I know why you came here! Well, I don't exactly, it could be one of two things. One, could be that you tracked my Frinedly Kajikistanian Fjordling to my site, or you could have just searched Usama Bin Ladin, which isn't the common parlance for one of the nation's most wanted criminal. I only used the spelling of "Usama," because it was the actual name on the F.B.I.'s website of "most wanted motha'fucka's" and I figgered if it was what was on the F.B.I.'s website, then that was probably the official name of the dude who's eluded us for near eight years.
Strange how it's different in the press and on the F.B.I.'s website, ain't it? Well, anyhoo...since yer probly wondering why I'm bringing this up, I just figgered that after spending damn near 25 minutes on my blog, probly gleaning all sorts of personal information about me, that you don't really know what I write about...so I'd like to give you a quick link to something that sums up what fjord is all about.
It's right here.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Hello My Tajikistan Friends!
Or should I say, my Tajikistan Fjordlings?!? Well, it seems my post on speculating on where Bin Ladin might be hanging out, drew a curious interneteer from Tajikisan over to our humble blog o' the fjords, and I have to say, I'm kinda' befuddled as to what to say. I literally didn't even know Tajikistan had internet access...so I'd like to apologize if I was way off the mark, and in no means was I trying to slander yer fair land. I just figgered (from my albeit stupidly inadequate knowledge of your country...which btw gets like, no coverage in our press) you seemed a likely place off the radar, for that guy to hide out. I suppose it was arrogant of me to speculate about your nation, but then again, the post was called "speculations," which implies I'm not certain, and practically guessing. But still, since I havent gotten any feedback/comments to challenge my preposterous assertion, I'll have to think I'm not too far off the mark.
P.S. I'd be more than welcome to any information that might prove me wrong.
Thanks!
Yers,
-Tsunami-
P.S. I'd be more than welcome to any information that might prove me wrong.
Thanks!
Yers,
-Tsunami-
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Well now...this is interesting
Anonymous is an interesting sounding group, and here's a little youtube vid that they released as some kind of mission statement. Warren Ellis picked up a thread on this and spoke about how this message had both purpose and threat within it. It's true, their message is not touchy-feely, and maybe that's a message that will be picked up by more social-action groups. I certainly remember the 2000 Democratic Convention in L.A., when I went down to the protest area, I remember thinking, "The problem with these protesters is their poor sense of fashion." It's not what you're doing, but how you look doing it, I suppose would be a nice way to put it, it's also nice to have people a little worried at how powerful you are, and what you might be capable of.
Well, enjoy!
Tomorrow, PUPPIES!
Well, enjoy!
Tomorrow, PUPPIES!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Speculations...
Hmm, thinkings, thinkings, ponderings, wonderings...hang on gotta go to the can. Okay, I'm back! Today, we'll discuss something that's sorta slipped off the radar for a while. Usama Bin Laden! Where the heck is that guy!?! literally a guy with a price tag on his head the size of a huge super-lotto jackpot 25-million dollars - the kind of money that would bump you right into the tax bracket of the pretty-stinkin-filthy-rich. Where in the world could that dude be hangin' out?
Some speculation is that he's in the northern regions of Pakistan, or possibly southern Afghanistan. But I think he's probably doing something different...since he'd have to be growing pretty tired of hiding in caves, and small villages with all the comfjorts of the 15th century. No, I'm pretty convinced he's in a more urban environment. So to that end, we've got Islamabad, or Karachi (Pakistan's largest city) where there are certainly groups that would harbor such a fugitive, but it also seems unlikely that he could move around there without someone spilling the beans and grabbing 25 million smackeroos.
So where else? Well, there's the Persian Gulf states, where one might suspect Saudi Arabia, or Dubai. But both of these has problems for the fugitive, since Dubai's probably (I'm guessing) full of Vegas-like camera-security, where sooner or later his image would appear, and some enterprising and underpaid Filipino security staffer would take a shot at the reward. Saudi Arabia is a different mix...and a place I don't have a lot of insight on. My guess is that we (the U.S.A.) have enough people on the ground there, where they might get wind of him lurking about. But there are also a huge number or Princes and the like, where he could hide out in a backwater palace in exchange for some shekels. Of course, he would also risk the chance of betrayal...so there's clearly cons against that idea.
But to the North of Afghanistan there's a few countries that might be interesting. Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan! Old ex-soviet republics, with pretty authoritarian regimes, restricted media, and the kind of place where the general population might not even know who Bin Laden is, much less know he's worth a huge fortune.
Those seem to me to be best spots to start looking, if one were inclined to, you know, get a group of people together to start looking for the reward money. And I'm not doing anything super important right now...whaddaya say?
Some speculation is that he's in the northern regions of Pakistan, or possibly southern Afghanistan. But I think he's probably doing something different...since he'd have to be growing pretty tired of hiding in caves, and small villages with all the comfjorts of the 15th century. No, I'm pretty convinced he's in a more urban environment. So to that end, we've got Islamabad, or Karachi (Pakistan's largest city) where there are certainly groups that would harbor such a fugitive, but it also seems unlikely that he could move around there without someone spilling the beans and grabbing 25 million smackeroos.
So where else? Well, there's the Persian Gulf states, where one might suspect Saudi Arabia, or Dubai. But both of these has problems for the fugitive, since Dubai's probably (I'm guessing) full of Vegas-like camera-security, where sooner or later his image would appear, and some enterprising and underpaid Filipino security staffer would take a shot at the reward. Saudi Arabia is a different mix...and a place I don't have a lot of insight on. My guess is that we (the U.S.A.) have enough people on the ground there, where they might get wind of him lurking about. But there are also a huge number or Princes and the like, where he could hide out in a backwater palace in exchange for some shekels. Of course, he would also risk the chance of betrayal...so there's clearly cons against that idea.
But to the North of Afghanistan there's a few countries that might be interesting. Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan! Old ex-soviet republics, with pretty authoritarian regimes, restricted media, and the kind of place where the general population might not even know who Bin Laden is, much less know he's worth a huge fortune.
Those seem to me to be best spots to start looking, if one were inclined to, you know, get a group of people together to start looking for the reward money. And I'm not doing anything super important right now...whaddaya say?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Ellis...
I've been hanging onto this quote from Warren Ellis for a while, and thought I might need to throw it up there for you guys to take a gander at. It goes like this:
"I was ready to do another big piece of political sf, and I knew what I wanted to talk about, I wanted to talk about the subsumation of authenticity into fiction. I wanted to talk about liars, on a grand scale. I wanted to talk about the end of the world, in the major and the minor. And I wanted to talk about where I think we are today, and where we could end up in ten or fifteen years. The motor of innovation and novelty is really kind of cranked up right now, but, in contrast, the general culture is still in a sort of post millennial shock, just laying there drooling over it's nipples."
Whaddaya think? That last sentence strike you as legit, or is he way off base?
Either way, it ties in interestingly with my last post...
"I was ready to do another big piece of political sf, and I knew what I wanted to talk about, I wanted to talk about the subsumation of authenticity into fiction. I wanted to talk about liars, on a grand scale. I wanted to talk about the end of the world, in the major and the minor. And I wanted to talk about where I think we are today, and where we could end up in ten or fifteen years. The motor of innovation and novelty is really kind of cranked up right now, but, in contrast, the general culture is still in a sort of post millennial shock, just laying there drooling over it's nipples."
Whaddaya think? That last sentence strike you as legit, or is he way off base?
Either way, it ties in interestingly with my last post...
Hi Everybloody!
I watched this last night, and figgered I'd just put it up now, since...well, since it was pretty dang powerful.
It's about politics, which, I've mentioned before I try not to touch since there are 18-billion blogs out there trying/doing a better job than I could ever hope to do. But anyways, it's a 54 minute lecture about why everything seems so fucked up in the world. So please make sure you have the time, because after about 5 minutes you might just listen to the whole chilling thing. If not, just skip down to "The Curse of the Struggle Bunny," cause that's just as chilling, but it's in text, and way short, and it has a funny ending.
It's about politics, which, I've mentioned before I try not to touch since there are 18-billion blogs out there trying/doing a better job than I could ever hope to do. But anyways, it's a 54 minute lecture about why everything seems so fucked up in the world. So please make sure you have the time, because after about 5 minutes you might just listen to the whole chilling thing. If not, just skip down to "The Curse of the Struggle Bunny," cause that's just as chilling, but it's in text, and way short, and it has a funny ending.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The Curse of the Struggle Bunny
I don't think the post needs anything more than the title, but since we're here, the story goes like this.
Struggle Bunny struggled to overcome the problems, trials, and tribulations that fate threw into Struggle Bunny's path. Over time, Struggle Bunny overcame these problems and trials and tribulations, only to find another problem, trial, and tribulation behind them, and so Struggle Bunny struggled, and overcame those. And yet, on the other side of those, came more, and more, and more, until finally Struggle Bunny forgot what Struggle Bunny was even struggling for.
In fact, Struggle Bunny began to do the only thing Struggle Bunny knew what to do, which was struggle. Of course, this is not the way for any Bunny to grow, prosper or be happy, but the avenues to these wondrous places were closed or hidden for the moment, from Struggle Bunny.
Then one day hopping down the Bunny Trail, Struggle Bunny got his head stuck in a noose, and began to choke! Struggle Bunny did what had always worked before - which was struggle! Struggle Bunny struggled and struggled, but could not get free. So Struggle Bunny struggled and struggled with even more effort, and died of asphyxiation.
The moral of the story? Don't be a Struggle Bunny.
Struggle Bunny struggled to overcome the problems, trials, and tribulations that fate threw into Struggle Bunny's path. Over time, Struggle Bunny overcame these problems and trials and tribulations, only to find another problem, trial, and tribulation behind them, and so Struggle Bunny struggled, and overcame those. And yet, on the other side of those, came more, and more, and more, until finally Struggle Bunny forgot what Struggle Bunny was even struggling for.
In fact, Struggle Bunny began to do the only thing Struggle Bunny knew what to do, which was struggle. Of course, this is not the way for any Bunny to grow, prosper or be happy, but the avenues to these wondrous places were closed or hidden for the moment, from Struggle Bunny.
Then one day hopping down the Bunny Trail, Struggle Bunny got his head stuck in a noose, and began to choke! Struggle Bunny did what had always worked before - which was struggle! Struggle Bunny struggled and struggled, but could not get free. So Struggle Bunny struggled and struggled with even more effort, and died of asphyxiation.
The moral of the story? Don't be a Struggle Bunny.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Content Of Your Character Day
Yea friends, this is the day that yer supposed to honor M.L.K., and unlike most National holidays, it's one I at least thought about before it actually showed up.
"Why Tsunami?" You ask.
Well, I guess when it comes right down to it, Doctor King is one of the recent historical figures I think that brought some real change in my fair country, that I actually try and buy into. I know I don't do it all the time, but for the most part, I give damn-near everyone a base-line of "I believe you're a decent, nice, and probably remarkable person if I give you half-a chance." That's usually all the rope a person needs to hang themselves with, and make me hate them as an idiot with my Gjod-given right of full-equal-opportunity.
But it does pull together occasionally where I am impressed with the content of one's character, and I'm not telling you anything new when I say, "It's a small world," and by that I mean, when you realize how many quality people you know from all the people you've ever met in your life, and how many of them you can actually see in person, call up on the phone, or just communicate with through mail or the internet, IT IS A FUCKING SMALL WORLD.
I believe it's too damn small to ever think that race, nationality, religion, culture, or whatthefjuckever should mean anything other than the seasoning on the top of a character with great content.
P.S. This does not change my overarching belief (based on long and scientifically proven observation) than the majority world is populated with dinks.
-Tsunami-
"Why Tsunami?" You ask.
Well, I guess when it comes right down to it, Doctor King is one of the recent historical figures I think that brought some real change in my fair country, that I actually try and buy into. I know I don't do it all the time, but for the most part, I give damn-near everyone a base-line of "I believe you're a decent, nice, and probably remarkable person if I give you half-a chance." That's usually all the rope a person needs to hang themselves with, and make me hate them as an idiot with my Gjod-given right of full-equal-opportunity.
But it does pull together occasionally where I am impressed with the content of one's character, and I'm not telling you anything new when I say, "It's a small world," and by that I mean, when you realize how many quality people you know from all the people you've ever met in your life, and how many of them you can actually see in person, call up on the phone, or just communicate with through mail or the internet, IT IS A FUCKING SMALL WORLD.
I believe it's too damn small to ever think that race, nationality, religion, culture, or whatthefjuckever should mean anything other than the seasoning on the top of a character with great content.
P.S. This does not change my overarching belief (based on long and scientifically proven observation) than the majority world is populated with dinks.
-Tsunami-
Friday, January 18, 2008
Is it like this where you're at?
It's dark, like late-night dark. There's only pools of electric light revealing things in muted shades of color. There's a small electric current running through the atmosphere, and somehow it makes everything tinged with more attractiveness, and allure than normal. Your furniture looks more inviting, as if people should be welcomed into it, and your wardrobe is slightly more desirable, as if it would only present the best side of your physicality.
On the streets which most days might be full of darkend malice, that should be scooted through with rapid steps and downturned eyes are now a welcoming curtain of darkness that might be pulled back with a friendly and bejeweled hand, to reveal a wondrous scene in perfect focus, lush with costumes, luxuriously rich trappings, and characters that will suck you into a story that will be equal parts of the most hilarious romantic comedy, the most psychologically thrilling thriller, the most action-packed of action, the most dramatic of drama, (in only the best ways - naturally) the most educational of documentaries, and (hopefully) the most pornographic of pornos.
Yea, my friends of the Fjords...this is how it looks from the other side.
Friday is the Director, sitting in his tall Director's chair with an old-skool (a simple cone) megaphone held in his left hand, with brown calf-high riding boots, and grey houndstooth breeches that puff out around the thighs. A sportscoat of brown-and-black houndstooth checkers (the matching small size on his pants) covers a white silk shirt where the top two buttons are unbuttoned, revealing a dark blue cravat (the same color of the sky when the sun casts it's final rays over the horizon) tied around his throat.
Above his handsome and timeless face is a grey floppy newspaperboy's cap, and around him various people move about to support huge cameras, giant lights, wind machines, and others that make last minute adjustments to costumes and makeup. The actors are busy reading the lines that are about to be said, not because they need too - they've memorized them days or weeks ago - it's just they're nervous for the performance, and need something to distract themselves until they're actually doing something. Thursday appears from the shadows at Friday's elbow in a smokin' gray sharkskin suit. A few stagehands adjust the props, and scuttle off.
"This is going to be uberbueno." Thursday says.
Friday turns his head towards Thursday,
"Yer damn right."
He raises his megaphone to his lips, swiftly rakes his glance across everything, concluding it's as close to perfect as it's going to get. Then, dispensing with the three-word-cliche just speaks one simple word. It's spoken, distorted slightly through the primitive megaphone but it's a word without haste, without anger, without the trace of arrogance. Just a simple word that carries the weight that it should, when one knows everything is as it should be.
"Action."
Happy Friday
On the streets which most days might be full of darkend malice, that should be scooted through with rapid steps and downturned eyes are now a welcoming curtain of darkness that might be pulled back with a friendly and bejeweled hand, to reveal a wondrous scene in perfect focus, lush with costumes, luxuriously rich trappings, and characters that will suck you into a story that will be equal parts of the most hilarious romantic comedy, the most psychologically thrilling thriller, the most action-packed of action, the most dramatic of drama, (in only the best ways - naturally) the most educational of documentaries, and (hopefully) the most pornographic of pornos.
Yea, my friends of the Fjords...this is how it looks from the other side.
Friday is the Director, sitting in his tall Director's chair with an old-skool (a simple cone) megaphone held in his left hand, with brown calf-high riding boots, and grey houndstooth breeches that puff out around the thighs. A sportscoat of brown-and-black houndstooth checkers (the matching small size on his pants) covers a white silk shirt where the top two buttons are unbuttoned, revealing a dark blue cravat (the same color of the sky when the sun casts it's final rays over the horizon) tied around his throat.
Above his handsome and timeless face is a grey floppy newspaperboy's cap, and around him various people move about to support huge cameras, giant lights, wind machines, and others that make last minute adjustments to costumes and makeup. The actors are busy reading the lines that are about to be said, not because they need too - they've memorized them days or weeks ago - it's just they're nervous for the performance, and need something to distract themselves until they're actually doing something. Thursday appears from the shadows at Friday's elbow in a smokin' gray sharkskin suit. A few stagehands adjust the props, and scuttle off.
"This is going to be uberbueno." Thursday says.
Friday turns his head towards Thursday,
"Yer damn right."
He raises his megaphone to his lips, swiftly rakes his glance across everything, concluding it's as close to perfect as it's going to get. Then, dispensing with the three-word-cliche just speaks one simple word. It's spoken, distorted slightly through the primitive megaphone but it's a word without haste, without anger, without the trace of arrogance. Just a simple word that carries the weight that it should, when one knows everything is as it should be.
"Action."
Happy Friday
Shoot this average up a little bit!
Seems like someone (about what, two months later) took this jellyfish threat seriously, and started doing something. Of course doing something is putting some blokes on ferries and counting them...
Here's the munny quote...
"The trouble is that we know so little about these jellyfish," said Dr Houghton.
"Until recently, they were viewed as bags of water that had little or no impact on our ecosystem. Now we need to learn, very quickly, about their behaviour and about their breeding patterns in our waters. We need to get some basic data about numbers, and the easiest and quickest way to do that is simply to send researchers out on the ferries.
For the past few weeks, they have been standing on deck looking at the sea and counting jellyfish. That is how we are getting a baseline figure for their numbers."
Okay, lemme put this in perspective for yas - THERE IS A TEN SQUARE MILE SWARM OF JELLYFISH moving around like a super-organism, and you've just paid to have some guys on a boat COUNT THEM!?!? Holy fjuck! Serious?! That's the best you can do?
Don't think this is just over in the North Sea/North Atlantic either.
There's...
The Mediterranean
Japan's Pacific coast - WHERE THEY ATTACKED A NUCLEAR REACTOR!
More from The Japanese Sea
Philippine Sea
Chile - BBC Video Clip
And that's just a quick search! I tells ya what, we might be RIGHT NOW engaged in a titanic oceanic battle against the invertebrates! AND THE BEST WE'VE GOT IS SOME BRIT'S COUNTING THEM!!? (nothing against the Brit's counting abilities...(at least they're doing...something)) I'm just sayin', maybe we should be doing a little something more. Are jellyfish the mummy of 2008?
Well, Fjord will keep you apprised of the sitch-u-ation, and you can be the judge.
Here's the munny quote...
"The trouble is that we know so little about these jellyfish," said Dr Houghton.
"Until recently, they were viewed as bags of water that had little or no impact on our ecosystem. Now we need to learn, very quickly, about their behaviour and about their breeding patterns in our waters. We need to get some basic data about numbers, and the easiest and quickest way to do that is simply to send researchers out on the ferries.
For the past few weeks, they have been standing on deck looking at the sea and counting jellyfish. That is how we are getting a baseline figure for their numbers."
Okay, lemme put this in perspective for yas - THERE IS A TEN SQUARE MILE SWARM OF JELLYFISH moving around like a super-organism, and you've just paid to have some guys on a boat COUNT THEM!?!? Holy fjuck! Serious?! That's the best you can do?
Don't think this is just over in the North Sea/North Atlantic either.
There's...
The Mediterranean
Japan's Pacific coast - WHERE THEY ATTACKED A NUCLEAR REACTOR!
More from The Japanese Sea
Philippine Sea
Chile - BBC Video Clip
And that's just a quick search! I tells ya what, we might be RIGHT NOW engaged in a titanic oceanic battle against the invertebrates! AND THE BEST WE'VE GOT IS SOME BRIT'S COUNTING THEM!!? (nothing against the Brit's counting abilities...(at least they're doing...something)) I'm just sayin', maybe we should be doing a little something more. Are jellyfish the mummy of 2008?
Well, Fjord will keep you apprised of the sitch-u-ation, and you can be the judge.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
I write this now as I'll probly forget...when the day is nigh
ONLY FJORD MJORE DAYS AND FJORD IS THREE!!!
Three in blog years is like, umm, hang on, three times fifteen times five, minus four, carry the three...multiply by pi, divide by .01, minus the remainder, then add the number of days in the hundred years war, and the number of posts, multiply by 12 and then three...HOLY CRAP!
In blog years, according to my equations, is the equivalent to THREE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD! I'd say that's a noteworthy accomplishment. NOTEWORTHY!!!
869 (including this Fjordian promotional drivel) posts in 1092 days is like, if you crunch the numbers, making nearly four posts every week for the last three years. My math might be off, but I'll tell ya what, that's a lotta words. Hope some (words, and/or years) have been uberbueno.
-Tsunami-
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I would gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!
It's been a busy week fer yer 'ole pal Tsunami so far, and I can't exactly pin down which of the two possible reasons it might be. ONE, is that with the coming of the New Yar, I have actually begun making changes and acting on my resolutions (err, which so far is to pay attention to, and actually do things on my list) which is making me a more dynamic and action-packed Tsunami. Or TWO...I have actually done so little in the last two months, and let so many things slid off to the side that in order to even maintain a semblance of a resemblance to a life the "normals" would consider even semi-disreputable, a few days of herculean housework and organization is in the cards.
I'm pulling for #1, but I think we all can guess the real answer.
Anyhoo, what about you? How ya doin!? Now that the holidaze are over, gots any huge plans? I mean there's a clean slate in '09, and we shouldn't let that go to waste now, should we?
oh, incase you missed it last year, here's this cool TIGER ATTACK!
Yeah, so, umm, "Watch Out For Tiger Attack" will be our unofficial catchphrase for '09 until we get something better...altho I wouldn't mind "Beware of Surprise" if that's what you guys prefer.
I'm pulling for #1, but I think we all can guess the real answer.
Anyhoo, what about you? How ya doin!? Now that the holidaze are over, gots any huge plans? I mean there's a clean slate in '09, and we shouldn't let that go to waste now, should we?
oh, incase you missed it last year, here's this cool TIGER ATTACK!
Yeah, so, umm, "Watch Out For Tiger Attack" will be our unofficial catchphrase for '09 until we get something better...altho I wouldn't mind "Beware of Surprise" if that's what you guys prefer.
Friday, January 11, 2008
So as soon as I mention it...
"Am I the only one who thinks this week has been shit?" Friday says to the four other weekdays gathered in the back of a tinted-windowed limousine, nursing his mood with a drink of dark liquid.
"Damn, I'll say." Replies Tuesday, his chin resting on his right fist, eyes gazing out at the lights of passing storefronts.
"And this weather," Wednesday says reaching over his shoulder to massage his aching hump, "Does not help."
"A feeling of...what is it?" Monday says, "Constriction?"
Thursday walked stoop-backed across the limo and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge, and stumbled back from where he started.
"This baby '08's already throwing his weight around like this year's some kind of roller-coaster. Up, down, left right...shit." He flopped back into the leather couch in the back and cracked his beer. "And I'm not positive at this stage, it's a good thing."
Heads nodded, as just then the limo-driver honked at a stupid driver.
"But what does it all mean?" Asks Tuesday with a tinge of hopefulness.
"I dunno, but after what I've seen over the last two years, I am not hopeful." Says Monday.
"Which fortunately, is not far from your normal state. Ha-ha-ha!" Quips Thursday, which draws much less hilarious response than he hoped, and he hadn't hoped that much, which made it worse.
"Well look," Says Tuesday, "The kid's like 11, right?"
Wednesday looked over, with the arm over his shoulder massaging his back stopped, and shot a look of stupidity at Tuesday.
"You can add?!" He took his arm down to grab a glass held in place by a plastic holder set into the limo couch. He took the glass, had a sip, then added, "So, he's 11, and in a lifespan of 365 days, that's like, 1/33rd of the whole gjoddang lifespan. If you wanna break it down into months, he's like near a half-a-month-old in a twelve month lifespan. Duh."
"Uh-huh..." Tuesday shot back, only more addressing the weekdays as Wednesday was working to make his point. "That's what I was talking about. See, if the average human lives to around 84 years old, we can do the math and figure out he's aging at near 7 years every month. So right now he's about three-and-a-half! That's just about when kids are able to figure out right from wrong...right?"
"I dunno." Monday responded, "Never had kids."
"Me neither" Thursday says.
Tuesday and Wednesday just shook their heads "no."
Tuesday didn't mind, he just kept going.
"So let's show up wherever he's at, and and convince the kid that he shouldn't throw his weight around like this!"
"Yeah!" Shouted Monday.
"Okay. Sure!" Granted Wednesday.
"Not a bad idea at all." Thursday said.
"And if we can't," Friday said, "Let's scare the fuck outta' the kid." He had another sip of his dark drink, "After all, who runs things around here? Some rapidly maturing and dying year-entity being, or the immortal passing days, US!"
"YEAH!" They all shouted, spontaneously raising their glasses in a toast.
"Holy shit," Tuesday said, noticing a store out the window. "There's a costume shop! Let's get masks! I'm past convincing, I just wanna scare the crap outta' that little shit!"
Friday picked up a telephone, and called the driver.
"Pull over here for a minute."
Happy Friday.
"Damn, I'll say." Replies Tuesday, his chin resting on his right fist, eyes gazing out at the lights of passing storefronts.
"And this weather," Wednesday says reaching over his shoulder to massage his aching hump, "Does not help."
"A feeling of...what is it?" Monday says, "Constriction?"
Thursday walked stoop-backed across the limo and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge, and stumbled back from where he started.
"This baby '08's already throwing his weight around like this year's some kind of roller-coaster. Up, down, left right...shit." He flopped back into the leather couch in the back and cracked his beer. "And I'm not positive at this stage, it's a good thing."
Heads nodded, as just then the limo-driver honked at a stupid driver.
"But what does it all mean?" Asks Tuesday with a tinge of hopefulness.
"I dunno, but after what I've seen over the last two years, I am not hopeful." Says Monday.
"Which fortunately, is not far from your normal state. Ha-ha-ha!" Quips Thursday, which draws much less hilarious response than he hoped, and he hadn't hoped that much, which made it worse.
"Well look," Says Tuesday, "The kid's like 11, right?"
Wednesday looked over, with the arm over his shoulder massaging his back stopped, and shot a look of stupidity at Tuesday.
"You can add?!" He took his arm down to grab a glass held in place by a plastic holder set into the limo couch. He took the glass, had a sip, then added, "So, he's 11, and in a lifespan of 365 days, that's like, 1/33rd of the whole gjoddang lifespan. If you wanna break it down into months, he's like near a half-a-month-old in a twelve month lifespan. Duh."
"Uh-huh..." Tuesday shot back, only more addressing the weekdays as Wednesday was working to make his point. "That's what I was talking about. See, if the average human lives to around 84 years old, we can do the math and figure out he's aging at near 7 years every month. So right now he's about three-and-a-half! That's just about when kids are able to figure out right from wrong...right?"
"I dunno." Monday responded, "Never had kids."
"Me neither" Thursday says.
Tuesday and Wednesday just shook their heads "no."
Tuesday didn't mind, he just kept going.
"So let's show up wherever he's at, and and convince the kid that he shouldn't throw his weight around like this!"
"Yeah!" Shouted Monday.
"Okay. Sure!" Granted Wednesday.
"Not a bad idea at all." Thursday said.
"And if we can't," Friday said, "Let's scare the fuck outta' the kid." He had another sip of his dark drink, "After all, who runs things around here? Some rapidly maturing and dying year-entity being, or the immortal passing days, US!"
"YEAH!" They all shouted, spontaneously raising their glasses in a toast.
"Holy shit," Tuesday said, noticing a store out the window. "There's a costume shop! Let's get masks! I'm past convincing, I just wanna scare the crap outta' that little shit!"
Friday picked up a telephone, and called the driver.
"Pull over here for a minute."
Happy Friday.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
The Casa Aloha! "Now With Free New Paint Smell!"
If I was one of those more pro-style bloggers, I'd have a post all typed up, or at least thunk about before this little night was, well, night. And if I was one of those more pro-style bloggers, I'd have a crack team of other bloggers to make sure that before you knew it, there would be a buncha posts in this space and you wouldn't even know I was missing. And if I was one of those more pro-style bloggers, I'd have a buncha' ads up paying me a few cents every now-and-then so it wouldn't feel like this was all err, "passion-based" content. I could come sauntering over to my compooter dressed in silk P.J.'s and (with their sexily checkered collar folded over the collar of a) plush robe, carrying a martini-glass full of something yummy whilst I said over to my shoulder to the scantily-clad sex kitten making Vargas poses on my bedspread,
"Just a moment dear, I've got to get some work done today."
But while I may have a couple of Dean Martin records on the itunes, I did just put in a nasty day down at the Casa Aloha H.Q., have to do some tidying up around is joint (since the undocumented workers the Landscape-and-Maintenance Department sent in, proceeded to knock over a mess of tiki-torches, break three glass tables, and figured it would be a good idea to paint the bar three hours before opening...I guess it's an '08 thing.)
anyways, please try not to mind the fans, we're working on getting some space heaters...I'm sure it's going to be a great night! Come on down!
Anyways, for your consideration, I'd like to throw out a few conversation starters that might generate tangents that you might not expect.
1) Relating funny news stories about people who die.
2) Explaining the various ways of how the listener's job sucks.
3) Asking, and then demanding forcefully, to know when, how, and where people first had sex, and with whom!
Well, with that, I'm off. I'd like to personally thank readers Rhino and WyomingMad for their nice comments...since I'm still not one of those pro-style bloggers, and basically shoot this shit into the webmonster because I can.
Yers,
-Tsunami-
"Just a moment dear, I've got to get some work done today."
But while I may have a couple of Dean Martin records on the itunes, I did just put in a nasty day down at the Casa Aloha H.Q., have to do some tidying up around is joint (since the undocumented workers the Landscape-and-Maintenance Department sent in, proceeded to knock over a mess of tiki-torches, break three glass tables, and figured it would be a good idea to paint the bar three hours before opening...I guess it's an '08 thing.)
anyways, please try not to mind the fans, we're working on getting some space heaters...I'm sure it's going to be a great night! Come on down!
Anyways, for your consideration, I'd like to throw out a few conversation starters that might generate tangents that you might not expect.
1) Relating funny news stories about people who die.
2) Explaining the various ways of how the listener's job sucks.
3) Asking, and then demanding forcefully, to know when, how, and where people first had sex, and with whom!
Well, with that, I'm off. I'd like to personally thank readers Rhino and WyomingMad for their nice comments...since I'm still not one of those pro-style bloggers, and basically shoot this shit into the webmonster because I can.
Yers,
-Tsunami-
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Huh...I dunno about that last one so much...
So here's something that got my goat in 07.
Everyone got all on Miss Teen USA Candidate from South Carolina for being, umm, a bit, how should we put it in the parlance of our times, "Folksy."
Here's how it looked.
I mean, people literally got crazy mad at how dumb this girl was. I didn't. No, as casual observer of the media, I thought, what horrendously pisses me off about this is that the United States has a President that routinely speaks like this, and nobody seems to even notice! If it works for the President - and he doesn't get called out for it, and nobody gets mad, why should this lovely (and stupidly young) woman try anything different. Of course, the internet world roundly mocked her. To that I'd add this nice little compilation...
So...back to my point...which was...err, umm... My guess is that Miss Teen South Carolina will probably go on to a University somewhere, have a lovely time, and do her damnedest to never have a brain freeze like that again on camera. Our Prez? I'm sure he's got nothing to worry about, nobody seems to mind.
Everyone got all on Miss Teen USA Candidate from South Carolina for being, umm, a bit, how should we put it in the parlance of our times, "Folksy."
Here's how it looked.
I mean, people literally got crazy mad at how dumb this girl was. I didn't. No, as casual observer of the media, I thought, what horrendously pisses me off about this is that the United States has a President that routinely speaks like this, and nobody seems to even notice! If it works for the President - and he doesn't get called out for it, and nobody gets mad, why should this lovely (and stupidly young) woman try anything different. Of course, the internet world roundly mocked her. To that I'd add this nice little compilation...
So...back to my point...which was...err, umm... My guess is that Miss Teen South Carolina will probably go on to a University somewhere, have a lovely time, and do her damnedest to never have a brain freeze like that again on camera. Our Prez? I'm sure he's got nothing to worry about, nobody seems to mind.
Friday, January 04, 2008
First Friday In 08.
"It's hard to want to do anything when it's raining."
Said Monday, who had thrown himself into a handy Laz-Y-Boy leather chair. His dripping overcoat, hat and umbrella were thrown near the door of the large living room. He was speaking to the gathered Weekdays who were playing video-football on a huge television screen. Tuesday and Friday were loosing badly.
"Or snowing." Tuesday said, not moving his head.
"Or hailing." Quipped Wednesday, intently staring at the game.
"Or forty-below." Responded Thursday, who began pressing buttons madly as the play started.
"Or when it's too hot!" Monday replied again, getting into the theme.
"Or when you're beat from a goofed up week that has had no mercy on your ass! OF COURSE IT'S HARD TO DO ANYTHING!" Friday yelled, stabbing the controller as his player was tackled for a 4-yard loss. "That's how they've got it set up." He said this as he pressed "pause," grabbed a can of beer, and emptied the rest of it. He then crushed the can in his right hand, looking back at Monday.
"That's how they've got it set up. So it's hard to do anything! Sooner or later there's a reason and an excuse to not do anything! Don't you get that yet?!"
Friday threw the crushed beer can across the room, where it rattled between the legs of a small wooden end-table shoved into a corner holding up an unremarkable lamp. (after which, the can leaked out more than a few drops of beer, (which then attracted the attentions of a scouting, and very small ant, which led to the later infestation of said ant's colony, that gave the owner of the house no end of trouble, but that's another story.))
"Friday," Monday spoke softly from his repose in the Laz-Y-Boy, "Yer talkin' to the lead guy in the processional of days DESIGNED TO BREAK THE SPIRIT OF ALL MORTALS!" His voice, while not quite impassioned at the same level as Friday's, began to grow into a larger volume, a volume like thunder. "OF COURSE I KNOW!"
Monday walked over to the small refrigerator, grabbed a beer for himself, muttering. "Jeesh."
"Sorry Mon." Friday spoke, "Been feeling a bit beaten down for the last while."
"I dig." Monday responded cracking open his can of beer, "I feel like that everytime I show up, nobody's happy to see me. I've learned to deal with it, I'm a motha'fuckin'badass. That's who I am. But you?..."
The rest of the Weekdays had their attentions ripped from their video-game and into the drama, were riveted on each of the actors in the scene, waiting for the next line. Friday sat mute, so Monday continued.
"You're the guy they call the King Of All Weekdays. You're the guy everyone looks forward to seeing, and you're the guy that gives everyone hope for a better time. There's a reason all of us are happy around you, and that's 'cause you bring out the nicest possibilities, and the unfettered belief that whatever needs, or wants could get done...gets fucking done."
Monday pauses for a dramatic (and long) drink from his can.
"I don't give a rat's ass that you've been feeling (he makes quotes around his next two words) "beaten down," He continues speaking, but snidely and making quotes over the next three words, "For the last while." He takes another poignant drink from his beer, and points his finger at Friday. "
You're not the King Of All Weekdays because you bring despair and defeat...christ(he says with some more disdain)...you're the bringer of outrageous belief and impossible possibilities, and fucking all-you-can-eat buffets! Don't sit there wallowing in all the shit all of us know already! Bring us a bunch of stuff we didn't know we could have, and make us appreciate how fucking awesome it is!"
Monday sits down in a lump onto the chair he so recently dropped into with such vibrant energy.
"At least, that's what I think." He mumbles softly, and finishes his drink. The rest of the Weekdays are riveted. There is a long silent pause.
"Fuck you Monday." Friday says quietly. Then he stands his tall and perfectly formed frame up from the couch, and walks to the fridge, and pulls out a beer.
The rest of the Weekdays are not so impressed with this performance, but are still watching.
"Tuesday," Friday speaks, cracking open his beer, "Call Etropa, Secretary of Zeus, and get the Storm God on the phone, he owes me a favor or two...I think good weather for a few hours shouldn't be too hard to wrangle." He has a satisfying drink, and looks over the Weekdays, "Wednesday!" Friday shouts, "Find that Airship you made in '06, and get it ready to fly!"
The hunchback looks up from the couch with an up-and-under look (the only kind he can make, being a hunchback looking up) "But, it's so big it will blot out the sun for hours wherever it passes!"
"And has a sound and light system to blast people miles from that! Get cracking!"
Wednesday dragged himself out of the room, as Friday continued in an energized fashion.
"Thursday, round up the most talented D.J.'s on the planet, and a few great bands, there's a list somewhere - with their gear - and enough appetizers and drink to entertain the best of the best for a full 24-hours!"
Thursday sprang up, and a super-nice cell phone was in his hand, already busy punching numbers on it. Tuesday spoke excitedly from the corner.
"Friday! Weather's a go!"
"Rad." Friday exclaimed, "Now how about you come up with a guest-list that'll be equal parts people who slay, and people who need it deep in their souls to be slain...and a flight plan that'll make the most outta' what we're about to do."
"Ten-four-good buddy!" Tuesday said as he busied himself at his task.
Friday walked over to Monday who was sitting in his Laz-Y-Boy, and tapped cans in a sort-of-cheer.
"I haven't been called out like that in a millennium." Friday said, "I'm positive I deserved it."
Monday, watched Friday drink heartily to his own toast, and had a polite sip of his own.
"Sometimes you know what's best," Monday said, "and sometimes it's the people around you , that really know what you're really capable of."
Happy Friday.
Said Monday, who had thrown himself into a handy Laz-Y-Boy leather chair. His dripping overcoat, hat and umbrella were thrown near the door of the large living room. He was speaking to the gathered Weekdays who were playing video-football on a huge television screen. Tuesday and Friday were loosing badly.
"Or snowing." Tuesday said, not moving his head.
"Or hailing." Quipped Wednesday, intently staring at the game.
"Or forty-below." Responded Thursday, who began pressing buttons madly as the play started.
"Or when it's too hot!" Monday replied again, getting into the theme.
"Or when you're beat from a goofed up week that has had no mercy on your ass! OF COURSE IT'S HARD TO DO ANYTHING!" Friday yelled, stabbing the controller as his player was tackled for a 4-yard loss. "That's how they've got it set up." He said this as he pressed "pause," grabbed a can of beer, and emptied the rest of it. He then crushed the can in his right hand, looking back at Monday.
"That's how they've got it set up. So it's hard to do anything! Sooner or later there's a reason and an excuse to not do anything! Don't you get that yet?!"
Friday threw the crushed beer can across the room, where it rattled between the legs of a small wooden end-table shoved into a corner holding up an unremarkable lamp. (after which, the can leaked out more than a few drops of beer, (which then attracted the attentions of a scouting, and very small ant, which led to the later infestation of said ant's colony, that gave the owner of the house no end of trouble, but that's another story.))
"Friday," Monday spoke softly from his repose in the Laz-Y-Boy, "Yer talkin' to the lead guy in the processional of days DESIGNED TO BREAK THE SPIRIT OF ALL MORTALS!" His voice, while not quite impassioned at the same level as Friday's, began to grow into a larger volume, a volume like thunder. "OF COURSE I KNOW!"
Monday walked over to the small refrigerator, grabbed a beer for himself, muttering. "Jeesh."
"Sorry Mon." Friday spoke, "Been feeling a bit beaten down for the last while."
"I dig." Monday responded cracking open his can of beer, "I feel like that everytime I show up, nobody's happy to see me. I've learned to deal with it, I'm a motha'fuckin'badass. That's who I am. But you?..."
The rest of the Weekdays had their attentions ripped from their video-game and into the drama, were riveted on each of the actors in the scene, waiting for the next line. Friday sat mute, so Monday continued.
"You're the guy they call the King Of All Weekdays. You're the guy everyone looks forward to seeing, and you're the guy that gives everyone hope for a better time. There's a reason all of us are happy around you, and that's 'cause you bring out the nicest possibilities, and the unfettered belief that whatever needs, or wants could get done...gets fucking done."
Monday pauses for a dramatic (and long) drink from his can.
"I don't give a rat's ass that you've been feeling (he makes quotes around his next two words) "beaten down," He continues speaking, but snidely and making quotes over the next three words, "For the last while." He takes another poignant drink from his beer, and points his finger at Friday. "
You're not the King Of All Weekdays because you bring despair and defeat...christ(he says with some more disdain)...you're the bringer of outrageous belief and impossible possibilities, and fucking all-you-can-eat buffets! Don't sit there wallowing in all the shit all of us know already! Bring us a bunch of stuff we didn't know we could have, and make us appreciate how fucking awesome it is!"
Monday sits down in a lump onto the chair he so recently dropped into with such vibrant energy.
"At least, that's what I think." He mumbles softly, and finishes his drink. The rest of the Weekdays are riveted. There is a long silent pause.
"Fuck you Monday." Friday says quietly. Then he stands his tall and perfectly formed frame up from the couch, and walks to the fridge, and pulls out a beer.
The rest of the Weekdays are not so impressed with this performance, but are still watching.
"Tuesday," Friday speaks, cracking open his beer, "Call Etropa, Secretary of Zeus, and get the Storm God on the phone, he owes me a favor or two...I think good weather for a few hours shouldn't be too hard to wrangle." He has a satisfying drink, and looks over the Weekdays, "Wednesday!" Friday shouts, "Find that Airship you made in '06, and get it ready to fly!"
The hunchback looks up from the couch with an up-and-under look (the only kind he can make, being a hunchback looking up) "But, it's so big it will blot out the sun for hours wherever it passes!"
"And has a sound and light system to blast people miles from that! Get cracking!"
Wednesday dragged himself out of the room, as Friday continued in an energized fashion.
"Thursday, round up the most talented D.J.'s on the planet, and a few great bands, there's a list somewhere - with their gear - and enough appetizers and drink to entertain the best of the best for a full 24-hours!"
Thursday sprang up, and a super-nice cell phone was in his hand, already busy punching numbers on it. Tuesday spoke excitedly from the corner.
"Friday! Weather's a go!"
"Rad." Friday exclaimed, "Now how about you come up with a guest-list that'll be equal parts people who slay, and people who need it deep in their souls to be slain...and a flight plan that'll make the most outta' what we're about to do."
"Ten-four-good buddy!" Tuesday said as he busied himself at his task.
Friday walked over to Monday who was sitting in his Laz-Y-Boy, and tapped cans in a sort-of-cheer.
"I haven't been called out like that in a millennium." Friday said, "I'm positive I deserved it."
Monday, watched Friday drink heartily to his own toast, and had a polite sip of his own.
"Sometimes you know what's best," Monday said, "and sometimes it's the people around you , that really know what you're really capable of."
Happy Friday.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Uh-huh
It just occurred to me that if someone wanted to find fault with yers truly...it'd be pretty fjucking easy. Maybe even easier than finding something to like. My first resolution for '09 is going to be to change that. Alot.
Until I get around to it, however, here's this classic from '07.
Until I get around to it, however, here's this classic from '07.
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