Wow, Did Friday Actually Knock Me Into Tuesday?

Short answer: Yes.

Long Answer: I can't get into it right now, but DANG! He threw me a curveball at such astounding velocity it would make Dan Quisenberry jelous. (and it would)

Now, with that out off the way, I'm about to go deal with the Alcohol Control Board regarding a horrific injustice inflicted on Fjord Borg sometime in 2005, and then skootch up to the Great Northwest for a brief Labor Day break in labors.

So in some sort of Pavlovian reward I've got Chris Titus doing a little standup that'll be worth hearing.


Video is 7:27 long

Meanwhile, I found this at Thinkorthwim, of which I read three posts, and added to my favorites, then proceeded to read 22 pages in a row. Good stuffs over there. If I'm not back before the next post, have a great Holiday, and I'll see ya on the other side.

I wonder what Friday's doing tonite...

Maybe he's left for greener pastures. Maybe he's got some hot party info that will blow yer mind from all the residue that this week left stuck all over the insides of yer head like resin. Maybe he's on a intergalactic cruise that'll have cyber-ninja's, four-breasted alien broads, and rug devouring space-hamsters. Maybe he's decided to take up a nice villa in the South of France - yaknow, something with a waterwheel and an old crotchety guy who knows his grapes, and his vines. Maybe he's just kickin' back with a couple of tall cold ones, and figgers the world might be able to do without his particular brand of fun for tonite. Maybe he's dealing with Leprechauns and trying to get them to help the sitch-ee-ation in Iraq.

Maybee he's hangin' at your local tavern wonderin' where you're at. Maybe he's about to catch some mass-transportation and turn the gjoddang vehicle into a party-bus. Maybe he's milking goats, and trying to make cheese. Maybe he's got some plans for the upper levels of the talles building in the world. Maybe there's a race somewhere with high stakes on the line. Maybe he's in a duel to the death with some stupid fuck who doesn't know what's wjhat.

Maybe it's the kind of question a person shouldn't ask themselves. Maybe it's the kind of question that will never be answered correctly until you go out and try and find that most noble of all weekdays, and ask him yourself.

Sometimes the world does conspire to please

sometimes. Here are two tales about animals I know you're gonna love. One's about a camel. The other's about monkeys. I suspect that there might be something in my love of actual news that comes from the simple idea that, "no, you can't make this shit up."

Maybe it'd be 'cause you'd read this in fiction and think, no way.

Nothing? Nada? Really?

Well, that's okay, since I have more mummy news for yas. And speaking of, before I get to the good stuffs, I really would have thought in this day and age, that an image search for "Mumra fights Thundercats" would have come up with more than this.

So, I'll have to go back to more classic Fjord mummy artwork.

Because I missed this back in the day, but it has severe repercussions, along the lines of man's best friend being turned into a mummy and used against us. In fact there's a more serious problem we're facing. Mummy Lions!

After allz this time dealing with the most nefarious of all the undeads, (and by now I'm sure you'll agree I have some unique knowledge of these bastards) I sure as shit don't wanna have to fight against mummy lions.

The King of the Swamp People has not forgotten

Nope, no he hasn't.

O.K., so the Rugsian Press, I mean, the D.T. Press, I mean FJORD appears (and I really mean "appears") to be back in action

And there's nothing I can think of to make Monday roll than these guys.



Oh, hells ya mang, hells ya!

Now, the other thing that mesmerized me on the toobz

Holy Crap! Dr. McNinja is awesome.

I'm gonna say this just once...if this is not what the global interebweb-net-database was made for, all civilization has meant nothing. Nothing I tells ya! Nothing!

Ahhhh Crap crap crap crap crap! Crap!

No, this is not crap! But it's totally NSFW, unless you work by yourself and nobody monitors your internets content. But if you do, then go POST-HASTE! And if not, write yourself a note to go there when you get home! And then when you get home, don't just throw your note in a pile of junk you take out of your pockets or handbags on the coffee table, and throw it away when you're cleaning up trash that's piled up on your coffee table in three weeks. I'm saying check out this good shit!

Hey - did you do this!?!

Where I said to go over here, and look at this thing? Cause I just did again, and dang, I was right. Fuckin' incredible.

I hope to hell that this is as good as it looks.

Because, dang...

There was something about this

I thought was kinda cool.

MJ: You have your own publishing company, and you've put out other works from people like Nick Cave, but also a lot of your own stuff. Why did you get into writing, and what do you think your strongest skills are as a writer?

HR: I'm not a very good writer. I'm working at it. What I have is access. I go places. I can get in and out of places and come at it with my $3.50 an hour mindset. All my big heroes are literary, writers. I'd love to meet Jimmy Hendrix or John Coltrane, but I'd much rather meet Thomas Wolfe, or F. Scott Fitzgerald, or [Albert] Camus, or [Charles] Baudelaire, or what have you. Words and books have always meant a lot to me. That someone can take words and string them together to where they will move me is just a hell of a thing. It's amazing to me; more amazing to me than music or painting. It's always been the written word or the spoken word, like a great lecture or a great lyric, or a great poem. To me it's just amazing. And I always aspire toward capturing that, or my version of it.

Funny, I always thought the opposite...that the written word does not have the impact of music or video or mooovies. I'm happily entertaining the idea that I'm wrong on that. At least for the next two and a half minutes until I find something on yooootube.

Oh. here's something.

Whachoo lookin at?

Better yet, whatcha' drinkin?

Finally, some gjoddang mummy news!

I've been waiting!

This street art is probably going to fuck the hell out of blogger

But it's worth a shot.

Ahh, crap, it did.

So go over here, and look at this masterpiece. Make sure to blow it up! Kay?!?

Oh yeah...I wanted to throw this your way

If you might be fashionable inclined, which I think you are. Actually, I'm not sure if you are. Quite a while ago we put the interwebs on notice of how readers of Fjord were the most attractive of all blog readers, but it's been some time since then, and I, like you, are well aware that how hot you are has no relation to how great you dress. However, Shoutfit appears to be a networking site where you can show off your style. I haven't really explored it in depth, but it's worth a look. Lemme know what you think, kay?

Well, maybe a little tittilation wouldn't be a bad thing

So you might just click over here.

Well, this has been a weird week, no?

"So how long is it before it's too long without..." Tuesday's baritone began, but was interrupted by Wednesday, who said,
"What?"
"Without a change?" Tuesday finished, and reached forward to ash a chunk off his cigarette into a black plastic ashtray that sat on a large round table, surrounded by a red leather booth that held the assorted weekdays in a very dark bar.
"What kind of change?" Asked Monday, while Thursday and Friday worked to finish their coctails quickly enough to order before happy-hour was up.

"Like everything you've been in a rut over...I mean, how many times do you tell yourself you've got to change, before it's the time you actually do anything about it?"
"Seventeen!" Wednesday said.
"Thirty-Seven!" Monday chipped in.
"At least a hundred." Thursday spoke with a rasp from downing a lowball of scotch.

Friday leaned back and waved to the waitress who was obviously lurking in the background waiting for the move - the tavern they had chosen was dead except for two drunks leaning heavily on the bar about fifteen feet away. She walked up attired to get the maximum tip value from her 24 year-old body.
"It's not too late for another round before happy-hour ends?" Friday asked.
"Not for another 12 minutes." She said saucily.
"Then another round for us blokes." He said whirling his finger around in a circle. She moved off and Friday gave a gander at his assorted minions.

"A man can take what he's got to take...until he can't take it anymore." Friday spoke the words but began moving his head until he was speaking at a television mounted in the corner of the place, watching highlights of best sports plays of the day. "Then, when it's too much, he makes a change. I'd imagine it's the same for womenfolk, but I can't speak from experience on the last bit." He moved his thumb up to his mouth to bite at it's nail.

"So..." Wednesday began uncomfjortably, "how long is that, exactly?"
Friday watched a magnificent goal by the Panamanian National team with a crossing pass from the right wing, to a midfielder near the edge of the box, who made a tiny touch pass behind him to a midfielder, who lobbed a ball up for the forward who nailed a header back to the original passer who shot the ball well past the befuddled keeper, then turned back to the booth.

"Days, weeks, months, years...who the hell can say! The fates? Maybe it's not even up to them. One day you just wake up and decide enough's enough. People quit their jobs, they quit their relationships, they quit their dreams. Why? They just do. Nobody knows, except the person who's doing it. Why the hell are we talking about this?"

"I was just trying to make conversation." Tuesday said after a long pause. "Not trying to be confrontational. Jeesh." The body language of the gathered weekdays seemed to be in agreement with Tuesday's point rather than Friday's.

The waitress returned with a welcome distraction, setting down drinks leaning more than she should, her tank-top shirt hanging a tad loosely around her bust. She sauntered off well aware that her performance would gather at least a few looks at her other attractive assets, which it did.

"Sorry fellas," Friday said as he rolled a misty glass between his hands, "I've got a lot on my mind, and I'm afraid that question hits a little too close to home. Let's just enjoy this low-cost beverage, and prepare for a few more, at slightly exaggerated prices, and have a fucking nice night."

"Hear, hear!" Wednesday nearly shouted...and unlike most times when Wednesday does something like that, the other's raised their glasses and shook the bar with a resounding "HEAR HEAR!" The drunks at the bar even turned their heads to see what the commotion was.

Happy Friday!

This came up in conversation the other day.

And words do not do it justice.

First up...this

it's just too damn goofy. A little slow at first, but be patient, and have sound.

More Art History!

Part 2 of the Laska Movement!

Unbenumingly - the revolutionary piece by Fransis Laska was, as mentioned previously, was nearly unframable, and totally un-hangable, however, it did lead to the innovations in art that people rarely see. Taking headlines from sensational broadsheets from Paris, Laska combined stories as diverse as the Spanish American War, the recent patent of the rubber heeled shoe, and the exploits of Mademoiselle Bridgett Margot, who performed on Paris stages, and literally made news that would make Lohan and Paris jelous. (In fairness to Mademoiselle Margot, the broadsheets did use hype to sell their product, but taken in context, the story of her, the Duke of Burgundy, the Courtesan Chantell de Morazon, his Valet, and two goats, was a sensation that didn't subside until the collapse of the Rolando building which housed a department store, killing 35.)

Nevertheless, the piece combined words and printed images nearly in the mode of "sampling" in music, and created the line of text which read "Mademoiselle Bridget Margot takes the advances of all the Philippines and two goats in her mouth, while wearing rubber soled shoes which will provide traction in all kinds of weather." If this wasn't enough, the fresco which was applied in the upper right quadrant to the lower center, was a reproduction of a fresco found in a Pompeii whorehouse which depicted a woman orally pleasing a Satyar. Laska then used egg tempura over the fresco to place all weather shoes on the nymph, and added masked goats tied by a leash to her wrist. All in all a titillating and erotic picture.

Unfortunately, the temper of Fransis Laska had by the time it was displayed in three galleries, had driven the salons of Paris to discard Laska as a raving madman. Which, undoubtedly he was. Whatever the public reaction to his works, he didn't seem to mind. In fact, it appears he relished the idea of being an outsider and began staging reenactments of his piece with poor and too-long out of work actors and actresses, where he apparently, in spoken word form, added more outlandish strings of text. This became a huge sensation in the poorer areas of Paris, where heroin use was on the rise. While he never made the kind of money he had hoped for, Laska developed a following of the most undesirable kind. Yet, it appeared that being a king of the underclasses for Laska, was still a form of honor, and he began indulging further into the stranger tastes of drug use, which seemed to inspire a number of his circle, to begin the descent with him.

His seminal performance seems to be when he took his goat/satyar theme, and arranged a strap-on dildo to be fitted upon a goat, which was made to mount a man dressed in horns and the garb of a Satyar. Whereupon, in front of an audience of some 400 interested spectators, Laska proceeded to paint the scene, occasionally directing the Satyar, and the goat handler in more unique poses, ending with the Satyar sucking the goat's oversized and prosthetic fallus. Since Laska was also aware of newer forms of artistic medium, this was also captured on a large camera, and is the first known pornographic photo of bestiality.

This performance made Laska an untouchable in the respectable Parisian art world, but made him a cult hero in the circles that never claimed to have taste. He took this status, and while destroying his life, created works which would influence the next 100 years.

Next up...How Fransis Laska developed his movement, simply with three astounding pieces!

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.