Oh mother of shit Browser is still effin' up, I'm still addicted to YouTube, and the punk and metal scene in the whole tri-state area of Oregon, Washington, and Royal Imperial Canadia can line up for miles in Hell to bow down and kiss my arse. I'm leaving these videos here so I can remember to rip them once I buy another computer.
As I recall, G P-O included the snippet on the back of the IC Water LP about his being advised by Brion Gysin to wait ten years before writing about the death of an associate/friend, to give oneself some sense of perspective; the song is what came about at the end of the wait.
Love that broken code ?request= [Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('
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via Lashtal dot com, a Thelemic date server: Damn, I can waste some time... Pluswhich, I'm currently putting this crap here so's I can jack with the code later, so ignore it. Documentation @ http://www.lashtal.com/nuke/module-ThelemicDate-documentation.phtml
Amazement Four days and counting; I'm set to leave on the 15th. Portland, you seem intruiging, with a sense of history... I've found an ODBA job that pays 50-75$ an hour, but am unsure as to the qualifications...Oh, I can't express what Oracle and C++ experience would translate into, in dollar amounts. You do nothing, yet get treated as if you are a Walking God. And paid as such, to boot!
Eternally searching for the TOS violation that will get my ass kicked off planet Earth...one day, I'll be happily spinning off into space. Until then, I bitch, dumpster dive, sew, read, eatdrinkandsmoketoomuch, and bitch.
And constantly search for entertainment.
I'm Damned Damned Damned.
Also, I'd like to point out that Pierre Radisic is very NSFW, and also extremely SURREAL.
Oh, BTW, the vid for the bio is set to NEW ORDER'S "AGE OF CONSENT," if you weren't aware. It has less to do with paedophilia than you think; Marie and Louis XVI were married to each other at the ages of 14 and 15, respectively. 18th century mores; are we not coddled to death today?
Yoshida Tatsuya, chronicling some of the stone sculptures of the world (which aren't very in-depth; his pics of Ellora + Elephanta, India, could've done more justice to the erotic sculptures that've been there for 2000 years...as well as more pics of Angkor Wat, but there it is, anyway.)</p>
He's also the drummer for the Japanoise/Prog band, Ruins. They are so tight, it's incredible; forget about John Zorn, you haven't heard Hardcore Punk/Jazz/Prog fusion until</p> you've heard these people...</p>
""No More Games. No More bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun -- for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax -- This won't hurt.""
And this one's real; Paris Hilton was uninvolved, apparently and sadly enough.
DEAD BABIES - somebody tell me if this sux or not; I'm out of time.
GREAT! SINCE WE HAVE SOME WAR ON OIL IN THE MIDEAST,
AMERICA NOW OUTSOURCES ITS MILITARY TO MERCENARIES
"A man was accidentally killed by a sledgehammer his son-in-law was swinging at a bat that had flown into the home they shared, police said. Francis V. Mercier, 66, of East Mead Township, was hit in the head Friday by the three-pound hammer as his son-in-law, D. J. Delancey, was trying to kill the animal with it.
Delancey and his wife had moved into Mercier's home a few years ago, neighbors said. Delancey accidentally struck Mercier, who was standing behind him, about 1 a.m. Friday, police said.
Results of an autopsy performed Saturday were not immediately available. But police and Crawford County Coroner Patrick McHenry said the death appeared to be an accident."
Here's hoping the BAT made it out OK, at the least. This seems like a strange omen.
In Every Dream Home, Tofurkey So I've got the day off, or maybe I'm unemployed...not sure which. But all I really wanna talk about at this point is Giant Metal Robots. I can squelch this feeling, but it's going to take both hands. There... that's better. Now I can just reach around with my third hand and keep typing.
In strict defiance of these Comical Roboticals, let me introduce the concept of the Berm Home. I like these so much I have, several times today in actual fact considered changing my name to Mister "So I Like Berm Homes, So Effin' What?" (which would have the added bonus of looking GREAT on a resume!).
The Vikings had 'em; People in Fairy Tales who lived in Hollow Hills had 'em; coming up in the 1970's, National Geographic had 'em; Bauhaus made a song about 'em. Not believing the Hype? The indoor temp stays at 70 degrees, no heating or cooling, no fuss no muss...
Now get the FU*K off my lawn before I attempt to sell you something else.
Nick Cave... dark and creepy. You're a bi-polar genius, with equal passion for the most degrading aspects of humanity, as well as the beauty & wonder of God and Heaven.
<ahref="http://quizilla.com/users/micsmeets/quizzes/which%20fucked-up%20genius%20composer%20are%20you%3f/"> Which fucked-up genius composer are you?</a> brought to you by Quizilla
Night of the Living Hobosexuals.
I don't use remotely near enough grooming and haircare products to be considered Metrosexual,and consider the current classifications of sexuality to be mildly stultifying. So, I decided at some point last year to GO HOBO-SEXUAL. The time that I spent being wholly Hobosexual was some of the roughest, meanest little track of time that I've spent here on Saturn...er, Earth.
Once you get past the fact that most Hobos are male (which isn't too bad if that's Yr gender preference)toothless, haggard, dirty, and rough...It's all smooth salin' from there: Squatters, Transients, Teen Runaways, Bag Ladies, TrainHoppers, the pick of the litter; the Creme de la CRAP of Humanity. And before you rankle at that last, I am proud to be counted in their number.It's just that I've got this horrible, debilitating, compulsive crackbaby need to use soap. And I like other people that do, too. We could meet and form some sort of support group for it,maybe even give in to the temptation and *wash our hands or mouths out* while noone is looking...we could slip off and (naughty, naughty) *wash each others' backs*...the group could recycle fat from Liposuction Clinics and [reality check: this is every Chuck Pahalanuik novel ever written, plse. desist -ed.]
"Hop offa that train, and Come Ta Poppa! Oh Yah! Into Mah Arums... You gawt a mighty purty maouth. Getcher grubby little hands outta mah pockets! Naw! Stop smokin' up alla mah damn cigarettes!...What is that..that... Oh, Gawd, the STENCH!! (You must not have bathed in many moons, grasshopper!) Sacre Bleu! Le Horreurs! To smell you, I ENVY THE DEAD...come tuh think of it, YOU SMELL LIKE THE DEAD. Hmm, Ah think we can run with this! There, yuh just lie on back, real still like, into this bath of ice water and cool down, mmmm....that's it, now stop squirmin, or YOU'LL SPOIL THE MOMENT, BABY...
uh-huh...From the Alan Greenspan timeline: "Although he is not famous as an Objectivist (nor is it clear that he still considers himself an Objectivist), arguably the most famous person associated with Objectivism is Alan Greenspan. As chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, he is influential nationally and internationally. Prior to his international fame as a policymaker, Greenspan was well-known to Objectivists as a close friend of Ayn Rand and the author of articles published in her books and magazines. The timeline below summarizes some significant events in Greenspan's life and his relationship with Ayn Rand."
they're touring Europe at present, with two dates in Toronto:
June Nights in Toronto with Current 93 2 June 2005 Antony, Simon Finn, Baby Dee, Six Organs, M.Elliott 4 June 2005 Six Organs of Admittance, Antony, Current 93 (sold out) St George-the-Martyr Anglican Church 197 John Street Toronto, ON Canada Tickets are $65 (Canadian) and may be purchased by emailing Mark Logan at firstname.lastname@example.org, or calling (519) 744-1370 between 10am and 5pm EST or (519) 221-0884 outside those hours. see www.durtro.com for more information about these events.
nobody likes Texas...what? the state's freaking gigantic...maybe it's just that we really have no taste levels to speak of, I don't know.
Contemplating one's own navel is so much less fun than Navelgazing at someone else's. Staring at the ground is no match for staring at the sky... Today is Astronomy Day! April 24, Moon in Scorpio, and Lunar eclipse. Again, look up. (There's also a Solar Eclipse, but it's only visible from the Moon)
We just passed the 2nd anniversary of stay in Iraq, and I thought I may as well dredge up an old report.
While in custody during the Nuremberg trials, Nazi war criminal Hermann Goerring was interviewed by a psychologist named Dr.Gustave Gilbert, as recounted in the new book "Weapons of Mass Deception" by Sheldon Rampton and John Stauber of the Center for Media and Democracy.
"Of course, the people don't want war," Goerring said. "Why would some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece."
"Naturally, the common people don't want war -- neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America; nor, for that matter, in Germany. That is under- stood. After all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it isa democracy or a Fascist dictatorship or a parliament or a communist dictatorship," Goerring said.
Gilbert responded: "There's one difference. In a democracy, the people havesome say in the matter through their elected representatives. And in the United States only Congress can declare wars." Spoken like a true believer.
You can almost hear the snicker in Goerring's retort. "Oh, that is all well and good. But voice or no voice the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them theyare being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."
All I really really really really really really really really really really really want to see Is a total Eclipse of the Sun (but that won't happen until 01Aug2008). We North Americans do have a partial Eclipse tomorrow, though. There's a 20% blackout of the Sun in Dallas ,TX from 5:05 to 5:17 PM CST (Remember to Look Up)
[the morning after having received a rather intense asskicking by the other Monks for leaving beer bottles and cigarette butts all over the temple grounds; feeling like such a Bukowski]
The Headmaster adressed Yr supplicant (intoning in pristine 13th century Mandarin Chinese): "Perfecting the honored Fighting Style known as 'Drunken?' HA! Y're not a monk, Y're a drunk monkey!"
In answer, in perfect 21st century English the likes of which his 13th cen. self had apparently heard before:[Who was here before me, and how? How?] "I grovel before you, Mzster...znd that I mzy be, but you rezlise that I czn lezve the temple any time I wznt. Znd stop calling me 'Grasshopper;' I much prefer the term 'World-Eating Locust.'
I added, just for subtle effect: "Znd if you don't like it, you czn SUCK IT!"
"Suck it? It?? What is this *It*?"
You know, "It."
The Headmaster drops to his knees, apparently not having liked it rather vigorously, judging by the speed at which he physically lunged at me. Moving the folds of my robe, he moistened the tip of my stalk with his lips and then impaled his head on it, moving his mouth in butterfly strokes around and around like an intricate version of the Maypole Dance, small butterfly kisses on the head and light touches on the corona. "Oh, Mzster!"
[But enough Gay Pr0n]
I've been jealous of Anais Nin and Anne-Marie Villefranche for so much of my time, for being Diarists...they would record, and make a living off of, others' stories of sins and sucesses, of wants, needs, dreams and desires. As to Ms. Nin, she eventually resorted to the quite Republican ruse of living off of others' backs: she paid those with a tale to tell a dollar a page...some eroticist; but then, that's business.
And the ends justify the means, as any good (r)evolutionary will allay. In light of this evidence, I am swaying closer and closer to Objectivism; I beg the Cosmos to tell me that I still hold the Universe in esteem [I don't], that I'm not self-serving [I am], and that there's redeemabilty and inspiration in life's quandaries [None].
"Wage slavery is the state where you are unable to perceive choices and create courses of action different from the grind of the job." "Wage slave: A wage earner whose livelihood is completely dependent on the wages earned."
You never get back the time you've sold...Leisure is the goal of all mankind; why do we not act as such?
"Chapter 1.LVII. How the Thelemites were governed, and of their manner of living.
All their life was spent not in laws, statutes, or rules, but according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose out of their beds when they thought good; they did eat, drink, labour, sleep, when they had a mind to it and were disposed for it. None did awake them, none did offer to constrain them to eat, drink, nor to do any other thing; for so had Gargantua established it. In all their rule and strictest tie of their order there was but this one clause to be observed,
DO WHAT THOU WILT
because men that are free, well-born, well-bred, and conversant in honest companies, have naturally an instinct and spur that prompteth them unto virtuous actions, and withdraws them from vice, which is called honour. Those same men, when by base subjection and constraint they are brought under and kept down, turn aside from that noble disposition by which they formerly were inclined to virtue, to shake off and break that bond of servitude wherein they are so tyrannously enslaved; for it is agreeable with the nature of man to long after things forbidden and to desire what is denied us."
There's even a restaurant in Quebec City named after the man: Chez Rabelais...I want to roadtrip to Canada, just to eat there...and other roadside attractions. Stop me before I subreference again...
Dear Diary: I FUQ'N HATE YOU! (Just kidding, DiaryLadyBaby) I've been having the dream again, it's the one I told you about, doc... No, not the one where I'm telling Natalie Portman to lay down in a bath of ice water while I paint her lips blue. Whaddya think I am, some kind of necrophiliac pervert?
It's always the same, when it happens... A room, cold grey light, diffused, like mist is when it's around you... I am seated at a table, facing Alan Greenspan; before me, some strange device, apparently a speculum, only much much larger and a tube of "Ben Dover's Anal Lubricant"...I open the tube, squeeze the contents of the entire thing into my mouth, and pause for a moment, enjoying the tart cherry flavor and sudden numbness in my throat and lips.
I rise out of my chair and walk around, kicking the chair out from under him; I stoop to where he now lies on the floor, prone and strangely silent. In one deft movement, I heave his form onto the table and insert the strange chrome device into his nether regions...Shortly after inserting my foot and pushing in, up to the knee, I give pause at the realization that this is going to be more work than I'd anticipated, drooling a little due to the liberal use of Ben's jelly.
Forcing the leg up and up and up, finally reaching a point where I can slide myself into the man's hunched-over torso. Pulling the rest of my body along behind my already Greenspan-encased limbs, I am now enclosed in the relative safety of the body of THE ONE FINAL HUMAN BEING who has any faith in the U.S. economy.
I could be wrong; hold forth.
It's raining, which condition shitcans any plans to air up my bike tires and pedal to the Longhorn Ballroom, break in, and take pictures. No dumpster diving, either. What a drag.
ASPEN - Hunter S. Thompson, who fatally shot himself at his Colorado home Sunday night, left behind a 352-page suicide note, say Aspen police. According to the note, which will be published in book form by Rolling Stone early next week, Thompson's suicide was prompted at least in part by the appearance of his phone number on the Internet after Paris Hilton's Sidekick had been hacked.
"That king-hell, soul-sucking, cellulite-brained sleazoid Paris Hilton has sucked me into the maw of her eyeball-frying power trip," wrote Thompson. "Now every two-bit geek of an editor I ever kept waiting up past his bedtime on a deadline is ringing me as if I'm the local Domino's Pizza just to give me one of the few remaining pieces of his or her mind."