause of bystanders) "Quite right, he'd had it coming for a while now. Good thing you came along...say, would you like a new house?"
And I'm not even bringing up the hovercraft, rocket-cars, liquid-nitrogen, robot servants, epoxy seas, cloud-cities and the slim model-esque nature of the inhabitants. I'm just sayin', I'm goin'. Wanna come?
So anyways, I'm going to take a trip to a happier place. A place where candied panda run free, peering playfully from behind trees, awaiting you to get hungry enough to catch one. A place where you can pick up a kick-ass automobile for the simple price of twenty pushups. (hard for some, I know...but it's a damn fine CAR I'm talking about.) A place where the Lollipop Guild and the Leprechaun's Union have hilarious bare-knuckled brawls for control of the sugar-plum racket. A place where you can go to Reno, shoot a man - watch him die, and the cops'll say (over thunderous applause of bystanders) "Quite right, he'd had it coming for a while now. Good thing you came along...say, would you like a new house?"
And I'm not even bringing up the hovercraft, rocket-cars, liquid-nitrogen, robot servants, epoxy seas, cloud-cities and the slim model-esque nature of the inhabitants. I'm just sayin', I'm goin'. Wanna come?
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Yaay! Whoo!
- 2006 -
It's a little slippery right now. I'm just lying down amongst the piles of crap everywhere - left over from the weekend. Sometimes those kind of things are kinda nice, like you're surrounded in a protective maze...other times, like now, I just gotta get rid of crap. So that's what I'm gonna do. Back in a bit.
It's a little slippery right now. I'm just lying down amongst the piles of crap everywhere - left over from the weekend. Sometimes those kind of things are kinda nice, like you're surrounded in a protective maze...other times, like now, I just gotta get rid of crap. So that's what I'm gonna do. Back in a bit.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
As a MN follow-up
I was looking through the archives and found this. (How cool is it to link to ones-self? Berry Berry cool.)
Anyways the guy running for governor said...
He promises that if he's elected, he will impale terrorists on pikes.
If you read the comments for "Deathblog 2005" you'll find that pikes are always funny.
Oooh! Here's one more from our common Fjordpast...
I'm off...to New Orleans to declare myself King of the Swamp People. I will begin my reign of terror by displaying the heads of those who disobey me on pikes, surrounding the roof of the Superdome!
Anyways the guy running for governor said...
He promises that if he's elected, he will impale terrorists on pikes.
If you read the comments for "Deathblog 2005" you'll find that pikes are always funny.
Oooh! Here's one more from our common Fjordpast...
I'm off...to New Orleans to declare myself King of the Swamp People. I will begin my reign of terror by displaying the heads of those who disobey me on pikes, surrounding the roof of the Superdome!
Friday, January 13, 2006
Awww...crap...
I just clicked on a link from cute-overload, and got...
Adorablog!
Dang...
I need to go drink wisky and feel like a man. Or something.
Adorablog!
Dang...
I need to go drink wisky and feel like a man. Or something.
Untitled #1
Friday welcomes you to the oasis, astride a massive white stallion. Behind him oasis dwellers lounge by mirror-smooth oasis pools, where veil-clad women reveal their abdominal secrets with fantastic belly-dancing. (and for you womenfjolk, the strapping young men of the oasis are about to race their own fine horses through the oasis square...shirtless)
Choose, if you will, from an assortment of beers, chilling in metal buckets full of ice, lying about in helpful places. (under that tree! behind that tent! by that bench! right there- at your feet) Or, saunter to the plaza, tiled in exquisite mosaic, where helpful folk grill kabobs, bar-b-que ribs, and vats of delicious curry. (don't ask me why they have bar-b-que and curry, I didn't make up the oasis menu for Friday...they just do, okay.) Or perhaps you'll visit one of the numerous hookah-bars and get ripped on hash and opium. I'm not one to judge, they also have a fantastic assortment of "tobacco pipes."
What will you do here at the oasis, you wonder? Well, later there'll be a band, who'll knock your socks off, or so I've been hearing. Or, maybe you'll look for the love of your life (I'm told they might be just around that corner...over there, past that rug shop. Come to think of it, maybe you could buy a rug?) Possibly you might challenge the oasis-dwelling Giant Praying Mantis at a game of chess. I read he's a grand-master, and once played Kasparov in a hard fought 5-3 match. If that's not your style, there's some line dancing out by the Oasis-Annex...I'm told it's a lot of fun, but they don't let cowboys into Oasis Proper, unless it's in the cinema, or for the annual "Lasso a Bull Festival, " but that's not until February.
Maybe you'll just follow Friday back to the club (yeah, they got a thumpin' joint - Paul Okenfold's supposed to Zepplin in around 10-ish and do a set.) where he's got a room, and will be chillin' with the other weekdays...apparently he's flown in a team of experts who are supposed to come up with new and inventive ways of being nice to him, and all his friends. Sounds, umm, pretty nice.
Well, this is where I leave you, I've got to pick up my shoes (oh, yeah - there's a kickass cobbler here, incase you need some work done) before the soap-box-derby...what? No, no, I'm just going to watch, but all you gotta do is sign a waver, and you can race if you want. Oh, there'll be plenty of cars that don't have drivers. I don't know why, it just seems as tho with lots of time on their hands, the oasis-dwellers make a lot of soap-box-derby cars. Infact, it's their biggest export. You should see the wood-work on those things...man, now that's craftsmanship! So, I'm off. Have fun, and if you need me, later I'll be on the roof of the Mummy Museum, I've got a new rocket-launcher I want to try out. And it's the only building that's got an unobstructed view of Saheed's Used Car Lot. Man is that guy gonna be pissed tomorrow! Hah! Oh, one more thing - just remember - do not break any laws...the only punishment here is beheading, and it costs a lot to bribe your way out of that one, I'm telling you!
Happy Friday.
-D.T.-
Choose, if you will, from an assortment of beers, chilling in metal buckets full of ice, lying about in helpful places. (under that tree! behind that tent! by that bench! right there- at your feet) Or, saunter to the plaza, tiled in exquisite mosaic, where helpful folk grill kabobs, bar-b-que ribs, and vats of delicious curry. (don't ask me why they have bar-b-que and curry, I didn't make up the oasis menu for Friday...they just do, okay.) Or perhaps you'll visit one of the numerous hookah-bars and get ripped on hash and opium. I'm not one to judge, they also have a fantastic assortment of "tobacco pipes."
What will you do here at the oasis, you wonder? Well, later there'll be a band, who'll knock your socks off, or so I've been hearing. Or, maybe you'll look for the love of your life (I'm told they might be just around that corner...over there, past that rug shop. Come to think of it, maybe you could buy a rug?) Possibly you might challenge the oasis-dwelling Giant Praying Mantis at a game of chess. I read he's a grand-master, and once played Kasparov in a hard fought 5-3 match. If that's not your style, there's some line dancing out by the Oasis-Annex...I'm told it's a lot of fun, but they don't let cowboys into Oasis Proper, unless it's in the cinema, or for the annual "Lasso a Bull Festival, " but that's not until February.
Maybe you'll just follow Friday back to the club (yeah, they got a thumpin' joint - Paul Okenfold's supposed to Zepplin in around 10-ish and do a set.) where he's got a room, and will be chillin' with the other weekdays...apparently he's flown in a team of experts who are supposed to come up with new and inventive ways of being nice to him, and all his friends. Sounds, umm, pretty nice.
Well, this is where I leave you, I've got to pick up my shoes (oh, yeah - there's a kickass cobbler here, incase you need some work done) before the soap-box-derby...what? No, no, I'm just going to watch, but all you gotta do is sign a waver, and you can race if you want. Oh, there'll be plenty of cars that don't have drivers. I don't know why, it just seems as tho with lots of time on their hands, the oasis-dwellers make a lot of soap-box-derby cars. Infact, it's their biggest export. You should see the wood-work on those things...man, now that's craftsmanship! So, I'm off. Have fun, and if you need me, later I'll be on the roof of the Mummy Museum, I've got a new rocket-launcher I want to try out. And it's the only building that's got an unobstructed view of Saheed's Used Car Lot. Man is that guy gonna be pissed tomorrow! Hah! Oh, one more thing - just remember - do not break any laws...the only punishment here is beheading, and it costs a lot to bribe your way out of that one, I'm telling you!
Happy Friday.
-D.T.-
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Man, it's been quite a year, hasn't it.
Well, we've seen a lot of heartbreak this year, a little joy, barely any money, and now - like they always say "time flies" well, it does. Now, perched on the edge of twenty-oh-seven I for one, have a few regrets about twenty-oh-six.
-first off- not enough sex. I mean, sure, there was some...but not enough with me! My first request of twenty-oh-seven is, send more girls!
-second- I really didn't accomplish any of my goals. In fact, it seems like only last week I was working on some things I wanted to get done in oh-six, and now, it's already the edge of oh-seven, and I didn't even really get my laundry done...what's up with that???
-third- howcome I don't have a robot? If I get through twenty-oh-seven without a robot, I'm going to start believing that they're just a complete fabrication of fictionalists. (after that I'm going to look into this whole "french maid" thing, that while also might be the fabrication of fictionalists, it's a fiction that has existed for far longer than this "household robot" fantasy.
-fourth- not enough time to work on my stadium anthem. Back in oh-five, I worked out the concept of the song I wanted to write which would be played in stadiums and arenas during sporting events. Much like Queen, back in the day, cornered the market with "We are the champions," and "We will rock you," I figgered having a clip of a song played over stadium soundspeakers would be a goldmine. Wasn't able to find the time to work on the words, or the music in oh-six.
-fifth- Never found the time to find my own personal biographer, videographer, or chronicler. I really wanted that to happen in oh-six, so I could stop remembering everything, and devote all my brain-power to having a really-great time, getting loaded, and generally being a charming dude. (which may explain why #1 didn't work out so well.)
Anyways, I'm not going to dwell on "what could have been" 'cause that's not my style. I'm just going to say, "It was a great year, wasn't it!" I'm off to my New Years Eve party, which, as per usual, I have low expectations for, but you never really know.
See ya on the other side!
Happy New Yar.
-Tsunami-
-first off- not enough sex. I mean, sure, there was some...but not enough with me! My first request of twenty-oh-seven is, send more girls!
-second- I really didn't accomplish any of my goals. In fact, it seems like only last week I was working on some things I wanted to get done in oh-six, and now, it's already the edge of oh-seven, and I didn't even really get my laundry done...what's up with that???
-third- howcome I don't have a robot? If I get through twenty-oh-seven without a robot, I'm going to start believing that they're just a complete fabrication of fictionalists. (after that I'm going to look into this whole "french maid" thing, that while also might be the fabrication of fictionalists, it's a fiction that has existed for far longer than this "household robot" fantasy.
-fourth- not enough time to work on my stadium anthem. Back in oh-five, I worked out the concept of the song I wanted to write which would be played in stadiums and arenas during sporting events. Much like Queen, back in the day, cornered the market with "We are the champions," and "We will rock you," I figgered having a clip of a song played over stadium soundspeakers would be a goldmine. Wasn't able to find the time to work on the words, or the music in oh-six.
-fifth- Never found the time to find my own personal biographer, videographer, or chronicler. I really wanted that to happen in oh-six, so I could stop remembering everything, and devote all my brain-power to having a really-great time, getting loaded, and generally being a charming dude. (which may explain why #1 didn't work out so well.)
Anyways, I'm not going to dwell on "what could have been" 'cause that's not my style. I'm just going to say, "It was a great year, wasn't it!" I'm off to my New Years Eve party, which, as per usual, I have low expectations for, but you never really know.
See ya on the other side!
Happy New Yar.
-Tsunami-
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I'm tired and there's a game on...
I'm gonna go watch it.
Now here's a little something for you to watch!
Strangely hypnotic (is how I'd describe it)
'night.
Now here's a little something for you to watch!
Strangely hypnotic (is how I'd describe it)
'night.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
I EXPECT YOU TO DIE!!
hmm...perhaps twenty-oooh-six will be the year that I finally become a Supervillain.
I can see a lot of benefits to that kind of career move.
1) A cool Lair.
2) An array of spiffy vehicles.
3) Large cashflow.
4) Uber-hot lovers.
5) A mob of tough-guys to carry out my orders.
And that's just a few. Probly get good tables at all the best restaurants, skyboxes for the big games, and a whole bunch of other great crap. However, it seems as though, at least in the preliminary stages, all signs are pointing out that this year will actually be THE YEAR OF THE MUMMY!
No, I didn't see it coming, but take a look at what's been in the news the last couple days.
Bog Mummy
House Mummy
Human Skin For Books
Frenchman keeps frozen parents
Jeesh, that's weird.
Anyways, I just read this fabulous post over at Fafblog, you should read the whole thing. It's staggeringly great.
I can see a lot of benefits to that kind of career move.
1) A cool Lair.
2) An array of spiffy vehicles.
3) Large cashflow.
4) Uber-hot lovers.
5) A mob of tough-guys to carry out my orders.
And that's just a few. Probly get good tables at all the best restaurants, skyboxes for the big games, and a whole bunch of other great crap. However, it seems as though, at least in the preliminary stages, all signs are pointing out that this year will actually be THE YEAR OF THE MUMMY!
No, I didn't see it coming, but take a look at what's been in the news the last couple days.
Bog Mummy
House Mummy
Human Skin For Books
Frenchman keeps frozen parents
Jeesh, that's weird.
Anyways, I just read this fabulous post over at Fafblog, you should read the whole thing. It's staggeringly great.
Monday, January 09, 2006
You're Fjucking Great!
I'm not talking about the average "joe" (or "jane") on the street telling you this. I'm not speaking of the President of your company speaking these words. I'm not even saying Martin Scorsese is out there shouting to a whole movie-crew and attending "journalists." I'm saying the entire universe, (somtin' like 15 light years in every direction - as far as we can tell) each atom vibrating at a sonic frequency that says - "We know, you're fjucking great!"
For the first day, you'd probably be in a shit-eating-grin shock. For the second day, you'd start believing it. About the fourth day, you'd do something about it. Meeting attractive people, advancing your career, accumulating wealth, promoting your "fjucking greatness." About a month down the road, you'd be in the spot where it would be hard to find something you couldn't accomplish.
But how long would it take, for you to get sick of hearing that?
For the first day, you'd probably be in a shit-eating-grin shock. For the second day, you'd start believing it. About the fourth day, you'd do something about it. Meeting attractive people, advancing your career, accumulating wealth, promoting your "fjucking greatness." About a month down the road, you'd be in the spot where it would be hard to find something you couldn't accomplish.
But how long would it take, for you to get sick of hearing that?
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Interactive...?
Helloooooooo?
It's obvious that channel Fjord can continue to broadcast whatever the fjuck, into whatever the fjuck...but yer pals over at the W.C.B. need a little feedback every now and then. There's a small function under each post called "comments." Just click on that, and yer able to leave whatever kinda' thoughts, ideas, musings, fantasy, or even (*gasp*) critiques you've got. I write into a void nearly every day (I call it my screenwriting career, which incidentally hasn't quite taken off like I've wanted it to) and I don't need this kind of solitude out here in the small cell located somewhere near the skin of the right bicept of the LS-M.
So, hit me up with some Gjoddamn comments!
It's 06 - make a resolution to me more a part of Fjord!
(you're sexy enough, that's obvious...but are you confident enough?)
P.S. -Did any of you (I.C.O.D.F.) ever forward on your fjavorite Fjordposts to three of yer pals? Tell me about it!
It's obvious that channel Fjord can continue to broadcast whatever the fjuck, into whatever the fjuck...but yer pals over at the W.C.B. need a little feedback every now and then. There's a small function under each post called "comments." Just click on that, and yer able to leave whatever kinda' thoughts, ideas, musings, fantasy, or even (*gasp*) critiques you've got. I write into a void nearly every day (I call it my screenwriting career, which incidentally hasn't quite taken off like I've wanted it to) and I don't need this kind of solitude out here in the small cell located somewhere near the skin of the right bicept of the LS-M.
So, hit me up with some Gjoddamn comments!
It's 06 - make a resolution to me more a part of Fjord!
(you're sexy enough, that's obvious...but are you confident enough?)
P.S. -Did any of you (I.C.O.D.F.) ever forward on your fjavorite Fjordposts to three of yer pals? Tell me about it!
Friday, January 06, 2006
Snapback
"It's pretty hard to snap back into regular year mode." Said Friday, lounging on a giant inflatable frog, floating in a big pool. Next to him were the other weekdays, on various other inflatable rafts in various animal shapes. It was edging towards twilight, but it was still warm.
"Yep," said Tuesday, on a panda, "Hardest right after the end of the year."
"You think it's from all the feasting?" Asked Wednesday, on a giant hippo.
"I think it's Voodoo." Said Monday paddling on the back of an alligator.
"You think everything's voodoo, ever since you found that fingernail in your gumbo." Said Thursday, around the side of his floating plastic giraffe - it's neck protruding through his legs like an oversized phallus.
"That was no ordinary fingernail!" Monday replied sharply.
"Yeah," Wednesday chimed in, "Cause it was from the shell of a cray-fish."
"I think..." Friday spoke with some authority, to stop the squabbling. "It's because like anyone, the new year just has to take a little while to figure out his job. Like a barista at the coffee shop - things are complicated at first. Takes a while to figure out all those levers and knobs and switches. Not to mention the calculations!"
The weekdays pondered this for a moment. Then Monday said.
"It was a fingernail! From a witch-doctor, or maybe a sorceress!"
"Well, you didn't eat it, did you?" Said Tuesday.
"No. Thank Gjod..."
"Yeah, but..." Began Friday, but he was interrupted by a loud gong, that drew their eyes towards the end of the pool. A small band had set up, and they started to play a slow groovy number, in a Don Ho style. Then a very handsome fellow walked out while the band played. He wore a black and white patterned cotton Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants and brown lace-up shoes. In his hand was a small hard-case, and he walked to the front of the bandstand. He kneeled down and unclipped the case's latches. Then pulled out a kickass-looking ukulele. He stood up, and held the instrument to his left ear, and tuned it. Right there, in front of the playing band, and his audience. It was kinda badass. The weekdays paddled their inflatable animals closer. At the side of the pool, a crowd began to gather. In the background torches on bamboo poles were lit.
A tech ran across the stage with a chrome stand, and at the top was a microphone like Elvis used to sing into. The tech ran off, and the man spoke into it with a deep mellow voice.
"Before I begin." He paused for a few more groovy beats to pass, "I'd like to introduce..." He waved his arm to the right as he spoke, "The Malaria Maidens!"
And from that direction, five women emerged in grass-skirts and grass bikinis, with orchids in their hair. They moved their hips and arms like waves, as they took their place in front of the ukulele man. Each was more beautiful than the next - no matter which way you looked. Their dancing accented the groovy beats and the audience - without knowing it - began to sway themselves.
"They'll make you sweat, and they'll give you chills!" The ukulele man finished. Then he began to play. It was nearly imperceptible at first, he just fit into the sound so perfectly. Then his instrument began to rise above it, slowly, smoothly, and strong. It was clear, that the guy could play the hell out of the uke. Before long, everyone was carried away by the sound he was creating, far above the band. It was, as if the band was a wave, and the ukulele man was an amazing surfer riding upon it. The Malaria Maidens only added to the effect.
It was then that Monday's inflatable alligator was sucked into the intake vent of the pool.
"Aaaaaah!" He screamed.
The other weekdays, paddled like mad to aid Monday, who was now loosing his arm into the vent with a powerful suction. Wednesday spilled off his hippo, and got underneath Monday, before his head slipped under the water.
"Aaaaaa!" Shouted Monday one more time before he got a mouthful of pool-water. "Glub."
Thursday, and Tuesday tried pulling on Monday's arm, but it was caught fast in the intake system. The hunchback Wednesday came up for a breath of air.
"Keep him up!" Shouted Thursday - still on his giraffe, "Or he'll drown!"
Wednesday ducked back under and pushed Monday's head back above the water. Monday took a coughing breath.
Friday cast a quick glance at the band, which was still playing like mad, and the crowd didn't have any idea there was a problem. They were entranced. He shouted for help - but no one even noticed. They were busy following the ukulele man and the band, or the Malaria Maidens. Then he saw, on the right hand of the ukulele man, his index finger was wrapped with medical tape - exactly the place where a fingernail might have once been!
Friday's eyes got big, and he paddled like mad to the edge of the pool. There, a faux-coconut held the remnants of a Mai-Tai. He picked it up and threw it at the ukulele man. It arched through the now dark night, spilling beads of liquid as it spun through the sky. Then it plunged down and struck the uke, and the player's bandaged finger. The man dropped the instrument, that struck the stage with a off-tune ringing "clunk." He looked venom out into the crowd. And with that the spell was broken.
For a moment, people could see the ukulele man was not well attired in island garb, but a full-on voodoo witch doctor - and the Malaria Maidens were nothing more than worm-eaten zombie corpses! (The band too, but nobody really cared about them.)
The witch-doctor snarled once, and sprinted off stage left. Then the crowd sprung into action, some rushing to help the stricken weekday , others calling for someone to turn off the pool filtration, others grabbing tiki-torches to advance (quite warily) on the Malaria Maidens and the band.
After another moment of struggling, Thursday and Tuesday and three men from the crowd pulled Monday from the pool, and threw him up onto the side. Where he lay coughing up water. Wednesday pulled himself out shortly after and joined him laying on the concrete, trying to catch his breath.
"What the fuck!!?" Asked Tuesday to nobody and everybody at the same time.
Friday spoke in sort of an answer, "Well damn! I guess you were right about that voodoo thing. I suppose it's gonna' be a another weird year."
Monday nodded as he coughed up another stream of water.
Happy Friday
"Yep," said Tuesday, on a panda, "Hardest right after the end of the year."
"You think it's from all the feasting?" Asked Wednesday, on a giant hippo.
"I think it's Voodoo." Said Monday paddling on the back of an alligator.
"You think everything's voodoo, ever since you found that fingernail in your gumbo." Said Thursday, around the side of his floating plastic giraffe - it's neck protruding through his legs like an oversized phallus.
"That was no ordinary fingernail!" Monday replied sharply.
"Yeah," Wednesday chimed in, "Cause it was from the shell of a cray-fish."
"I think..." Friday spoke with some authority, to stop the squabbling. "It's because like anyone, the new year just has to take a little while to figure out his job. Like a barista at the coffee shop - things are complicated at first. Takes a while to figure out all those levers and knobs and switches. Not to mention the calculations!"
The weekdays pondered this for a moment. Then Monday said.
"It was a fingernail! From a witch-doctor, or maybe a sorceress!"
"Well, you didn't eat it, did you?" Said Tuesday.
"No. Thank Gjod..."
"Yeah, but..." Began Friday, but he was interrupted by a loud gong, that drew their eyes towards the end of the pool. A small band had set up, and they started to play a slow groovy number, in a Don Ho style. Then a very handsome fellow walked out while the band played. He wore a black and white patterned cotton Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants and brown lace-up shoes. In his hand was a small hard-case, and he walked to the front of the bandstand. He kneeled down and unclipped the case's latches. Then pulled out a kickass-looking ukulele. He stood up, and held the instrument to his left ear, and tuned it. Right there, in front of the playing band, and his audience. It was kinda badass. The weekdays paddled their inflatable animals closer. At the side of the pool, a crowd began to gather. In the background torches on bamboo poles were lit.
A tech ran across the stage with a chrome stand, and at the top was a microphone like Elvis used to sing into. The tech ran off, and the man spoke into it with a deep mellow voice.
"Before I begin." He paused for a few more groovy beats to pass, "I'd like to introduce..." He waved his arm to the right as he spoke, "The Malaria Maidens!"
And from that direction, five women emerged in grass-skirts and grass bikinis, with orchids in their hair. They moved their hips and arms like waves, as they took their place in front of the ukulele man. Each was more beautiful than the next - no matter which way you looked. Their dancing accented the groovy beats and the audience - without knowing it - began to sway themselves.
"They'll make you sweat, and they'll give you chills!" The ukulele man finished. Then he began to play. It was nearly imperceptible at first, he just fit into the sound so perfectly. Then his instrument began to rise above it, slowly, smoothly, and strong. It was clear, that the guy could play the hell out of the uke. Before long, everyone was carried away by the sound he was creating, far above the band. It was, as if the band was a wave, and the ukulele man was an amazing surfer riding upon it. The Malaria Maidens only added to the effect.
It was then that Monday's inflatable alligator was sucked into the intake vent of the pool.
"Aaaaaah!" He screamed.
The other weekdays, paddled like mad to aid Monday, who was now loosing his arm into the vent with a powerful suction. Wednesday spilled off his hippo, and got underneath Monday, before his head slipped under the water.
"Aaaaaa!" Shouted Monday one more time before he got a mouthful of pool-water. "Glub."
Thursday, and Tuesday tried pulling on Monday's arm, but it was caught fast in the intake system. The hunchback Wednesday came up for a breath of air.
"Keep him up!" Shouted Thursday - still on his giraffe, "Or he'll drown!"
Wednesday ducked back under and pushed Monday's head back above the water. Monday took a coughing breath.
Friday cast a quick glance at the band, which was still playing like mad, and the crowd didn't have any idea there was a problem. They were entranced. He shouted for help - but no one even noticed. They were busy following the ukulele man and the band, or the Malaria Maidens. Then he saw, on the right hand of the ukulele man, his index finger was wrapped with medical tape - exactly the place where a fingernail might have once been!
Friday's eyes got big, and he paddled like mad to the edge of the pool. There, a faux-coconut held the remnants of a Mai-Tai. He picked it up and threw it at the ukulele man. It arched through the now dark night, spilling beads of liquid as it spun through the sky. Then it plunged down and struck the uke, and the player's bandaged finger. The man dropped the instrument, that struck the stage with a off-tune ringing "clunk." He looked venom out into the crowd. And with that the spell was broken.
For a moment, people could see the ukulele man was not well attired in island garb, but a full-on voodoo witch doctor - and the Malaria Maidens were nothing more than worm-eaten zombie corpses! (The band too, but nobody really cared about them.)
The witch-doctor snarled once, and sprinted off stage left. Then the crowd sprung into action, some rushing to help the stricken weekday , others calling for someone to turn off the pool filtration, others grabbing tiki-torches to advance (quite warily) on the Malaria Maidens and the band.
After another moment of struggling, Thursday and Tuesday and three men from the crowd pulled Monday from the pool, and threw him up onto the side. Where he lay coughing up water. Wednesday pulled himself out shortly after and joined him laying on the concrete, trying to catch his breath.
"What the fuck!!?" Asked Tuesday to nobody and everybody at the same time.
Friday spoke in sort of an answer, "Well damn! I guess you were right about that voodoo thing. I suppose it's gonna' be a another weird year."
Monday nodded as he coughed up another stream of water.
Happy Friday
la la la-la-la la
I am the passenger
And I ride and I ride
I ride through the city’s backside
I see the stars come out of the sky
Yeah, they’re bright in a hollow sky
You know it looks so good tonight
I am the passenger
I stay under glass
I look through my window so bright
I see the stars come out tonight
I see the bright and hollow sky
Over the city’s a rip in the sky
And everything looks good tonight
Singin’ la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Get into the car
We’ll be the passenger
We’ll ride through the city tonight
See the city’s ripped insides
We’ll see the bright and hollow sky
We’ll see the stars that shine so bright
The sky was made for us tonight
Oh the passenger
How how he rides
Oh the passenger
He rides and he rides
He looks through his window
What does he see?
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He see the stars come out tonight
He sees the city’s ripped backsides
He sees the winding ocean drive
And everything was made for you and me
All of it was made for you and me
’cause it just belongs to you and me
So let’s take a ride and see what’s mine
Singing...la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Oh, the passenger
He rides and he rides
He sees things from under glass
He looks through his window’s eye
He sees the things he knows are his
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He sees the city asleep at night
He sees the stars are out tonight
And all of it is yours and mine
And all of it is yours and mine
Oh, let’s ride and ride and ride and ride...
Singing...la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Indulgent, I know. But I thought that needed to be out there in Fjordland.
And I ride and I ride
I ride through the city’s backside
I see the stars come out of the sky
Yeah, they’re bright in a hollow sky
You know it looks so good tonight
I am the passenger
I stay under glass
I look through my window so bright
I see the stars come out tonight
I see the bright and hollow sky
Over the city’s a rip in the sky
And everything looks good tonight
Singin’ la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Get into the car
We’ll be the passenger
We’ll ride through the city tonight
See the city’s ripped insides
We’ll see the bright and hollow sky
We’ll see the stars that shine so bright
The sky was made for us tonight
Oh the passenger
How how he rides
Oh the passenger
He rides and he rides
He looks through his window
What does he see?
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He see the stars come out tonight
He sees the city’s ripped backsides
He sees the winding ocean drive
And everything was made for you and me
All of it was made for you and me
’cause it just belongs to you and me
So let’s take a ride and see what’s mine
Singing...la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Oh, the passenger
He rides and he rides
He sees things from under glass
He looks through his window’s eye
He sees the things he knows are his
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He sees the city asleep at night
He sees the stars are out tonight
And all of it is yours and mine
And all of it is yours and mine
Oh, let’s ride and ride and ride and ride...
Singing...la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Indulgent, I know. But I thought that needed to be out there in Fjordland.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
It's January 5th
And it's 81 degreezzze in the Casa Aloha kitchen and I'm sitting in a pool of sun. Things seem okay.
Now then, for the last couple of days I've been trying to get my head around what 06 is going to be all about. I've written down a few ideas about what I've removed from the list of things 06 is going to be.
1) Lemmings. - I predict they will not make a comeback in 06-
2) Dirt. - People will often remark, "What happened to all the dirt?" The reply will be "That's so '05, man."
3) Houseplants. -Home and Garden stores will have a very bad fiscal year.
4) Popes. -Try as he might, Ratzinger will only be relevant if he breaks his pelvis. (or worse)
5) Pennies. -Continuing their trend, pennies will continue to be taken out of circulation, tossed on the ground, and perceived as being "worthless."
6) Stamps. -One more gov'ment sponsored program that '06 won't be about. Despite the fact that I predict the 37 cent stamp is soon to be obsolete, and this will probably be "news."
7) Pigeons. -Sure they've had a pretty good run up till now, but this year, there's gonna be hell to pay...a holocaust of pigeon-ous proportions.
8) Sponges. -That's right, I'm there will be a new miracle product that will knock sponges off the "top ranked re-usable scrubbing and wiping product" forever. People in ten years will not even know how to pronounce the word, "sponge."
9) American Idol. -Gjod, I only hope so.
10) Sharks. -Sharks had a pretty good run last year, before all the hurricane news and whatnot, but I'm pretty sure they can't sustain that kind of media push this year. I predict Giant Squid are going to take their place. And, if you know me at all, you know that I can't wait.
Now then, for the last couple of days I've been trying to get my head around what 06 is going to be all about. I've written down a few ideas about what I've removed from the list of things 06 is going to be.
1) Lemmings. - I predict they will not make a comeback in 06-
2) Dirt. - People will often remark, "What happened to all the dirt?" The reply will be "That's so '05, man."
3) Houseplants. -Home and Garden stores will have a very bad fiscal year.
4) Popes. -Try as he might, Ratzinger will only be relevant if he breaks his pelvis. (or worse)
5) Pennies. -Continuing their trend, pennies will continue to be taken out of circulation, tossed on the ground, and perceived as being "worthless."
6) Stamps. -One more gov'ment sponsored program that '06 won't be about. Despite the fact that I predict the 37 cent stamp is soon to be obsolete, and this will probably be "news."
7) Pigeons. -Sure they've had a pretty good run up till now, but this year, there's gonna be hell to pay...a holocaust of pigeon-ous proportions.
8) Sponges. -That's right, I'm there will be a new miracle product that will knock sponges off the "top ranked re-usable scrubbing and wiping product" forever. People in ten years will not even know how to pronounce the word, "sponge."
9) American Idol. -Gjod, I only hope so.
10) Sharks. -Sharks had a pretty good run last year, before all the hurricane news and whatnot, but I'm pretty sure they can't sustain that kind of media push this year. I predict Giant Squid are going to take their place. And, if you know me at all, you know that I can't wait.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Hey...how's things over on this side?
I'm not on vacation, or too busy to do stuff...or having one of those - fuck you it's 2006 and you guys can all go to hell moments. I just got struck with a nasty cold, and don't wanna do anything but sit around and feel bad.
When I'm back in stride...you'll know it.
When I'm back in stride...you'll know it.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
FJ-ORD
Don't look back. You might become some cow's salt-lick.
It's 06 and soon to be the year of the dog. And guess what...I'm a dog.
My year, bitches.
I woke up in a strange house this morning, on a couch. The last thing I remember from the night before, was a fine looking woman taking off my shoes. At the time I thought she was being awfully sweet, but in hindsight, I'm sure she was just pissed at some drunk putting his shoes on her couch. Either way, I woke up, with a blanket on me, and needed to piss. I hit the can, and found Fjord-Borg lurking about the kitchen. It was too early for any reasonable person to be up. We called for a cab. Before it came, I found a paper plate and pulled a handy pen from my jacket. Then I printed some words on the plate in fairly neat writing. It said,
"Thanks for a wonderful time,
and the quilt.
Happy New Year
Your Guest."
Or something close to that.
The cab came, and it started raining.
Then I watched football all day.
And just a touch of D.I. Creegan
If you haven't seen Touching Evil...do yerself a favor
and watch some.
It's 06 and soon to be the year of the dog. And guess what...I'm a dog.
My year, bitches.
I woke up in a strange house this morning, on a couch. The last thing I remember from the night before, was a fine looking woman taking off my shoes. At the time I thought she was being awfully sweet, but in hindsight, I'm sure she was just pissed at some drunk putting his shoes on her couch. Either way, I woke up, with a blanket on me, and needed to piss. I hit the can, and found Fjord-Borg lurking about the kitchen. It was too early for any reasonable person to be up. We called for a cab. Before it came, I found a paper plate and pulled a handy pen from my jacket. Then I printed some words on the plate in fairly neat writing. It said,
"Thanks for a wonderful time,
and the quilt.
Happy New Year
Your Guest."
Or something close to that.
The cab came, and it started raining.
Then I watched football all day.
And just a touch of D.I. Creegan
If you haven't seen Touching Evil...do yerself a favor
and watch some.
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