I was thinking about this when I was looking up how The Dark Knight is doing at the box office instead of working: It really annoys me when people talk about how much money a movie has made, without adjusting for inflation. So that it looks like Titanic is the most successful movie ever, which it's not.
So go here.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Things That Are Interesting Today
At Coffee and Conservation:
Rufous Woodpeckers are making a happy habitat of shade-grown coffee plantations in India. Hooray! Says Dr. Scientist, "It is high time that the conservation value of shaded coffee plantation, as a critical habitat for Rufous Woodpecker and other forest birds, be recognised and proper agro-ecological management practices developed and popularised amongst planters."
p.s. Maureen we should buy organic coffee for the office I don't care what you say.
***
At Global Research.ca, by way of Information Clearing House:
An article tinged with tinfoil-hat paranoia (and sloppy editing) nevertheless is a font of interesting and possibly correct datapoints, including:
Over at my friend Jim's workplace, someone points out that McCain's ultra-cynical VP pick (See! She has a vagina like that Democrat woman! And she's young and cute and inexperienced like that black guy!) has fewer constituents than Allegheny County Chief Executive Dan Onorato.
***
On a more serious note, it sounds like this Palin woman sucks in pretty much every way except that she taxed oil companies, so that part's good. Other than that though, yeah, she sucks.
***
And on an even more serious note, today's XKCD is about Han Solo! Oh, Han Solo: One day I'll be as cool as you.
***
Oh, and last thing:
One day, it's going to be sixty years from now and George Lucas will be, mercifully, dead. And all of his lackies and retards that tell him stuff like "Ewoks are a good idea" and "You're right we really should have a Carribean frog-man with Down Syndrome as a major character" and "Hey yeah, if we make the Jew a giant fly-man with a big nose and a Jew-hat no one will know he's a Jew" will be dead too.
And on that day someone who is smart will re-imagine the whole Star Wars saga in the same way they done for Battlestar Galactica. All the attempts at cuteness will be done away with; so too all the idiotic dialog, all the wooden "acting" and senseless plots. The Ewoks, if they appear at all, will be a disturbing race of stunted tree-men, allies of necessity with their own terrible agendas and secrets. Jar Jar will turn up for four seconds and then he will be shot. Annakin's descent into evil will make sense of any kind. And I will be, um, 85, and I will go and see all 6 new movies and cry myself to sleep with joy.
Rufous Woodpeckers are making a happy habitat of shade-grown coffee plantations in India. Hooray! Says Dr. Scientist, "It is high time that the conservation value of shaded coffee plantation, as a critical habitat for Rufous Woodpecker and other forest birds, be recognised and proper agro-ecological management practices developed and popularised amongst planters."
p.s. Maureen we should buy organic coffee for the office I don't care what you say.
***
At Global Research.ca, by way of Information Clearing House:
An article tinged with tinfoil-hat paranoia (and sloppy editing) nevertheless is a font of interesting and possibly correct datapoints, including:
Shortly before World War II, Hjalmer Schacht, a German banker, toured the United States soliciting American corporate support for Hitler’s new fascist state. U.S. corporations not only agreed to support Germany against the socialist economic system of the Soviet Union, but also declared their opposition to the strong labor movement arising in the United States and Europe.***
Among the eminent business leaders backing these multinational corporations were the Rockefellers and Prescott Bush, father of George Bush and grandfather of George W. Bush. Prescott Bush worked with his father-in-law, George Herbert Walker, in the family firm Union Banking Corporation to raise $50 million for the Nazi government by selling German bonds to American investors from 1924 to 1930.
Over at my friend Jim's workplace, someone points out that McCain's ultra-cynical VP pick (See! She has a vagina like that Democrat woman! And she's young and cute and inexperienced like that black guy!) has fewer constituents than Allegheny County Chief Executive Dan Onorato.
***
On a more serious note, it sounds like this Palin woman sucks in pretty much every way except that she taxed oil companies, so that part's good. Other than that though, yeah, she sucks.
***
And on an even more serious note, today's XKCD is about Han Solo! Oh, Han Solo: One day I'll be as cool as you.
***
Oh, and last thing:
One day, it's going to be sixty years from now and George Lucas will be, mercifully, dead. And all of his lackies and retards that tell him stuff like "Ewoks are a good idea" and "You're right we really should have a Carribean frog-man with Down Syndrome as a major character" and "Hey yeah, if we make the Jew a giant fly-man with a big nose and a Jew-hat no one will know he's a Jew" will be dead too.
And on that day someone who is smart will re-imagine the whole Star Wars saga in the same way they done for Battlestar Galactica. All the attempts at cuteness will be done away with; so too all the idiotic dialog, all the wooden "acting" and senseless plots. The Ewoks, if they appear at all, will be a disturbing race of stunted tree-men, allies of necessity with their own terrible agendas and secrets. Jar Jar will turn up for four seconds and then he will be shot. Annakin's descent into evil will make sense of any kind. And I will be, um, 85, and I will go and see all 6 new movies and cry myself to sleep with joy.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
A Letter to US Bank
Dear US Bank,
Please go fuck yourselves.
Sincerely,
Steve
p.s. CEO Richard K. Davis, obviously a sonofabitch, can (probably) be reached at:
US Bancorp, The Office of the Corp. Secretary
Richard K. David, Chairman, President & CEO
800 Nicollet Mall
Minneapolis, MN. 55402
...Or try their corporate headquarters, at:
60 Livingston Ave
St. Paul, MN 55107
p.p.s. I think they've probably charged me, I don't know, $200 in overdraft fees by now, while initially telling me I could not have overdraft protection. (Haha stupid, say people who think banks are protagonists and people who don't know about money are wrong.)
The fun part about this:
I had them link up my checking and savings accounts to create overdraft protection the other day. This, they said, could have been done all along. They neglected to tell me that it would be a $10 fee. Despite the fact that the overdraft was actually an accident (I clicked the button to pay twice on my cell phone companies website) and hadn't actually gone through before the recipient agreed to refund it.
That's aggravating. What's more aggravating is this.
Writing this, I feel like an old man complaining about not understanding how to use a mouse or a keyboard. I don't care: the money/credit system in this country thrives on consumer ignorance, on the ignorance of people like me.
The point is, I didn't know, because it was never, by anybody, explained to me, that the bank doesn't have to allow a purchase that overdraws your account. That instead it does this on purpose, (as a hahahahaha "courtesy"), solely so that it can fleece more money (through fees on these "courtesy overdrafts") from people (like me!) who already don't know how to manage their money anyway.
Hence, ultimately, the cycle of debt and poverty that keeps this GDP up and running.
p.p.p.s. Let's look at the way we talk about things like this for a moment. The first comment on the website I linked to:
This is a testament to the effectiveness of the propaganda system -- the thousands of messages a day about "liberty" and "individualism" and "personal responsibility" -- that a decision made by a powerful institution is in fact understood as a decision on the part of the person harmed by that institution.
Another point: One of the major tools of coercion, power, control is to give the victim of power a false sense of choice. So in this case: The retarded commenter thinks that being given a choice of a $2 fee (with an accompanying credit card that carries its own risks) instead of a $34 fee -- both fees, again, added because of a decision on the part of the bank, a decision that is, therefore, the responsibility of the bank, is somehow a good thing -- a generosity even!
p.p.p.p.s. This shifting of responsibility from the victimizer to the victim is really, I think, one of the fundamental bases of our whole society. Another example: A person arrested for possession of crack-cocaine is told "You shouldn't have done it if you weren't prepared to deal with the consequences." Of course, the consequences of smoking crack are pretty fucking severe: Let's start with desperate poverty and move on to psychological dissolution.
But: Being "arrested" (kidnapped) by "police," (armed men wearing gang colors) is not a consequence of smoking crack.
It's a consequence, rather, of a decision on the part of 1. the police officers in question 2. the police department heads or local politicians who assign patrols and so forth 3. the politicians who passed the law criminalizing cocaine. The cop decided to arrest the crackhead. The politician decided that casting himself as "tough on crime," an abstract nonsense-phrase which in reality means passing more laws which actually destroy the actual lives of actual people, was worth it to remain in power another 2, 4, or 6 years. But in no case are these people held accountable, or even described as being responsible. Ever.
The decisions and mistakes of common people are their responsibility.
The decisions of people in power are no one's responsibility: They are consequences of the actions of powerless people; they are acts of nature.
Please go fuck yourselves.
Sincerely,
Steve
p.s. CEO Richard K. Davis, obviously a sonofabitch, can (probably) be reached at:
US Bancorp, The Office of the Corp. Secretary
Richard K. David, Chairman, President & CEO
800 Nicollet Mall
Minneapolis, MN. 55402
...Or try their corporate headquarters, at:
60 Livingston Ave
St. Paul, MN 55107
p.p.s. I think they've probably charged me, I don't know, $200 in overdraft fees by now, while initially telling me I could not have overdraft protection. (Haha stupid, say people who think banks are protagonists and people who don't know about money are wrong.)
The fun part about this:
I had them link up my checking and savings accounts to create overdraft protection the other day. This, they said, could have been done all along. They neglected to tell me that it would be a $10 fee. Despite the fact that the overdraft was actually an accident (I clicked the button to pay twice on my cell phone companies website) and hadn't actually gone through before the recipient agreed to refund it.
That's aggravating. What's more aggravating is this.
Writing this, I feel like an old man complaining about not understanding how to use a mouse or a keyboard. I don't care: the money/credit system in this country thrives on consumer ignorance, on the ignorance of people like me.
The point is, I didn't know, because it was never, by anybody, explained to me, that the bank doesn't have to allow a purchase that overdraws your account. That instead it does this on purpose, (as a hahahahaha "courtesy"), solely so that it can fleece more money (through fees on these "courtesy overdrafts") from people (like me!) who already don't know how to manage their money anyway.
Hence, ultimately, the cycle of debt and poverty that keeps this GDP up and running.
p.p.p.s. Let's look at the way we talk about things like this for a moment. The first comment on the website I linked to:
This (retarded) person completely misses the points that: 1. It's the bank's decision to let you overdraft your account, 2. After making this decision, they then charge you (the customer) (whose mistake the bank's decision somehow is) a fee -- for their decision.Wait a second...complicated and uneccessary? Depends on the person. I would certainly like to have that backup credit line, at $2 per my mistake, then $25-$34 fee. And let's not forget, overdrafting your bank account is customer mistake 99% of the time.
Easy, money-saving solution? Don't overdraft your account!
This is a testament to the effectiveness of the propaganda system -- the thousands of messages a day about "liberty" and "individualism" and "personal responsibility" -- that a decision made by a powerful institution is in fact understood as a decision on the part of the person harmed by that institution.
Another point: One of the major tools of coercion, power, control is to give the victim of power a false sense of choice. So in this case: The retarded commenter thinks that being given a choice of a $2 fee (with an accompanying credit card that carries its own risks) instead of a $34 fee -- both fees, again, added because of a decision on the part of the bank, a decision that is, therefore, the responsibility of the bank, is somehow a good thing -- a generosity even!
p.p.p.p.s. This shifting of responsibility from the victimizer to the victim is really, I think, one of the fundamental bases of our whole society. Another example: A person arrested for possession of crack-cocaine is told "You shouldn't have done it if you weren't prepared to deal with the consequences." Of course, the consequences of smoking crack are pretty fucking severe: Let's start with desperate poverty and move on to psychological dissolution.
But: Being "arrested" (kidnapped) by "police," (armed men wearing gang colors) is not a consequence of smoking crack.
It's a consequence, rather, of a decision on the part of 1. the police officers in question 2. the police department heads or local politicians who assign patrols and so forth 3. the politicians who passed the law criminalizing cocaine. The cop decided to arrest the crackhead. The politician decided that casting himself as "tough on crime," an abstract nonsense-phrase which in reality means passing more laws which actually destroy the actual lives of actual people, was worth it to remain in power another 2, 4, or 6 years. But in no case are these people held accountable, or even described as being responsible. Ever.
The decisions and mistakes of common people are their responsibility.
The decisions of people in power are no one's responsibility: They are consequences of the actions of powerless people; they are acts of nature.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
In Dreams
I dreamed the other night that I was the neglectful father of a little girl. And one day she came to the apartment to ask me why I hadn't done this and that for her and for her mother.
And so I wrote her a book of elaborate, magical excuses, called "What Daddy Will Do When He Comes Home."
I would have fixed that fence -- the book read -- but on that corner of the house is a magical swamp just teeming with dragons! And so I went down with my hammer and my nails, all ready to mend that fence for you and your mom, when out of nowhere a dragon attacked! And for three days I was lost in that swamp, battling rats and carnivorous frogs and mosquitoes the size of a man with nothing but my hammer and my nails, until finally I came upon the cottage of an old witch.
And I said, Witch! Let me out of this swamp, so I can mend the fence for my poor wife and daughter!
And the Witch said, I shall release you. But there is a price. Behind the house my fence has begun to fall apart. If you fix it, you may leave this terrible swamp.
But Witch! I cried, I have only enough nails left to fix the fence for my wife and daughter!
Well, cackled the Witch, If you do not mend this fence, you will be trapped in the swamp forever. And there is more: Within my fence are contained all the dragons of the swamp. If you do not mend it, they will surely escape -- and your wife and daughter will be destroyed by their terrible dragon rage!
So I did it. I took my hammer and the very last of my nails, and I mended that Witch's fence -- because I couldn't stand the thought of you and your mother devoured by dragons or burned to cinders by their terrible fire. And the Witch kept her promise, and showed me the way out of the swamp.
It may be a week or two, or maybe a month, before I can get some more nails and get down there and put that fence back together, little one. But you and your mother are safe. And that's all that really matters.
In my dream this became a national bestseller. I remember that on Oprah they were talking about how "It's funny because it's real." I wonder if it would work out in waking life?
And so I wrote her a book of elaborate, magical excuses, called "What Daddy Will Do When He Comes Home."
I would have fixed that fence -- the book read -- but on that corner of the house is a magical swamp just teeming with dragons! And so I went down with my hammer and my nails, all ready to mend that fence for you and your mom, when out of nowhere a dragon attacked! And for three days I was lost in that swamp, battling rats and carnivorous frogs and mosquitoes the size of a man with nothing but my hammer and my nails, until finally I came upon the cottage of an old witch.
And I said, Witch! Let me out of this swamp, so I can mend the fence for my poor wife and daughter!
And the Witch said, I shall release you. But there is a price. Behind the house my fence has begun to fall apart. If you fix it, you may leave this terrible swamp.
But Witch! I cried, I have only enough nails left to fix the fence for my wife and daughter!
Well, cackled the Witch, If you do not mend this fence, you will be trapped in the swamp forever. And there is more: Within my fence are contained all the dragons of the swamp. If you do not mend it, they will surely escape -- and your wife and daughter will be destroyed by their terrible dragon rage!
So I did it. I took my hammer and the very last of my nails, and I mended that Witch's fence -- because I couldn't stand the thought of you and your mother devoured by dragons or burned to cinders by their terrible fire. And the Witch kept her promise, and showed me the way out of the swamp.
It may be a week or two, or maybe a month, before I can get some more nails and get down there and put that fence back together, little one. But you and your mother are safe. And that's all that really matters.
In my dream this became a national bestseller. I remember that on Oprah they were talking about how "It's funny because it's real." I wonder if it would work out in waking life?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Staying Sick
Six years ago I wrote an article about how so help me I wasn't ever going to smoke a cigarette again so long as I live. My reasoning went something like this:
My body is a functioning ecosystem.
Cigarette smoking is pollution.
Smoking a cigarette is therefore like causing an oil spill on the shores of your lungs (and how sad, I thought, would the poor vacationing family of microbes be, arriving on the bronchial beach and finding it covered in tar.)
I think that lasted for about two months.
***
Do you want to know how it happens? Here is my brain:
"Man, I don't really want a cigarette. It kind of hurts my lungs and it would be nice to be able to run more than I can -- Hey, wait a sec! --
...Holy Freaking Crap! It's the ghosts of Jack Kerouac, Joe Strummer, and Fidel Castro, and they're ALL SMOKING!!"
"Steeephennnn!" said they in their ghostly smoky voices, "If you smoke you will be as cool as we aaaaare!"
Then they vanished and I was like, Shit, I want to be as cool as Jack Kerouac Joe Strummer and Fidel Castro! So I bought another pack of Pall Malls.
***
(I know what you're thinking. Fidel isn't even DEAD yet and still his cigar-smoking ghost travels back in time to haunt me. It's crazy.)
***
So it's 6 days later now, since this hacking coughing fit began. I'm feeling a bit better. Here is the question: Will I immediately re-start chain-smoking as soon as my lungs seem capable of handling it? Or will I grow smart for once for at least a little while?
***
We shall see.
My body is a functioning ecosystem.
Cigarette smoking is pollution.
Smoking a cigarette is therefore like causing an oil spill on the shores of your lungs (and how sad, I thought, would the poor vacationing family of microbes be, arriving on the bronchial beach and finding it covered in tar.)
I think that lasted for about two months.
***
Do you want to know how it happens? Here is my brain:
"Man, I don't really want a cigarette. It kind of hurts my lungs and it would be nice to be able to run more than I can -- Hey, wait a sec! --
...Holy Freaking Crap! It's the ghosts of Jack Kerouac, Joe Strummer, and Fidel Castro, and they're ALL SMOKING!!"
"Steeephennnn!" said they in their ghostly smoky voices, "If you smoke you will be as cool as we aaaaare!"
Then they vanished and I was like, Shit, I want to be as cool as Jack Kerouac Joe Strummer and Fidel Castro! So I bought another pack of Pall Malls.
***
(I know what you're thinking. Fidel isn't even DEAD yet and still his cigar-smoking ghost travels back in time to haunt me. It's crazy.)
***
So it's 6 days later now, since this hacking coughing fit began. I'm feeling a bit better. Here is the question: Will I immediately re-start chain-smoking as soon as my lungs seem capable of handling it? Or will I grow smart for once for at least a little while?
***
We shall see.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Sick Daze
I stayed home sick today!
I don't know what much to say about this except that, Man, being sick kind of sucks, but, You know what's nice? Staying home sick.
I have to tell you. I haven't done this in years. My usual method of dealing with illness involves attempting to cure every ailment with beer and cigarettes. This has worked exactly once. The last two times I tried it I think I gave myself pneumonia. So this time I got myself a bunch of Bolthouse drinks and prepared a stack of comfort-food-books including:
I'd like to dwell on these books a minute. The Moorcock is one of his Elric books. Elric is an angsty anti-hero who goes around a Conan the Barbarian-style world with an evil sword doing malicious things and brooding.
Michael Moorcock: Sometimes his work is of the highest quality -- Behold the Man, for example. Elric not so much. And yet. And yet. Reading it I'm delighted and filled with the desire -- as when I read classic pulp stuff by Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard -- to write that kind of stuff, all pulpy and campy and cliched and over-the-top and amazing.
I mean, listen to some of this:
Let's talk about my other Sick Day Books.
The Borges: I bought this yesterday. I can't find it. Did I leave it in the office?
The Joyce: The other day M. was reading Dubliners, and I picked it up (having hated A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man when I read it as a younger man) and enjoyed the first story I read. So this collected works was a buck at While Away. Score!
Gene Wolfe: Ohhhh but his greatness will be the subject of a later post!
Anyway my darlings, I'm sick so I shouldn't be committing so much energy to blogging. I should be resting! Good NIGHT!
I don't know what much to say about this except that, Man, being sick kind of sucks, but, You know what's nice? Staying home sick.
I have to tell you. I haven't done this in years. My usual method of dealing with illness involves attempting to cure every ailment with beer and cigarettes. This has worked exactly once. The last two times I tried it I think I gave myself pneumonia. So this time I got myself a bunch of Bolthouse drinks and prepared a stack of comfort-food-books including:
- The Bane of the Black Sword by Michael Moorcock
- Litany of the Long Sun by Gene Wolfe
- Dreamtigers by Jorge Luis Borges
- A Big Collection of James Joyce
I'd like to dwell on these books a minute. The Moorcock is one of his Elric books. Elric is an angsty anti-hero who goes around a Conan the Barbarian-style world with an evil sword doing malicious things and brooding.
Michael Moorcock: Sometimes his work is of the highest quality -- Behold the Man, for example. Elric not so much. And yet. And yet. Reading it I'm delighted and filled with the desire -- as when I read classic pulp stuff by Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard -- to write that kind of stuff, all pulpy and campy and cliched and over-the-top and amazing.
I mean, listen to some of this:
In a city called Bakshaan, which was rich enough to make all other cities of the north East seem poor, in a tall-towered tavern one night, Elric, Lord of the smoking ruins of Melnibone, smiled like a shark and dryly jested with four powerful merchant princes whom, in a day or so, he intended to pauperize.So our story begins. And we continue, learning about Elric's awesome sword Stormbringer:
A symbiosis existed between man and sword. The man without the sword could become a cripple, lacking sight and energy--the sword without the man could not drink the blood and the souls it needed for its existence. They rode together, and none could tell which was master.!!!! How can you not love it!!?? especially when THIS happens:
In a smoking pit, somewhere beyond the limitations of space and time, a creature stirred. all around it, shadows moved. They were the shadows of the souls of men and these shadows which moved through the bright darkness were the masters of the creature. It allowed them to master it--so long as they paid its price. In the speech of men, this creature had a name. It was called Quaolnargn...Ka-fucking-blang!!!!! This is so cool I nearly shit my pants. But that's the end of our free preview. If you want to know more you'll have to buy the book yourself you lazy son of a bitch.
Let's talk about my other Sick Day Books.
The Borges: I bought this yesterday. I can't find it. Did I leave it in the office?
The Joyce: The other day M. was reading Dubliners, and I picked it up (having hated A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man when I read it as a younger man) and enjoyed the first story I read. So this collected works was a buck at While Away. Score!
Gene Wolfe: Ohhhh but his greatness will be the subject of a later post!
Anyway my darlings, I'm sick so I shouldn't be committing so much energy to blogging. I should be resting! Good NIGHT!
A Picture
A couple of weeks ago we went to Crater Lake. I like this picture of the event:
Yay team!!!
Yay team!!!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
This Post Is Cheating
If you want to know about awesome--or rather, awsome--things that happen in Oregon on certain Sundays in August you should go here and look at all the photos Gabe posted of a very fine day.
If you want to read about awesome things in Oregon, you should go visit While Away Books, there to purchase a copy of Flight to Freedom, a zine by residents of [this place where I work].
If you want to do something awesome, maybe you should go attend one of these.
If you want to watch something both awesome and hilarious, go here and prepare to laugh and laugh and laugh.
If you want to read about awesome things in Oregon, you should go visit While Away Books, there to purchase a copy of Flight to Freedom, a zine by residents of [this place where I work].
If you want to do something awesome, maybe you should go attend one of these.
If you want to watch something both awesome and hilarious, go here and prepare to laugh and laugh and laugh.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A Brief Note About Oregon Politics
Congressman Peter DeFazio, Fourth District, Oregon
is good.
UPDATE: Okay I guess I should tell you why. That's because of the following form letter I got in reply to a message I sent about the situation in Ecuador:
is good.
UPDATE: Okay I guess I should tell you why. That's because of the following form letter I got in reply to a message I sent about the situation in Ecuador:
It's heartening to hear all of this, & know that this is our guy in Congress. At the same time...Eleven members of Congress signed the letter. Eleven? Only eleven members of the United States Congress think that giant corporations shouldn't be allowed to fuck with democratic rule in sovereign states?
Thank you for contacting me about Chevron's attempt to undermine the rule of law in Ecuador. I was pleased to author a letter to the U.S. Trade Representative questioning the actions of Chevron.
I was very concerned when I read a recent Newsweek article that suggested that Chevron is lobbying the US Trade Representative (USTR) to withhold trade preferences from Ecuador. Apparently, Chevron hopes to undermine a lawsuit brought by peasants in Ecuador seeking redress for the dumping of toxic oil waste in the Amazon. The apparent attitude of Chevron towards democracy and the rule of law in is summed up by a Chevron lobbyist, "We can't let little countries screw around with big companies like this, companies that have made big investments around the world." Chevron is asking USTR to pressure the Government of Ecuador to interfere in the lawsuit.
In response I circulated a letter amongst my Congressional colleagues to urge the USTR to reject Chevron's request, and to affirm that access to the U.S. market will not be used as leverage to interfere in Ecuador's legal process. Eleven member of Congress signed the letter.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Days and Days
Nearly a week since the last update; what an eventful week it has been!
Shall I try to tell the story?
I don't know that I can. Maybe you already know it. Maybe you don't.
Friday night went, if not smoothly, still excellently. It was one of my proudest moments, even, watching the kids read their work. Zines are on sale by the way $3 a copy; if you're in Pennsylvania that's $3 plus shipping.
I'm being cryptic, I'm talking around it, I can't arrive upon it.
They left the bar Friday night and it was a while before I stopped crying.
And Commissioner told me, "Steve: Reaaal Coool."
And tomorrow it's another fight and struggle. But that moment was perfect.
I can't tell you how.
I will try again another time.
Shall I try to tell the story?
I don't know that I can. Maybe you already know it. Maybe you don't.
Friday night went, if not smoothly, still excellently. It was one of my proudest moments, even, watching the kids read their work. Zines are on sale by the way $3 a copy; if you're in Pennsylvania that's $3 plus shipping.
I'm being cryptic, I'm talking around it, I can't arrive upon it.
They left the bar Friday night and it was a while before I stopped crying.
And Commissioner told me, "Steve: Reaaal Coool."
And tomorrow it's another fight and struggle. But that moment was perfect.
I can't tell you how.
I will try again another time.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Ghosts and Poetry
Where do all these corpses get off using my jaws to speak?
A change in season, and, O the mists and mellow fruitfulness!
A sullen mood and now you know how much Yo ya no soy yo.
And, Heaven help me, a woman! Better talk with a mouth full of spiders and marking with crosses of fire.
Stay dead, the Dead! Rot and crumble and just be dirt! (Or, reproductive, do these sentences themselves have life? -- Memetic insects crawling through the caverns in my brain.)
I'd like to squash them. But you know I've already planned it: A coming season's nostalgia, filled to the brim with bleakest winds and long-exhausted flowers.
A change in season, and, O the mists and mellow fruitfulness!
A sullen mood and now you know how much Yo ya no soy yo.
And, Heaven help me, a woman! Better talk with a mouth full of spiders and marking with crosses of fire.
Stay dead, the Dead! Rot and crumble and just be dirt! (Or, reproductive, do these sentences themselves have life? -- Memetic insects crawling through the caverns in my brain.)
I'd like to squash them. But you know I've already planned it: A coming season's nostalgia, filled to the brim with bleakest winds and long-exhausted flowers.
Middlenight
Last night I woke up at 4:15 thinking the following things:
A. I brought with me to Oregon a copy of Richard Brautigan's Revenge of the Lawn.
B. Also, Frannie and Zoey, by Sallinger.
C. I not only don't remember where they are, I forgot Brautigan even existed.
D. I liked both of those books very much.
E. I'm also missing my copy of Winesburg, Ohio.
F. No I'm not, it's on my desk at the office.
G. I should read more of it soon.
H. I wish I could write a thing that was a cross between Revenge of the Lawn and Winesburg, Ohio.
I. I wonder how that would work.
A. I brought with me to Oregon a copy of Richard Brautigan's Revenge of the Lawn.
B. Also, Frannie and Zoey, by Sallinger.
C. I not only don't remember where they are, I forgot Brautigan even existed.
D. I liked both of those books very much.
E. I'm also missing my copy of Winesburg, Ohio.
F. No I'm not, it's on my desk at the office.
G. I should read more of it soon.
H. I wish I could write a thing that was a cross between Revenge of the Lawn and Winesburg, Ohio.
I. I wonder how that would work.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
It Keeps Being My Birthday
And then I turned 25.
I did that on Sunday if you want to know.
I was sitting round a campfire at the time. Matt was controlling the iPod and refusing to play White Riot. I know, that's fucked. Earlier in the day we had been on the beach; the Pacific was mild for the Oregon Pacific and everyone was happy: I love it when my birthday is on a beach like it's supposed to be.
I started thinking about different ages I've turned.
24: That was a year ago. I had a party, and it was the worst party ever. Someone hit me over the head with a frying pan. Someone else tried to choke me. Then I had to get rid of the police.
23: That wasn't so bad. Everybody came out and bought me a drink. I met A. Crane for the first time that night, and I remember listening to Mr. Bungle in that insane loft/flat/thing he lived in. Then I tried to buy a shot for every person at the bar, so they cut me off and I went home.
22: A hard one. The just-been-dumped birthday. I think I wrote an essay about spiders.
21: First experiences of: 151; 3 Wisemen; the Irish Carbomb. Earlier in the night a girl had told me to Stop By Later. After they kicked me off the boardwalk for singing Clash City Rockers too loud I decided to go to her house; being a gentleman, I thought I should pick her flowers. My flowers were actually a fistfull of pineneedles, which I dropped at her roommate's feet when she answered the door. She said, "Steve, go home."
20: I worked all night at that restaurant I hate. I was cooking and Jay was washing dishes. Jay's a better cook than me but they were dicks to him. I told Danny the Manager that I was actually turning twenty-one, so (himself quite intoxicated) he made us glasses of rum for the occasion. I only felt a little bad.
19: I have no memory of turning 19. I would have been living in Ebensburg; I would have been working at Amici's. What was I actually doing? I could not possibly be telling.
18: This birthday I took my driver's license exam. My mom yelled at me all the way to the DMV for smelling bad: This was because I was not bathing at the time. I got my license and proceeded to never use it again.
I think that is as far back as my memory will even go. Did I turn any years before this? If so, somebody could let me know. But for now, it's the 5th night of my 25th birthday, so I must go off and celebrate!
I did that on Sunday if you want to know.
I was sitting round a campfire at the time. Matt was controlling the iPod and refusing to play White Riot. I know, that's fucked. Earlier in the day we had been on the beach; the Pacific was mild for the Oregon Pacific and everyone was happy: I love it when my birthday is on a beach like it's supposed to be.
I started thinking about different ages I've turned.
24: That was a year ago. I had a party, and it was the worst party ever. Someone hit me over the head with a frying pan. Someone else tried to choke me. Then I had to get rid of the police.
23: That wasn't so bad. Everybody came out and bought me a drink. I met A. Crane for the first time that night, and I remember listening to Mr. Bungle in that insane loft/flat/thing he lived in. Then I tried to buy a shot for every person at the bar, so they cut me off and I went home.
22: A hard one. The just-been-dumped birthday. I think I wrote an essay about spiders.
21: First experiences of: 151; 3 Wisemen; the Irish Carbomb. Earlier in the night a girl had told me to Stop By Later. After they kicked me off the boardwalk for singing Clash City Rockers too loud I decided to go to her house; being a gentleman, I thought I should pick her flowers. My flowers were actually a fistfull of pineneedles, which I dropped at her roommate's feet when she answered the door. She said, "Steve, go home."
20: I worked all night at that restaurant I hate. I was cooking and Jay was washing dishes. Jay's a better cook than me but they were dicks to him. I told Danny the Manager that I was actually turning twenty-one, so (himself quite intoxicated) he made us glasses of rum for the occasion. I only felt a little bad.
19: I have no memory of turning 19. I would have been living in Ebensburg; I would have been working at Amici's. What was I actually doing? I could not possibly be telling.
18: This birthday I took my driver's license exam. My mom yelled at me all the way to the DMV for smelling bad: This was because I was not bathing at the time. I got my license and proceeded to never use it again.
I think that is as far back as my memory will even go. Did I turn any years before this? If so, somebody could let me know. But for now, it's the 5th night of my 25th birthday, so I must go off and celebrate!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Perspectives
Returning from a long weekend away I am trying to piece together what is going on in the Republic of Georgia, & decide on my opinion.
Some conclusions seem obvious. The first: US condemnations of Russian actions can be completely disregarded. Putin himself pretty succinctly summarized why:
And all of this takes place against the backdrop of Georgia attempting (with Bush's approval) to join NATO (how would we feel if a Russian-led military alliance had a member on our border? Oh that's right, we found out about that in Cuba, Chile, Nicaragua.) And also, of course, the plans for the missile defense shield on Russia's borders.
So there's that.
But what about the Russian side of the story? I don't suppose Vladimir Putin is any more trustworthy than George Bush. I suppose that this is an imperial game, and maybe neither side is more "right" -- though that might also not be true, and that statement might be the sort of equivocating that justifies aggression. Does anyone have a balanced perspective?
Some conclusions seem obvious. The first: US condemnations of Russian actions can be completely disregarded. Putin himself pretty succinctly summarized why:
Then there's Bush's hilarious quote accusing Russia of a "disproportionate response" -- hilarious in lieu of the unconditional support given Israel during the 2006 war in Lebanon. And of course, the notion that Russia is inherently wrong in its support of the rebel Georgian provinces is rendered ludicrous in the light of Kosovo.
"Of course, Saddam Hussein ought to have been hanged for destroying several Shiite villages," Putin said. "And the incumbent Georgian leaders who razed ten Ossetian villages at once, who ran elderly people and children with tanks, who burned civilian alive in their sheds — these leaders must be taken under protection."
And all of this takes place against the backdrop of Georgia attempting (with Bush's approval) to join NATO (how would we feel if a Russian-led military alliance had a member on our border? Oh that's right, we found out about that in Cuba, Chile, Nicaragua.) And also, of course, the plans for the missile defense shield on Russia's borders.
So there's that.
But what about the Russian side of the story? I don't suppose Vladimir Putin is any more trustworthy than George Bush. I suppose that this is an imperial game, and maybe neither side is more "right" -- though that might also not be true, and that statement might be the sort of equivocating that justifies aggression. Does anyone have a balanced perspective?
Thursday, August 7, 2008
¿Donde está tu niña amarga?
O this wild turning, this Oregon land, this Beyond-the-Sun!
(How many thoughts to we have to think? before we can stop and have us a drink.)
(But you know it's no-nay-never, right? No never, no more!)
O my good compadre, I would love to tell you so many fine things. I'd love even to exchange my horse por su casa! But there's that crashing bitterness, waves even and fish who live in them in that sea that mar amarga and grumble to one another and frown.
(O let's never be fish. Let's just dream on our balconies, and never in that bitter sea. & play the wild rover no never, no more!)
You know I had a thought lately, which was:
What if all our thoughts were in units 5? And all our understanding of everything revolved around this: All our politics, our philosophy, our religion, our family life. All life a division of fives, and no dualisms: Rather, the fundamental opposition is the two against the three.
The Five-Headed God: The balance of good and evil, love and power. And the fifth point, the mediator: Ever unfathomable, the cosmic could-be-ness, outside oppositions, outside dualisms, there to break the tie; the nonexistence which justifies existence. The Head of Loving Evil: A spider imprisons a fly, and murders her over days: What cruelty! And yet though the spider's actions the ecosystem, love's reflection, grows and thrives. The Head of Evil Power: The dictator steals from his people, sends them to war to slaughter thousands; based on unsustainable use of resources, his socio-economic system destroys the landscape for a thousand years to come. The Head of Loving Good: Bound together by the necessary forces, the planets circle the sun, the sun circles the galaxy, and life and light for ten thousand worlds of sentient beings: Ever giving, never expecting. The Head of Good Power: Benevolent, good-hearted, but backed always by the power of the gun, the Revolutionist reclaims the ill-gotten property of the capitalist and redistributes it among the desperate mass.
& one day I sat down and wrote of all of this and so many more, and assumed it was the style of thought of a planet faraway though human, and I a missionary of the Galactican Faith, sent to learn and (as always) to convert:
But I see that it is 1:50 now, and a meeting for me at 2:00.
I will arise and go now. But not to Innisfree.
(How many thoughts to we have to think? before we can stop and have us a drink.)
(But you know it's no-nay-never, right? No never, no more!)
O my good compadre, I would love to tell you so many fine things. I'd love even to exchange my horse por su casa! But there's that crashing bitterness, waves even and fish who live in them in that sea that mar amarga and grumble to one another and frown.
(O let's never be fish. Let's just dream on our balconies, and never in that bitter sea. & play the wild rover no never, no more!)
You know I had a thought lately, which was:
What if all our thoughts were in units 5? And all our understanding of everything revolved around this: All our politics, our philosophy, our religion, our family life. All life a division of fives, and no dualisms: Rather, the fundamental opposition is the two against the three.
The Five-Headed God: The balance of good and evil, love and power. And the fifth point, the mediator: Ever unfathomable, the cosmic could-be-ness, outside oppositions, outside dualisms, there to break the tie; the nonexistence which justifies existence. The Head of Loving Evil: A spider imprisons a fly, and murders her over days: What cruelty! And yet though the spider's actions the ecosystem, love's reflection, grows and thrives. The Head of Evil Power: The dictator steals from his people, sends them to war to slaughter thousands; based on unsustainable use of resources, his socio-economic system destroys the landscape for a thousand years to come. The Head of Loving Good: Bound together by the necessary forces, the planets circle the sun, the sun circles the galaxy, and life and light for ten thousand worlds of sentient beings: Ever giving, never expecting. The Head of Good Power: Benevolent, good-hearted, but backed always by the power of the gun, the Revolutionist reclaims the ill-gotten property of the capitalist and redistributes it among the desperate mass.
& one day I sat down and wrote of all of this and so many more, and assumed it was the style of thought of a planet faraway though human, and I a missionary of the Galactican Faith, sent to learn and (as always) to convert:
But I see that it is 1:50 now, and a meeting for me at 2:00.
I will arise and go now. But not to Innisfree.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Meat Dreams
I keep having dreams that I accidentally eat meat.
And in every dream I'm like, "Fuck. I guess I eat meat after all."
Boette told me this would happen. I find it terribly disturbing.
And in every dream I'm like, "Fuck. I guess I eat meat after all."
Boette told me this would happen. I find it terribly disturbing.
Blackhole Something
So it seems that giant particle accelerator is going to be activated soon, the one that's going to discover the Higgs-Boson, and no I can't explain any of the words I just used.
But it seems there is some quasi-legitimate concern that the thing could create a black hole.
Sitting at the bar last night and pondering these facts it occurred to me:
What if a black hole is created? And what if it's small enough that, instead of destroying the world immediately, it would take a while, and we had a definite estimate of just how long it would be?
There are so many The World Is Ending Very Soon stories. What if the world wasn't ending very soon -- just sort of soon? In five hundred years, say. Two hundred? Sixty? What if the world had ten years to live?
Suddenly the story becomes not What would you do? (as all of the world-ending-tomorrow stories ask) but What would Humanity do? What sort of cultures emerge on a planet that knows that within the next hundred or two hundred years, everything will come to an end?
...Or do we already know the answer to that?
But it seems there is some quasi-legitimate concern that the thing could create a black hole.
Sitting at the bar last night and pondering these facts it occurred to me:
What if a black hole is created? And what if it's small enough that, instead of destroying the world immediately, it would take a while, and we had a definite estimate of just how long it would be?
There are so many The World Is Ending Very Soon stories. What if the world wasn't ending very soon -- just sort of soon? In five hundred years, say. Two hundred? Sixty? What if the world had ten years to live?
Suddenly the story becomes not What would you do? (as all of the world-ending-tomorrow stories ask) but What would Humanity do? What sort of cultures emerge on a planet that knows that within the next hundred or two hundred years, everything will come to an end?
...Or do we already know the answer to that?
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Looking So Long At These Pictures Of Me
On facebook there has lately appeared this delightful new picture of me:
The question, of course, is: Should it now become my default photo for everything?
Another option, especially as a possible picture for this blog, is this one:
Drinking, smoking, and yelling about something: Yeah, that's pretty much it.
I gave the hat to Sarah, and another one of similar design to Lynsey. The beer is thought to have been drunk. What became of the cigarette is unknown.
The question, of course, is: Should it now become my default photo for everything?
Another option, especially as a possible picture for this blog, is this one:
Drinking, smoking, and yelling about something: Yeah, that's pretty much it.
I gave the hat to Sarah, and another one of similar design to Lynsey. The beer is thought to have been drunk. What became of the cigarette is unknown.
Friday, August 1, 2008
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Good Morning Dear Ones,
My this has been a busy week. And so little time for blogging! Allow me to share with you some highlights:
Every time you can get your workers to openly weep, you win. The experience of crying on the job is so unpleasant that most people will do anything to avoid repeating it: Thus, after the first cry, you can expect at least a 227% increase in productivity!
However, do not stop here. Crying is one of the few activities not governed by the Law of Diminishing Marginal Returns. Every time your workers cry, their productivity will not only increase, it will increase exponentially. Thus, Cry #2 can be expected to quadruple Cry #1's effects; Cry #3 will tentriple it; until by Cry# 16 you can pretty much expect a Billion Percent level of worker productivity.
For some, this is difficult. Fortunately I've created this handy exercise! Everyone, get out your workbooks and write down:
The 10 things your workers do that annoy you most.
The 10 things that you like the most.
10 neutral characteristics.
10 things that they don't do but might.
10 things that they don't do and probably never would.
And: There you go! 50 handy items with which to make fun of them. That's 50 solid days worth of crying! Think how much you'll get done!
It is also necessary, of course, to reorient your thinking from what I call the "Blindness of Kindness" Mindset toward the "Cruelty is Cool and Funny" Mindset.
Example:
Your employee wears a particularly fetching outfit today. A bad leader would say, "I like that shirt. You look very nice today."
But thanks to my special training, you will now say "That shirt is retarded. You must come from poor genetic stock."
Cue: Tears, Efficiency.
***
Well, that's all for today. Stay tuned to this blog for more exclusive management tips and exercises. Or, for a low monthly installment of $262.50, you can have Steve come into Your Office and reorganize your workforce today!
(Make checks payable to my landlord. Void where prohibited.)
My this has been a busy week. And so little time for blogging! Allow me to share with you some highlights:
- Last night Lynsey wanted to borrow a folder containing all of her and Sarah's reports and timesheets. I said "Okay, but be sure to bring them back...I haven't even faxed those reports to the Corporation!"
- After I said this they would not stop laughing and mocking me, so I knocked over all the stuff on their desks.
- Among those reports was this from Sarah: "Steve made me cry today. I think he will make me cry again tomorrow."
- She was being honest. This was an important learning experience for me. I would now like to share it in a new Better Cats and Gardens exclusive called
Steve's Rules of Effective ManagementRule 1: Making Them Cry is Good
Every time you can get your workers to openly weep, you win. The experience of crying on the job is so unpleasant that most people will do anything to avoid repeating it: Thus, after the first cry, you can expect at least a 227% increase in productivity!
However, do not stop here. Crying is one of the few activities not governed by the Law of Diminishing Marginal Returns. Every time your workers cry, their productivity will not only increase, it will increase exponentially. Thus, Cry #2 can be expected to quadruple Cry #1's effects; Cry #3 will tentriple it; until by Cry# 16 you can pretty much expect a Billion Percent level of worker productivity.
For some, this is difficult. Fortunately I've created this handy exercise! Everyone, get out your workbooks and write down:
The 10 things your workers do that annoy you most.
The 10 things that you like the most.
10 neutral characteristics.
10 things that they don't do but might.
10 things that they don't do and probably never would.
And: There you go! 50 handy items with which to make fun of them. That's 50 solid days worth of crying! Think how much you'll get done!
It is also necessary, of course, to reorient your thinking from what I call the "Blindness of Kindness" Mindset toward the "Cruelty is Cool and Funny" Mindset.
Example:
Your employee wears a particularly fetching outfit today. A bad leader would say, "I like that shirt. You look very nice today."
But thanks to my special training, you will now say "That shirt is retarded. You must come from poor genetic stock."
Cue: Tears, Efficiency.
***
Well, that's all for today. Stay tuned to this blog for more exclusive management tips and exercises. Or, for a low monthly installment of $262.50, you can have Steve come into Your Office and reorganize your workforce today!
(Make checks payable to my landlord. Void where prohibited.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
