SUPER FAT TUESDAY!

(They've also been calling it Tsunami Tuesday...which I really didn't grab ahold of until right now. Kickass! And now...back to the show...)

Tuesday was supersized! Tuesday was PHAT! Tuesday was in a 50's tuxedo, and his neck was draped with so many leis, and cheap necklace beads that Flava-Flave would be madly jealous. There was a strange scent in the air, vaugely like the air before it rains, only more electric.

Monday was there making an appearance. Nobody held it against him that he was sullen. After all, he was not only Monday, but also had just suffered the indignity of being a regular old hated Monday between Super Sunday, and Super Fat Tuesday. He held onto his drink like a life preserver.

Wednesday was there, hanging onto a telephone pole as a vixen dressed in what can only be described as a "super sexy election volunteer" costume ran a ballot repeatedly over his hump. A giant float passed slowly behind them in the street, where a thick-waisted gentleman was dressed as Baccus, trying to look like he was enjoying drinking wine from a cornocopia, and throwing trinkets to whoever noticed him.

Thursday was chatting with a Japanese businessman who was standing by the gates to the church that was the local polling place. Overheard were his words, "I thought he said - I'm going to the boat!"

Even Friday was there, working his way through the throng of press, women, hangers-on and assorted merrymakers.

"Friday!" Tuseday shouted with a slight slur, "Glad you could make it!"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Super Fat Tuesday. Say, looks like you gained a few pounds!"
"A few!" Tuseday laughed and smacked his gut. "Try fifty! I just hope after today I can take it off!" Around them the crowd laughed too. A float with numerous mermaids glided quietly behind them, following the wake of Baccus.

"Tuseday! Tuseday! a man in a fedora shouted. In the headband of the hat was stuck a piece of white paper with the word "Press" written on it. He shouted again. "Tuseday! Any predictions before the results are in?"

"YES!" Tuseday bellowed. "I predict, more rain this year!" The crowd roared! "I predict," he continued, "more jellyfish attacks," The crowd cheered less strongly, looking at each other. "I predict," Tuesday plowed on, "There will be no ice-cream sandwich shortage this year!" The crowd roared again, "And I predict a glorious night will be had by ALL!" The crowd broke into complete meyham. Glasses were emptied, strangers kissed and groped each other passionately! Just then a float carrying Venus trundled past, and the whole crowd swarmed it, jumping up, and finding precarious seats and handholds. The weekdays were swept up and found themselves riding slowly down the street, surrounded by throngs of people.

Tuseday, as chance had placed him in just the right spot, recieved the most passionate kiss from the goddess of the float, surrounded by nymphs and weekdays, and a mob of humanity. He pulled himself away from her delicious lips as the pressman shouted at the slowly dissapearing float of revelry.

"I ment about the elections...the president!"

Tuesday grabbed onto a trellace covered in beautiful roses, and swung himself off of Venus to look back at the receeding newspaperman.

"I PREDICT," he shouted, "THE FIRST CANDIDATE TO OFFER A FREE MONKEY WILL GET MY VOTE!"

"A MONKEY?!!" The newspaperman shouted back.

"YEAH, AND IT BETTER BE TRAINED TO DO LAUNDRY!"

The crowd exploded! People kissed, threw hats, and shirts and pants! Unspeakable acts of debauchery happened spontaneously afterwards. Then, like a dream, someone somewhere began to chant...

"Free Monkey!"

And more people took up the chant.

"FREE MONKEY!"

Suddenly moving slowly down the street was the float of Venus, covered like a chia-pet with half-naked humans, shaking their fists in unison, along with a likewise half-disrobed mob walking around and behind it, all yelling in perfect unison,

"FREE MONKEY!...FREE MONKEY!...FREE MONKEY!" The chant was taken up by spectators on balconys, people ran from their houses to join the procession until it reached blocks behind the float. Windows rattled with the synchronous voices yelling for a free monkey.

***
CUT TO: The Next County
An old man and an old woman sit on rocking-chairs on a rickety porch. The sound of "Free Monkey" drifts over the swamp and grove of trees.

Old Man: Do my ears decieve me, or do I hear someone calling for a free monkey?
Old Woman: Free Monkey would be nice, what with my bunions and all, 'specially if it could do the laundry.
Old Man: Guess that's where my vote goes then.
(the woman looks deeply into his eyes. He notices and looks back)

CUT TO: Their hands clasping
***

CUT TO: The Shouting Mob Around The Float of Venus

Friday has worked his way through the mass of humanity on the float, and stands next to Tuesday. He speaks in between defening shouts of "FREE MONKEY!" to say,
"I think I really like Super Fat Tuesday!"
"Yeah, me too." Tuesday says back, but has a knowing look.
"No. I mean, no, really." Friday looks at Tuesday knowingly. "This is all you."
"Okay." Tuesday says with a smile.

"Happy Super Fat Tuesday!" He shouts, grabs a handfull of rose-petals and throws them high above the chanting crowd.

Hello My Vigilant State Department Friendly Fjordlings!

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.

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-

As Promised...Puppies!

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!

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?

Here's a little link to a nice MKL post I just saw...

Over here.

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...

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.

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.

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-

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

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.

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-

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.

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.

Well...here's the best story of the day.

I guess it's a reminder of that old adage, "you are the company you keep."

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-

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.

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.

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.

ONE!!!!

Alllllllrighty!

I just saw this over at Look At This, and cried laughing. It starts a little slow...but it's worth it. No more words this year...just this.

Well then...

There's a few ways to look at this thing about to happen tomorrow night, and I'm not going to suggest that any are right, since I've seen more than a few years start and finish like albums (yeah, albums, like the vinyl collection I still posses from the pre-C.D. era, gathering dust from the Los-Angel-eeze atmosphere) with a jerk and a horrible ripping sound like a party coming to an awful end. And I've seen 'em repeat or start anew without even a slight hesitation in the mix. I know a lot about stuff and things, but I'll tell ya the most important thing I know at this moment.

It's all real, and it's all yours. No matter how much you want it to be better, and no matter how much you might pretend, or believe that "this" is a moment of your time that will pass by into another moment that's better (or, of course, worse.) it's something more along the lines of this.

All these moments are yours, and they belong to your experience. It doesn't matter what you think of them, the moments you pass through daily are your stories in the future, when yer trying to be witty (say two years in the future) at a cocktail party populated only with strange people you want to impress.

It's a first here at Fjord that I'm gonna quote Lennon, but I want to, and it seems ap-ro-po.

"Life is what happens when yer making other plans"

We've all gots schemes, and I've probly gots a hundred more than youse (no kids...natch)...and I know some peoples who've gots triple that amount in the works...but try and grab ahold of the idea I'm bringing, that no matter how many you're working on, the important shit is always inbetween the successes or failures of all of 'em, and who you get to share your victories and defeats with.

I'd like to slightly modify a well known statement for the International Community of Devoted Fjordlings, which would be,

"A Minor League Media Demon Is In the Details."

Demons and Devils are always in the details, and they don't have to be bad at all. But they are always there, and always lurking. I just hope yer all paying some attention to them, since sooner or later yer going to have yer life flash before your eyes, and it's going to be a bunch of details that happened while you were making all your plans. And I hope to hell that, that Devil shows you a bunch of stuff that's totally, amazingly, great.

Happy New Yar,

Yers,

-Tsunami-

This one always gots to me...

And I'm happy as hell to be able to drop this on yas. It might be a little late, but it don't matter.

Happy everything.

The Pogues - A Fairytale Of New York
Uploaded by vince_suelze

TOOOOOOOO!

Off to see it the Vikes can squeeze into the playoffs...

*sigh*

THREE!

I'm starting to like this...I really am. Clean slate, that fresh "new year smell," and the total lack of work down at the Casa Aloha H.Q., man, this is livin'. (Oh yeah, not like I'm complainin' but we also got three visitors today...coincidence? I think not.)

Now, onto sum quick infomation on what's happnin' with Fridays. I've done a couple of bits on my friend's internet radio station called "Flat Rat Radio" where I do a kickass traffic and weather bit, and it usually absorbs a lotta creative juices whereupon, I don't really feel like telling some new tale of Friday and his band of merry weekdays...umm, on Friday. (There's no show tonite, but check in weekly at 6:00 P.S.T., and you'll hear some good tunes, and me ramblin on about something or other, which will probly be worth yer time.)

Anyhoo, I'm getting better at preparing my Friday bit on Thursday, so maybe if I get clever (not cleaver) I'll start working out a Friday post on Wednesday...but I have to tell yas, it's not entirely likely, unless this new year shit works out in exactly the right way.

But, since we're here now, and there's no show fer me to do, and there's only three djang days left...here's three tasty posts from Friday's past. (They'll probly be worth it...they gots the Tsunami recommendation)

ONE

TWO

THREE

Happy Gjoddamn and Merry Fuckin'!

From Yer Pal Tsunami, over here at the W.C.B of Fjord!

And if yer still here...here's a bonus fjordian classic!

Haha...see in "Fjordian Speak"

"Fjord Days" is like, umm, five days!

Hahahah...well, now that we've laughed at all that, some more sobering news.

here's an interesting take on the ongoing mortgage crisis that's literally fucking the U.S. economy, and will, methinks, pretty much drag us kicking and screaming out of the "Empire Building" business for a while. For those of you who weren't counting, that's 67.6 billion dollars written off...just disappeared, and that was just today. If I was a more adept blogger, I would have been counting since the sub-prime thingymajigger started, but I'm pretty sure were up to a few hundred billion dollars that were just kinda' erased off'n the balance sheets.

I'll finish this one by adding a hearty..."FOUR!"

FJORD DAYS ARE NOT LIKE "FORD DAYS"

Fjord days to the New Yjear!
+++
Is yer slate clean?
Is yer slate so full of crap you'd like to wipe it into the vjoid?
Is yer conscious clean?
Is yer launjdry so dirty you can't even bear to look at it?
Is yer mortal coil ready for another year in this Gjodforsaken (preposterously new) millennium?

Are you drunk enough?
Are you sober enough?
Are you drugged enough?
Are you grounded enough?
Are you supplied with enough to help you get through the beginning of another official "calendar orbit" around our sun?

We, speaking officially from the Casa Aloha...the West Coast Branch of Fjord, are privy to a few things...so lemmy drop it on yas.

1) If you have a clean slate, you've either not been living well, or are near Nirvana, and I hate that band.
2) If you have a slate worth wiping into the void, you probly wanna remember what you lived thru...cause that's the coal life's giving you to make diamonds out of.
3) If you have a conscious, you clearly don't have to worry about it being clean...yer already clean.
4) If you have dirty clothes, you need to realize you're doing better than 60% of the rest of the world, and if you can clean them, yer doing better than 80% of the rest of the world. If you haven't gotten to clean them because yer too busy watching the internets or TiVo, or making the world a better place 'cause yer init, well, yer better than 95% of everybody.
5)You know this as well as I...yer mortal coil is ready for anything that's thrown at it, and it'll be fine.

+++

6)Drunk enough is all a matter of perspective.
7)Sober enough, is a matter of perspective, and willpower.
8)Drugged enough...??? We live in a world of drugs, and if some work for yas, well, good on ya.
9)Grounded? Hah! If you've read anything from Fjord over the last two years and have come back...I'm pretty sure you're grounded as fjuck.
10)You know as well as I, that this new year is just another day. The Sun and the Moon do not use heralds to trumpet in another month, nor another year. Angels and Cherubs do not show up once you've turned another year older. Whatever you've got, will be more than enough to get you the stuff you need to get you thru this next one.

And you know that's all true.

Sorry fjord the delay

But like every year, around this time, I'm busy saving Christmas. Yeah, yeah, I hear you asking, "whaddayamean Tsunami??" Well, what I mean, is that since 1997 or so, I've been saving x-mas, and any of your x-mas's since then are because of me! I'm busy right now doing x-actly that, and because of it, I've got no time to blog! So hold your collective breath until I do, (at which time I will probably be enjoying my Christmas- and so will you) and after you've enjoyed a most awesome holiday, maybe you'll think to thank me for providing another seemless Christmas. Probly not, but that's okay. I clearly don't mind sacrificing myself for the greater good.

Happy Holidays,

-Tsunami-

So...to continue...

I've spent a little while on the internets today, and came up with this...



"I get nervous in social situations motha' fucka'"
classic.

Umm...guys...err...listen...

You should really go here and watch at least one episode of Teen Girl Squad. It'll be worth it. I promise.

Dig this!

Just too astounding.

(click for most-excellent-embiggification!)

(Found at paleo-future)

We've never crunched the numbers

Here at Fjord. In fact, I have no idea how many of you are "Cat" people, and how many are "Dog" people. I'm staunchly in the "Dog" camp, but have met a couple of totally awesome cats in my time. Anyhoo - I've got this sweet little website you can peruse which deals strictly with cats in war. (and it's pretty interesting)

Sorry Kids

I'd be remiss if I didn't post this...

Celebrity Quote-Off!

Marlene Dietrich...

"The average man is more interested in a woman who is interested in him than he is in a woman with beautiful legs."

Or

Mae West

"Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before."

Our Fjavorite Street Art Hero's Been Working

Banksy went back to the "security wall" in Jerusalem.

There's a few great photos over here.

Just when you thought it was safe...

It's even worse than the mummy lions! It's a gjoddang 77 million-year-old dinosaur!

"How do you stop a 77-million-year-old dinosaur Tusnami?" You ask.

Well, since we haven't done anything to stop a 3,300 year-old one from getting a new sarcophagus, and some (obviously bespelled/possessed idiots) are trying to preserve his mummy-corpse, I'd say the whole task is reasonably hopeless.

However, I would say, like all mummies, you must destroy their physical corpse, which is their connection to the afterlife, and immortality. Consequently, the older they are, the more powerful and tricksy they get. Just like King Tut realized his mummy was being damaged, he got a few mummy helpers (probably with promises of material rewards) to help preserve his corpse. Just like that, a 77 million year-old dinosaur mummy, would probably realize he was about to erode into nothing, and psychically led some archaeologists to the spot of his mummy, and voila! The Mummy Dinosaur continues to devour souls and continue happily in immortality.

As for the original question, I'd suggest the old standby, a flamethrower. Of course, against a dinosaur-sized mummy, it should be a really big one, or at least a few of the regular sized ones.

Jellyfish Swarm Of 10 Square Miles!!! Holy Crap!

Again the world conspires to please me.

Since it's a yahoo news story, and they sometimes dissapear...here's the juicy bits.

BELFAST (AFP) - Northern Ireland's only salmon farm was completely wiped out by a freak jellyfish attack, the owners said Wednesday.

More than 100,000 fish worth more than one million pounds (2.1 million dollars, 1.4 million euros) were killed in the invasion at Glenarm Bay and Red Bay, on the County Antrim north-east coast

"In 30 years, I've never seen anything like it. It was unprecedented, absolutely amazing. The sea was red with these jellyfish and there was nothing we could do about it, absolutely nothing.

"I have never experienced such concentrations of jellyfish spread over such a wide area. The vastness was unbelievable."

The seven-hour attack over Tuesday and Wednesday last week saw the jellyfish covering a sea area of up to 10 square miles (26 square kilometres) and 35 feet (11 metres) deep.

More!

More more more more more! I want more! And so do you, I'm guessing...just guessing.

So here's the post. It's for a low overhead business, for all you wannabe entrepreneurs.

It's a cart, you set up on the street in a populated location for lunch/business/sporting events. At the cart, you sell corn-on-the-cob, on a stick. Positioned next to the cart are two strippers, who slowly, and sensually, eat your corn-on-the-cob, dripping with butter. Then when you've captured the imagination of the stupid male office drones, or amped-up sportsfans, to purchase your ridiculously overpriced product in order to stand next to your scantily clad (and did I mention sensual) saleswomen, you spring the "I see you like the women, perhaps you'd appreciate the cart's other offerings?" At which time you drop down a hidden covering of the cart, which reveals your collection of for-sale porn!

I call it "The Cart of Corn and Porn" and while I'm not yet willing to risk my personal capital on the venture, I'm almost positive it would be profitable. Providing the strippers (or actresses in the magazines/DVD's you were selling) would work for free corn.

Yes, after a small review

I am very pleased with what this month has spat out on the Fjord.

WWAMLMDD!

For those of you not familiar with the terminology, that's "What would a minor league media demon do?" I think there's some helpful advice in there, and perhaps something that might even be useful for your daily life. Say, you walk into the restroom and a co-worker's busy vomiting in there! Well, you could be like a normal person and leave them in peace, or you could ask WWAMLMDD? Clearly a minor league media demon would bust into the stall with a camera, snap a pic or two, then skedaddle! At the worst, you've got a photo that will drive traffic to your website or blog, and perhaps a recurring idea thread, something along the lines of "people who puke." Of course, if you're really lucky, you've got blackmail material which you might ride to promotion after promotion! Don't kid yourself, it's the 21st century, and if you wanna be, you too [sic] can be a minor league media demon! Just keep asking yourself, WWAMLMDD?! In a few weeks, you're not asking yourself what would a minor league media demon do, you are doing it - because you are one! Happy Demoning!

A stroll down memory lane

There's a whole buncha' great old WW1 aviation photos right here. If you're interested in this kinda stuff like me, you should block out at least 15 minutes to get lost.

Did something happen...????

Mebby. Mebby not. Altho I'm on the previous side, not the latter it's hard to tell just yet. Still you might wanna check with a reputable astrologer.

Ah-ha!

Something fun for your greedy eyes to soak up!

Found at the place I got the last post too.

All I know is

It's getting so late in the year, I wonder where it went.



For some background on this vid, check out Dark Roasted Blend where I sniped it from!

DOOOOOM!!!!

I don't know how to put this exactly, but it's something that has to be taken into account. Just a day before (see previous day's post) there's a comet that's now the largest object in the solar system, and the very next day the Doomsday Global Seed Vault begins cooling its temperature in order to preserve seed stock in case of a catastrophe which destroys the worlds staple crops.

the munny quote is something like this...
"Built deep inside a mountain, it aims to safeguard the world's crops from future disasters, such as nuclear wars, asteroids or dangerous climate change."

I think "asteroids" could easily encompass "COMETS" as well, and no matter which struck our fair planet, we'd probably be looking at some serious "dangerous climate change" as well.

Anyhoo, it's possible that our scientists have a way of tracking the course and trajectory of THE LARGEST OBJECT IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM (you really should read the next post down if you still don't know what I'm talking about) and figure out a way to blow it into atoms with nuclear missiles or something clever like that. But maybe I'm just placing too much faith in "science" and "nuclear missiles" and maybe, just maybe, there's gonna be a big smash that'll rock this planet to the bone, and we're gonna need seeds two years down the line when everything on the planet is dead!

YIKES!

Of course, they could just be worried about geology.

(since I don't know much about the American Chronicle and how long the link'll stay active I'll post some juicy tidbits)

The last major eruption at Yellowstone was 640,000 years ago, which created a caldera some 40 miles in width, but these have happened on a fairly regular basis over the last two million years, and it could be said that the next is overdue...

Robert Smith, a geophysics professor at the University of Utah who co-authored the recent study agreed “Calderas go up and down” but “occasionally they burp”.

A large “burp”, as Robert Smith puts it, could produce catastrophic effects for the world population and a similar eruption of the Supervolcano in Toba (Indonesia) 75,000 years ago is believed to have wiped out 60% of the human population. On that occasion the Toba Supervolcano ejected almost three times as much material as the Yellowstone eruption did 640,000 years ago. However, the Yellowstone caldera can do much worse and this occurred 2.2 million years ago.

Clearly I'm stoked that Robert Smith is also an expert on calderas, but I don't feel like I'm getting really exact information at this stage of the game. At least not in the way the Robert Smith once nailed exactly the information my heart was sending my brain many years ago.



Well anyway, Happy Friday!

P.S. I'm sure we're gonna be fine!

-Tsunami-