All Right Then...

More and more, 2006 is resembling a horrible caramel spill where, you think it's really fun - what with all the screaming and the fact that it goes great with apples...that is until you loose your shoes, and socks, and even when yer actually out of the stuff, your bare feer are just picking up large rocks, pine cones, and stray bits of glass, (cause they're sticky too) and driving them deep towards your metatarsil bones (or whatever bone structure is deep within your feer...)

So anyways, I'm going to take a trip to a happier place. A place where candied panda run free, peering playfully from behind trees, awaiting you to get hungry enough to catch one. A place where you can pick up a kick-ass automobile for the simple price of twenty pushups. (hard for some, I know...but it's a damn fine CAR I'm talking about.) A place where the Lollipop Guild and the Leprechaun's Union have hilarious bare-knuckled brawls for control of the sugar-plum racket. A place where you can go to Reno, shoot a man - watch him die, and the cops'll say (over thunderous applause of bystanders) "Quite right, he'd had it coming for a while now. Good thing you came along...say, would you like a new house?"

And I'm not even bringing up the hovercraft, rocket-cars, liquid-nitrogen, robot servants, epoxy seas, cloud-cities and the slim model-esque nature of the inhabitants. I'm just sayin', I'm goin'. Wanna come?

Yaay! Whoo!

- 2006 -

It's a little slippery right now. I'm just lying down amongst the piles of crap everywhere - left over from the weekend. Sometimes those kind of things are kinda nice, like you're surrounded in a protective maze...other times, like now, I just gotta get rid of crap. So that's what I'm gonna do. Back in a bit.

As a MN follow-up

I was looking through the archives and found this. (How cool is it to link to ones-self? Berry Berry cool.)

Anyways the guy running for governor said...

He promises that if he's elected, he will impale terrorists on pikes.

If you read the comments for "Deathblog 2005" you'll find that pikes are always funny.

Oooh! Here's one more from our common Fjordpast...

I'm off...to New Orleans to declare myself King of the Swamp People. I will begin my reign of terror by displaying the heads of those who disobey me on pikes, surrounding the roof of the Superdome!

Awww...crap...

I just clicked on a link from cute-overload, and got...

Adorablog!

Dang...

I need to go drink wisky and feel like a man. Or something.

Not Only Did I Go There...

I clicked over on the January Archives...and this site does NOT DISAPPOINT!

Soooooooooooo
Cute...

Gjod, somemtimes I really do miss Minnesota.

I wish I could go back and vote.

Thanks to B.B. as always for the news.

Untitled #1

Friday welcomes you to the oasis, astride a massive white stallion. Behind him oasis dwellers lounge by mirror-smooth oasis pools, where veil-clad women reveal their abdominal secrets with fantastic belly-dancing. (and for you womenfjolk, the strapping young men of the oasis are about to race their own fine horses through the oasis square...shirtless)

Choose, if you will, from an assortment of beers, chilling in metal buckets full of ice, lying about in helpful places. (under that tree! behind that tent! by that bench! right there- at your feet) Or, saunter to the plaza, tiled in exquisite mosaic, where helpful folk grill kabobs, bar-b-que ribs, and vats of delicious curry. (don't ask me why they have bar-b-que and curry, I didn't make up the oasis menu for Friday...they just do, okay.) Or perhaps you'll visit one of the numerous hookah-bars and get ripped on hash and opium. I'm not one to judge, they also have a fantastic assortment of "tobacco pipes."

What will you do here at the oasis, you wonder? Well, later there'll be a band, who'll knock your socks off, or so I've been hearing. Or, maybe you'll look for the love of your life (I'm told they might be just around that corner...over there, past that rug shop. Come to think of it, maybe you could buy a rug?) Possibly you might challenge the oasis-dwelling Giant Praying Mantis at a game of chess. I read he's a grand-master, and once played Kasparov in a hard fought 5-3 match. If that's not your style, there's some line dancing out by the Oasis-Annex...I'm told it's a lot of fun, but they don't let cowboys into Oasis Proper, unless it's in the cinema, or for the annual "Lasso a Bull Festival, " but that's not until February.

Maybe you'll just follow Friday back to the club (yeah, they got a thumpin' joint - Paul Okenfold's supposed to Zepplin in around 10-ish and do a set.) where he's got a room, and will be chillin' with the other weekdays...apparently he's flown in a team of experts who are supposed to come up with new and inventive ways of being nice to him, and all his friends. Sounds, umm, pretty nice.

Well, this is where I leave you, I've got to pick up my shoes (oh, yeah - there's a kickass cobbler here, incase you need some work done) before the soap-box-derby...what? No, no, I'm just going to watch, but all you gotta do is sign a waver, and you can race if you want. Oh, there'll be plenty of cars that don't have drivers. I don't know why, it just seems as tho with lots of time on their hands, the oasis-dwellers make a lot of soap-box-derby cars. Infact, it's their biggest export. You should see the wood-work on those things...man, now that's craftsmanship! So, I'm off. Have fun, and if you need me, later I'll be on the roof of the Mummy Museum, I've got a new rocket-launcher I want to try out. And it's the only building that's got an unobstructed view of Saheed's Used Car Lot. Man is that guy gonna be pissed tomorrow! Hah! Oh, one more thing - just remember - do not break any laws...the only punishment here is beheading, and it costs a lot to bribe your way out of that one, I'm telling you!

Happy Friday.

-D.T.-

Man, it's been quite a year, hasn't it.

Well, we've seen a lot of heartbreak this year, a little joy, barely any money, and now - like they always say "time flies" well, it does. Now, perched on the edge of twenty-oh-seven I for one, have a few regrets about twenty-oh-six.
-first off- not enough sex. I mean, sure, there was some...but not enough with me! My first request of twenty-oh-seven is, send more girls!
-second- I really didn't accomplish any of my goals. In fact, it seems like only last week I was working on some things I wanted to get done in oh-six, and now, it's already the edge of oh-seven, and I didn't even really get my laundry done...what's up with that???
-third- howcome I don't have a robot? If I get through twenty-oh-seven without a robot, I'm going to start believing that they're just a complete fabrication of fictionalists. (after that I'm going to look into this whole "french maid" thing, that while also might be the fabrication of fictionalists, it's a fiction that has existed for far longer than this "household robot" fantasy.
-fourth- not enough time to work on my stadium anthem. Back in oh-five, I worked out the concept of the song I wanted to write which would be played in stadiums and arenas during sporting events. Much like Queen, back in the day, cornered the market with "We are the champions," and "We will rock you," I figgered having a clip of a song played over stadium soundspeakers would be a goldmine. Wasn't able to find the time to work on the words, or the music in oh-six.
-fifth- Never found the time to find my own personal biographer, videographer, or chronicler. I really wanted that to happen in oh-six, so I could stop remembering everything, and devote all my brain-power to having a really-great time, getting loaded, and generally being a charming dude. (which may explain why #1 didn't work out so well.)

Anyways, I'm not going to dwell on "what could have been" 'cause that's not my style. I'm just going to say, "It was a great year, wasn't it!" I'm off to my New Years Eve party, which, as per usual, I have low expectations for, but you never really know.

See ya on the other side!

Happy New Yar.
-Tsunami-

I'm tired and there's a game on...

I'm gonna go watch it.

Now here's a little something for you to watch!

Strangely hypnotic (is how I'd describe it)
'night.

I EXPECT YOU TO DIE!!

hmm...perhaps twenty-oooh-six will be the year that I finally become a Supervillain.

I can see a lot of benefits to that kind of career move.
1) A cool Lair.
2) An array of spiffy vehicles.
3) Large cashflow.
4) Uber-hot lovers.
5) A mob of tough-guys to carry out my orders.
And that's just a few. Probly get good tables at all the best restaurants, skyboxes for the big games, and a whole bunch of other great crap. However, it seems as though, at least in the preliminary stages, all signs are pointing out that this year will actually be THE YEAR OF THE MUMMY!

No, I didn't see it coming, but take a look at what's been in the news the last couple days.
Bog Mummy
House Mummy
Human Skin For Books
Frenchman keeps frozen parents

Jeesh, that's weird.

Anyways, I just read this fabulous post over at Fafblog, you should read the whole thing. It's staggeringly great.

You're Fjucking Great!

I'm not talking about the average "joe" (or "jane") on the street telling you this. I'm not speaking of the President of your company speaking these words. I'm not even saying Martin Scorsese is out there shouting to a whole movie-crew and attending "journalists." I'm saying the entire universe, (somtin' like 15 light years in every direction - as far as we can tell) each atom vibrating at a sonic frequency that says - "We know, you're fjucking great!"

For the first day, you'd probably be in a shit-eating-grin shock. For the second day, you'd start believing it. About the fourth day, you'd do something about it. Meeting attractive people, advancing your career, accumulating wealth, promoting your "fjucking greatness." About a month down the road, you'd be in the spot where it would be hard to find something you couldn't accomplish.

But how long would it take, for you to get sick of hearing that?

This is a pretty good one.

Mouse Burns Down House of Man Who Tried to Kill It!

Unless you've been with us since the beginning

You'll probly have missed THIS!

And if you like that, then check out PART 2!

Jeesh...we're good.

Interactive...?

Helloooooooo?

It's obvious that channel Fjord can continue to broadcast whatever the fjuck, into whatever the fjuck...but yer pals over at the W.C.B. need a little feedback every now and then. There's a small function under each post called "comments." Just click on that, and yer able to leave whatever kinda' thoughts, ideas, musings, fantasy, or even (*gasp*) critiques you've got. I write into a void nearly every day (I call it my screenwriting career, which incidentally hasn't quite taken off like I've wanted it to) and I don't need this kind of solitude out here in the small cell located somewhere near the skin of the right bicept of the LS-M.

So, hit me up with some Gjoddamn comments!

It's 06 - make a resolution to me more a part of Fjord!
(you're sexy enough, that's obvious...but are you confident enough?)

P.S. -Did any of you (I.C.O.D.F.) ever forward on your fjavorite Fjordposts to three of yer pals? Tell me about it!

Snapback

"It's pretty hard to snap back into regular year mode." Said Friday, lounging on a giant inflatable frog, floating in a big pool. Next to him were the other weekdays, on various other inflatable rafts in various animal shapes. It was edging towards twilight, but it was still warm.
"Yep," said Tuesday, on a panda, "Hardest right after the end of the year."
"You think it's from all the feasting?" Asked Wednesday, on a giant hippo.
"I think it's Voodoo." Said Monday paddling on the back of an alligator.
"You think everything's voodoo, ever since you found that fingernail in your gumbo." Said Thursday, around the side of his floating plastic giraffe - it's neck protruding through his legs like an oversized phallus.
"That was no ordinary fingernail!" Monday replied sharply.
"Yeah," Wednesday chimed in, "Cause it was from the shell of a cray-fish."
"I think..." Friday spoke with some authority, to stop the squabbling. "It's because like anyone, the new year just has to take a little while to figure out his job. Like a barista at the coffee shop - things are complicated at first. Takes a while to figure out all those levers and knobs and switches. Not to mention the calculations!"

The weekdays pondered this for a moment. Then Monday said.
"It was a fingernail! From a witch-doctor, or maybe a sorceress!"
"Well, you didn't eat it, did you?" Said Tuesday.
"No. Thank Gjod..."
"Yeah, but..." Began Friday, but he was interrupted by a loud gong, that drew their eyes towards the end of the pool. A small band had set up, and they started to play a slow groovy number, in a Don Ho style. Then a very handsome fellow walked out while the band played. He wore a black and white patterned cotton Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants and brown lace-up shoes. In his hand was a small hard-case, and he walked to the front of the bandstand. He kneeled down and unclipped the case's latches. Then pulled out a kickass-looking ukulele. He stood up, and held the instrument to his left ear, and tuned it. Right there, in front of the playing band, and his audience. It was kinda badass. The weekdays paddled their inflatable animals closer. At the side of the pool, a crowd began to gather. In the background torches on bamboo poles were lit.

A tech ran across the stage with a chrome stand, and at the top was a microphone like Elvis used to sing into. The tech ran off, and the man spoke into it with a deep mellow voice.
"Before I begin." He paused for a few more groovy beats to pass, "I'd like to introduce..." He waved his arm to the right as he spoke, "The Malaria Maidens!"

And from that direction, five women emerged in grass-skirts and grass bikinis, with orchids in their hair. They moved their hips and arms like waves, as they took their place in front of the ukulele man. Each was more beautiful than the next - no matter which way you looked. Their dancing accented the groovy beats and the audience - without knowing it - began to sway themselves.

"They'll make you sweat, and they'll give you chills!" The ukulele man finished. Then he began to play. It was nearly imperceptible at first, he just fit into the sound so perfectly. Then his instrument began to rise above it, slowly, smoothly, and strong. It was clear, that the guy could play the hell out of the uke. Before long, everyone was carried away by the sound he was creating, far above the band. It was, as if the band was a wave, and the ukulele man was an amazing surfer riding upon it. The Malaria Maidens only added to the effect.

It was then that Monday's inflatable alligator was sucked into the intake vent of the pool.

"Aaaaaah!" He screamed.
The other weekdays, paddled like mad to aid Monday, who was now loosing his arm into the vent with a powerful suction. Wednesday spilled off his hippo, and got underneath Monday, before his head slipped under the water.
"Aaaaaa!" Shouted Monday one more time before he got a mouthful of pool-water. "Glub."
Thursday, and Tuesday tried pulling on Monday's arm, but it was caught fast in the intake system. The hunchback Wednesday came up for a breath of air.
"Keep him up!" Shouted Thursday - still on his giraffe, "Or he'll drown!"
Wednesday ducked back under and pushed Monday's head back above the water. Monday took a coughing breath.

Friday cast a quick glance at the band, which was still playing like mad, and the crowd didn't have any idea there was a problem. They were entranced. He shouted for help - but no one even noticed. They were busy following the ukulele man and the band, or the Malaria Maidens. Then he saw, on the right hand of the ukulele man, his index finger was wrapped with medical tape - exactly the place where a fingernail might have once been!

Friday's eyes got big, and he paddled like mad to the edge of the pool. There, a faux-coconut held the remnants of a Mai-Tai. He picked it up and threw it at the ukulele man. It arched through the now dark night, spilling beads of liquid as it spun through the sky. Then it plunged down and struck the uke, and the player's bandaged finger. The man dropped the instrument, that struck the stage with a off-tune ringing "clunk." He looked venom out into the crowd. And with that the spell was broken.

For a moment, people could see the ukulele man was not well attired in island garb, but a full-on voodoo witch doctor - and the Malaria Maidens were nothing more than worm-eaten zombie corpses! (The band too, but nobody really cared about them.)

The witch-doctor snarled once, and sprinted off stage left. Then the crowd sprung into action, some rushing to help the stricken weekday , others calling for someone to turn off the pool filtration, others grabbing tiki-torches to advance (quite warily) on the Malaria Maidens and the band.

After another moment of struggling, Thursday and Tuesday and three men from the crowd pulled Monday from the pool, and threw him up onto the side. Where he lay coughing up water. Wednesday pulled himself out shortly after and joined him laying on the concrete, trying to catch his breath.

"What the fuck!!?" Asked Tuesday to nobody and everybody at the same time.
Friday spoke in sort of an answer, "Well damn! I guess you were right about that voodoo thing. I suppose it's gonna' be a another weird year."
Monday nodded as he coughed up another stream of water.

Happy Friday

la la la-la-la la

I am the passenger
And I ride and I ride
I ride through the city’s backside
I see the stars come out of the sky
Yeah, they’re bright in a hollow sky
You know it looks so good tonight
I am the passenger
I stay under glass
I look through my window so bright
I see the stars come out tonight
I see the bright and hollow sky
Over the city’s a rip in the sky
And everything looks good tonight
Singin’ la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Get into the car
We’ll be the passenger
We’ll ride through the city tonight
See the city’s ripped insides
We’ll see the bright and hollow sky
We’ll see the stars that shine so bright
The sky was made for us tonight
Oh the passenger
How how he rides
Oh the passenger
He rides and he rides
He looks through his window
What does he see?
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He see the stars come out tonight
He sees the city’s ripped backsides
He sees the winding ocean drive
And everything was made for you and me
All of it was made for you and me
’cause it just belongs to you and me
So let’s take a ride and see what’s mine
Singing...la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la
Oh, the passenger
He rides and he rides
He sees things from under glass
He looks through his window’s eye
He sees the things he knows are his
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He sees the city asleep at night
He sees the stars are out tonight
And all of it is yours and mine
And all of it is yours and mine
Oh, let’s ride and ride and ride and ride...
Singing...la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la

Indulgent, I know. But I thought that needed to be out there in Fjordland.

It's January 5th

And it's 81 degreezzze in the Casa Aloha kitchen and I'm sitting in a pool of sun. Things seem okay.

Now then, for the last couple of days I've been trying to get my head around what 06 is going to be all about. I've written down a few ideas about what I've removed from the list of things 06 is going to be.
1) Lemmings. - I predict they will not make a comeback in 06-
2) Dirt. - People will often remark, "What happened to all the dirt?" The reply will be "That's so '05, man."
3) Houseplants. -Home and Garden stores will have a very bad fiscal year.
4) Popes. -Try as he might, Ratzinger will only be relevant if he breaks his pelvis. (or worse)
5) Pennies. -Continuing their trend, pennies will continue to be taken out of circulation, tossed on the ground, and perceived as being "worthless."
6) Stamps. -One more gov'ment sponsored program that '06 won't be about. Despite the fact that I predict the 37 cent stamp is soon to be obsolete, and this will probably be "news."
7) Pigeons. -Sure they've had a pretty good run up till now, but this year, there's gonna be hell to pay...a holocaust of pigeon-ous proportions.
8) Sponges. -That's right, I'm there will be a new miracle product that will knock sponges off the "top ranked re-usable scrubbing and wiping product" forever. People in ten years will not even know how to pronounce the word, "sponge."
9) American Idol. -Gjod, I only hope so.
10) Sharks. -Sharks had a pretty good run last year, before all the hurricane news and whatnot, but I'm pretty sure they can't sustain that kind of media push this year. I predict Giant Squid are going to take their place. And, if you know me at all, you know that I can't wait.

Hey...how's things over on this side?

I'm not on vacation, or too busy to do stuff...or having one of those - fuck you it's 2006 and you guys can all go to hell moments. I just got struck with a nasty cold, and don't wanna do anything but sit around and feel bad.

When I'm back in stride...you'll know it.

Hmm...

Scienc-ey Goodness...

FJ-ORD

Don't look back. You might become some cow's salt-lick.

It's 06 and soon to be the year of the dog. And guess what...I'm a dog.

My year, bitches.

I woke up in a strange house this morning, on a couch. The last thing I remember from the night before, was a fine looking woman taking off my shoes. At the time I thought she was being awfully sweet, but in hindsight, I'm sure she was just pissed at some drunk putting his shoes on her couch. Either way, I woke up, with a blanket on me, and needed to piss. I hit the can, and found Fjord-Borg lurking about the kitchen. It was too early for any reasonable person to be up. We called for a cab. Before it came, I found a paper plate and pulled a handy pen from my jacket. Then I printed some words on the plate in fairly neat writing. It said,

"Thanks for a wonderful time,
and the quilt.
Happy New Year
Your Guest."

Or something close to that.
The cab came, and it started raining.
Then I watched football all day.
And just a touch of D.I. Creegan
If you haven't seen Touching Evil...do yerself a favor
and watch some.