here in dear ol' kantuck, 'cash for clunkers' is what we call the rush on hauling junk cars to the yard for a bit a scrap metal payola ...
or, at this moment, it makes me think of the johnny cash song 'one piece at a time,' but that is just barely relevant.
in the past couple of days, news has circulated that the $1-billion 'cash for clunkers' program is running out of funding. this is where the U.S. government will rebate you $4,500 for trading in a vehicle with a combined 18 mpg city/highway rating if you buy a fuel-efficient vehicle. there are some other requirements, i think one is having a near-beer with the vice president ... but who in the hell wants to do that?
word today is that the program will continue at least through the weekend, with congressional 'leaders' and president obama scrambling to find more money the country doesn't have to fund this thing. with the trillion dollars already pumped into the economy in 'stimulus,' there has not been one program that has benefitted me personally. and dammit, i am receded just like everyone else ... except strippers and near-beer breweries. sure, i have a clunker and i would love to have a prius, but just how am i supposed to pay for the other portion of the purchase? is there a program for that? yeah, it's called gainful employment.
anyway ...
with the money that has already been so-called 'doled' (in deference to any brits who might be reading), with our 330-million (and growing) population, that would translate to about $4,500 for each american if the government had instead issued direct payments to every man, woman, child and transgendered person in our nation. and you know what americans would have done if receiving a $4,500-check with our names on them? we would spend it, cause that's what we like to do. personally, i could used such a payment to upgrade photo equipment and get back into the business of shooting people ... or titty bar-hopping. just kidding ... i don't do that (anymore).
there is a bit of good news ... the economy only shrank 1 percent the second quarter of this year, with major positive changes in business spending, home and commercial construction and consumer spending. that is good news. some economists have said this could signal 'the bottom' of the decline ... let's just all gather in a prayer circle and ask that it be so. this report siganls change in the right direction, but unemployment is still expected to reach 10 percent nationwide by the end of the year and any changes in hiring and job creation would likely not be fruated (did i make that up?) until first quarter 2010 ... which, of course, is exactly the moment the truth will be revealed about life on other planets and google turns into skynet.
so there is good and bad news today ... firstly, the good as the economy shows signs of recovery.
the bad ... none of us will get to enjoy it as the destruction of the human race by machines allied with the monolith worshipers of altaron 5 begins and drives inflation through the van allen belts.
but i could be wrong ...
7.31.2009
7.30.2009
hawkeye pierce ...
knock-knock.
who's there?
abraham lincoln.
abraham lincoln who?
knock-knock.
who's there?
thomas jefferson.
thomas jefferson who?
has abe lincoln been here?
who's there?
abraham lincoln.
abraham lincoln who?
knock-knock.
who's there?
thomas jefferson.
thomas jefferson who?
has abe lincoln been here?
the dukes and the klan - the conspiracy revealed
i have a theory that 'the dukes of hazzard', though i am a huge fan of the show, was actually a creation of and by the ku klux klan ... a propaganda tool to get into the heads of america's television viewing audience, a highly-rated show hiding an agenda of race hating, high speed runs from the law and an effort to secure short-shorts in the minds of 'Merica for time unending.
without further delay of 'yeeeeeehaaaaaaw!', away we go ... some may be obvious, others not so.
1. the general lee - the car was the star of the show. tom wopat can bitch and moan all he wants about john schneider but that damned car drew the crowd, still does at those annual dukes rallies held in north carolina or tennessee or whatever cracka state hosting it these days. the car was such a star it spawned a whole subculture of rednecks painting their pickup, pintos, chevettes and k-cars in the flame orange regaling.
now, we all know, general robert e. lee was the commanding general of the army of virginia, the confederate states of america's fighting force. he is a legend, not withstanding that status. he was a military genius offered the command of the union army by president lincoln, but declined based on his loyalty to his state. anyways, naming a car general lee certainly a nod to him. the confederate battle flag emblazoned on top, with no shame in it, or any shame witnessed by the producers. of course the overtness of such a name and the display of the flag is a sign of agenda, then there is the color orange, a nod at the color of flames consuming a cross erected in a yard. the number on the side of the car, 01, a nod at the klan's thought of racial supremacy and 'no. 1' status in the array of human racial existence.
and of course, the general was always jumping the biggest shit on the planet, the widest 'cricks', the tallest barns and never being defeated ... the south shall rise again, over a three-tiered tabaccy barn apparently.
2. the use of the duke family name - at the time of the creation of the show, david duke - that old faithful louisiana bigot - was grand dragon of the ku klux klan. it does not take a member of the southern poverty law center or the fbi to figure that one out.
3. boss hogg and the color white - he dressed in white, he drove a white cadillac, he ate raw friggin' liver. uncle jesse (jesse james was a klansman and a confederate guerilla raider throughout missouri) drove a white pickup truck. daisy duke drove a white jeep. and all of this white in a county without paved roads, dust flying behind cars without anything ever getting dirty ... what's that all about?
4. hazzard - well, there is a couple of reaches here, but maybe a hazard in messing with the dukes? such as 'you in for a world of hazards if you mess with david duke and his klan!' coincedentially there is a city in kentucky called hazard, which is known among the appalachian people for its heavy klan ties ... i have talked with people in that part of the state who still witness crosses burning on a ridgeline at night.
5. the representation of minorities in the show - there was only one recurring black character on the show, the sheriff of chickasaw county. he was always, always out to catch the duke boys crossing over the county line. since they were on probation for moonshining (white lightnin'), they were supposedly on probationary condition that disallowed their leaving hazzard county. he was a hard core cop, but a bit of a bumbling type. he was always made a fool by the dukes. anytime a minority character, most often black, appeared on the show he was always a criminal, crook or swindler and always had a firearm. try to nail down an episode where bo or luke had a gun ... i can think of only a couple and that is only because they picked it up off the ground. uncle jesse, however, he liked the shottie gat from time to time.
6. flash the beagle - while sheriff roscoe p. coltrane's dog was not a bloodhound but a bassett, this was a nod to the blooder. bloodhounds were the canine of choice for the slave trackers of the old south. any dog in these lines make great tracking dogs and can pick any scent trail, just about anywhere.
7. dynamite - the dukes were always using dynamite on the end of a friggin' arrow to cause destruction and distraction. anyone remember birmingham and 16th street baptist ... that church was bombed in, what, 1963 with, what, dynamite. well, it wasn't on an arrow, but dynamite was a popular tool of the klan back in those dark days.
8. night in hazzard - it seemed to always be daylight in hazzard, nightime never came. the dukes had no need for anything resembling darkness in their lives.
now, maybe some of this is a stretch, but most seems just a bit too similar for my tastes. think on it, i am sure you all will come up with connections of your own.
without further delay of 'yeeeeeehaaaaaaw!', away we go ... some may be obvious, others not so.
1. the general lee - the car was the star of the show. tom wopat can bitch and moan all he wants about john schneider but that damned car drew the crowd, still does at those annual dukes rallies held in north carolina or tennessee or whatever cracka state hosting it these days. the car was such a star it spawned a whole subculture of rednecks painting their pickup, pintos, chevettes and k-cars in the flame orange regaling.
now, we all know, general robert e. lee was the commanding general of the army of virginia, the confederate states of america's fighting force. he is a legend, not withstanding that status. he was a military genius offered the command of the union army by president lincoln, but declined based on his loyalty to his state. anyways, naming a car general lee certainly a nod to him. the confederate battle flag emblazoned on top, with no shame in it, or any shame witnessed by the producers. of course the overtness of such a name and the display of the flag is a sign of agenda, then there is the color orange, a nod at the color of flames consuming a cross erected in a yard. the number on the side of the car, 01, a nod at the klan's thought of racial supremacy and 'no. 1' status in the array of human racial existence.
and of course, the general was always jumping the biggest shit on the planet, the widest 'cricks', the tallest barns and never being defeated ... the south shall rise again, over a three-tiered tabaccy barn apparently.
2. the use of the duke family name - at the time of the creation of the show, david duke - that old faithful louisiana bigot - was grand dragon of the ku klux klan. it does not take a member of the southern poverty law center or the fbi to figure that one out.
3. boss hogg and the color white - he dressed in white, he drove a white cadillac, he ate raw friggin' liver. uncle jesse (jesse james was a klansman and a confederate guerilla raider throughout missouri) drove a white pickup truck. daisy duke drove a white jeep. and all of this white in a county without paved roads, dust flying behind cars without anything ever getting dirty ... what's that all about?
4. hazzard - well, there is a couple of reaches here, but maybe a hazard in messing with the dukes? such as 'you in for a world of hazards if you mess with david duke and his klan!' coincedentially there is a city in kentucky called hazard, which is known among the appalachian people for its heavy klan ties ... i have talked with people in that part of the state who still witness crosses burning on a ridgeline at night.
5. the representation of minorities in the show - there was only one recurring black character on the show, the sheriff of chickasaw county. he was always, always out to catch the duke boys crossing over the county line. since they were on probation for moonshining (white lightnin'), they were supposedly on probationary condition that disallowed their leaving hazzard county. he was a hard core cop, but a bit of a bumbling type. he was always made a fool by the dukes. anytime a minority character, most often black, appeared on the show he was always a criminal, crook or swindler and always had a firearm. try to nail down an episode where bo or luke had a gun ... i can think of only a couple and that is only because they picked it up off the ground. uncle jesse, however, he liked the shottie gat from time to time.
6. flash the beagle - while sheriff roscoe p. coltrane's dog was not a bloodhound but a bassett, this was a nod to the blooder. bloodhounds were the canine of choice for the slave trackers of the old south. any dog in these lines make great tracking dogs and can pick any scent trail, just about anywhere.
7. dynamite - the dukes were always using dynamite on the end of a friggin' arrow to cause destruction and distraction. anyone remember birmingham and 16th street baptist ... that church was bombed in, what, 1963 with, what, dynamite. well, it wasn't on an arrow, but dynamite was a popular tool of the klan back in those dark days.
8. night in hazzard - it seemed to always be daylight in hazzard, nightime never came. the dukes had no need for anything resembling darkness in their lives.
now, maybe some of this is a stretch, but most seems just a bit too similar for my tastes. think on it, i am sure you all will come up with connections of your own.
see what your stupid clowning around got you ... capped, that's what!
following hundreds of years of buckets filled with confetti, water-squirting flowers and the flaunting of their giant feet sizings, revenge has been enacted against clowns.
a lone gunman entered a circus in the impoverished town of cucuta, colombia - a country well known for its coked-up clowns (i have no idea if that statement is true) - and shot down two clowns mid-'performance'. now, i am not making a secret and never have, i hate clowns. they are creepy, wear clothing that is not only mismatched but oftentimes smelly, and, face it, not all that funny.
now, i hate it that two circus men are dead, cause joshie loves him some circus, but come on, clowns have been asking for it for a long darned time. john wayne gacy and ronald mcdonald, for two cases, are enough for at least some clown-bashing justification. then there is the whole summer i spent reading 'it' (i still have not recovered the wasted time or the piece of mind) or the small screen adaptation that scared additional pisswater out of me ... at least john ritter made that film worth it.
other clowns who give us all fine reason for some good old-fashioned grease-paint hatemongering ... bozo (so not funny), the killer klowns from outer space (death by popcorn and cotton candy), insane clown posse (come on, people, that band sucked, sucked, sucked), KISS (they may have rocked, but they WERE clowns, no matter how much gene tried to sell that whole alien thing).
and last but not surely not least, that french cousin of the clown, the mime. who hasn't wanted to smack the shit out of a mime. pretentious franco 'artists'. mimes have been asking for a gat-induced coma for, what, centuries? now, i am not saying go out and start popping caps in mimes, but knocking a big ol' hole in their imaginary box or cutting their 'rope' would be fun, right?
in fact, i can only think of two clowns that even make the 'profession' marginally respectable ... krusty the clown and shakes the clown. although, now that i consider it a little more deeply, perhaps krusty and shakes are the same clown. research it, i think you will find i am likely close to right.
anyways, clowns are creepy. hate it somebody died in clown face, but hey, that's the chance you take working a 50-cent circus in the coca capital of the world. what the hell did they expect, a madman with a gun that ejects a 'bang' flag in the stead of hot, flesh-piercing lead? i call that a hazard of the job.
a lone gunman entered a circus in the impoverished town of cucuta, colombia - a country well known for its coked-up clowns (i have no idea if that statement is true) - and shot down two clowns mid-'performance'. now, i am not making a secret and never have, i hate clowns. they are creepy, wear clothing that is not only mismatched but oftentimes smelly, and, face it, not all that funny.
now, i hate it that two circus men are dead, cause joshie loves him some circus, but come on, clowns have been asking for it for a long darned time. john wayne gacy and ronald mcdonald, for two cases, are enough for at least some clown-bashing justification. then there is the whole summer i spent reading 'it' (i still have not recovered the wasted time or the piece of mind) or the small screen adaptation that scared additional pisswater out of me ... at least john ritter made that film worth it.
other clowns who give us all fine reason for some good old-fashioned grease-paint hatemongering ... bozo (so not funny), the killer klowns from outer space (death by popcorn and cotton candy), insane clown posse (come on, people, that band sucked, sucked, sucked), KISS (they may have rocked, but they WERE clowns, no matter how much gene tried to sell that whole alien thing).
and last but not surely not least, that french cousin of the clown, the mime. who hasn't wanted to smack the shit out of a mime. pretentious franco 'artists'. mimes have been asking for a gat-induced coma for, what, centuries? now, i am not saying go out and start popping caps in mimes, but knocking a big ol' hole in their imaginary box or cutting their 'rope' would be fun, right?
in fact, i can only think of two clowns that even make the 'profession' marginally respectable ... krusty the clown and shakes the clown. although, now that i consider it a little more deeply, perhaps krusty and shakes are the same clown. research it, i think you will find i am likely close to right.
anyways, clowns are creepy. hate it somebody died in clown face, but hey, that's the chance you take working a 50-cent circus in the coca capital of the world. what the hell did they expect, a madman with a gun that ejects a 'bang' flag in the stead of hot, flesh-piercing lead? i call that a hazard of the job.
how to go about this thing ...
how to go about this thing,
this measure of heading forward.
wrapping my mind around that which
never occurred as possibility and
that which writes itself off
like a nice piss against the wind.
see, it would be no issue at all
to simply continue beating my head
against the stony wall;
but the lessons of skull being tougher
than brick make that impossibility alongside.
they just don't make bricks like they used to, see?
always been stubborn this way, my friend.
believing enough, caring enough, tortorous enough,
to actually have ideals and principles and senses.
now, where have these nuisances brought me to?
exactly where you shall see me stand,
poised to take a go at the barriers with cranial might.
i would wear it all on the sleeve,
if not for the haphazard ways in which i cover.
these old rags are just fine, friend, don't worry
your own ideals are not in jeopardized state, see.
for there is no way i could ever poison your motive.
i only say this to assure total misunderstandings.
from this point onward, there will be no purpose.
we will find it easier that way, you see.
without purpose, the journey becomes a much simpler manner.
a manner of flailing with emotional repose,
flopping about like a mudfish gone to far from the moist.
let's welcome that realization, shall we?
i will slither about in my disguises,
tatters of my ideals and principles and senses
dragging along behind such as the shed scales
of serpentine purpose and existence.
oh yes, i shall drag them and the dust shall
not settle upon this moving beast.
how to go about this thing?
simple, one might surmise, though he would be wronged.
he goes about it with disgust, disdain, disruption.
he goes about it in reproach and revulsion and readmittance.
he goes about it in new ideal and principle and sense.
he goes about this thing by going about.
how to go about this thing,
this measure of heading forward.
wrapping my mind around that which
never occurred as possibility and
that which writes itself off
like a nice piss against the wind.
see, it would be no issue at all
to simply continue beating my head
against the stony wall;
but the lessons of skull being tougher
than brick make that impossibility alongside.
they just don't make bricks like they used to, see?
always been stubborn this way, my friend.
believing enough, caring enough, tortorous enough,
to actually have ideals and principles and senses.
now, where have these nuisances brought me to?
exactly where you shall see me stand,
poised to take a go at the barriers with cranial might.
i would wear it all on the sleeve,
if not for the haphazard ways in which i cover.
these old rags are just fine, friend, don't worry
your own ideals are not in jeopardized state, see.
for there is no way i could ever poison your motive.
i only say this to assure total misunderstandings.
from this point onward, there will be no purpose.
we will find it easier that way, you see.
without purpose, the journey becomes a much simpler manner.
a manner of flailing with emotional repose,
flopping about like a mudfish gone to far from the moist.
let's welcome that realization, shall we?
i will slither about in my disguises,
tatters of my ideals and principles and senses
dragging along behind such as the shed scales
of serpentine purpose and existence.
oh yes, i shall drag them and the dust shall
not settle upon this moving beast.
how to go about this thing?
simple, one might surmise, though he would be wronged.
he goes about it with disgust, disdain, disruption.
he goes about it in reproach and revulsion and readmittance.
he goes about it in new ideal and principle and sense.
he goes about this thing by going about.
how to go about this thing,
this measure of heading forward.
wrapping my mind around that which
never occurred as possibility and
that which writes itself off
like a nice piss against the wind.
see, it would be no issue at all
to simply continue beating my head
against the stony wall;
but the lessons of skull being tougher
than brick make that impossibility alongside.
they just don't make bricks like they used to, see?
always been stubborn this way, my friend.
believing enough, caring enough, tortorous enough,
to actually have ideals and principles and senses.
now, where have these nuisances brought me to?
exactly where you shall see me stand,
poised to take a go at the barriers with cranial might.
i would wear it all on the sleeve,
if not for the haphazard ways in which i cover.
these old rags are just fine, friend, don't worry
your own ideals are not in jeopardized state, see.
for there is no way i could ever poison your motive.
i only say this to assure total misunderstandings.
from this point onward, there will be no purpose.
we will find it easier that way, you see.
without purpose, the journey becomes a much simpler manner.
a manner of flailing with emotional repose,
flopping about like a mudfish gone to far from the moist.
let's welcome that realization, shall we?
i will slither about in my disguises,
tatters of my ideals and principles and senses
dragging along behind such as the shed scales
of serpentine purpose and existence.
oh yes, i shall drag them and the dust shall
not settle upon this moving beast.
how to go about this thing?
simple, one might surmise, though he would be wronged.
he goes about it with disgust, disdain, disruption.
he goes about it in reproach and revulsion and readmittance.
he goes about it in new ideal and principle and sense.
he goes about this thing by going about.
this measure of heading forward.
wrapping my mind around that which
never occurred as possibility and
that which writes itself off
like a nice piss against the wind.
see, it would be no issue at all
to simply continue beating my head
against the stony wall;
but the lessons of skull being tougher
than brick make that impossibility alongside.
they just don't make bricks like they used to, see?
always been stubborn this way, my friend.
believing enough, caring enough, tortorous enough,
to actually have ideals and principles and senses.
now, where have these nuisances brought me to?
exactly where you shall see me stand,
poised to take a go at the barriers with cranial might.
i would wear it all on the sleeve,
if not for the haphazard ways in which i cover.
these old rags are just fine, friend, don't worry
your own ideals are not in jeopardized state, see.
for there is no way i could ever poison your motive.
i only say this to assure total misunderstandings.
from this point onward, there will be no purpose.
we will find it easier that way, you see.
without purpose, the journey becomes a much simpler manner.
a manner of flailing with emotional repose,
flopping about like a mudfish gone to far from the moist.
let's welcome that realization, shall we?
i will slither about in my disguises,
tatters of my ideals and principles and senses
dragging along behind such as the shed scales
of serpentine purpose and existence.
oh yes, i shall drag them and the dust shall
not settle upon this moving beast.
how to go about this thing?
simple, one might surmise, though he would be wronged.
he goes about it with disgust, disdain, disruption.
he goes about it in reproach and revulsion and readmittance.
he goes about it in new ideal and principle and sense.
he goes about this thing by going about.
how to go about this thing,
this measure of heading forward.
wrapping my mind around that which
never occurred as possibility and
that which writes itself off
like a nice piss against the wind.
see, it would be no issue at all
to simply continue beating my head
against the stony wall;
but the lessons of skull being tougher
than brick make that impossibility alongside.
they just don't make bricks like they used to, see?
always been stubborn this way, my friend.
believing enough, caring enough, tortorous enough,
to actually have ideals and principles and senses.
now, where have these nuisances brought me to?
exactly where you shall see me stand,
poised to take a go at the barriers with cranial might.
i would wear it all on the sleeve,
if not for the haphazard ways in which i cover.
these old rags are just fine, friend, don't worry
your own ideals are not in jeopardized state, see.
for there is no way i could ever poison your motive.
i only say this to assure total misunderstandings.
from this point onward, there will be no purpose.
we will find it easier that way, you see.
without purpose, the journey becomes a much simpler manner.
a manner of flailing with emotional repose,
flopping about like a mudfish gone to far from the moist.
let's welcome that realization, shall we?
i will slither about in my disguises,
tatters of my ideals and principles and senses
dragging along behind such as the shed scales
of serpentine purpose and existence.
oh yes, i shall drag them and the dust shall
not settle upon this moving beast.
how to go about this thing?
simple, one might surmise, though he would be wronged.
he goes about it with disgust, disdain, disruption.
he goes about it in reproach and revulsion and readmittance.
he goes about it in new ideal and principle and sense.
he goes about this thing by going about.
how to go about this thing,
this measure of heading forward.
wrapping my mind around that which
never occurred as possibility and
that which writes itself off
like a nice piss against the wind.
see, it would be no issue at all
to simply continue beating my head
against the stony wall;
but the lessons of skull being tougher
than brick make that impossibility alongside.
they just don't make bricks like they used to, see?
always been stubborn this way, my friend.
believing enough, caring enough, tortorous enough,
to actually have ideals and principles and senses.
now, where have these nuisances brought me to?
exactly where you shall see me stand,
poised to take a go at the barriers with cranial might.
i would wear it all on the sleeve,
if not for the haphazard ways in which i cover.
these old rags are just fine, friend, don't worry
your own ideals are not in jeopardized state, see.
for there is no way i could ever poison your motive.
i only say this to assure total misunderstandings.
from this point onward, there will be no purpose.
we will find it easier that way, you see.
without purpose, the journey becomes a much simpler manner.
a manner of flailing with emotional repose,
flopping about like a mudfish gone to far from the moist.
let's welcome that realization, shall we?
i will slither about in my disguises,
tatters of my ideals and principles and senses
dragging along behind such as the shed scales
of serpentine purpose and existence.
oh yes, i shall drag them and the dust shall
not settle upon this moving beast.
how to go about this thing?
simple, one might surmise, though he would be wronged.
he goes about it with disgust, disdain, disruption.
he goes about it in reproach and revulsion and readmittance.
he goes about it in new ideal and principle and sense.
he goes about this thing by going about.
7.29.2009
some people ...
some people i like.
some people i do not like without prejudice.
some people are good people.
some people are jackasses.
some people are smarter than me.
some people are not smarter than me.
some people have no hidden agenda.
some people are out for 'theirs.'
some people will treat you with respect.
some people will take advantage at every turn.
some people deserve to be loved.
some people will give you reason to not love them.
some people do not care what others think.
some people will put on fakeness to fit in.
some people are good at what they do.
some people should find something else to fill their time.
some people deserve to be happy.
some people catch all the breaks.
some people live good lives.
some people are bent on tripping you up.
some people are people.
some people just might not be people.
One.
some people i do not like without prejudice.
some people are good people.
some people are jackasses.
some people are smarter than me.
some people are not smarter than me.
some people have no hidden agenda.
some people are out for 'theirs.'
some people will treat you with respect.
some people will take advantage at every turn.
some people deserve to be loved.
some people will give you reason to not love them.
some people do not care what others think.
some people will put on fakeness to fit in.
some people are good at what they do.
some people should find something else to fill their time.
some people deserve to be happy.
some people catch all the breaks.
some people live good lives.
some people are bent on tripping you up.
some people are people.
some people just might not be people.
One.
7.28.2009
noxema electrical storms ...
not that i even understand the term metrosexual or, for that matter, a single minute of any random episode of 'sex and the city', but let's just say if a man were to cleanse his facial, neck and upper shoulder skin with noxema, if i knew what metrosexual (or is it metroidsexual? what a game that metroid!), then i would probably say i might have latent metrosexual tendencies.
josh could be a raging metro ... it is certain he uses skin cream, making him, of course, most certainly a metrosexual, a word he does not quite understand. hmmm ... sounds like a job for deep, deep memory-retrieving counseling (so too does writing of one's self in third person).
anyway, this is discussion of noxema skin cream and the jerks who produce it ... or so it was supposed to be.
o.k., do not misunderstand me ... noxema makes a great facial wash product ... cuts out the grime like a hypoallergenic, scrubbin' bubbles product for the skin ... without the bubbles ... and certainly skin-peeling bleaches and ammonias which make actual scrubbing bubbles effective on bathroom soap scum, but dangerous for use in deep-cleansing of pores ... i am getting sidetracked again ... suffice to say, the product works, gets my skin kissable soft and keeps me looking not a day over 37 ... no gripes with the product ... stuff works, no calls to consumer hotline.
however, i do have a problem with those, again, jerks who produce noxema ... see the thing needs a warning label for safety ... while the product will not remove layers of skin, only the dirt on top of it, it can deliver one heck of a electrical shock ... no kidding.
here's the deal ... i have no idea how this happens, but for some reason when you use a newly-purchased jar of noxema skin cream, jar not pump (four ounces less, $1.25 more in price for the conveinence of what, not getting it on your hands?), after opening and as reaching in to remove an amount for aforementioned deep-cleansing of pores, a bolt of lightning will arc from the factory-smooth skin cream surface to the nearest fingertip, delivering a taseresque jolt of static electricity, illiciting naked, wet in the shower responses as 'ouw-wah,' 'dang it!,' and 'shit!'
how is this occuring? at what point in the process of manufacture is 50,000 volts of electricity being produced and stored in this plastic jar of age-defining, deliciously-effective deep-cleansing of pores product?
what is the mystery of this hygienic hand-buzzer! sometimes the static will last until the second or third use, each shock as strong as the first ... strange ... i will get to the bottom of this!
i am writing the jerks tomorrow ... someone could be killed ... not by the electricity, per se, but say the shock of the well, shock, causes to lose footing, slip in the shower, fall, hit their head on the toilet and become injured ... this is another household accident which could be avoided!
I DEMAND REDUCED ELECTRICITY LEVELS IN MY SKIN CREAM!
One.
josh could be a raging metro ... it is certain he uses skin cream, making him, of course, most certainly a metrosexual, a word he does not quite understand. hmmm ... sounds like a job for deep, deep memory-retrieving counseling (so too does writing of one's self in third person).
anyway, this is discussion of noxema skin cream and the jerks who produce it ... or so it was supposed to be.
o.k., do not misunderstand me ... noxema makes a great facial wash product ... cuts out the grime like a hypoallergenic, scrubbin' bubbles product for the skin ... without the bubbles ... and certainly skin-peeling bleaches and ammonias which make actual scrubbing bubbles effective on bathroom soap scum, but dangerous for use in deep-cleansing of pores ... i am getting sidetracked again ... suffice to say, the product works, gets my skin kissable soft and keeps me looking not a day over 37 ... no gripes with the product ... stuff works, no calls to consumer hotline.
however, i do have a problem with those, again, jerks who produce noxema ... see the thing needs a warning label for safety ... while the product will not remove layers of skin, only the dirt on top of it, it can deliver one heck of a electrical shock ... no kidding.
here's the deal ... i have no idea how this happens, but for some reason when you use a newly-purchased jar of noxema skin cream, jar not pump (four ounces less, $1.25 more in price for the conveinence of what, not getting it on your hands?), after opening and as reaching in to remove an amount for aforementioned deep-cleansing of pores, a bolt of lightning will arc from the factory-smooth skin cream surface to the nearest fingertip, delivering a taseresque jolt of static electricity, illiciting naked, wet in the shower responses as 'ouw-wah,' 'dang it!,' and 'shit!'
how is this occuring? at what point in the process of manufacture is 50,000 volts of electricity being produced and stored in this plastic jar of age-defining, deliciously-effective deep-cleansing of pores product?
what is the mystery of this hygienic hand-buzzer! sometimes the static will last until the second or third use, each shock as strong as the first ... strange ... i will get to the bottom of this!
i am writing the jerks tomorrow ... someone could be killed ... not by the electricity, per se, but say the shock of the well, shock, causes to lose footing, slip in the shower, fall, hit their head on the toilet and become injured ... this is another household accident which could be avoided!
I DEMAND REDUCED ELECTRICITY LEVELS IN MY SKIN CREAM!
One.
yeah, i laugh at stuff i shouldn't ... so.
i will admit it. much of the stuff i find funny, no hysterical, others do not. maybe they are even offended that i think it is funny or maybe they think i am weird or childish or heartless. all i's got to say is, so what. it is my sense of humor and i will use it the way i want.
i laugh when people slip on ice and bust their asses. i laugh when small children face-plant at the park. and don't get all angry, i will laugh whether it is your child or mine ... and not before i find out they are okay. people who walk into things when not looking, yeah, that's a laugh. grown people who don't make it to the bathroom, yep, another laugh. and why do i laugh at this stuff, you wonder. mainly, because it has all happened to me, so in a way, i am laughing at myself.
now, don't misunderstand me, i am not going to laugh at older people with alzheimer's or the disabled. that's just crude and heartless ... however, an old person falling on ice, that might get a chuckle.
yeah, i watch stuff like 'funniest videos' and 'smoking gun: world's dumbest ...' i laugh because i am not that hard to entertain. maybe it is juvenile, but i am not sorry, a guy getting smacked in the face while his daughter tries to bust her birthday pinata, that is funny. especially when the 'stick' is an aluminum baseball bat ... all i can say is, 'should have thought ahead, buddy.' and another thing, people who are not hispanic and have a pinata at a birthday party ... they are asking for it. embrace your own party traditions, okay, or create your own. possibly won't be as good on the hilarity potential, but at least you can avoid a sack shot ...
and yeah, i make jokes maybe only i will get and i tell horrible jokes with punchlines you may have to think about. no problem, i am mainly doing it to entertain myself. maybe it is because of the environment i grew up in, that for the most part, my brothers and i are educated (i say most part, cause they both have advanced degrees and i do not), so we made jokes where one may need a little more understanding. this stuff can be lost on other people ... no bother. mainly, it just results in eyerolls and a blank thought in others. it's been going on since we were children, so probably won't be any changing any time soon.
i do funny walks in public or talk way too loudly. i will say things, while not inappropriate, will draw attention to people with me who do not want attention. i will take pratfalls and knock over small retail displays. i will smack a sign and act like i hit my head. i will sing old-time hymns in a falsetto voice or ask a complete stranger if they think the teddy will look good on me. yeah, maybe i am a bit of a jackass, but some people love me. no problem ...
i like cartoons. the old stuff, bugs bunny, tom and jerry, popeye and smurfs. i get off on bugs dressed up like a girl or taking a bath when he's supposed to be the main dish in the king's meal. i love the old-school comedy of lenny bruce, richard pryor and george carlin, stuff that makes me think and requires me to know a bit to fully appreciate the genius of the joke. i don't always get it, but i do 'get it' enough to know dane cook is a jagoff and larry the cable guy is most likely way dumbed down. that's okay, the audience pays for what they get, so i won't judge, i just won't be watching.
yeah, i laugh at stuff you may not think so funny. that's fine, we'll get along anyway.
you just may want to decline going to walmart with me on a friday afternoon. the large potential of a big crowd becoming an audience is a highly tempting setting for me ...
One.
i laugh when people slip on ice and bust their asses. i laugh when small children face-plant at the park. and don't get all angry, i will laugh whether it is your child or mine ... and not before i find out they are okay. people who walk into things when not looking, yeah, that's a laugh. grown people who don't make it to the bathroom, yep, another laugh. and why do i laugh at this stuff, you wonder. mainly, because it has all happened to me, so in a way, i am laughing at myself.
now, don't misunderstand me, i am not going to laugh at older people with alzheimer's or the disabled. that's just crude and heartless ... however, an old person falling on ice, that might get a chuckle.
yeah, i watch stuff like 'funniest videos' and 'smoking gun: world's dumbest ...' i laugh because i am not that hard to entertain. maybe it is juvenile, but i am not sorry, a guy getting smacked in the face while his daughter tries to bust her birthday pinata, that is funny. especially when the 'stick' is an aluminum baseball bat ... all i can say is, 'should have thought ahead, buddy.' and another thing, people who are not hispanic and have a pinata at a birthday party ... they are asking for it. embrace your own party traditions, okay, or create your own. possibly won't be as good on the hilarity potential, but at least you can avoid a sack shot ...
and yeah, i make jokes maybe only i will get and i tell horrible jokes with punchlines you may have to think about. no problem, i am mainly doing it to entertain myself. maybe it is because of the environment i grew up in, that for the most part, my brothers and i are educated (i say most part, cause they both have advanced degrees and i do not), so we made jokes where one may need a little more understanding. this stuff can be lost on other people ... no bother. mainly, it just results in eyerolls and a blank thought in others. it's been going on since we were children, so probably won't be any changing any time soon.
i do funny walks in public or talk way too loudly. i will say things, while not inappropriate, will draw attention to people with me who do not want attention. i will take pratfalls and knock over small retail displays. i will smack a sign and act like i hit my head. i will sing old-time hymns in a falsetto voice or ask a complete stranger if they think the teddy will look good on me. yeah, maybe i am a bit of a jackass, but some people love me. no problem ...
i like cartoons. the old stuff, bugs bunny, tom and jerry, popeye and smurfs. i get off on bugs dressed up like a girl or taking a bath when he's supposed to be the main dish in the king's meal. i love the old-school comedy of lenny bruce, richard pryor and george carlin, stuff that makes me think and requires me to know a bit to fully appreciate the genius of the joke. i don't always get it, but i do 'get it' enough to know dane cook is a jagoff and larry the cable guy is most likely way dumbed down. that's okay, the audience pays for what they get, so i won't judge, i just won't be watching.
yeah, i laugh at stuff you may not think so funny. that's fine, we'll get along anyway.
you just may want to decline going to walmart with me on a friday afternoon. the large potential of a big crowd becoming an audience is a highly tempting setting for me ...
One.
the sum of all parts ...
very rare it is that any of us are the person others perceive us to be ... it's hard enough to come to grips with the person each perceives self to be, so having others misread you is not all that unusual.
but how is it that we can get it so wrong? even when the person misjudged on a consistent basis may be a family member, a longtime lover or a friend of many moons? this is something i have been pondering and i think i have had a breakthrough of sorts. probably not, but the possibility of a breakthrough sounds exciting, doesn't it?
well, this is to what i have arrived ... often times, others are judging our character, those core driving forces, by one context, incident or interaction. so, when my ex-wife (no. 2) called me an 'asshole' every time i didn't do that which she wanted me to, that did not mean i was a complete asshole ... well, maybe i was a complete asshole to her, but not 'complete' in the sense that everyone thought i was an asshole. this can be confusing when you are younger and inexperienced ... but i am learning.
that is to say, maybe i always responded to her calling me an 'asshole' by saying something to the effect of 'i come into contact with hundreds of people in my work, know lots of them, yet you are the only one calling me names. why is that?' maybe i should have been asking myself that question. why was that?
well, here's what i think ... in her contextual basis for gauging my behavior and characterizing it, i was the biggest asshole in her life. but that's just the beginning of this thought train.
see, no one is simply the person of a moment or of a single relationship. we are each a person built over years of experiences, good and bad, and the lessons brought away from each one. and though i know plenty of people with similar experiences to mine, that does not mean we are going to be the same. they are going to process similar events, even shared ones, in a much different way. sort of like considering how one person can be bitten by a dog and pledge to become an animal trainer, while another can be bitten and that turns into a lifelong death fear of canines.
and consider this, i grew up with literally hundreds of people. we all came from basically the same place, had the same teachers, played on the same youth teams, ate the same types of foods from the same types of dishes, but not all of turned out the same. some may have enjoyed little league baseball immensely, while others hated it. some fell in love with the hometown and vowed to make it forever home, while others could not wait to leave and will never return. that doesn't make the place or the people bad in their thinking either way, just different.
the world is a judgemental place and we are all to blame. we enjoy taking small events and turning them into life-defining moments, most often and most enjoyably when defining someone else's life. but how does a person become the person we judge? it's through the sum of all parts, the comprehensive experience and not the singular. which leads to the very basic reality that we are all complex beings, even the not-so-smart ones.
we have all arrived at the points we now stand by a collection of thousands upon thousands of sensations, thoughts, moments, emotions, meetings, conversations and efforts. many of us would like to forget our worst decisions, leaving only good memories and moments for consideration. but it is the good and bad of our own lives that make us the people we are today, for all the ugliness, beauty, evil and compassion we have been able to muster.
it is the sum of all parts, not just the last part.
One.
but how is it that we can get it so wrong? even when the person misjudged on a consistent basis may be a family member, a longtime lover or a friend of many moons? this is something i have been pondering and i think i have had a breakthrough of sorts. probably not, but the possibility of a breakthrough sounds exciting, doesn't it?
well, this is to what i have arrived ... often times, others are judging our character, those core driving forces, by one context, incident or interaction. so, when my ex-wife (no. 2) called me an 'asshole' every time i didn't do that which she wanted me to, that did not mean i was a complete asshole ... well, maybe i was a complete asshole to her, but not 'complete' in the sense that everyone thought i was an asshole. this can be confusing when you are younger and inexperienced ... but i am learning.
that is to say, maybe i always responded to her calling me an 'asshole' by saying something to the effect of 'i come into contact with hundreds of people in my work, know lots of them, yet you are the only one calling me names. why is that?' maybe i should have been asking myself that question. why was that?
well, here's what i think ... in her contextual basis for gauging my behavior and characterizing it, i was the biggest asshole in her life. but that's just the beginning of this thought train.
see, no one is simply the person of a moment or of a single relationship. we are each a person built over years of experiences, good and bad, and the lessons brought away from each one. and though i know plenty of people with similar experiences to mine, that does not mean we are going to be the same. they are going to process similar events, even shared ones, in a much different way. sort of like considering how one person can be bitten by a dog and pledge to become an animal trainer, while another can be bitten and that turns into a lifelong death fear of canines.
and consider this, i grew up with literally hundreds of people. we all came from basically the same place, had the same teachers, played on the same youth teams, ate the same types of foods from the same types of dishes, but not all of turned out the same. some may have enjoyed little league baseball immensely, while others hated it. some fell in love with the hometown and vowed to make it forever home, while others could not wait to leave and will never return. that doesn't make the place or the people bad in their thinking either way, just different.
the world is a judgemental place and we are all to blame. we enjoy taking small events and turning them into life-defining moments, most often and most enjoyably when defining someone else's life. but how does a person become the person we judge? it's through the sum of all parts, the comprehensive experience and not the singular. which leads to the very basic reality that we are all complex beings, even the not-so-smart ones.
we have all arrived at the points we now stand by a collection of thousands upon thousands of sensations, thoughts, moments, emotions, meetings, conversations and efforts. many of us would like to forget our worst decisions, leaving only good memories and moments for consideration. but it is the good and bad of our own lives that make us the people we are today, for all the ugliness, beauty, evil and compassion we have been able to muster.
it is the sum of all parts, not just the last part.
One.
7.27.2009
a welcome message ...
hey old friends and hopeful new ones, welcome to 'askance per chance: a 21st century kantucker.'
what you see here, which at this point isn't much, and that which will follow, is the result of several of you (graciously) reading at the moment, prodding (some call it 'motivating') me to start sharing and all. can't for the life of me figure out why, but i do enjoy writing and riffing, so why not? heck, it's free, so what's the harm?
in the past, i have blogged ... and was quite serious about it ... but few saw it. could have been the forum, could have been the quality of content. who knows? that really doesn't matter. the point being, this is not my first go-round. however, i approach this site with a renewed vigor and with goals in mind. what those are, well, that remains to be seen ... but i know i have them.
so what to expect ...
well, you'uns will likely be reading whatever strikes my kentucky boy fancy ... don't laugh, it's okay and totally an example of strong manhood to have a 'fancy.' but i digress. expect to read a bit about politics, a bit about music, a bit about movies, a bit about my sometimes weird life and, aw heck, just about anything. like some of you know, expectations might as well be thrown out. let's just keep the possibilities open.
but certainly, we can look forward to the influences each and every one of us struggle with. our nation, our world, our God, our hopes, our fears, our shrinking bank accounts and our expanding waistlines. so, basically, we can just look forward to a whole bunch of fun stuff ...
i am excited to be posting and sharing with you'uns. i mean that. and if you don't believe it, wait around. i hope to be entertaining, honest and relevant. accomplish that and maybe we will all feel we have gotten something for free.
One.
what you see here, which at this point isn't much, and that which will follow, is the result of several of you (graciously) reading at the moment, prodding (some call it 'motivating') me to start sharing and all. can't for the life of me figure out why, but i do enjoy writing and riffing, so why not? heck, it's free, so what's the harm?
in the past, i have blogged ... and was quite serious about it ... but few saw it. could have been the forum, could have been the quality of content. who knows? that really doesn't matter. the point being, this is not my first go-round. however, i approach this site with a renewed vigor and with goals in mind. what those are, well, that remains to be seen ... but i know i have them.
so what to expect ...
well, you'uns will likely be reading whatever strikes my kentucky boy fancy ... don't laugh, it's okay and totally an example of strong manhood to have a 'fancy.' but i digress. expect to read a bit about politics, a bit about music, a bit about movies, a bit about my sometimes weird life and, aw heck, just about anything. like some of you know, expectations might as well be thrown out. let's just keep the possibilities open.
but certainly, we can look forward to the influences each and every one of us struggle with. our nation, our world, our God, our hopes, our fears, our shrinking bank accounts and our expanding waistlines. so, basically, we can just look forward to a whole bunch of fun stuff ...
i am excited to be posting and sharing with you'uns. i mean that. and if you don't believe it, wait around. i hope to be entertaining, honest and relevant. accomplish that and maybe we will all feel we have gotten something for free.
One.
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