And now, some art history.

Part 1: The Laska Movement!

The Laska Movement was a subset of the impressionists, and never reached real prominence as they were frowned upon by the salons, and galleries, mostly through their own decadence, which led to small groups of Laska adherents trashing works of other notable artists. In fact the most notable occurrence was at an unveiling of a Monet, where a piece called "the whipperwill" which was reputed to be (through only eye-witnesses from the gallery unveiling) the finest work in his brief "burgundy period" which lasted April-October of 1892. About fifteen followers behind the noted Laska painter Brillheim Corveir, entered amongst the elite of the art world, and under the influence of some drug (the Laskas were known heroin users) proceeded to not only destroy The Whipperwill, but also a Cezanne, and unable to smash a sculpture by the famed Italian artisan Mirivar Alonzo, carried it off, and threw it in the Seine.

Fransis Laska was born in 1870 to wealthy vintners, and was sent to the Chateau de Vorn, nestled in the forests of Verdun, to study the fine arts. All indications were that Laska was a top notch talent, and by the time he left in 1886, he was already commanding thousands of Francs for his depictions of rustic settings, urban life, and violent seas. In fact in the cabin of Edward John Smith, the captain of the Titanic, the only hanging piece of art was the Laska oil called "Homeward" which dramatically captured the power of the seas, smashing upon an outcropping of rock, where a lighthouse stoically resisted. Nevertheless, once Laska gravitated to Paris, and while there was a buzz about this new talent which had arrived from the provinces, he quickly slipped from the polite society, and began experimenting with forms which never again caught the public eye. However, there were creations of note.

Laska's piece "Unbenumingly" was a revolutionary mixed medium piece which combined egg-tempura, fresco, and the first noted use of the sensational newsheets of Paris in collage form, which was remarkable for the juxtaposition of heavy and light materials, but was formed compositionally on a framed canvass, where the plaster of the fresco made the piece nearly impossible to frame (an unthinkable thing at the time) and no matter what steps were taken, seem to be totally impossible to hang in a level square. The few curators who would display the piece finally fixed the problem by setting it in an easel, but this infuriated Laska who took it as a slight by the displays - as if the piece was still in progress. Whether this was the case or not, it was the last time his work publicly would have any exposure.

Publicly - but wait till you hear about what this guy was doing! Stay tuned for part 2.

Hi Guys!

Well, I just got back from somewhere, and I'd like to say, fuck that last post! You should have been left with something astronomical like hovershoes, or lasers, or girls who are tied up and helpless (or for you fairer of the Fjordian sex, boys - hey we all know what we want, don't we?)

Anyways, hope the Universe is about to treat you real nice, and if it's not, you're about to blow the motherfucker up, since that's the last thing we - or it, would see coming.

I sniped the pic off'n Tbogg who's been on my interweb favorites for as long as I can remember.

Tuesday Happy

Don't often comment on sports over at the fjord but...

Dang! If anyone's ever took some time following basketball, it's pretty obvious Kevin Garnett is one of the best players in the league. I'd been rooting for him ever since he walked onto the court in a timgberwolves jersey when he was, shit I dunno, 18, and totally blew away expectations by actually living up to the hype. The Wolves made a great run with Spreewell and Cassell a few years back, and it killed me to see that team fall apart, since they were so damn close.

Still, when the talk was about trading him, it wasn't my old hometown squad I was thinking about, it was "The Kid." He'd put in so many man-hours to make the Wolves a team you ignored at your peril, and never once said anything in public that implied he was unhappy. That kind of devotion is so refreshing to see in pro-ball of any kind, that all I want for him is to get a gjoddang ring. With his trade to the Celtics, it seems as if they have a pretty good chance. And I'll still be rootin'. Good luck K.G!

A Post B-day Random Write-A-Thing

So yeah, I was working on this before my b-day, but now it's...well, it's this.

Young Hollywood gone bad, old Hollywood was already bad, I live in Hollywood, and I don't know which side I should be on. That's not the real question. (or maybe I'm ignoring it because I'm in the middle) The real question is...IS going bad - or being bad going to help my creativity? I hope so because I'm drunk - on crack, oxycotten, and these tiny blue pills I found on the street, and I thought taking this drive on the PCH would give me some inspiration to think up something really creative. Hey, a penny!

Maybe it's overstimulation from too much information - since you can ask anyone I know that I consume information like food.
Cut to:
A Guy: Food?
A Dude: Not that I heard.
A Lady: I think he consumes, but I can't be sure.
A Tramp: Definitely. What was the question?
A Soldier: Wasn't he that sex freak guy?
A Postman: I don't like dogs.

But something tells me if I don't start specializing in something soon, it'll be too late.

Cut to:
Me with a smaller me on my shoulder who says.
"It's going to be too late."

But those are the things I try and ignore because they're counter-productive. What's also counter-productive is giving away money, buying things you don't really need, voting and masturbation. Wait, scratch that last one, replace it with rockstars! Yeah, rockstars.

Cut to:
Rockstar: What? Don't we give you something to idolize?

Idolatry - wasn't that something the bible said to not do? Or carve, or put on youtube - because that might violate some sort of copyright? I don't know - what the fuck am I a lawyer? No, I'm not! I'm also not a meteorologist, or a spelunker, or a caveman, but enough about me, really, enough about me.

I'd like to apologize for the last seven words, I don't know why they were written. Instead, I'd like to amend them and say, Me! More about ME! I want everyone to know everything about ME ALL THE TIME!!! ME TEEVEE, and KMME RADIO and MEESO SOUP and ME MAGAZINE and let me tell you about what the hell I'm doing, so you'll have an update from five minutes ago about what I was doing. Why wouldn't anyone want to know?

As for what I got for my B-day...it's the best gift I've ever received.

Things I don't understand...but like

The worlds oldest fake body part. Of course, it's found in/on a mummy.

Here's the munny quote.

If true, the toe will predate the currently considered earliest practical prosthesis - a fake leg from 300BC. The Roman Capua Leg, made of bronze, was held at the Royal College of Surgeons in London but was destroyed by Luftwaffe bombs during the Second World War.

And in more futuristic kind of fucked-up-ness the munny quote is only this...

Nasa astronauts were cleared to fly while drunk at least twice, a panel set up by the US space agency has found.

Octopus? Is there anything they can't do?

Well, there's a lot of Beeb for yas, but hell, if the shoe fits...yeah? Since it's Sundaaaay, I'll give you the other little juicy tidbit that I'm totally loving.

Munny quote? Sure, why not.

Vick pleaded not guilty to federal dogfighting charges in Richmond, Virginia. In the indictment, he was accused of sponsoring a gruesome operation that often shot, hanged, drowned or electrocuted losing dogs.

Be still my tiny cold black heart, be still.

Finally, Something for the Space-Age-Jet-Set!

A truck mounted LASER BEAM!

The US Army is developing a truck-mounted laser weapon
to destroy rockets, artillery shells and mortars.
And melt your face.

Your Friendly Minor League Media Demon

Wonders the following:

Why are his floors not cleaned!
Why is his laundry undone!
Why no food is in his refrigerator!

He feels that if he were a larger and less friendly media demon, he
would not have these problems.

He is probably right.

So here is a nice compilation of things about underwear.

It's not good

And there's a lot of bad bad things. But it's updated a lot, and I've seen some really funny things at the sickapedia.

I already mentioned it's not good.

Monday has revealed

That the Sucker Gods have me by the balls.

Please be aware that the Sucker Gods are a crafty bunch, and might also have you by the (proverbial, or literal) balls yourself. By the way, I'm not against the Sucker Gods, when they're working for me, just when dealing with 'em, you often get the short end of the stick.

Is it hot?!?

Wherever you might be?

Yeah - two questions for yas. Can you handle it - not the heat, I mean questions? I figure you can, just because I believe in you. However, if you're stuck in the middle of a heatwave somewhere across the great expanse of the northern hemisphere (nice word there, no?) then here's a nice link to remind you that there are things that are just too hot.

Yeesh...

As cool as this is, it doesn't change the fact that I'm working.

Soooo...what are you doing to fight the terrorists?

Me? What? I...are you asking me what I'm doing to fight the terrorists? Well, I'm, err, keeping informed of current events, I'm becoming outraged watching a bunch of 6-year-olds try and deal with the world of global diplomacy, and I'm beginning to grow very tired of people COMMENTING ON IT.

Holy crap. Just humongous piles of holy blessed-by-Gjod-himself steaming mountains of oozing, volcanically exploding CEEEE-RAP!!!!!

Fucking do, or Fucking do not. "Commenting" and "talking" is "FUCKING DO NOT."

And yes, I am fully aware I am in the "FUCKING DO NOT" camp. I am however, also living in my own private fantasyland. It's extremely nice here.

So Anyways, I was thinking about Vancouver (bitchingly nice town) as a possible escape from my, err, country. Then I saw a thing about Mexico offering U.S. citizens full legal status (not sure if that one's legit atall but anyhoo) knowing that the U.S is in fact a nation fully integrated with both Canada and Mexico through NAFTA, why, shouldn't I be a citizen of North America? I imagine myself flying from the tip of the Baha (and one of my all time favorite names for a Sea - THE SEA OF CORTEZ) up to the incessant chilly rains that make the Northwest so Gjoddamn green. You'll notice I didn't have to even once stop in the U.S. So I suppose this is the new idea I'll be spouting for about three hours - Citizenry of North America. Of course, if this were to come to pass, someone somewhere would fuck it up. So again, being in the "Fucking do not" camp, I have come up with a brilliant idea, which would inevitably fail, and turn out horribly. In fact, by doing nothing, I have just saved everyone a whole lot of effort and misery. Yaay!

In other Fjord related news, there's this Viking Hoard. Oop, I meant THIS VIKING HOARD which was found by some idiots with a metal detector.

And Keeping up with the Sea Stallion, the replica Viking ship that was doing something, somewhere, far away, with people who have no jobs and maybe want to be Viking re-enactors had to get a tow across the North Sea. And that makes this particular fjordlover, very very sad. If I was the Captain of the Sea Stallion, I don't care what the cost, physical, financial, mental...I'd fucking make the crossing like a fjucking Viking would.

Of course we already mentioned I live in a fantasyland, and It's extremely nice here.

Reasons You Might Be Hiding

1) Giant Insects
2) Mummies
xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx
5) Insurgents
6) Sharks/Eels
7) Death Car
8) Pimp
9) Boss
10) Crazy Homless Guy

I really wanted to cut out #2 and #3, but then there only would have been eight reasons for hiding...ahh, what the hell.

TEETH!

BECAUSE ALL CAPS MAKE THINGS SEEM EXCITING!

However, this guy with a tooth stuck in his head is kinda good.

Elephants!

I suppose the real question is...

were they drunk?

Incase I don't make anything new this weekend

here's something to tide you over.

found at the evercool neatorama.

Fridays...Badgers...yaknow the usual...

I was busy just now reading over some older stuff I'd written somewhere else, and happily surprised. It's one thing to call yourself a writer (or worse, *said with sarcasm dripping off the tongue* a blogger) But hell, you are what you are, and you ain't what you ain't...I think someone said somewhere, sometime ago. Anyhoo, it's nice to sometimes be reminded you might be good at what you claim to do.

But...as I was scanning the internets for you, I came across this!
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...!!!!!
Such brilliant news...and in so many ways. The first and foremost being the line

British forces have denied rumours that they released a plague of ferocious badgers into the Iraqi city of Basra.

Oh Gjod! Did that get my heart racing. Even having to deny that you released a plague of ferocious badgers anywhere is nearly one of the coolest things anyone could ever have to say. Of course this led to a whole bevy of badger related internettings, such as my primary concern, "is plague of ferocious badgers taken as a band name." Which fortunately was not (for my aspiring musician friends) or perhaps this little nicety with the headline...Farmers Admit to Gassing Badgers. I guess I can sort of understand why I might have missed this story in 05, but WOW!

And who can forget the loveable badger song that graced the internets in our early love affair of all that's stupid online? Literally, it seems that the badger is a comedy goldmine.

Well, I'd like very much to wrap this up by re-linking to a Friday post back in July 15th in '05, because, even tho it has nothing to do with badgers, this one's close to my heart.

Happy Friday

MMmmmmmnnnn...

This one's for if you like shoes.

I'm No Scientician

But is there anything Stem Cells can't do?

Hey Hatshepsut! Tsunami set me!

In the last post I was (mocking? advertising?) my skills as a dude who's got his "blogging chops" back so hardcore raging that after a couple of hours he's back in action...only, clearly I don't.

Since three posts down I linked to a story about Queen Hatshepsut...and well, I kinda slipped and didn't re-link myself. Anyhoo - seeing's as this is one less mummy we have to worry about, and an extremely powerful one at that, I'm happy as fuck to have her *ahem* under wraps. I haven't heard when we're gonna burn the bitch, but I say it's ASAP!

And if you're all feeling like this mummy crap is coming to a close, and you can continue about your normal life like there's no problem...just remember this:

Also not accounted for are the pharaohs Ay and Horemheb, who successively seized the throne after King Tut's death, and Ramses VII and Ramses VIII, obscure kings of the late New Kingdom. But perhaps the most sought-after missing mummy is that of Akhenaten, the pharaoh who turned Egypt upside down and introduced the nearest thing to monotheism Ancient Egypt ever knew, and his beautiful queen, Nefertiti, who is portrayed in a famous bust in Berlin.

There are six Uber-Powerful mummies out there that you wouldn't stand a chance against. There's also like 9000 mummies you've never heard of that still would love to eat your soul. Please be careful out there.

So while I was out looking for something clever

I stumbled upon this!

In the study, women spoke a daily average of 16,215 words during their waking hours, and men 15,669 words.

The researchers say this difference is not significant.

Lead researcher Matthias Mehl said: "What's a 500-word difference, compared to the 45,000-word difference between the most and the least talkative persons?"

Which led me back to THIS! Which, unfortunately, was a little harder for me to find than you suspected. But what gave me a start was that it was from 2005! Two Gjoddamn years ago! That's when I stumbled across this story, and now as a follow-up...just for you, my friendly Fjordlings...because yer pal Tsunami is...bad enough to remember a post two years ago, and remember it's relevant. Please, don't stop squalkin', 'cause I won't, until the mummy gets me. Sorry, I mean, The Mummies! I'm pretty sure no single mummy could take me without help, since I do have powerful defenses. Have you maintained or upgraded yours too?

I am Throwing Up Blood

And I like it. It might be the most creative thing I’ve done in 2007! The splatters of red on my off-white walls, and linoleum are really striking. And in fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going to take some photos, and get some frames, and make some pieces out of them. I guess after that it’s off to the art galleries. Someone somewhere will take them I’m sure.

Here's a fun one from a guy I like enough to read every day.


In other news…
The long (horribly long) drawn-out (horribly horribly drawn out) masterpiece of penmanship, (thanks laser printer!) mad typing skills, (thanks most useful of digits) creative process (drug and booze addled brains, ) and about 1600 hours of sittin’ on the arse holder I call a desk chair…I’m just about to release the top secret idea I’ve been working on for the last year - into the internets. Since hardly anyone swings by anymore, there’s really no danger in it escaping before its time, but I really can’t take that chance until I’ve covered myself in the legal shields I can, at this stage, afford! However, I’d say this is good news.

I found this great piece of video at the place where a couple of “Table of Malcontents” writers ended up ectoplasmosis
(it’s a great place already, go see their stuff) But this’ll knock your socks off.


http://view.break.com/323537 - Watch more free videos

Happy Friday

Some Fjord Relevant News

There's this Viking Ship

And then there's this Viking Turd

And then there's this Mummy

I'd prefer you to have a multi-media experience when you visit

You're watching channel fjord.

Built Fjord Tough

Where did I go? I dunno,
I think I may have just been here.

What did I do? I dunno,
but I seem to have exactly everything I had before I left, except a new poster of a hula-girl.

I guess, all-n-all that's a net gain, but definitely not the massive life-altering increase from squalor to uber-wealthy which I was wishing for.

I guess there's always next year.

So the other day I was in a conversation where someone brought up the bright idea that I was Banksy. I thought this was an astonishingly good suggestion, since about four years ago, I had convinced myself I was living a Fight Club-esque double life as a man named Carlos Delgado. (Not the all-star First Baseman Carlos Delgado, a different one lurking in the Los Angeles underground (like the A-Team))

Anyways, I've had enough people cruise through my world telling me things about how great I am, that in fact, I wouldn't be surprised at all, if it turned out I was in fact, me, Carlos Delgado, and Banksy.

But I'm pretty suspicious.

And here's the reason - I'm lazy, I don't have the passion, my vision for the future is blurry, I lack conviction and beliefs, my idea of art isn't to transform anything, or to educate anyone. It's to take people from a comfortable spot in their own lives, and entertain the fuck out of them. And that's just my idea of art - that doesn't mean I've even come close to creating anything resembling what I'm talking about.

A guy like Banksy, or my other subculture hero Warren Ellis, has built a reputation on some of the most creative and edgy shit that's graced a graphic form - and me? I'm just a slowly aging dude in denial, that just wants to rest in an easychair, enjoying the next six hours in comfort, after putting in an entirely half-assed 8-hour day at a job that would underemploy a crafty 8th grader.

That is what I want. What I seem to get is a little nasty demon inside me that is eating my heart, liver, and lungs saying "do something more." No matter how close to the ideal of either my creations, or my attempts at leisure, that nasty little demon is still in there chomping away. It kinda bugs me.

Anyways, I suppose what I'm trying to get at is - how much impact does working extremely hard, change the way you feel? And how much can extremely hard work really change your exterior world? How many paragraphs, or how many stencils on walls do you need to do before somewhere you create something pretty damn killer. And once you are at the level of "killer" how many of those might you need to make, before they come with a truck full of money, and want to buy them from you?

That's a pretty good question. I'm going to change the analogy here, and just say, an empire might not fall in minutes, but perhaps you've noticed they can disappear pretty fast. But, perhaps you've also noticed that "they" never really talk about how to build an empire, because anyone who's actually talking about it is clearly busy NOT BUILDING AN EMPIRE.

Anyways, regarding not the above, but that paragraph which preceeds it - I'm under the impression, that not such a long, or great amount of time is necessary - and in fact, I am about to propose such a modest number that it will astound and amaze you.

15 minutes a day.
Anything more than that is gravy.
Anything less is simply not trying.

I'm puting this theory to the test. I'll keep you updated.

It's been a couple months since I was really doing this...

And, legitimately, I've lost some of the mad blogger skills I had. They're coming back, but like anything, it's just a matter of putting practice into function. You want some groovy text-oriented fucked up shit? Go check the archives from like 2005 or early 06 when I was really crackin'. Anyhoo, I found this other tune that's so dang cute you might as well consider your sox history.

enjoy yer monday.

So, a little while ago

I stated there would be words. Well, it's taken a while for them to get here, and when they did...it turns out they were for something that I can't really share in the Fjords. Still, I don't wanna let you hangin' with just the same ole reruns you've doubtless seen here. Therefore for the KOAW, I give you this adorable piece of J-pop.



Happy Friday

Update...
Thanks to the power of the internets, I also found this amazing one. Kimura Kaela's the name.

Another to help you thru the edge of the weekend

Fuck cavemen...this is a nice tune

More stuff for youse to looks at

Madonna y Sex pistols = pretty bueno.

This is too cute for me not to post

If you want to criticize, please ask yourself what you were doing in highskool.

I'm aware of this

The days slip past at an alarming rate. The world is nothing like you want it to be. You never, can get enough done - and what you do get done - is hardly important in the scheme of your own life. Facing the inevitability of your own judgement on how history will remember you is most likely the hardest criticism you will ever get. Strike that. It's probably not the hardest, but it'll be the longest-lasting of criticisms, unless you happen to end up like Spielberg, Opra, or Paul Allan, at the top of whatever crappy heap they're (you're) kings and Queens of. Even then, surrounded by hundreds of people working to try and think of a thing they'd (you'd) want before they (you) want it, even then, they're (you're) sitting around knowing you could far exceed what you've already done. Right now, I'm nowhere close to that.

But I do know the power of a well-timed hilarious statement, and how it can change a whole day. I also know the power of a good deodorant, which was made apparent when I neglected mine today. Don't take that last one too lightly when you live in, or visit a desert town - I'm just sayin'. We also get stuck in simple little traps that we should be smart enough to stay out of.

We ain't gods, but damn, we ain't slouches neither. Heroic, I think would be the word. I hope you can pull it off this weekend, since it seems to be in the cards, and I'm rootin' for you. And what else would the King of All Weekdays get behind.

Happy Friday

Probly seen this...

but it's neat.

Hello, and welcome back.

Words will appear soon.

I can feel it.

Yeah, we're not so down with cat blogging at Fjord

Is it me, or is this how adorably cute life shuld be?

Teki Latex feat lio - Les matins de Paris
Uploaded by Tekitek

More Multi-Media From Your Friends at Channel Fjord

Dudes and Dudetts, it's all made of dice!

It was pretty hot this week

These pictures were from the roof of the Casa Aloha in senic Los Feliz on Tuesday. That thing that's burning is Griffith Park - a pretty nice expanse of wilderness smack-dab in the middle of the amazing strip-mall that is El-Ay. It's pretty astounding to have that at the end of your street, but in the big city, you roll with what comes at you.

I eventually got tired of watching and went back inside, and fell asleep to the sound of 12 news helicopters hovering above my house grabbing video. When I got up the next day - there was only smoke hovering above the trees.

Ebay comments.

These are pretty funny.

It's crazy what you can find

Just laying around in the ground.

Your job this week...find one person who hates gladiators.

And while you're at it, ask around if anyone knows anyone who likes one-humped camels more than two-humped ones. So far, my poll indicates a 100% preference for two-humped camels.

Linking to the classics, so you don't have to

I really could do this all day

And now back tooooooo

Our regularly scheduled broadcast.

And now some words

Scootch. Recon Monkey. Sweetness. Blister-pak. Dance Bitch. Therimin. Dink. Fistacuffs. Hooptie. Crossbow. Glamour. Quicksand. Smuggler. Dooood. Skulldrudgery. Two-thousand-and-fucking-seven. Hades. Yep.

Momentary Tuesday Zen

You might have heard this on some commercials

Cause that's where I heard it myself. Today I wanted to know who it was, and wouldn't you know it, youtube came thru again.

Happy Monday From Channel Fjord

I thought of this the other day -- and now here it is!

It's D.T. and Hans Borg!

So this is me and Norwegian Sumo Champ Hans Borg. Hans was a pretty awesome dude, but I didn't exactly know it at the time. This might explain the "I might be broken in two at any moment" look I have in my eyes. There's a whole mess of Sumo pictures I took over here.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking...

Isn't it about time for enormous space bullets to start flying? Well, yeah. That's what this is a picture of. In the Orion Nebula - clouds of iron atoms TEN TIMES the size of Pluto's orbit around the sun are ripping through the nebula at 250 miles per second, or more than 1000 times the speed of sound. The article doesn't say where they're aimed at, nor who's doing the shooting.

W...X...V...Y...Z!

Who do I talk to about this? I want to change the alphabet, so the letter "V" is moved past the letter "X" and before "Y." I just think it'd be a lot better there.

It's still Friday where I am...

And it's on the tip of my fingers...like the tip of my tongue, only in a different analogy for the digital age. Funny thing that phrase, "tip of the tongue." Since, if you lost your lips, the tongue would be nothing more than a piece of muscular flesh behind your teeth. You might still be able to talk, but you'd have a hard as fuck time makin' words, I'll tell you what.

Tonite, Friday's just a simple broker, a Weekday with a deal. You keep your fingers, your lips, and your tongue, and tell good stories with 'em. You, put yourself in the place where things happen to you, so you have something good to tell. Whaddaya think? Sound like a bargain?

Happy Friday
-Tsunami-

Clip...clip...clip...

Creeeeeek.

*moments pass*

Tap, tap, tap...

Phsssst.

"Aaaah."

*Feedback from a microphone is quickly cut off*

"Testing...testing...one, two...testing"

Standing by to blog

Talkin' about 007

Here's what I had to offer for this year, judging from Jan 12. 2006.

Nearly amazing how dead-on it really was.

08's just around the corner. What'r your calls?

Here's the new Juan

In case you need a little fjordian luvin'. I've been thinking a lot about youse.

-Tsunami-

If you think yer pal D.T. sold out...

Well, you can lookiee here at my first Friday Post.

Go Fjord!!!

Well...huh...

Just as I was thinking of making a serious commitment to the Fjords, I kinda' maybe got myself a gig writing for the LAist.

I'm not sure exactly how this is all gonna work out, since writing here is a lot more my style than being stuck into a specific location I have to deal with, especially when it doesn't have anything to do with my favorite landmass on the planet.

I'll certainly keep you all up to date in the next few days/weeks until I know what I'm capable of.

Thanks Fjordlings!
-Tsunami-

Heh

Yeah.

Is it getting better?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy New Year.


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

Channel Fjord

How's the transmission on your end?

It's a matter of honor...

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

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

Saddam Challenges George Bush to a Duel.

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

The White House responded

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

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

For those of you like me...

without any definate plans for the New Years Weekend.

Buy 5 bottles of vinegar and try some of these.

I Come up with this one today

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




Anyone else hear Friday comin?

Gettin' Ready?!?

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

Maybe you should listen to the Lady for a sec.

Umm...

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

However...happy Chrjistmas.

(and '07 will be totally worth it.

I promise.)

-Tsunami-

The Casa Aloha Never Sleeps!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Friday!

WCB - Representin'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Tsunami-

699

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

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


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

-Tsunami-

Oh thank fjucking

GJOD!

For this piece of good news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Tsunami-

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

Howdy Fjordlings!

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

If yer in El Ay...

This might be something to check...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dang!

This looks purtty fuckin' cool.

Someone else

has been thinking about this particular issue.

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

The King of the Swamp People's house band.


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

-Tsunami-