Here's a good shirt

I Like it. Do you?

You can but it and others like it over here.

You can also read an awesome web-comic from it's creator, right here!

I'm not sure if this is worth your time

but John's beer drinking records is quite a dedicated work.

(P.S. - this and the last were nabbed from Look at this - which I've raved about before)

Some Stupendous Photos From the Land of Fjord

There's more awesome pics over here.
(With the promise of more...)

No Luv today, just taxes...

Now back to your regularly scheduled content.

930 don't mean I've all forgotten about 4/4

It might seem a bit shallow that I noticed the passing of 4/4 wid-out a mention. However, back in January of '08 I did pen this little diddy.

Anyhoo, I was scanning thru some second-tier blogs I try and frequent and found this little video I'm about to post up. There's something cool about it, because it says what needs to be said in a way that's constructive. It's all bad, no doubt - so you can feel free to skip it if you came here for some tjypical Fjordian content...there is a new Friday post up, that I think is pretty fun, but whateva', I'm past that today, and starting from Gjods clean slate. It's short, but purtty dang good. Oh yeah, it's also mothafjuckin' 40 years old.

Bee cjool to one another...it's about character.



That dude was also killed by a white man. Looking at this vid for the second time, I don't wanna leave ya with that, I'd rather leave ya with this...just a stupid speach by Bono accepting the NAACP's Chairman's award. You're probly one of the many who wrote that dude off in the 90's (like I did, then later, I did change my mind) but it's a pretty dang good thing to hear.
(P.S His first 30 seconds are drivel, no doubt. The venue is retarded, no doubt, but his words are pretty much no joke, and it get's pretty killa')



Anyhoo, I dig that this (small) post is purtty back-n-white. But that changes in no way, the retardo injustices which have been perpetrated on members of every nationality and race and ethnicity, and religion across our fair planet since we've been recording history in written words and organizing into civilizations which compete for...um...whatever civilizations compete violently for.

There is one struggle that we are all well aware of, that's to love or to hate. Hate requires no understanding, and no higher-level work...it's simply a movement (or emotion, or reaction, or what the fjuck ever) of subjugation, or destruction. It's easy and rewarding...and it easily rewards those who embrace it.

Love is usually the opposite...it is not easy. And the rewards for embracing it, cannot be measured in teevee time, fancy cars, a long life, and massive bank accounts. It's about connecting with people and reaching a common understanding. All sorts of fjucking people, all across the globe that you never thought or believed, you could ever find a single connection with, you could. You have it, (the connection) you are human. It's just motherfjuckin' hard work to filter thru the chaff to find it.

Here's a fun little tale

Full of nearly unexplainable shit. Checkit - it's an odd one.

Just A Friday Video Bonus!

If you don't read "Danger Room" (one of wired's mil-blogs) they've done a series of crazy posts about how to (in real life) stop a 600 foot cloverfield/godzilla monster, how to stop a terminator robot, and this last one how to survive a zombie apocalypse. (if you follow the last link, links to the other stories are at the bottom.) The comments are fjucking great and totally worth exploring...people have great real world ideas, even tho some get way too tech for a guy like me who don't know dick about ammo and military-type specs. Anyhoo from that post, I got this vid, which is exactly what you want from a "non-made-up-threat-to-your-gjoddang-immortal-soul...which you already know are the mummies."



Anyhoo - hopefully you've already armed yourself against the inevitable, and we can move on to more fun stuff. Like this song I heard the other day, and thought, what the fjuck is that song. Fortunately Fjord Borg came up with the answer.
(The vid might not be the keenest, but the audio is pretty right in the pocket)



And finally, this yummy little chunk of goodness from back in the day...

Got hops, big ups, mad handles, and other words and phrases I'd rather not ever hear again.

Friday was on the deck with the other weekdays, reposed in circularly arranged deck furniture. He reached over and grabbed the joint Thursday was passing. He took a hit, and settled back into his chair as smoke oozed its way into his lungs.

"I'm so fucking high." Said Wednesday to nobody in particular.

"There's a motherfjucking coyote in your yard." Said Monday, pointing down and across towards some topiaried shrubs, where there definitely was some kind of feral canine, looking back at them. Monday took the jay from Friday, had a hit and coughed a little while expressing his feelings in an unequivocal, "huh."

Tuesday spoke slowly. "I didn't even know I had a yard."

"Dogote." Said Wednesday. (It came out of his mouth like dog-o-tee)

"What?" Asked Friday.

"Dogote." Repeated Wednesday, "cross between a dog and a coyote."

"There's no such thing!" Thursday said while reaching for an iced tea, resting on a nearby wooden table.

"Sure is. Look it up on my Iphone!" Wednesday pulled his device from a pocket and handed it over, Thursday quickly scrolled to a web-page (which is here. Fjucking interactive Friday post mothafucka'!)

"Whaddayaknow...dogote! Well, I guess it's real, but how do you know that's a dogote?" He pointed out across the yard, but the dogote, or coyote, was nowhere to be seen. "Huh, it's gone."

"I just know it was." Said Wednesday leaning back in the cushions of the self-standing swinging chair he reposed in, closed his eyes, and proceeded to rock the chair with his legs.

"Wait a second," expressed Tuesday with confusion, "I don't have a yard, I have a condo with underground parking, a rooftop pool, and a heli-pad!"

Monday, who had been holding the joint and taking drags all this time looked up, and said to nobody in particular, "I'm so fucking high right now." He looked out of beet-red eyes, which were mere slits, across the rails of the deck and mentioned, "There's a coyote in your yard." He pointed to a grove of trees, where sure enough, some kind of feral canine was resting.

"Dogote." Wednesday said without opening his eyes.

"Seriously guys," began Tuesday, "and I am being totally serious, whose house is this?"

"Trickster God." Friday said.

"What?!" Replied Wednesday and Monday together.

"The Coyote...a Trickster God, in Native American mythos. Clever little fuck, got me more than a few times myself."

Thursday fucked around on the internet with the Iphone (he was still holding) and came up with this. He quickly responded to Friday.

"Sounds like a cool customer."

"Sure." Replied Friday, "lotsa fun. But let yer guard down for a second, and yer in the middle of Times Square in winter - with no clothes!"

"That's the Coyote, not a dogote, which is what is in your yard." Said Wednesday.

Tuesday was exasperated. "Seriously! I don't care if it's a coyote, the Coyote, or a dogote! It's not my yard and it's not my motherfjuckin' house!" He stood up, ready to head towards the sliding glass doors of the deck, into the house, and out onto the street.

"Be cool Tues.," Said Thursday, "It's my house." Tuesday stood for a moment weighing Thursday's words, then slowly sat down.

"I am so fjucking high right now." He said, and shook his head.

Monday began making a series of strangled sounds which the others looked over at. After a few seconds, it was clear he was laughing, but so hard the only sounds that came from his mouth were, "Chit, chit chit, chit..." This continued for a good two minutes. After a moment, he regained enough composure to wipe tears from his face. "Oh my gjod." Was all he was able to say, before cracking up again.

The others smiled like crazy at the display, and wanting to join in the fun, peppered him with "What's so funny?" until he was able to calm down enough to spit out, "Dogote!" He slapped his thigh, and finally reached out for his lemonade, had a sip, took a breath and said, "That is one fjucking funny word."

Happy Friday!

I knew I couldn't keep this a secret forever...

Yeah, by day I'm a mild mannered earth resort owner/operator, but those dang astronomers have released the first movie of Tsunami on the sun.

I can't get into exactly what I was up to on the sun, but lemme assure you, it was something really, really cool.

If yer up for reading something dense

This little post gives a few neat connections reagrding oil, and the war machine.

Hahaha! Teen Spirit!

I've often mentioned to anyone who would listen, that Nirvana is Led Zeppelin. Not so much that they are at all similar stylistically, musically, or lyrically...but as groups which drive radio (and jukebox) play. Music fans of both classic rock, and alt-rock will forget all sorts of sonic indignities thrust upon them as soon as Zeppelin or Nirvana come on the airwaves...it's bizarre. I happily quip, whenever Nirvana's on, that "I love Zeppelin!" And how much "I love Nirvana!" Whenever Zeppelin shows up.

People seem to get a little annoyed by my habit of doing this, but I am already (and clearly) a little annoyed myself. There were better bands, contemporaries of either one of these groups...and contemporaries which were commercially successful as well. Yet, they don't rank the continuous rotation that either of these groups do. Why? I dunno...I'm not really a "music industry insider," but it is what it is, I guess.

I do, however, think, it would be hard to find a Zeppelin song that Paul Anka could nail like this.

I'm so totally back!

And what do you get when I'm back? Why you get amazingly great things...like THE RETURN OF FAFBLOG!

(Quote the Tsunami)


"OhmigjodomygjodOOOOOhMiiiiieeeeGJOOOOD!"

If you don't know what I'm talkin' about, you can click over there, and then find -on the right side of the page- find the archives, and read some of the shit that's there. Fafblog was a total inspiration to a gargantuan number of fjordposts back in 05-06 (which you can find in the "archives" of Fjord - located to the lower left-hand side of this page).

I for one, welcome my return, and the amazingly great things I bring back with me. Don't you?


(Photo ganked from here)

"Why," you ask, "has there not been more astounding writing of the kind I have grown accustomed to, at Fjord?"

Well, that, my friend, is an excellent question. It also has two simple answers, which are as follows:
1) I haven't felt like it.
2) I'm still on The Vacationing!

And with an upcoming trip (starting tomorry) I'll be even less likely to pen a Fjordian masterpiece in the next week or so. However, I will leave you this little link to a great post by a good bloggy-type-guy entitled...

You and what over-extended exhausted and depleted army?

Because that's how you write a great post, and that's also how you title said great blog post.

Fashion in 2000...

As seen from the 30's.



Found at the amazing DRB

L.A.

Everytime I come across something like this it makes me realize how many thoughts I have about my adpoted megalopolis, and how often they're squirming around, trying to assemble themselves into some concrete form. Maybe I'll try and get it together some day. Until then here's the line from that post that got me somewhere close to home...

If Los Angeles had been a woman then, she would have been one of Captain Kirk's glamorous alien paramours. Too sexy for this world, too odd for the everyday. Her eyes would glitter at you until you were caught in an insect moment, dimly wondering if one of you was supposed to be a predator, and thinking that it mightn't be terrible to be eaten. Literally. Like a biscuit.

Oh jeeze...

Not again.

So err, yeah...

Here's a few things I'm speculatin' on at the mo...

People are going to say bad things about you, it's inevitable, and your only defense is being convinced of your own goodness.

Someone once explained to me after I remarked something like this, "How come the memories that pop into my head are inevitably bad things, when I've got a thousand more great things I've done that are great memories, could pop into my head?" by answering, "The human mind is still wired like it was a thousand years ago, bad things are more important to remember since they're more important to the survival instinct. If you remember a tribesman was eaten by a snake at this particular bend in the trail, it's more important to your survival than when you cracked the tribe up with a series of funny stories afterwards, that subsequently resulted in you getting laid."
Well anyways, I had one more thing I wanted to quote, but I can't find it...since I've been quite the internet wanderer over the last few days, but it was something I read over at wired or one of its blogs in the last coupla' days, in their comments section. Unfortunately I can't find the post to link to, (and I have frustratingly searched) but it was in context about harboring ideas for money.

The commenter said something like this, "If you know what e=mc2 means, that's a stolen idea. But nobody thinks in terms of that..."[then said summore things] and ended with..."if you think you're going to make money from your idea, by all means, hide it. The world won't miss you, or your idea. It's not about making money, but about what you're adding to the human experience."
(that's a paraphrase...but pretty close)

Anyways, it was the last bit that caught my attention and made me get a small grip on my otherwise stupid doubts and internal or external criticism. It's probly that the world will rarely hear, or talk about, "the human experience." I guess because it either doesn't make much money, or because it's too damn big to talk about. But it doesn't change the fact that within that experience, what you do, make, create, share, experience, and convey, does make a difference.

It would be nice if someone came up with a metric about people who are adding to "the human experience" like the list of the 100 richest people on the planet. I'd sure be interested if any of the top 100 of the latter made the list.

Some random loose end stuff

Two years ago I wrote this. Today I saw this. Then I thought, maybe I could find this! ----



Super cool sci-fi shit meng! And I'd also like to say, pretty dang good camera-work too.

One more thing before I go green

Have you ever spent any time over at Futility Closet? Because you should. And you should start today.

Oh Yeah, and there's that Irish thing today...

It's workin' out pretty good here at the Casa Aloha. The fridge is stocked, unemployment is on the way, the dishes are done, there's some groovy tunes on the radio, and it's 6:49 and light outside.

Oh yeah, and I just put some new wallpaper on my computer! I got's to tells ya, there's something really refreshing about changing that background. It's hard to notice how many times you see that in the course of your internetting/computing, but it's pretty much has to be the most viewed picture by you. Would a new one help? I dunno, but if you want your computer background to look just like your pal Tsunami's, you can check out this joint!

If that don't put you in an Irish mood, I don't know what will.

Jellyfish...yeah, a lot of folks didn't take the mummy problem seriously...at first

From the Black Sea.

There's more over here.

Okay - More Cute!

Only this time with 1000% more WTF!??!?

More Robot and Puppy Action!

If you don't think this is cute...you have no soul.

Move Towards the Light!

"I just know I could get my head straight if someone could just do something about these fucking blinking demonic lamp posts!"

It started off with some floodlights over parking lots, and moved to exterior building lights, and finally every lamp post in the city...randomly shutting on and off. At first it was almost funny, people gathered on the sidewalks in little clumps, heads raised, watching twenty feet above them as the streets fell into total darkness, and then were illuminated again.

Of course, the first thing that was not at all funny was driving. Traffic signals were on the fritz too, and nobody drove anywhere at night if they could help it...but people rapidly adjusted to this reality, and began racing to get things done before darkness fell, and the lighting grid went crazy. In fact, most people (as they were asked later) felt as if they were doing some real living, in fact squeezing the most out of every day. But with the human brain being what it is (naturally super-fjucking curious) the lights just kept on grabbing your attention. A few minutes into watching a teevee show, you'd notice a blinking light outside and look over. You knew what you were going to see before you looked, but you couldn't stop yourself from looking.

"What is going on with those lights?" You'd ask yourself, but you'd also know, just as you asked it, that you were never know the answer. Of course they called the Department of Power, and the City Engineers, and Lighting Maintenance, and what the hell ever branch that had anything at all related to lighting, and not one of them could find an actual problem with the damn things. "There was," they said, "No problem to fix. The city's lighting was operating exactly as it had for 90 years."

This of course was not well received.

The phenomenon was slowly driving people mad. The only recourse was to go home, shut your blinds and curtains, and pretend it wasn't happening. Many people did not have the inclination to do this. During the days, people were test, short, and aggressive to the point of violence.

A few weeks later, some nerd at the local University had arranged for a recon satellite to download a months worth of video of the nightly phenomenon. He ran it thru program after program searching for some sort of pattern...and came across a filter, which produced a rather simple and startling discovery. The City's lighting grid was flashing on and off in a huge signal of binary code. On off, one-zero, projected on a screen with scale of miles. After the discovery, it only took a few seconds to decode. It read simply two words repeating over and over. "Help Me."

This, of course, was not the most settling message to receive from the city's lighting grid, especially with no contex whatsoever. Was it the City asking for help, or was it only the lights that needed it? Was it the electrical grid that had somehow become sentient and beaming this message? Who was the fucking message to!

All of those were good questions, but since then nobody came up with any answers, and the damn thing's still doing it. I sure-as-shit know that it's been getting to me, and I've been acting funny. A few of my friends, Gjod bless 'em, have called me on it...and I wasn't afraid to say it.

"I just know I could get my head straight if someone could just do something about these fucking blinking demonic lamp posts!" And that's when it hit me. I'm that someone!

I took to the streets at night, and my car would have scared any cops who might have pulled me over. Slingshot, speargun, pellet rifle, .22 caliber rifle, .22 caliber target pistol, .32 special, crossbow, double barreled shotgun, baseball bat, all within easy reach. I picked different spots, and slowly, methodically began dealing with the maddening lights. The news picked up on it, and gave me the name, "the Lamp Post Vigilante." As soon as I got some press, others joined the cause, and despite the authorities calling for it to stop, within a matter of days, nearly every external light was smashed.

"Help Me?" Yeah, I'll help you City...buy cutting out your tounge.

Things are much better now, and my friends have noticed. "Lookin' good!" they'd say, and I'd reply "Feelin' good!"

Of course I'm of the firm belief that the City has taken a new medium to transmit its message...the water system! Now I spend hours of the day watching my faucets, wondering how it's transmitting. Sometimes when I'm in the shower, it goes from hot to cold, and back to hot again...I'm not sure what it means. I do know that taking down the city's water system will be a lot harder than breaking a few lights.

This one's for Craig. Since he brought up the idea that America might soon be rad again

I just sniped this outta' a crazy web-hyperlink-a-thon, mostly 'cause I think WWI is a supa' interesting topic of historical awesomeness.

***A Well Known British Nurse Observes the Doughboys

(One day) I was leaving quarters to go back to my ward, when I had to wait to let a large contingent of troops march past me... Though the sight of soldiers marching was now too familiar to arouse curiosity, an unusual quality of bold vigour in their swift stride caused me to stare at them with puzzled interest.

They looked larger than ordinary men; their tall straight figures were in vivid contrast to the undersized armies of pale recruits to which we were grown accustomed...Had yet another regiment been conjured out of our depleted Dominions? I wondered, watching them move with such rhythm, such dignity, such serene consciousness of self-respect. But I knew the colonial troops so well, and these were different: they were assured where the Australians were aggressive, self-possessed where the New Zealanders were turbulent.

Then I heard an excited exclamation from a group of Sisters behind me, "Look! Look! Here are the Americans!"

I pressed forward with the others to watch the United States physically entering the War, so god-like, so magnificent, so splendidly unimpaired in comparison with the tired, nerve-wracked men of the British Army. So these were our deliverers at last, marching up the road to Camiers in the spring sunshine! ... The coming of relief made me realize all at once how long and how intolerable had been the tension, and with the knowledge that we were not, after all, defeated, I found myself beginning to cry.

Nurse Vera Brittain, V.A.D.
Memoir, TESTAMENT OF YOUTH
***


Yeah, that's the Bugs Bunny, Humphry Bogart image that we never should have lost. Probly time to get it back.

"America. We're Pretty Rad."
-Craig Rose-

The Vacationing!

Yeah...we're a little slow ova' here at the WCB of Fjord. Howeva' it does seem as tho a huge variety of things are cut into massive chunks and thrown in the pot. My hope is that they cook down into an awfully tasty stew.

Yooo Tube Strikes Again

Hey Mom! I'm on a blog!

Click here for the awesome imagery!

Um, you're soaking in it! (Part II)

Seriously, this couldn't have been better timed.

That is all.

Um, You're Soaking In It!

So not too long ago I found this little article about political revolution, and the seven steps to getting there. It's four short web-pages long, and fairly interesting if you have a passing interest in these things. If not, you should skip the rest and watch the gjoddang octopus video I last put up, cause meng, it's pretty fjucking awesome! (the soundtrack is also particularly soothing too)

Anyways, if you're still here, we'll go explore a little deeper into the Fjords, hoping for some gjood stuff.

Today's post goes something like this.
I was thinking about back in the day (as I was someone old enough to watch it happen on my teevee) when the Berlin Wall came down. Man, that was a sight. It was a symbol for we idiots in the West, about everything that was wrong with the Soviet Union, and Communists, and all the stuff that made societies and economies work. And the thing is, no matter how you looked at the world -politically- before then, it all changed.

And by that I mean...when I was a young lad, I remember rootin' for the Mujaheddin to defeat the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. I remember gleaning out of the (pre-internet totally broadcast/press news) that we (in the U.S.) were actively supporting the native Afghan rebels, and enthusiastically wanting them to win. When the Soviets rolled out of Afghanistan, I literally felt like the forces of good had won, had, with our help, defeated the bad guys.

'Course, in those times, for those of you who didn't live thru it, (or did but were uber small) the common narrative that stretched thru everything was, the United states had 10,000 nuclear missiles, and the Soviet Union had like 50,000. (The reason being (so they explained) ours were so much more accurate, they needed 5x as many to make sure they took out the target they were shot at. 'Course, we all know you hit a major city with a nuke missile, it really doesn't matter where you hit it.) But anyway, this is all background crapola.

If there were to be a war, no matter who launched the first strike, and who launched the counterstrike before the first strike hit, the whole planet, well, life on the whole planet would be changed in such profound ways that I would not even be capable of this narrative, unless it was with twelve people gathered around a campfire after we had killed an 8-legged deer, and people were asking to hear how the world was...before. And, why everyone had five eyes, that fin, six breasts, and three testicles that were sterile. But that's a different story.

The Soviets were not just an enemy to us, they were the foe that could bring and attack so destructive, that it would destroy all life on our continent. An attack so powerful, that our only defense was to unleash a counter-attack so destructive, that all life on their continent would also be killed. And in so doing, destroy the world. Those were the stakes. No matter how it got spun, and no matter how I misinterpreted that spin...there was no mistaking those were the real stakes. I fell asleep more than a few nights wondering if I would wake up because a nuclear war happened while I was dreaming.

Okay. That's motha' fjuckin' nuts. I know it now. But I also know that's what the feeling was during that time. So to continue with my narrative...

When the Berlin Wall came down, We really had a common feeling like all the Warsaw Pact countries were free! In Poland, the Solidarity Union took over. In Czechoslovakia there was a velvet revolution led by a playwright...and after that, specifically, I can't remember the others. But one by one all the hard-line regimes changed. We thought it was going to be great. Gorbachev was a wise Saint, and no longer was there there a planet-threatening battle of ideology. (Clearly, nearly none of the people in the U.S knew a Russian, and vice-versa, we didn't hate each other, the hate was from our ideology towards theirs (and likewise, vice-versa))

There was going to be a "peace dividend" from all the money we were going to save from keeping a massively awesome global military on standby. And life was going to be AWESOME!
(And seriously, for me, the psychological weight from knowing I wasn't going to be incinerated by a nuclear warhead as I slept was considerable...even if it was, or wasn't ever real)

But around this time I thought about the downfall of Communism, and wondered, quite a bit about Karl Marx. Marx was the dude who came up with the idea of..."hey, instead of the fifty rich guys owning everything and taking the profits of the fifty-million workers working for them, let us do away with the fifty guys, and let the fifty-million workers share the profits of everything they make."

As it turns out the Communist Revolution (1917-ish, which the Germans helped along starting WWI) was run by some awful thugs, who, in pure Capitalist tradition, seized power, and made sure things for them, were pretty fjuckin' bueno. I'm no expert, and pretty sure I'm no novice when it comes to commenting about what life was like under that rule. I only assume, compared to what I know, it was pretty bad. Of course, from what I know, life is almost always bad...but I do know they got free healthcare, which isn't awful. But anyways, I need to get back to my point.

The whole deal with Marx, was a class-struggle. There were three classes, the lower, the middle and the upper class. In which, inevitably the upper-class (which already had all the money and power) would exploit the middle and lower-class workers, until the middle-class and the lower- class joined up, and united rose up in revolution, to replace the upper-class with nothing. In it's place would be a collective. A collective of people who shared the wealth that was created, thru their work and creativity. What would exist, would be a society that had no owners, and instead shared all their talents in ways to benefit the common good. Needless to say it did not work out as well as planned.

However, the reason I was thinking about Marx after the fall of the Soviet Union...was that, without this ideology to fight against, without this horrible (world destroying) enemy to keep our ideology in line, (taking full advantage of any leverage we might use against them, or persuade allies or perspective allies, against a foe that had no respect for human rights, or civil rights, or human freedoms.) we reach a simple conclujsion. In the global struggle for ideas and systems of government, order, finance, and manufacturing that work, the Capitalists have won.

It was at this moment (err, well, yaknow, it didn't happen exactly at one moment...it took a while to kinda work this idea out) that I thought to myself. "Now there's no-one to fight against, we'll see if Marx actually had anything."

Not to lead your thoughts too far along on this, but it does seem like in the last twenty-years, one particular class has already made class-struggle a pretty high priority. And it ain't the two that gots problems affording healthcare. Well, anyways, I do sorta' hope enough of 'em wake up to actually do something about it, but from what I've seen, it's already too late.



See, I told ya you shoulda' skipped this and just watched the octopus. That thing is pretty fjucking awesome!

Here's A Nice Vid...

With an octopus.




That is all.

They're baaaaack...

Mummies! This time Catholic mummies. Gjoddang they're everywhere! And of all denominations too! Pretty soon we'll be hearing about Jewish mummies, and Unitarian mummies and Buddhist mummies...My Gjod, when will it all end?

Course, in my mind, my greatest fear is that they'll team up with the jellyfish...

It's Clearly Time to Start...

Demoning!

Wow...this makes it official. -900-

If I may make a small statement, "That's a hella' lot o' words."

Now, a small quote:
"I am not altogether on anybody's side, because nobody is altogether on my side, if you understand me."
(That's Treebeard from J.R.R. Tolkien's book The Two Towers)

This is how I feel about politics. I'm a proud registered non-affiliated voter in the Republic of California, and that was done for a particular reason. And before I go into that reason, I'd like to make a point. As a student of politics, so much that happens (may I say, all that happens) is reported in exactly the same format as the entertainment industry, which makes it extremely hard to stay informed on what your elected Representatives are really doing.

With the archaic rules of the Congress, and the back room dealings so impossible to follow by the average person with even a smidge of curiosity of the political realm (not a lot, I gather) only the largest of storylines can be grasped, which so misinterpret the actual actions of the ruling class that it's impossible to tell who's in bed with whom, and what the hell anything really means.
I am, not altogether on anybody's side, because nobody is altogether on my side.

(P.S. I AM TOTALLY NOT MAKING THIS UP, I JUST GOT A CALL FROM "OPINION ACCESS" WHO WANTED TO KNOW HOW I GET MY NEWS AND INFORMATION! I asked the woman who owned the company and where my information was going to go, she didn't know, but since she was clearly just doing her job, I bid her a pleasant, good-day.)

As much as you want people to be on your side, sometimes it just doesn't happen. Presidents, Senators, Congresspeople, they might get your email, and they might get your phone-message, (if they're really good, super-impassioned, or just something for the office to make fun of,) but when the CEO of Lockheed shoots an email or calls up, even to vehemently disagree, with said President, Senator, or Congressperson, you're damn right they get a response back toot-sweet.

We all know this exists in our space too. Bosses, co-workers, friends, they all operate on very similar principals. Who gets the callback? Who gets the immediate response? Is it based on friendship, performance, personality, connections, attractiveness, skill? Well, I suppose it's a combination of those, and others I've failed to mention. However, I would like to pull out another quote...this one from Miller's Crossing, (Still my fave of the Cohen Bros. films)

"Nobody knows anyone that well. Nobody."

Even your best friends can betray you because they're doing something that's actually good for you, or an action they take to fjuck you will be straight-up good for them, or they're just so damn surrounded by the chaos of their world that they can't see what they are doing will have any impact on you whatsoever, they're just thinking about themselves, and their situation, period.

Not that there's a whole lot wrong with all of that. It's life, and living in/on this stupid planet, it's what we as humanids do. It's just being thrust into a world of, "What side are you on?" over and over becomes awfully dumb after a while.

You have allies, and you know who they are...and sometimes they change. You have hopes and dreams that other people can help you towards. And there are roadblocks and people who wish to see you fail, and there are active interests that systemically try and keep you in your place. When even a few of the things I've just mentioned move across one line to another...I'd just like to bring back the quiet dignity of the first quote.

"I am not altogether on anybody's side, because nobody is altogether on my side."

Well, hope that helps. And if you need any further encouragement, please know that I'll be rootin' for yas!

-Tusnami-

What Does Tsunami Read?

Well, here's a list of all the places I visit every day. It's been put together over years of crappy job internetting, and I'm totally positive there's something on this list for everyone who thinks the internets are cool as fjuck.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/ (Best straight-up news site on the net. Plus their links never die!)
http://boingboing.net/ (duh)
http://www.darkroastedblend.com/ (cool as fjuck posts about...kinda everything that's cool)
http://seehere.blogspot.com/ (A link-blog that'll fill in huge chunks of stuff you've missed)
http://www.neatorama.com/ (riiiight)
http://www.futilitycloset.com/ (a stupidly super-good blog with astounding stories)
http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/ (Buildings, urban stuff, and their impact on society)
http://cuteoverload.com/ (Straight up cute animals 24-7)
http://kfmonkey.blogspot.com/ (Kung-Fu-Monkey...a T.V. writer's blog. Totally fun)
http://minortweaks.com/ (A super entertaining family-friendly personal blog)
http://www.warrenellis.com/ (He's the Fjucking internet Jesus.)
http://presurfer.blogspot.com/ (Presurfing, so you don't have to)
http://thinkorthwim.com/ (An interesting blog for smart peoples.)
http://blog.wired.com/defense/ (Wired's mil-blog, fun place if you like military/tech stuffs)
http://www.oddee.com/ (A bunch of fun, amazing things.)
http://overcompensating.com/ (My favorite web-comic)

Some of these I have gotten away from (thru disinterest or lack of rapidly appearing new content) but have come back to, simply because of strength of their material. Hope this helps.

-Tsunami-

Oh, we dooo like the football 'ere at Fjord!

Seen 1st ova' at neatorama

Our Pal Rhino

Came up with this one. I thought to myself, "self, this is what blogging is all about."

If You Lived Here You'd Be Home By Now

Friday is Friday.
Friday is Monday, Friday is Tuesday, Friday is Wednesday, and Friday is Thursday.
Yea friends, for nearly the next four months, every day for your pal Tsunami is Friday. His position at the Casa Aloha H.Q. has been outsourced and the end is nigh! YEA, THE END IS NIGH!

As per the dream, the Casa Aloha H.Q. is moving to...THE CASA ALOHA! I can wake up and my commute is rolling out of bed onto my floor! I can leave work and be at my home in milliseconds. I can wash my dishes and clothes and chalk it up to "a business expense!" My Gjod...it'll be beautiful!

Anyhoo, I hope to leave you with a good impression in a zen-like state.
A state which would be something like this.

Wherever you are, and whatever you do, and whenever you do it...just do it like it was the last thing you had to do before closing time on Friday rolls in.

Because we all infuse our actions with positivity on Friday...I think it comes knowing it'll probably be the last time during the week we'll haveta' do the dumb fjucking thing. Well, there's no telling when the last time you're going to have to do the dumb fjucking thing. Ever. Hell, your first time could be the last time. So do your shit like that, and maybe you too, one day, (which might be tomorrow...err, Monday) might be in the spot that I'm in...rolling in eternal Fridays until the cows come home.

Happy Friday.

-Tsunami-

Time for a 1st Quarter Checkup!

"Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K. Hessel's life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted."
- Tyler Durden, Fight Club

How's your day? Beautiful?
How'd yer breakfast taste? Astounding?
How close are you to livin' The Fjordian Dream?

"Oh, I get it. That's very clever."
"Thank you."
"How's that working out for you?"
"What?"
"Being clever."
"Great."
"Keep it up then."

If things seem a little off lately

That's because they are. Please be aware you're sharing this with many others as we speak.

Perhaps this little yooo-tube video will help.

Well, here ya go...

A little something I was workin' on tonite.


“Not that I’m hiding or anything,” the voice said through the phone on a connection that made it sound like he was talking through a tin-can.
“But…” I answered slowly, drawing the word out as long a possible.
“There are a few people I’ve learned, who wouldn’t mind inconveniencing me, umm…physically.”
“You’ve got a fucking armored Bentley and two South African special-ops guys on your bodyguard staff. You’re worried about being physically inconvenienced?”
“They’re pretty aware of that, I’m sure.” He replied.

I took about six steps down the wide and nearly empty sidewalk that edged the park near my crappy apartment. My throat had a bunch of crap in it, so I cleared it without apology in my cell, and spat. I finished my thought. “You know what I’m doing right now, yeah? I’m walking home from the drug store with two Miller Lite tall-boys, and I’m about to drink ‘em, and forget my day.”
“I’m sure, however,” The tinny voice said. “I’m in a bind, and I need to ask you to do a thing for me.”
“Why.”
“Because nobody I know, knows I know you.”

That was true enough. The guy was just some dink I’d had a conversation with at a bar, and had stupidly given my card. It wasn’t even the business card from the last gig I’d been fired from. It was the one I’d made up in fun. That just had my name on it in 18 point font, so I could say, “Howdy, I’m Dario Tsunami. Here’s my card.” And it would reiterate in print, on an otherwise blank card, “Dario Tsunami”

The dink’s name was Walter Bruthers, and he kept on buying me drinks that night, and making pleasant conversation and impressing me with his bar tab and funny stories about important people about town until I happily gave over my real numbers. I didn’t even remember doing it the next day. But a week later it had come back to haunt me.

“Dario, this is Walter.” The conversation had started. “Enjoyed your company the other night, and was wondering if you’d like to swing over for a little thing I’m having tonight?”
“Okay.” I stupidly answered.
“Great! There’s a car outside right now.”

And that’s how I learned about his armored Bentley. His bodyguards, I learned about during a most uncomfortable series of conversations with his other guests at his mansion that night. I was doing my best to overcome the stereotype that it’s not what you do, or what you have, it’s who you are that matters. I failed miserably.

You haven't forgotten the Jellyfish, have you?

I guess the good thing is we've advanced from spotters on ferries to...

scientists who managed to place tracking devices on the jellyfish

Yaay! We're now using that human inginuity to GPS those motha'fuckas! Oh, wait...

proved that they were not drifting on the ocean currents but heading determinedly - and at the speed of an Olympic swimmer - towards the coast.

Aaah, crap.

In order to clense your palate after that last one...

I'd like to provide you with this link to a whole bunch of reasons David Banner gets turned into the Hulk.

It's Friday...890

Yeah, it's Friday. And it's dark, with the blanket of night that's turned The City into a place full of malice in every alley, and every sidewalk, and every space between parked cars. Only small pools of streetlights give the illusion of safety, but with the passing cars insulated by doors and locks and speed, no one is about to give tonite over towards good-samaritanism. Tonite, Friday is distinctly noir, and 2Pac floats down, flavoring the scene with a more honest modernity.

Let me welcome everybody to the wild wild west, a state that's untouchable like Elliot Ness. The track hits your eardrum like a slug to your chest.

Friday wore a long trench coat, and a fedora, and he carried what looked like a violin case under the crook his arm. Fanning out behind him in a pyramid formation were the assembled weekdays, dressed in suitable attire. They all carried black cases too. Monday had the handle of a guitar case in his left hand, and his eyes sent out waves of malice. Tuesday held over his shoulder the huge case of a stand up bass like it was a rocket-launcher. Wednesday, his suit and overcoat ill-fitting over his hunchback, carried a flat black suitcase and was constantly looking behind the crew. Thursday carried a square trumpet case, and looked at ease in a flashy black suit with a white tie (and black tie-clip), and when his overcoat blew back in the breeze revealed a square folded handkerchief in his breast pocket.

They walked until a driveway off the street crossed their path, and carried a dark river of asphalt up into darkness, into the park. There, two lamp posts lit the entrance - an open gate between an unscaleable fence that guarded the park. Against the left pole leaned a black man, dressed in black Nike shoes, black baggy pants, and a black hoodie which didn't quite cover the white L.A. stitched on a black baseball cap. He eyed the weekdays with barely concealed contempt.

Let me serinade the streets of L.A., from Oakland to Sac-town, the Bay area and back-down, Cali is where they put the mack down Give Me Love!

Friday and the weekdays pulled to a stop, noticing a Latino leaning up against the other pole. He was thick, young, and full of tough. He wore khaki brown boots, loose-fitting blue jeans, and a red hoodie, that likewise couldn't cover the white L.A. logo stitched on his red baseball cap. He flicked things out of his fingernails with a switchblade knife, and looked over at the gang of pulled up weekdays.

"You're late." He said.
"Word." The black man in black clothes responded.
"Traffic." Thursday responded without hostility, and a slight shrug.
"Ss'Aiite." Said the man in the black cap. "Still gots an hour to do dis."
The Latino in the red cap folded his knife and put it back into his pocket. He stared at the weekdays, but with a touch of irony said,
"Word."

He peeled himself off the lamp post, and walked up the road. The man in black turned his back on them and followed.

"Are you sure we should do this?" Said Tuesday.
"Well fuck, we came this far..." Wednesday responded.
Monday spoke with a hard edge...
"Only live once. And by Gjod..." His tone changed to something more friendly, "in it, is a lifetime of mistakes. C'mon."

He walked forward, and reached Friday's shoulder as he started moving too, not about to loose his place as the leader.
"Are you sure about this?" Monday asked Friday as they walked up the hill, following their black-and-red clad guides.
"Sure as shit." Friday spoke. "We're armed to the teeth. It'll get ugly, but there's nothing saying we can't hold our own like we always do."

With his free hand he opened a chrome cigarette case, slipped out a smoke, stuck it in his mouth, folded the case closed, slipped it back in his pocket, and produced a lighter which, in a brief moment of windless dark, he struck to life. It lit the cigarette with a bright light-blue flame blown back towards him in the breeze his motion produced. He drew a drag, and blew it out of his lungs.

In less than the time it took for Friday to finish his smoke, they had walked between trees and walked up a staircase, still following their guides. The formation of five weekdays had slowly gained a crowded following behind them, as people emerged from the darkened park in an ominous mob that began to follow them. Wednesday looked occasionally and tried to bring it up to the group.

"There's a few people behind us." He said at first. No one cared enough to respond. "There's about a hundred people behind us." He said next. Not one other weekday looked back. "There's about a thousand people behind us." Was the next thing out of his mouth. Not one other Weekday looked back. Monday responded.
"Wedneday," He said, "Shut up."

Deep in the park with a mob behind them the five weekdays followed the road till it came to a small outlet, where a small bowl-shaped depression peeled off to the right. There, a number of people gathered in two large groups. Words were hurled like weapons between them.

"I was busy fucking your mom in the ass last night!"
"What the fuck did you just say?!"
"It sounds like you have a cock in your mouth!"
"Yeah, your mom's cock!"

The two men they had been following, split off, to the left, the man with the black cap, to the right, the man with the red.
"Shut this shit down." The black man with the black cap said. "You know it's crap, and it's about to get serious!"
The Latino in the red cap replied in kind to his mob.
"Get your shit together!" He threw his arms out on a glorious display of bravado to his mob of people. "We're gonna' do this!" He threw his arms down as emphasis as he shouted, "Right now!"

Friday set down the violin case, and cracked it open. Inside were the component pieces of a tommy-gun. He began to remove the stock, and the barrel, which he affixed together, then he grabbed the wooden barrel handle, set that in it's place. He looked back at the assorted weekdays.

"You guys ready?" He asked hopefully.
"Fuck yeah Friday." Said Monday. The others nodded in agreement.

As Friday placed the firing pin into the barrel, members of both groups on their left and right moved forward to see what he was doing. As they moved forward, those behind them in the two mobs began to fiddle with cases, their jackets, and then, two trailers of searchlights kicked on lighting the scene with un gjodly light. Thousands of spectators had gathered around the shallow bowl where they were gathered.

"That is so fucking cool." Said a member of the black-clad mob, looking at Friday's tommy-gun.
"Mang..." A member of the red-clad crew said. "Word."

Friday put his weapon to his shoulder, and grabbed the cylindrical magazine out of the case, and fitted it to his weapon.

There was a moment of silence, which spilled out around him like a wave, and with the searchlights, everyone was riveted. Behind him, the weekdays frantically opened cases, and tried to get themselves getting ready for the battle about to begin.

"I've come here to make a point! That point will not be denied!"

Friday yelled.
From his left, the sound of a bass beat began. It was thick, and heavy, and fucking solid.
"we have come here tonite to bring this to a conclusion!" He shouted, just as a backbeat began coming from the right. Then he raised his tommy gun to his shoulder, he pointed at the sky, and began to fire!

Rounds spilled out in staccato, an amazing snare-drum rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat that lasted far longer than anyone in the crowd could have believed. In fact, it was still going after everyone in the crowd believed such a weapon was done firing its projectiles moments before. Friday looked back to the people from each group who had moved forward to admire his weapon.

"Just blanks." He said, taking the smoking barrel of tommy-gun down from his shoulder, and dropped the weapon at his feet.
"Shootin' real slugs is dangerous!"

As the audience had been blasted by the staccato sound of his gun, it took a few moments for them to realize the battling beats behind them had coalesced into a perfect mesh of driving force, and accents that revealed skilled DJ's, who had fought each other, and reached an agreement.

Behind that, a bass line appeared from nowhere. Tuesday, standing precariously on his angled stand-up-bass ripped a rock-a-billy vibe off his instrument, as Wednesday adjusted a washboard hanging from straps around his shoulders, and began running spoons across it, filling the space between the throbbing drumbeats with a soft scratchy rhythm that was echoed from the right, where maracas and castanet’s kicked in.

From the left came three men armed with microphones blaring the non-subtle, attention-getting words, "YO! YO YO!" Then one man came to the forefront, who exploded,

"We came to this place to make a mess of this place! And that's why you came too!"

Behind him, from the right, three trumpet players followed the melody of his eighteen words, and brought it into a grove. It swelled up and down and then cut out, only the throbbing beat, and backbeat were heard. Then Monday's guitar cut a swath through the beat. Echoing the best five notes in the repetition of the horn section following the rappers from the left, cut up a razor groove, where then the rappers blasted in perfect sychopation with each other.

"It's true it's hard!"
"It's true it's bad!"
"it's true it's never gonna be right!"

And just then a DJ (impossible to tell which side decides to kill this at the moment) just kicked in with a sample from the Prodigy song "smack my bitch up" at the bridge, where the woman is singing her gorgeous part, and everyone is transfixt. Like, even the guys running the beat, and backbeat, and percussion are shocked that something like this can be run over their their work.

Thursday waits until the sample of the woman has played out, then repeats the performance, only in trumpet form...a solid backbeat with one of the best, and most powerful melodies ever written, only repeated with tender skill and power forced through a fjucking trumpet. The crowds gathered are weeping even before he rips further emotions from them.

Then Friday reaches into his overcoat, and pulls out a small case. He cracks is open, and sets a Honer harmonica between his teeth, then from his other pocket on his left hand-side pulls a mic, and begins to echo the strains. It's sheer beauty, and it's sheer madness. It's a fucking harmonica.

Those from one side and the other are overwhelmed. There's just too much grove going on to stop. The trumpets kick in, along with another shot of chest-crunching bass, and Monday's shearing guitar...which has been joined by axe-players from both sides, combining only the best of notes and the best of space between them.

Friday took the harmonica from between his lips, and held the mic close to his face.
"I came here tonite to prove a point." He said in perfect time to the beat.
"And that point will not be denied!"
*the beat continues*
The trumpets kicked in to emphasize the moment. Then the rappers reiterated, echoing in unison, like the trainers of Ali.
"That point will not be denied! Fourteen things you gots a problem with, and ten solutions...

The mob gathered was stupid, following like a dog on a leash. They yelled back as loud as they could in agreement!

"We're stronger together!" Friday yells over the beat, "Than we ever could be alone!!"

The rest of the shit that happens is not worth my time to describe.

Happy Mothafjuckin' Friday!

The American Way

So lotsa' things is hapnin' down at Casa Aloha H.Q., that's been bringin' the noise. But I was gifted this, which I have'ta put up. Since it pretty much doevtails into my last post. This is what I remember America being.

2-12-08-888. My Fellow American Fjordlings!

So I'm followin' the news about the FISA Bill which just passed the Senate with a 68-29 vote. This Bill (which has not passed the House, which has a difficult chance as the House Bill is much, much better) applies a blanket immunity to telecommunications companies for previously spying on everyone in the USA, and we won't even get to find out what they did...or who told them to do what, which also convieniantly insulates the Bush administration from any investigation into their own wrongdoing.

This means that 68 fjucking Senators of the U.S. of A decided that spying on you without a warrant was just fine, and in fact, even when they did spy on you before it was fine, is pretty okey too. Jeebus Christo! I'm as aware as anyone that fjuckling hi-skool Civics class was as much indoctrination as it was information. However, there were a few things I took to heart about our fair nation.

1) No man is above the law.
(Which means even the President of the US is held to the same standards as the lowest of citizens.)

2)Ignorance of the law is no excuse.
(Which means if you broke a law and didn't know you were breaking the law at the time, does not excuse you from punishment for breaking the law.)

It appears 68 elected Senators didn't get the same Civics class that I did, and it pisses me off!

I was thinking about a post in regards to the Presidential elections titled, "I'm Voting For Superman!" Which would have read something like,

"The reason I'm voting for Superman is because he stands for Truth, Justice, And the American Way! And those are three things I haven't seen for a while."

I'm not writing that post today, or any day apparently, as 68 elected representitives in the highest legislative branch in the United States of America, clearly have a different opinion of what "The American Way" is, and it fjucking sickens me.

I used to think the American Way was a good thing...sadly, I wonder now, if it ever was.

-Tusnami-

887

That is all.

A little linkey?

DEATHBOT!!!

Then there's this super-duper microscope. Altho it's a full football field in size, from their actual home website, it doesn't seem like it's doing much of anything that's super-duper cool. Sad really.

Some Fujcking cool photos.

and mebby...a little about "the evil eye!"

Finally, this place is good for a lot of interesting tidbits.

A few brief statements from Yer Pal Tsunami

1)When you're here, you're not somewhere else.

2)Just because they haven't, doesn't mean they won't.

3)The very least you can do is nothing.

4)I believe cats and dogs are very, very smart. Back in the depths of history (or pre-history, I should say) they realized that humans were evolutionally superior, smarter, and stronger than any other species, so they allowed themselves to be domesticated. They traded their particular skills (cats-lethal hunters of small creatures and vermin, and dogs-their super heightened senses of hearing and smell, along with powerful jaws and loyalty that can reach fearlessness) for free food, and safety, knowing we would no longer be in competition as a direct threat to their survival. Now if, as I believe, humans one day leave this planet, and venture deep into space, cats and dogs will come with us, and thus ensure their survival and spread across the universe.

"Why?" You of course ask, of this preposterous hypothesis.

Well, when we go, we undoubtedly are going to bring stow-a-ways, mice, rats, roaches (I have a sneaky suspicion that there are a few "guests" on the International Space Station as we speak) which are the kind of things cats are super good at catching. Now, besides the fact that a dog was actually the first mammal humans shot into space (with sort-of bad results for the beast as I recall) once we get to a place where there is already life hanging out, ready to eat the fuck out of our intrepid explorers/colonists, we are going to need a hyper-aware sentry, or watchdog, if you will. A sentry that won't break down like an alarm system when the power goes out, or malfunctions occasionally like a smoke detector. And also a sentry that would alert us, then attack/distract a hostile alien until we wake up, throw on slippers, and grab a weapon big enough to shoot the thing to death.

5)I am not a cat guy at all, but I have made the aquaintence of a few really super cool cats.

6)I'm a bad speller, and it seems as tho thru some "upgrade" blogger's spellcheck stopped working. I apologize for words posted that are incorrectly spelled for the last week or so.

That is all.

-Tsunami-

884

I just wanted to throw something up today.

Well, that's not quite true, I wanted to throw something up that would be penetrating, insightful, hilarious, and smart...all at the same time, without devaluing you as a single tick on my hit counter. I wanted to raise themes that transcend culture and values and nationality, and tie all humanity together in one unified chunk of text, that would bring tears to your eyes, and make you tap the dink in the next cube and go, "Hey, you should read this."

But, I got problems, and a lot of stuff to get done before the month gets much older, and I really can't reassure myself that I'm even capable of the first adverb on my list. So instead, I'll just throw this up, since I've loved it since I've seen it...and it appears the gods of the youtubes are fine with it being here.