12.23.2007
I agree.
Obama is not Howard Dean. The reason the blogosphere and I got behind Dean is that he was saying Democrats needed to fight Republicans for every single f*ing vote and more importantly, the way to do this was to not get in bed with them (too many jokes). Meaning this bipartisan crap was/is just that, crap. You don't win elections and change the direction of the country by parsing out how much you are going work with Republicans. Of the top three I feel that Obama is the most likely to make sacrifices at the altar of bipartisanship.
Beckham. Yawn.
So Becks is going to practice with Arsenal in the offseason. Who cares?
So why did I link to the story? The picture with the article. That's at RFK. DC United represent.
So why did I link to the story? The picture with the article. That's at RFK. DC United represent.
12.19.2007
EXACTLY!
This is pretty much exactly what I have been saying for a few years now. Corporate media has lost its credibility and new media has not yet evolved to take its place.
12.17.2007
Can I get a "You were right"?
Once again the left blogosphere turns out to be correct. Joe Lieberman is a colossal douchebag. So, this prick, who was a Democrat until he lost the Democratic primary in Connecticut, is now an "Independent". Specifically, he is a member of the Connecticut for Lieberman party (the chair of the Connecticut for Lieberman Party asked him to resign). But becasue he "caucuses" with the Democrats he has been allowed to keep his leadership posts on various committees. Well, now that he has actually ENDORSED a Republican I hope the Democratic leadership will final kick him to the curb. Unfortunately, it won't happen until after the 2008 elections when the Dems increase their majority and will no longer be beholden to fucktard Joe.
12.13.2007
We're all Liberals now
America is much more liberal than we are led to believe. As usual I blame our craptastic media for misrepresenting the American public to itself.
12.11.2007
My unease with Obama continued
This post does a fairly good job of pointing out some of the problems I have with Obama. The 11th paragraph (counting the one word second paragraph) is where it really hits home, specifically these sentences:
clipped from www.mydd.com
Like I said previously, Edwards has problems for me as well, but he seems much more likely to reject the corporate-friendly status quo than Obama.
You need not be an ardent leftist like Street to question Obama's progressivism and commitment to political battle. Just about every month he delivers a warning sign to progressives, and every time progressives manage to be surprised. Joe Lieberman. "Playing chicken with our troops." Donnie McClerkin. The Move On Vote. The silence on Kyl-Lieberman. The social security "crisis."
 |
Like I said previously, Edwards has problems for me as well, but he seems much more likely to reject the corporate-friendly status quo than Obama.
12.07.2007
12.05.2007
Ok, Ok, Katie, sheesh
Obama is now tied with John Edwards in my book. This is the latest thing that pulled him even with JE. It still concerns me that Obama is not progressive enough (or at least is not openly pursuing a progressive agenda that I have seen) but I have to admit that aside from his populist economic talk JE is not really the one for me. His stance on gay marriage (he's against) is realistically a deal breaker and if his environmental record is as bad as Katie says, that is even more of a deal breaker. Can't Al just throw his hat in the ring and eliminate all of my uncertainties? My decision might come down to whoever Gore endorses.
I support the writer's strike
I have boycotted watching TV shows online until the writer's reasonable demands are met . And I've sent letters to the networks stating that. The thing that amazes me are all the people who say they support the strike but do nothing to show they support it.
UPDATE: In response to the comments: sorry, no, that doesn't count. For me, it's not so much about the writers and TV but more about unions. America is a better place when unions are strong. So, write those letters to the networks saying you're not going to watch their shows until the writers get what they are asking for, just don't tell them that you already don't watch.
I'm in.
I will start looking through my photos this evening to see if I have anything to enter. I can think of one off the top of my head.
DCist Exposed Photography Show
Leonie, do you see this?
DCist Exposed Photography Show
Leonie, do you see this?
Google searches
It's always interesting to see what people search to find this blog.
"jen capps" is by far the most common search string that brings people to the site and I am currently 5th on the search list. The funny thing is that people are looking for Jennifer Capps the actress not Jen Capps, the friend I run into in very random places, at least I assume that is the case.
Another recent search was "sites to visit every day". I show up 2nd in that search list.
"jen capps" is by far the most common search string that brings people to the site and I am currently 5th on the search list. The funny thing is that people are looking for Jennifer Capps the actress not Jen Capps, the friend I run into in very random places, at least I assume that is the case.
Another recent search was "sites to visit every day". I show up 2nd in that search list.
11.30.2007
Huckabee: Just as mean, stupid and corrupt as the rest of them
For anyone who was worried that Huckabee had a chance of beating any of the Dems it looks like he is just as bad as the rest of them and so should be pretty easy to beat.
Oh, and this is kind of funny.
Oh, and this is kind of funny.
'Cuz Ah'm Giuseppe Franco
Used to see this commercial on Fox Soccer Channel a lot. There was one day when I think the only thing Peter, Anika and I said to each for a couple hours was, "I'm Giuseppe Franco" and "I don't own the company. I don't own anything about it". Good times. Good times.
And hey, Gary Busey!
And hey, Gary Busey!
11.29.2007
Ah, Mike Gravel, putting the crazy in "crazy hippie"
Yeah, I agree with the basic premise of what he's saying but DAAAAYYYMMMMM! Seriously, dude, the 60s are way over you can stop dropping the acid now.
The Washington Post: continuing to own the Partisan Hacks label
Over Thanksgiving I had a lively debate with Katie (actually she pretty much kicked my ass) about the merits of Barak Obama. So I came home and tried to do a little more research to back up my claims that he is basically a more cuddly version of Hillary. And I quickly found examples of Barak making Republican lite/triangulation statements. But I am quite sure that I, Hater of Corporate Media, Caller of Bullshit, has been at least partially duped. The latest evidence is from the craptastic Washington Post. Their front page story is a discussion of the completely idiotic and debunked rumors of Barak's Islamic connection. Not about amazingly pathetic and scary GOP debate last night or the newest allegations of Ghouliani corruption (I need to find another source here, linking to The Politico, ugh. Oh, wait, here we go, much better). It's just mind boggling how inept and craven the media is, as Phoenix Woman at Firedoglake says (paraphrasing), screw "balanced" how about just reporting.
[Update] Yes, this is the point. Not that Obama denies the lies of "Obama is a Muslim" but that the WaPo continues to bring it up AND doesn't admit that they are lies. Wankers.
Some more on just how awful our media is.
[Update] Yes, this is the point. Not that Obama denies the lies of "Obama is a Muslim" but that the WaPo continues to bring it up AND doesn't admit that they are lies. Wankers.
Some more on just how awful our media is.
11.28.2007
MWAHAHAHAHA
This is just too funny. Apparently, the Republican Party of Virginia will require voters to sign an oath promising that they will vote for the Republican candidate in the general election. They have progressed from shooting themselves in the foot to a straight up face shot. Keep up the good work GOP!
Glenn Greenwald
You don't read Glenn Greenwald over at Salon? You should and here's why. His thorough and complete evisceration of Joe Klein (Joke Line), Time magazine and the entire corporate media. More and more it appears that the corporate media owns the majority of the blame for the current state of our country.
This is when they would call me
10AM Whatever Shall We Do?
via Overheard in the Office, Nov 28, 2007
Woman #1: Does this copier work?
Woman #2: Yes, but it's not turned on. It will take a while to warm up.
Woman #1: I'm in a hurry, so I guess I'll just go to another office and use theirs.
Woman #2: Why don't you just use our other copier?
Woman #1: It's not working.
Woman #2: Really? I just used it last night.
Woman #1, going to copier: See? It says, 'Paper tray empty. Please load paper.'
425 I Street
Washington, DC
via Overheard in the Office, Nov 28, 2007
11.25.2007
The Flat File
Check out John's new blog, The Flat File. I love this idea of his of providing an opportunity for people to purchase smaller pieces. As the owner of the largest private collection on John's work it's good to see more people exposed to his work.
11.17.2007
11.12.2007
Where do you want to eat?
This is a pretty cool tool for finding restaurants. Roll over Washington DC at the top to go to different neighborhoods. The best part is that Metro stations are included on the map.
What?
You don't visit Gridskipper? What is wrong with you? This might help, brewpubs in the DC metro.
WTF!
It's like they want to look incompetent. Just pathetic.
BTW, how many of you even know there was a huge oil spill in San Francisco Bay? Hello? Media are you there, it's us, the uninformed public.
BTW, how many of you even know there was a huge oil spill in San Francisco Bay? Hello? Media are you there, it's us, the uninformed public.
11.11.2007
11.10.2007
Chapter 4: The Inconsequential Stuff I thought about while lying on my back in the grass, Part I: Sabrina
YAY! NEW Jester Knives chapter. I'm not sure how I feel about the direction this chapter takes things but, hey, it's finished.
Previous chapters here if you need to recap:
Chapter 1: My Own Fault
Chapter 2: Fight at the Moondrop
Chapter 3: Tea and what was that all about
********************************
I lay on the couch and replayed the previous evenings events. My head hurt and between sips of tea I rested the warm mug on my forehead. It helped a little. I kept coming back to lying on my back in the grass of someone's backyard. It was cool and quiet and I felt safe and strangely at peace. It was nice.
My first thoughts were of Sabrina waiting for me at the Moondrop, which led to thinking about Sabrina in general. I was working with Wu Han at the smithy when we first met. She came in to see if we could make a sheath for The Sword. There are no qualifications to make when I say that she is a beautiful woman. She is about two inches taller than me, around 5'9” with sharp, high but surprisingly wide cheekbones. Her hair is black like a winter night. There is a strange mistiness so that when you look at it directly your eyes slip off. Yet light reflects off of it like stars,small distinct points of brightness, and your eyes are drawn back, trying to focus on it. But what I noticed most those five years ago were her eyes. Slightly almond shaped and colored. It's hard to explain the intenseness of eyes so warm and comforting, like hot chocolate and yet so biting. Later I would find the green and yellow flecks in them that could render me speechless.
That first day I just stared at her for at least a full minute before I tried my flirting routine. She just looked at me with that judgmental look of hers. She was judging but not condemning. It's a look that most people misinterpret and take offense to, I know I did on that day.
After that I continued to see her around. For about three months I would try to get her in bed but she wasn't having it. Eventually, I gave up and just started talking to her. Turns out we had much in common and many differences. We both lost a parent young, her mother at 8, my father at 10. We both became separated from the other parent shortly after that, her father at 13, my mother at 12. We both became reacquainted with that parent later in life, her father at 20, my mother at 18. But while my mother continued to be a part of my life Sabrina no longer knew where her father was.
Because of our early losses we both had a quick and rough upbringing However, while I grew up on the streets I had a rather extensive and supportive network. Sabrina was truly on her own. This difference had a lot to do with some of our more extreme differences. Shortly after the first bar fight we had ever been in together we compared notes and she revealed that the entire time she had to resist drawing The Sword and resist crippling and killing blows. I revealed that I had to resist running. I filed that away and it wasn't until I read a bootleg copy of Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage by Walter Cannon that I understood that her inclination was to turn to the fight side of the fight or flight dichotomy while I leaned toward the flight side. It wasn't until a year or so later while reading another bootleg book (don't remember which one) that I connected it to our upbringing. I had safe havens to which I could escape, she did not. And so, I was outwardly gregarious while she was reserved and yet my relationships were rarely very intense, hers were for life and to the death.
It turns out another thing we had in common was fighting. We were both very good at it. Having started at young ages and having been blessed with exceptional teachers we had become deadly capable. And while I relished a good bar fight now and then (provided no one was permanently maimed) neither of us truly enjoyed fighting. Unless you're a psychopath killing or maiming was never easy, but sometimes it was you or the other guy. Unfortunately, for both of us, as much as we tried, sometimes it was impossible to avoid those situations.
Shortly after that first bar fight we thought it would be a good idea to start our own crew, we had dreams of becoming the mid-Atlantic triad. At first it went well, with my connections and our combined badassedness we were well on our way. But then it fell apart. And not because of the usual reasons: money, love or pride. It was more idealistic. The underdog phenomenon. I always root for the underdog because of the drama, Sabrina for the righteousness. We got into a situation where my sense of drama did not equal her sense of doing right. Sounds silly now but at the time this situation became polarized in our minds. So much so that we drew on each other. Her, The Sword, me, my knives. We fought to kill. It lasted for about an hour before the rest of our crew arrived to break it up. We said some truly evil things to each other.
For about three months after we continued to try to kill each other. Then six months later, during the tail end of a hurricane, she was attacked by Shaymous McGougles entire crew. Initially, after seeing who they were fighting I continued walking past the alley. But then I took ten steps and fell to my knees. As the downpour intensified I asked forgiveness of all that is holy. Then I sprinted into the alley, catapulted myself off a trash dumpster and into the center of the ring surrounding her.
“I think I love you,” I said to Sabrina.
“I know,” she replied, “and we need to talk about that.” Blood dripped from The Sword as I looked in her eyes. I could tell from her stance she was unsure what to do, ready for an attack from Shaymous McGougles' crew behind her but concentrated on me. I turned my back to her and drew my knives.
We killed more than we wanted to that night but fewer than we probably should have. In the days nursing ourselves back to health we discussed what was admitted and said. After three days of rest and Wu Han's ministrations we were able to walk around, which resulted in us discussing the meaning of love while pulling books off my shelves and engaging in a quote-off. I won the quote-off but lost the argument. She did not love me according to my definition. She did not have a definition. And I'm not sure that my definition was valid. We left it at that.
But I do know this, I would willingly die for some women and some men, but there are very few I would kill for. My mother, my sisters, Wu Han, and Sabrina.
Sabrina is the only one for whom I would have no questions.
************************
Next Chapter is half finished, so next Saturday, Nov. 17
The Inconsequential Stuff I thought about while lying on my back in the grass, Part II: The History of the Fall of the United States of America
Previous chapters here if you need to recap:
Chapter 1: My Own Fault
Chapter 2: Fight at the Moondrop
Chapter 3: Tea and what was that all about
********************************
I lay on the couch and replayed the previous evenings events. My head hurt and between sips of tea I rested the warm mug on my forehead. It helped a little. I kept coming back to lying on my back in the grass of someone's backyard. It was cool and quiet and I felt safe and strangely at peace. It was nice.
My first thoughts were of Sabrina waiting for me at the Moondrop, which led to thinking about Sabrina in general. I was working with Wu Han at the smithy when we first met. She came in to see if we could make a sheath for The Sword. There are no qualifications to make when I say that she is a beautiful woman. She is about two inches taller than me, around 5'9” with sharp, high but surprisingly wide cheekbones. Her hair is black like a winter night. There is a strange mistiness so that when you look at it directly your eyes slip off. Yet light reflects off of it like stars,small distinct points of brightness, and your eyes are drawn back, trying to focus on it. But what I noticed most those five years ago were her eyes. Slightly almond shaped and colored. It's hard to explain the intenseness of eyes so warm and comforting, like hot chocolate and yet so biting. Later I would find the green and yellow flecks in them that could render me speechless.
That first day I just stared at her for at least a full minute before I tried my flirting routine. She just looked at me with that judgmental look of hers. She was judging but not condemning. It's a look that most people misinterpret and take offense to, I know I did on that day.
After that I continued to see her around. For about three months I would try to get her in bed but she wasn't having it. Eventually, I gave up and just started talking to her. Turns out we had much in common and many differences. We both lost a parent young, her mother at 8, my father at 10. We both became separated from the other parent shortly after that, her father at 13, my mother at 12. We both became reacquainted with that parent later in life, her father at 20, my mother at 18. But while my mother continued to be a part of my life Sabrina no longer knew where her father was.
Because of our early losses we both had a quick and rough upbringing However, while I grew up on the streets I had a rather extensive and supportive network. Sabrina was truly on her own. This difference had a lot to do with some of our more extreme differences. Shortly after the first bar fight we had ever been in together we compared notes and she revealed that the entire time she had to resist drawing The Sword and resist crippling and killing blows. I revealed that I had to resist running. I filed that away and it wasn't until I read a bootleg copy of Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage by Walter Cannon that I understood that her inclination was to turn to the fight side of the fight or flight dichotomy while I leaned toward the flight side. It wasn't until a year or so later while reading another bootleg book (don't remember which one) that I connected it to our upbringing. I had safe havens to which I could escape, she did not. And so, I was outwardly gregarious while she was reserved and yet my relationships were rarely very intense, hers were for life and to the death.
It turns out another thing we had in common was fighting. We were both very good at it. Having started at young ages and having been blessed with exceptional teachers we had become deadly capable. And while I relished a good bar fight now and then (provided no one was permanently maimed) neither of us truly enjoyed fighting. Unless you're a psychopath killing or maiming was never easy, but sometimes it was you or the other guy. Unfortunately, for both of us, as much as we tried, sometimes it was impossible to avoid those situations.
Shortly after that first bar fight we thought it would be a good idea to start our own crew, we had dreams of becoming the mid-Atlantic triad. At first it went well, with my connections and our combined badassedness we were well on our way. But then it fell apart. And not because of the usual reasons: money, love or pride. It was more idealistic. The underdog phenomenon. I always root for the underdog because of the drama, Sabrina for the righteousness. We got into a situation where my sense of drama did not equal her sense of doing right. Sounds silly now but at the time this situation became polarized in our minds. So much so that we drew on each other. Her, The Sword, me, my knives. We fought to kill. It lasted for about an hour before the rest of our crew arrived to break it up. We said some truly evil things to each other.
For about three months after we continued to try to kill each other. Then six months later, during the tail end of a hurricane, she was attacked by Shaymous McGougles entire crew. Initially, after seeing who they were fighting I continued walking past the alley. But then I took ten steps and fell to my knees. As the downpour intensified I asked forgiveness of all that is holy. Then I sprinted into the alley, catapulted myself off a trash dumpster and into the center of the ring surrounding her.
“I think I love you,” I said to Sabrina.
“I know,” she replied, “and we need to talk about that.” Blood dripped from The Sword as I looked in her eyes. I could tell from her stance she was unsure what to do, ready for an attack from Shaymous McGougles' crew behind her but concentrated on me. I turned my back to her and drew my knives.
We killed more than we wanted to that night but fewer than we probably should have. In the days nursing ourselves back to health we discussed what was admitted and said. After three days of rest and Wu Han's ministrations we were able to walk around, which resulted in us discussing the meaning of love while pulling books off my shelves and engaging in a quote-off. I won the quote-off but lost the argument. She did not love me according to my definition. She did not have a definition. And I'm not sure that my definition was valid. We left it at that.
But I do know this, I would willingly die for some women and some men, but there are very few I would kill for. My mother, my sisters, Wu Han, and Sabrina.
Sabrina is the only one for whom I would have no questions.
************************
Next Chapter is half finished, so next Saturday, Nov. 17
The Inconsequential Stuff I thought about while lying on my back in the grass, Part II: The History of the Fall of the United States of America
11.09.2007
11.06.2007
Adam quote #2
Adam: Oh man, I had the best lunch today. I had the Baconator from Wendy's. It's 6 strips of bacon, two beef patties, two slices of cheese and...BBQ sauce!
Me: This from someone who just recently saw Supersize Me
Adam: I'm living the dream.
Me: This from someone who just recently saw Supersize Me
Adam: I'm living the dream.
It's about habitat not animals
Cheetah Orphans
Beside the existential and responsibility questions the main take home point for me is that we should not be trying to save individual animals or even individual species we should be trying to protect the habitat of those animals.
Beside the existential and responsibility questions the main take home point for me is that we should not be trying to save individual animals or even individual species we should be trying to protect the habitat of those animals.
Burt's Bees sellout
Bought by Clorox.
Bummer. On the upside, I imagine some of that $926 million payout will end up back in the Maine economy.
Bummer. On the upside, I imagine some of that $926 million payout will end up back in the Maine economy.
11.05.2007
Geeks rule!
We'll Just Follow Him Up the Food Chain to the Bigger Fish That Are His Suppliers
via Overheard at the Beach, Nov 1, 2007
Professor: Are you guys working or just following a stingray?
Student #1: Working!
Student #2: Um...
Student #3: Both.
Professor: Both?
Student #3: We're using the stingray to randomly decide where to take our next sample. They eat invertebrates -- it's like a divining rod!
--Fergie Shoals, Florida
Overheard by: Justification is for the geeky
via Overheard at the Beach, Nov 1, 2007
11.04.2007
The History of LOLcats.
**
I found this at Presurfer which I found by following this link from Daily Kos. From that post I followed the link to the 2007 Weblog awards, where, after doing my duty to vote for Daily Kos as the best Online Community (seriously, Little Green Footballs is the competition, does it even have that many readers?), I started perusing the other categories. In some I didn't know any of the nominees such as Best New Blog, never heard of any of them. In others such as Best Blog I knew most of the entrants but others, not so much. I decided to follow a couple links and Presurfer is the first one so far.
WTF!!? Michelle Malkin (refuse to provide link) is in the running for Best Blog?? So if I started writing hateful, racist, misogynist, false, disingenuous things, if I start posting personal information about people who disagree with me so that my psychotic minions could harass them and send death threats, if I stalk a 12 year old boy in an attempt to expose him and his family as not being poor enough to get health care help from the government will I be nominated for Best Blog. Apparently so.
**Can't find a link to the originator of the video
10.31.2007
10.30.2007
Jet powered biodiesel hybrid Hummers for everyone.
Once again proving that the automotive industry is full of crap.
Original story here, commentary from Daily Kos here.
Also, here is the website of Goodwin's company SAE Energy.
Original story here, commentary from Daily Kos here.
Also, here is the website of Goodwin's company SAE Energy.
10.29.2007
10.24.2007
10.19.2007
10.18.2007
Sites I visit every day
xkcd – hilarious… if you’re a science/computer geek
questionable content – hilarious… if you’re an indie music hipster
cute overload – awesome… if you like teh cute and funny accents
overheard in new york – awesome… if you have a little bit of the voyeur in ya and you secretly think the majority of the people on the planet are idiots
soccer insider - steven goff is one of the best, if not the best, soccer blogger.
dcenters - a mostly dc united blog
yanks abroad - updates of americans playing overseas
lifehacker - for hacking life
scienceblogs - pretty self explanatory
treehugger - everyone should hug trees
gristmill - more treehugger stuff
wonkette - snarky politics
daily kos - the mothership of left blogistan
talking points memo - some seriously journalistic blogging
firedoglake - more political blogging
salon: glenn greenwald - some more seriously journalistic blogging
questionable content – hilarious… if you’re an indie music hipster
cute overload – awesome… if you like teh cute and funny accents
overheard in new york – awesome… if you have a little bit of the voyeur in ya and you secretly think the majority of the people on the planet are idiots
soccer insider - steven goff is one of the best, if not the best, soccer blogger.
dcenters - a mostly dc united blog
yanks abroad - updates of americans playing overseas
lifehacker - for hacking life
scienceblogs - pretty self explanatory
treehugger - everyone should hug trees
gristmill - more treehugger stuff
wonkette - snarky politics
daily kos - the mothership of left blogistan
talking points memo - some seriously journalistic blogging
firedoglake - more political blogging
salon: glenn greenwald - some more seriously journalistic blogging
10.14.2007
DC United wins the Supporters Shield
With Colorado's improbable defeat of Chivas in LA DC is uncatchable by Chivas, the only team left who could catch them.
10.12.2007
I said this would be the trigger
This would be a great opportunity to enter the race.
Please?
Unfortunately, the presentation ceremony isn't until Dec. 10. He might make us wait that long.
Please?
Unfortunately, the presentation ceremony isn't until Dec. 10. He might make us wait that long.
10.09.2007
Yay! F#$% baseball! Yay! *
RFK has new grass and new permanent international goals(?), not sure what that means but if it means true boxy goals Peter is probably gonna have a big O (um, me too). Now if they would just put the La Norte seats back (unfortunately, not likely), everything will be perfect.
* Suck it Yankees fans! Your dynasty is truly over. This is the only time baseball is vaguely interesting. I may even watch a couple of the Indians-Red Sox games. Go Sox! Mark my words, whoever wins this series wins the World (sic) Series.
* Suck it Yankees fans! Your dynasty is truly over. This is the only time baseball is vaguely interesting. I may even watch a couple of the Indians-Red Sox games. Go Sox! Mark my words, whoever wins this series wins the World (sic) Series.
10.04.2007
9.27.2007
HO...LY...FUCK
What the fuck just happened? 4-0 Brazil? I'm devastated. Has the US ever lost by more than 2 before?
9.26.2007
USA-Brazil tomorrow morning, this one's going to be a barn-burner.
BTW, I hate the Nike ad campaign, "The Greatest Team You've Never Heard Of". Maybe if you asshats in the sports media and advertising world would get off your lazy asses and start following this game you would be able to capitalize on the most successful Women's National team and the most successful American National team ever.
These women kick ass.
9.25.2007
Chapter 3: Tea and what was that all about?
I tried to go back to sleep. Asleep I didn't notice my pounding head or the muscle aches or the cuts on my back, but mostly my aching head. Tragically, the bright sunshine coming in the window conspired against me. I went over the previous nights events a couple times before truly resigning myself to the fact that I was truly awake and not going to fall back into the oblivious embrace of sleep. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them as the brightness brought on a wave of nausea. I slowly swung my feet out of the bed and with my eyes still closed got to my feet. I opened my eyes to slits and slowly shuffled to the bathroom. Another wave of nausea swept over me as I stood at the toilet. But it passed and I wasn't pissing blood, always a good sign. I needed some tea.
With small careful steps I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. As I dumped a few pinches of wulon tea into a mug I could hear Wu Han in my head: the making of the tea is as important as the tea itself, tea should only be made with deliberate ceremony. Shut up, Wu Han, I don't have the strength. As I poured the steaming water in I could hear his reply: But, Lo-chan, the mind is more powerful than the body, without the ceremony you're just ingesting hot water and phenols. Yeah, yeah, the chemicals will just have to do the trick on their own this time I thought as I took my first sip. But I did it with deliberateness, felt the warmth of the water in my mouth, tasted the bitterness and the subdued minty under flavor. I felt the warmth slide down my throat into my stomach and imagined the healing properties spreading throughout my body, especially in my head. I opened my eyes, looked into the living room and if I hadn't already gone to the bathroom, probably would have pissed my shorts. Someone was sitting in my favorite cushy chair.
“Wu Han would have you doing menial task with deliberateness for the next month if he saw how you just made that tea,” Sabrina said.
“Shit Sabrina, you scared the fuck out of me,” I said.
She smiled in her usual way, mostly with her eyes.
“I know, I know, I actually heard him bitching at me as I was doing it,” I turned and pulled another mug out of the cupboard, “what kind would you like?” I asked her.
“Dragon's Heart,” she replied.
“Har, har,” I mirthlessly chuckled. Dragon's Heart was arguably the rarest of the nine Immortal Teas, teas that took the mind and body to levels beyond rational explanation. Hidden in a safe in the foundation wall of my house I had four of the nine; Bamboo in the Wind, Tai Shan, Jiushu, and Moth's Wings. I have had Moth's Wings but that is a story for another time. Once I thought I was going to secure a tenth stone of Dragon's Heart but it was an ill conceived and ill executed attempt and Sabrina liked to remind me of it every chance she got. But that is also a story for another time. I reached for Monk's Peace, which is what she usually drank.
“Lanterns,” Sabrina called from the living room.
Lanterns, interesting, it was one of my regulars, but Sabrina rarely drank it. Up front it had a spicy combination of cinnamon quickly followed by a spicier flavor of cayenne but as the spiciness slowly faded there was a contrasting flavor of mint and at the tail end sea water. Sabrina claimed the sea water taste was too strong and she didn't like it. But I loved all the contrasts and found that it stimulated my ability to make extreme mental leaps, to make purely intuitive connections. I put a pinch less than I would use in a tea ball, I knew she wouldn't want a full steep.
My head still hurt and I consciously kept my movements slow, but the tea was helping as I handed Sabrina her mug and settled on the couch.
“So, did you spend the night in that chair?” I asked.
“Yes.” She took a couple sips of tea and only grimaced slightly.
“Why?” looking at The Sword leaning against the chair she was sitting in I had an idea of why she had spent the night there but I was hoping she would do the explaining, my head hurt too much. But she just looked at me over the top of her mug with those beautiful almond shaped and almond colored eyes of hers.
Sigh, I would have to do the talking.
“Something wasn't right about the events of last night, I mean, over and above the usual non-rightness of me getting in a bar room brawl.”
Even with her mug obscuring half her face I could tell she was smiling at that. I had a knack of instigating bar room brawls. At least sixty percent of the time I was not looking for trouble but my mouth seemed to annoy people to the point of violence. What can I say, it was a gift.
“The Buggles had a gun. And while that is more than not right they were planning to use it on me,” I continued.
“Yes,” she said. I hate it when she did this. It felt like I was back in school working through a proof. But my head hurt too much to muster true annoyance so I just kept the train of thought going.
“The whole thing was a setup. Meerna was there to give Lil John an excuse to confront me. He planned on me to take out him and Paul and Ringo giving George the excuse to use the gun.”
“Yes.”
I sipped my tea. It was definitely helping with the pain not not helping me think any better. Why would Lil John want to kill me? I let my mind drift, trying to slip into a deepra trance. I let my senses expand. I heard Patrick next door fiddling around in his garage and kids on the street playing footie. My vision crystallized so that I could see every strand in the spines of the books on my shelf. I could smell the water left in the kettle on the stove. But there was too much pain in my head, I couldn't bring my mind to the next stage.
“Feck, Sabrina, I can't see why Lil John would want to kill me,” I instantly regretted raising my voice as another wave of nausea hit me. I gulped some tea and it passed. “I mean, I'm extra careful with the intarwebs haxor, but it could be the Web Consortium, it could be any number of people I scammed, it could be any number of women's hubbies or boyfriends, but I can't see any of those willing to risk contracting Lil John to kill me and providing a gun to do it.”
“Yes,” Sabrina said as she lowered her mug, “I think it has to do with the research you've been doing lately.”
For a full minute I didn't know what she was talking about. “My historical research?” I asked increduously.
“Yes.”
I took another sip of tea and almost balked at saying, “So, you think it's the Union?”
“Yes.”
I couldn't think of anything to say.
“I've called in some favors, you're under Foursquare protection for the next 48 hours. You don't leave here under any circumstances. I'll send Wu Han over to take a look at you. In two days we visit Lil John and get to the bottom of this,” she said as she set down the now empty mug, stood and picked up The Sword. “And Locki, strap on those knives of yours and unless it's me, Wu Han, Sneaky Pete, or Jessie, unsheathe them expecting to kill.”
Feck, I thought, well, at least I can get some reading done.
With small careful steps I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. As I dumped a few pinches of wulon tea into a mug I could hear Wu Han in my head: the making of the tea is as important as the tea itself, tea should only be made with deliberate ceremony. Shut up, Wu Han, I don't have the strength. As I poured the steaming water in I could hear his reply: But, Lo-chan, the mind is more powerful than the body, without the ceremony you're just ingesting hot water and phenols. Yeah, yeah, the chemicals will just have to do the trick on their own this time I thought as I took my first sip. But I did it with deliberateness, felt the warmth of the water in my mouth, tasted the bitterness and the subdued minty under flavor. I felt the warmth slide down my throat into my stomach and imagined the healing properties spreading throughout my body, especially in my head. I opened my eyes, looked into the living room and if I hadn't already gone to the bathroom, probably would have pissed my shorts. Someone was sitting in my favorite cushy chair.
“Wu Han would have you doing menial task with deliberateness for the next month if he saw how you just made that tea,” Sabrina said.
“Shit Sabrina, you scared the fuck out of me,” I said.
She smiled in her usual way, mostly with her eyes.
“I know, I know, I actually heard him bitching at me as I was doing it,” I turned and pulled another mug out of the cupboard, “what kind would you like?” I asked her.
“Dragon's Heart,” she replied.
“Har, har,” I mirthlessly chuckled. Dragon's Heart was arguably the rarest of the nine Immortal Teas, teas that took the mind and body to levels beyond rational explanation. Hidden in a safe in the foundation wall of my house I had four of the nine; Bamboo in the Wind, Tai Shan, Jiushu, and Moth's Wings. I have had Moth's Wings but that is a story for another time. Once I thought I was going to secure a tenth stone of Dragon's Heart but it was an ill conceived and ill executed attempt and Sabrina liked to remind me of it every chance she got. But that is also a story for another time. I reached for Monk's Peace, which is what she usually drank.
“Lanterns,” Sabrina called from the living room.
Lanterns, interesting, it was one of my regulars, but Sabrina rarely drank it. Up front it had a spicy combination of cinnamon quickly followed by a spicier flavor of cayenne but as the spiciness slowly faded there was a contrasting flavor of mint and at the tail end sea water. Sabrina claimed the sea water taste was too strong and she didn't like it. But I loved all the contrasts and found that it stimulated my ability to make extreme mental leaps, to make purely intuitive connections. I put a pinch less than I would use in a tea ball, I knew she wouldn't want a full steep.
My head still hurt and I consciously kept my movements slow, but the tea was helping as I handed Sabrina her mug and settled on the couch.
“So, did you spend the night in that chair?” I asked.
“Yes.” She took a couple sips of tea and only grimaced slightly.
“Why?” looking at The Sword leaning against the chair she was sitting in I had an idea of why she had spent the night there but I was hoping she would do the explaining, my head hurt too much. But she just looked at me over the top of her mug with those beautiful almond shaped and almond colored eyes of hers.
Sigh, I would have to do the talking.
“Something wasn't right about the events of last night, I mean, over and above the usual non-rightness of me getting in a bar room brawl.”
Even with her mug obscuring half her face I could tell she was smiling at that. I had a knack of instigating bar room brawls. At least sixty percent of the time I was not looking for trouble but my mouth seemed to annoy people to the point of violence. What can I say, it was a gift.
“The Buggles had a gun. And while that is more than not right they were planning to use it on me,” I continued.
“Yes,” she said. I hate it when she did this. It felt like I was back in school working through a proof. But my head hurt too much to muster true annoyance so I just kept the train of thought going.
“The whole thing was a setup. Meerna was there to give Lil John an excuse to confront me. He planned on me to take out him and Paul and Ringo giving George the excuse to use the gun.”
“Yes.”
I sipped my tea. It was definitely helping with the pain not not helping me think any better. Why would Lil John want to kill me? I let my mind drift, trying to slip into a deepra trance. I let my senses expand. I heard Patrick next door fiddling around in his garage and kids on the street playing footie. My vision crystallized so that I could see every strand in the spines of the books on my shelf. I could smell the water left in the kettle on the stove. But there was too much pain in my head, I couldn't bring my mind to the next stage.
“Feck, Sabrina, I can't see why Lil John would want to kill me,” I instantly regretted raising my voice as another wave of nausea hit me. I gulped some tea and it passed. “I mean, I'm extra careful with the intarwebs haxor, but it could be the Web Consortium, it could be any number of people I scammed, it could be any number of women's hubbies or boyfriends, but I can't see any of those willing to risk contracting Lil John to kill me and providing a gun to do it.”
“Yes,” Sabrina said as she lowered her mug, “I think it has to do with the research you've been doing lately.”
For a full minute I didn't know what she was talking about. “My historical research?” I asked increduously.
“Yes.”
I took another sip of tea and almost balked at saying, “So, you think it's the Union?”
“Yes.”
I couldn't think of anything to say.
“I've called in some favors, you're under Foursquare protection for the next 48 hours. You don't leave here under any circumstances. I'll send Wu Han over to take a look at you. In two days we visit Lil John and get to the bottom of this,” she said as she set down the now empty mug, stood and picked up The Sword. “And Locki, strap on those knives of yours and unless it's me, Wu Han, Sneaky Pete, or Jessie, unsheathe them expecting to kill.”
Feck, I thought, well, at least I can get some reading done.
9.24.2007
9.20.2007
9.19.2007
Avast, ye landlubbers!
Shiver me timbers, today be Talk Like A Pirate Day. So, yo, ho, ho and a bottle o' rum.
9.15.2007
Regarding Chapter 2
This is completely a first draft, I haven't even read it through yet, but I said the next chapter would go up today so it's up. Feel free to leave comments, editing suggestions, what have you, in the comments or email me if you have my email address. This writing thing is hard.
Chapter 2: Fight at The Moondrop
“Lil John, I didn't know she was with you,” I said as he continued pushing through the crowd towards me. I glanced around. I have noticed that you can tell a lot about how a situation is going to play out by observing the reactions of the surrounding non-participants. All conversation had stopped and a space was clearing around me, people at the nearest tables were getting up and stepping back but nobody was actually leaving. So the crowd thought things were going to get violent but no one was going to die. The last part was somewhat reassuring, the first part wasn't. But I'd also seen mob logic go wrong before, so maybe I could still talk my way out of this.
“C'mon, man, I thought you were still with Blondie and whatshername over there never mentioned anything about you,” I tried the innocent approach as Lil John pushed into the growing clearing around me.
“Her name is Meerna. Are you saying it's her fault,” he asked as he stopped about six feet from me. Damn, too far away to land a surprise sucker punch. Nobody ever accused Lil John of being stupid.
“Of course not, just saying that without any physical indications, such as a big sign around her neck, or without her telling me of your involvement, I have no way of knowing that she is unavailable to me. You see my predicament, right? Everyone knows that all of the power lies with the women and unfortunately for me in this situation, it is in their best interest to create as much competition among us men as possible. Therefore, we have just this - “
“Shut up Locki, you've been asking for a beatdown for a long time,” growled Lil John. Something was strange about this. I knew Lil John, we had even been involved in a couple jobs together. Not partners but in on the same deal and things had always gone smoothly. Why was he so gung-ho on dismantling me on such flimsy grounds?
“Ok,” I said. So much for talking my way out of this. Lil John slid his right foot back. I couldn't let him charge me and become engaged in a grappling fight, I'd get clobbered. I took running step and launched myself at him. I planted both feet in his chest. Since I hadn't been able to get much forward momentum there wasn't much force behind it. But really my attack wasn't intended to be damaging. As my feet made contact I bent my knees and then pushed off against Lil John. He was a big guy and this only caused him to stagger back a couple steps. I, on the other hand, flew back far enough that I was able to do a flip and land on my feet about 10 feet away. My hands reached into my sleeves and closed around the hilts of my knives.
“Locki,” Pat bellowed from the bar, “those knives come out and I'm coming over the bar for you.” Shit, I couldn't afford to piss off Pat, I did too much business out of this bar and I had too much fun in this bar and I was just as scared of Pat as Lil John. I pulled my knives out anyway. Lil John's eyes narrowed and a little smile appeared on his lips. But before he (or Pat behind me) could make another move I spun around and slammed my knives down on the bar.
“Pat, can I get a glass of Eire juice,” I asked as innocently as possible. Pat, cricket bat in hand, scowled at me. But before he could formulate a reply I heard Lil John charging towards me. And so much for the indifferent card. Oh well, it seldom worked anyway. I jumped, landed both feet on the bar and back flipped off of it. I landed with a little too much momentum as Lil John crashed into the bar. I continued the extra momentum and rolled over onto one knee to stop directly in front of one Lil John's buddies, I think it was Ringo. He was standing gape-mouthed staring towards the bar. I punched him in the groin using the momentum of my flip and roll. Pivoted on my left knee and got to my feet to face Lil John, just in time to see a bar stool flying at me seat first. I was able to get my hands up to catch the seat but the momentum still slammed me off my feet and flying through the air to land on a table, which collapsed beneath me. As I struggled to get up in a morass of plates, food, glassware and napkins my left hand closed around a butter knife and my right found a fork.
I got to my feet with the knife in its usual position, blade sticking out the back of my fist, elbow slightly bent, arm at my side, solar plexus level. The fork, a weapon i was completely unfamiliar with, jutted out of the top of my right fist, arm locked straight ahead at shoulder level. I looked good.
Lil John was still at the bar, bent over, holding his ribs.
“Lil John, I'm truly sorry, I didn't know she was with you and really nothing happened, I was just spouting at the mouth as usual, consider me warned,” I said. I really wanted this to end. Now. Something just wasn't right.
He looked up and I saw something in his expression...remorse, uncertainty?
Arms wrapped around my shoulders with the force of a vice. In these kind of situations it is amazing how fast and precise your reflexes can become. I flicked my wrist, opened my hand and caught the handle of the butter knife as it flipped around. As I raised the knife to the cheek of my assailant behind me I slammed my head back into his face. His head jerked back as mine slammed into his chin and I felt the blade open his cheek. People don't realize that butter knives can be dangerous, especially if they are serrated. The arms loosened around my shoulders but still had enough of a hold on me to drag me down as, I think it was Paul, fell backwards.
As I struggled to sit up I saw feet pounding towards me from the bar and a boot swinging around to side volley my head. I was able to get my shoulder up to somewhat deflect the kick but it still caught the top of my head and I flew sideways. My vision went brilliant white and stark black. But I was able to roll over onto my back and was somewhat impressed that I still held both the knife and the fork in each hand.
I looked up to see Lil John standing over me. But he wasn't looking at me, he was looking to his right and shaking his head. I followed his gaze to see George staring at me with a wild eyed, scared look as if he wasn't in control of his right hand which was pulling a gun from inside his jacket. A gun! My brain stopped interpreting reality as it repeated “gun”, over and over. What the feck were they doing with a gun? So, it was from a great distance that I heard a soft but clear voice from the bar.
“That's enough,” Sabrina said, “I think he learned his lesson.”
My attention slid back to reality and Lil John towering over me, “Shut up Sabrina, I know he's your little bitch boy, but this is not your concern.”
I was looking in his face as the only reply from the bar was the slight snick of the The Sword's habaki sliding free of the scabbard. His eyes narrowed and then went wide, he glanced right and again shook his head. His fists unclenched and he stepped back a pace... and then another. I rolled over and struggled into a standing position. Staggered over to the bar. “Pat, your establishment is starting to attract some riff-raff, good utensils though,” I said as I dropped the knife and fork on the bar, picked up my knives and slid them into their sheaths.
My head was still ringing and every time my heart beat little white fireworks bloomed across my vision. I stumbled once or twice on the way out but Sabrina held me up with one hand, The Sword still loose in its scabbard in her other. As we crossed the street outside of the Moondrop I fell to my knees and threw up.
“I think we should probably call it a night,” said Sabrina.
“Yeah,” I croaked. What a lousy way to end the night.
Chapter 3: The Aftermath will be posted Saturday, September 22
“C'mon, man, I thought you were still with Blondie and whatshername over there never mentioned anything about you,” I tried the innocent approach as Lil John pushed into the growing clearing around me.
“Her name is Meerna. Are you saying it's her fault,” he asked as he stopped about six feet from me. Damn, too far away to land a surprise sucker punch. Nobody ever accused Lil John of being stupid.
“Of course not, just saying that without any physical indications, such as a big sign around her neck, or without her telling me of your involvement, I have no way of knowing that she is unavailable to me. You see my predicament, right? Everyone knows that all of the power lies with the women and unfortunately for me in this situation, it is in their best interest to create as much competition among us men as possible. Therefore, we have just this - “
“Shut up Locki, you've been asking for a beatdown for a long time,” growled Lil John. Something was strange about this. I knew Lil John, we had even been involved in a couple jobs together. Not partners but in on the same deal and things had always gone smoothly. Why was he so gung-ho on dismantling me on such flimsy grounds?
“Ok,” I said. So much for talking my way out of this. Lil John slid his right foot back. I couldn't let him charge me and become engaged in a grappling fight, I'd get clobbered. I took running step and launched myself at him. I planted both feet in his chest. Since I hadn't been able to get much forward momentum there wasn't much force behind it. But really my attack wasn't intended to be damaging. As my feet made contact I bent my knees and then pushed off against Lil John. He was a big guy and this only caused him to stagger back a couple steps. I, on the other hand, flew back far enough that I was able to do a flip and land on my feet about 10 feet away. My hands reached into my sleeves and closed around the hilts of my knives.
“Locki,” Pat bellowed from the bar, “those knives come out and I'm coming over the bar for you.” Shit, I couldn't afford to piss off Pat, I did too much business out of this bar and I had too much fun in this bar and I was just as scared of Pat as Lil John. I pulled my knives out anyway. Lil John's eyes narrowed and a little smile appeared on his lips. But before he (or Pat behind me) could make another move I spun around and slammed my knives down on the bar.
“Pat, can I get a glass of Eire juice,” I asked as innocently as possible. Pat, cricket bat in hand, scowled at me. But before he could formulate a reply I heard Lil John charging towards me. And so much for the indifferent card. Oh well, it seldom worked anyway. I jumped, landed both feet on the bar and back flipped off of it. I landed with a little too much momentum as Lil John crashed into the bar. I continued the extra momentum and rolled over onto one knee to stop directly in front of one Lil John's buddies, I think it was Ringo. He was standing gape-mouthed staring towards the bar. I punched him in the groin using the momentum of my flip and roll. Pivoted on my left knee and got to my feet to face Lil John, just in time to see a bar stool flying at me seat first. I was able to get my hands up to catch the seat but the momentum still slammed me off my feet and flying through the air to land on a table, which collapsed beneath me. As I struggled to get up in a morass of plates, food, glassware and napkins my left hand closed around a butter knife and my right found a fork.
I got to my feet with the knife in its usual position, blade sticking out the back of my fist, elbow slightly bent, arm at my side, solar plexus level. The fork, a weapon i was completely unfamiliar with, jutted out of the top of my right fist, arm locked straight ahead at shoulder level. I looked good.
Lil John was still at the bar, bent over, holding his ribs.
“Lil John, I'm truly sorry, I didn't know she was with you and really nothing happened, I was just spouting at the mouth as usual, consider me warned,” I said. I really wanted this to end. Now. Something just wasn't right.
He looked up and I saw something in his expression...remorse, uncertainty?
Arms wrapped around my shoulders with the force of a vice. In these kind of situations it is amazing how fast and precise your reflexes can become. I flicked my wrist, opened my hand and caught the handle of the butter knife as it flipped around. As I raised the knife to the cheek of my assailant behind me I slammed my head back into his face. His head jerked back as mine slammed into his chin and I felt the blade open his cheek. People don't realize that butter knives can be dangerous, especially if they are serrated. The arms loosened around my shoulders but still had enough of a hold on me to drag me down as, I think it was Paul, fell backwards.
As I struggled to sit up I saw feet pounding towards me from the bar and a boot swinging around to side volley my head. I was able to get my shoulder up to somewhat deflect the kick but it still caught the top of my head and I flew sideways. My vision went brilliant white and stark black. But I was able to roll over onto my back and was somewhat impressed that I still held both the knife and the fork in each hand.
I looked up to see Lil John standing over me. But he wasn't looking at me, he was looking to his right and shaking his head. I followed his gaze to see George staring at me with a wild eyed, scared look as if he wasn't in control of his right hand which was pulling a gun from inside his jacket. A gun! My brain stopped interpreting reality as it repeated “gun”, over and over. What the feck were they doing with a gun? So, it was from a great distance that I heard a soft but clear voice from the bar.
“That's enough,” Sabrina said, “I think he learned his lesson.”
My attention slid back to reality and Lil John towering over me, “Shut up Sabrina, I know he's your little bitch boy, but this is not your concern.”
I was looking in his face as the only reply from the bar was the slight snick of the The Sword's habaki sliding free of the scabbard. His eyes narrowed and then went wide, he glanced right and again shook his head. His fists unclenched and he stepped back a pace... and then another. I rolled over and struggled into a standing position. Staggered over to the bar. “Pat, your establishment is starting to attract some riff-raff, good utensils though,” I said as I dropped the knife and fork on the bar, picked up my knives and slid them into their sheaths.
My head was still ringing and every time my heart beat little white fireworks bloomed across my vision. I stumbled once or twice on the way out but Sabrina held me up with one hand, The Sword still loose in its scabbard in her other. As we crossed the street outside of the Moondrop I fell to my knees and threw up.
“I think we should probably call it a night,” said Sabrina.
“Yeah,” I croaked. What a lousy way to end the night.
Chapter 3: The Aftermath will be posted Saturday, September 22
9.12.2007
Bittersweet
The best part of the DCU-RSL game last night occurred after the game. As soon as the whistle blew, RSL's Alecko Eskandarian fell to the ground and lay there for a few moments, a couple of his teammates gave him a pat on the back and after a while he got up. But he kept bending over and at one point dropped to his knees. But then one of the DC players came over and gave him a hug (I think it was Boswell) and then another and then another until at one point he was surrounded by at least 5 or 6 black jerseys patting him on the back and hugging him. And then it got even better. He slowly started to walk over to Barra Brava like he wasn't sure if he really wanted to go over there, like he wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get. He shouldn't have worried. They started cheering for him, he gave a little wave and then turned around and started to walk away. But then the "ESKY, ESKY" chant started up and he turned back around and jogged over to the the sideline to get hugs from the fans. It was great to see and as far as I'm concerned (and seemingly most everyone in the stadium), Esky is and always will be a member of the Black and Red, he's just on loan. BTW, same goes for Eddie Pope and Nicky Rimando and I guess we can even squeeze in Cary Talley.
9.11.2007
September is Girl Power Month here at FreshSnaps
We start with this.
Did you know the United States has won two (2) World Cup titles? Did you know that every time since the inaugural one in 1991 we are expected to win it? That's right, I'm talking about the Women's World Cup. This is what it feels like to be Brazil. 1991 (Michelle Akers kicks ass), 1995, 1999 (Brandi Chastain wears a black sports bra... and again Michelle Akers kicks ass), 2003 (this commercial is great on so many levels, too bad neither China nor the US made it to the final), 2007 the US is the team to beat, the team that everyone fears. It feels good. BTW, I'd have Mia Hamm's children; whatever Mia wants, Mia gets...or, um, Julie Foudy. God, I love the beautiful game.
Next up, girl music, specifically, ironically, M.I.A.
Did you know the United States has won two (2) World Cup titles? Did you know that every time since the inaugural one in 1991 we are expected to win it? That's right, I'm talking about the Women's World Cup. This is what it feels like to be Brazil. 1991 (Michelle Akers kicks ass), 1995, 1999 (Brandi Chastain wears a black sports bra... and again Michelle Akers kicks ass), 2003 (this commercial is great on so many levels, too bad neither China nor the US made it to the final), 2007 the US is the team to beat, the team that everyone fears. It feels good. BTW, I'd have Mia Hamm's children; whatever Mia wants, Mia gets...or, um, Julie Foudy. God, I love the beautiful game.
Next up, girl music, specifically, ironically, M.I.A.
9.08.2007
Chapter 1: My Own Fault
I hit the door too hard. It bounced off the railing and on the rebound caught my back foot as I jumped off the porch. I landed at the bottom of the steps on my hands and knees and then on my face. The good news was that the door continued its trajectory and slammed shut which slowed down the guys who were intent on beating me senseless. The bad news was that my inelegant landing knocked the wind out of me. Through the paralyzing combination of pain and not being able to breath I heard the door slam off the rail again and judging by the profanity that followed smack someone full in the face. In spite of my current position that made me smile. It is possible to be in pain and scared and still find humor in a situation, just requires a certain disregard for reality.
I rolled over, glanced back to see a pile of arms and legs spilling down the stairs and scrambled to my feet. Having honed my theory of tactical withdrawal to near perfect practical application I knew that the next few seconds were critical. Not many people intent on teaching me a lesson were so intent as to continue the chase more than a few blocks. I headed left down Garner Street.
Within half a block I had regained my breath in time to start breathing hard. I glanced back. Bummer, the four guys had sorted themselves out and were starting after me. No matter, running was one of my things, I’d soon lose them. I ignored the shouting behind me and concentrated on my running. This was a residential neighborhood, so there was rarely any traffic, I stayed in the middle of the road, no need to have to dodge around trash cans and kids' bicycles on the sidewalk. I passed Dewitt and after passing Horner chanced another glance back. Damn, they were still following and while they had lost a little ground they were mostly less than a block back. Too close. I cut right on Arctor and they hadn't yet turned the corner when I cut down the alley halfway down the block.
I knew exactly where I was going. Months ago I had noticed that many of the row houses along this alley had garages, single car sheds really. Rickety wooden walls supporting corrugated tin or fiberglass roofs or even some without walls, just supports. Some even had rusting and dilapidated cars. Did anyone in this neighborhood really think they would be driving any of these heaps ever again? Meh, irrelevant to what I had noted so long ago. One of the garages was made of cinder block with a brick wall attached encircling the yard. The brick wall was recessed about two feet back from the front of the garage.
"Paul, alley! George, Ringo, around the block”, I heard behind me. They were splitting up, perhaps these guys were a tad smarter than I had anticipated. No matter, should still be able to make the getaway. I leapt at the cinder block wall, planted my left foot and pushed off, up and to the right. My right foot caught the brick, I pushed off again, the left foot slipped a little as I pushed off the garage again but it was enough to get my hands firmly planted on the top of the wall and swing my legs over. I landed in soft grass, rolled once and lay on my back trying to quietly regain my breath. I only had time to put my hands behind my head before I heard their footstep pounding past the garage. Suckers. For a few moments I lay there and thought about things: life, the future, the past... inconsequential stuff.
After a couple minutes I realized I didn't hear running footsteps anymore and that Sabrina was probably at the Moondrop by now. I needed to get back there and convince her to go someplace else before the goons gave up looking for me and went back to drinking. Things tended to escalate rather quickly when Sabrina was around. I got up, unlatched the backyard door and peered out. All clear. I retraced my steps without incident and within a couple minutes was walking back through the door I had very recently abused.
“Locki, you break my door you pay for it,” Pat, the bartender yelled across the room.
“Yeah, yeah, Pat, sorry, you know how it is,” I shrugged at him with a lopsided grin. He just scowled at me, cast a slightly concerned glance at Sabrina's back as she lounged with her back against the bar and headed down the bar.
“Getting in some trouble are ya,” Sabrina asked as I waded through the crowd. I glanced down at The Sword propped against the bar. Usually Sabrina didn't bring it out when we were meeting for a night of carousing. Wonder why she had it tonight.
I looked around. The girl was still there in the corner and she was still lovely, “Aye,” I replied, “she's the one in the corner over there, I think her name is Myra or Meerla or Mirna, starts with an M at least” I said as I walked up to the bar. Sabrina glanced over at the M girl who was obviously avoiding looking at us.
“She's just your type, beautiful skin and so much of it. How far did you get?”
“The lips,” I replied. It was true, the M girl was showing a lot of skin.
“Hmmm, almost there, eh,” she said as she turned back to me.
“Yeah, listen, her goon of a boyfriend, Lil John, didn't appreciate my poetry and neither did his three goon friends, I think it would be best for us to go someplace else, quickly.”
“I think it's a good idea,” she said looking over my shoulder, “but I think you're too late.”
Aw crap, I slowly turned around and saw the four guys I had previously ditched standing in the door breathing a bit heavily. Before I could duck into the crowd the largest of the four, Lil John, I knew him mostly by reputation, saw me. His face hardened and he started pushing through the crowd towards me.
This was not going to end well.
“Well Locki, you need to learn a very valuable lesson. Don't hit on the ladies who are taken. I'm going to finish my drink, when you're done we can go someplace else,” I heard Sabrina say behind me as I watched the goon and his goon brigade shoving people out of the way.
“Locki, remember what I said about pulling out those knives of yours,” Pat bellowed from the other end of the bar. Yeesh, my friends berate me as they throw me to the wolves.
This really was not going to end well.
Chapter 2: Fight at the Moondrop to be posted Saturday, September 15
I rolled over, glanced back to see a pile of arms and legs spilling down the stairs and scrambled to my feet. Having honed my theory of tactical withdrawal to near perfect practical application I knew that the next few seconds were critical. Not many people intent on teaching me a lesson were so intent as to continue the chase more than a few blocks. I headed left down Garner Street.
Within half a block I had regained my breath in time to start breathing hard. I glanced back. Bummer, the four guys had sorted themselves out and were starting after me. No matter, running was one of my things, I’d soon lose them. I ignored the shouting behind me and concentrated on my running. This was a residential neighborhood, so there was rarely any traffic, I stayed in the middle of the road, no need to have to dodge around trash cans and kids' bicycles on the sidewalk. I passed Dewitt and after passing Horner chanced another glance back. Damn, they were still following and while they had lost a little ground they were mostly less than a block back. Too close. I cut right on Arctor and they hadn't yet turned the corner when I cut down the alley halfway down the block.
I knew exactly where I was going. Months ago I had noticed that many of the row houses along this alley had garages, single car sheds really. Rickety wooden walls supporting corrugated tin or fiberglass roofs or even some without walls, just supports. Some even had rusting and dilapidated cars. Did anyone in this neighborhood really think they would be driving any of these heaps ever again? Meh, irrelevant to what I had noted so long ago. One of the garages was made of cinder block with a brick wall attached encircling the yard. The brick wall was recessed about two feet back from the front of the garage.
"Paul, alley! George, Ringo, around the block”, I heard behind me. They were splitting up, perhaps these guys were a tad smarter than I had anticipated. No matter, should still be able to make the getaway. I leapt at the cinder block wall, planted my left foot and pushed off, up and to the right. My right foot caught the brick, I pushed off again, the left foot slipped a little as I pushed off the garage again but it was enough to get my hands firmly planted on the top of the wall and swing my legs over. I landed in soft grass, rolled once and lay on my back trying to quietly regain my breath. I only had time to put my hands behind my head before I heard their footstep pounding past the garage. Suckers. For a few moments I lay there and thought about things: life, the future, the past... inconsequential stuff.
After a couple minutes I realized I didn't hear running footsteps anymore and that Sabrina was probably at the Moondrop by now. I needed to get back there and convince her to go someplace else before the goons gave up looking for me and went back to drinking. Things tended to escalate rather quickly when Sabrina was around. I got up, unlatched the backyard door and peered out. All clear. I retraced my steps without incident and within a couple minutes was walking back through the door I had very recently abused.
“Locki, you break my door you pay for it,” Pat, the bartender yelled across the room.
“Yeah, yeah, Pat, sorry, you know how it is,” I shrugged at him with a lopsided grin. He just scowled at me, cast a slightly concerned glance at Sabrina's back as she lounged with her back against the bar and headed down the bar.
“Getting in some trouble are ya,” Sabrina asked as I waded through the crowd. I glanced down at The Sword propped against the bar. Usually Sabrina didn't bring it out when we were meeting for a night of carousing. Wonder why she had it tonight.
I looked around. The girl was still there in the corner and she was still lovely, “Aye,” I replied, “she's the one in the corner over there, I think her name is Myra or Meerla or Mirna, starts with an M at least” I said as I walked up to the bar. Sabrina glanced over at the M girl who was obviously avoiding looking at us.
“She's just your type, beautiful skin and so much of it. How far did you get?”
“The lips,” I replied. It was true, the M girl was showing a lot of skin.
“Hmmm, almost there, eh,” she said as she turned back to me.
“Yeah, listen, her goon of a boyfriend, Lil John, didn't appreciate my poetry and neither did his three goon friends, I think it would be best for us to go someplace else, quickly.”
“I think it's a good idea,” she said looking over my shoulder, “but I think you're too late.”
Aw crap, I slowly turned around and saw the four guys I had previously ditched standing in the door breathing a bit heavily. Before I could duck into the crowd the largest of the four, Lil John, I knew him mostly by reputation, saw me. His face hardened and he started pushing through the crowd towards me.
This was not going to end well.
“Well Locki, you need to learn a very valuable lesson. Don't hit on the ladies who are taken. I'm going to finish my drink, when you're done we can go someplace else,” I heard Sabrina say behind me as I watched the goon and his goon brigade shoving people out of the way.
“Locki, remember what I said about pulling out those knives of yours,” Pat bellowed from the other end of the bar. Yeesh, my friends berate me as they throw me to the wolves.
This really was not going to end well.
Chapter 2: Fight at the Moondrop to be posted Saturday, September 15
9.04.2007
Actually, can you find anything wrong with this reasoning?
Splenda's Actually Sugar with Augmented Breasts and No Pubes
via Overheard in New York, Sep 4, 2007
I also agree that 8am may be a little too early for this conversation... also, if I heard this conversation I don't think there is any way I couldn't get involved.
Chick #1: I always use Equal.
Chick #2: Why?
Chick #1: Well, I like to think of Equal as the women's lib of sweetener.
Chick #2: So... What does that make Sweet'N Low? The pre-lib? Feminine mystique?
Chick #1: Yeah... Just look at it -- pink and pretty, sweet, and bowed low. C'mon. It's like, 'Hey, ladies, be sweet and pink for your man -- use Sweet'N Low and stay in shape and he'll love you more!' Then there's Equal -- it's blue, it's bold, it demands attention. It says, 'Yeah, we're an artificial sweetener, marketed towards women, but we're equal!'
Chick #2: Um... Okay, so what does that make Splenda?
Chick #1: I guess post-lib feminism?
Chick #2: Uh, I don't even know what that is...
Chick #1: Well, see, Splenda's in court now because apparently neither does anyone else.
Chick #2: Wow... The history of feminism, as interpreted by Deborah, through artificial sweetener... I don't think I was ready for that at eight in the morning on a Thursday.
Chick #1: Yeah... But that was the only time it was gonna happen.
--71st & West End
Overheard by: Pedro
via Overheard in New York, Sep 4, 2007
I also agree that 8am may be a little too early for this conversation... also, if I heard this conversation I don't think there is any way I couldn't get involved.
Pissed and Green...peace.
Found this on Crooks and Liars, here is the permalink and I agree with Nicole, I don't like the "you're either with us or against us" meme, the world is NOT black and white. But the longer a global, lifestyle change campaign against climate change is not implemented the starker the situation becomes. It becomes increasingly likely that my parents grandchildren and my kids (when I have some) will live in a world that is significantly worse than it was before. Draft Al Gore.
Interestingly, I couldn't find this ad/PSA on Greenpeace's website. The cynic in me wonders if it is a plant to smear Greenpeace.
8.29.2007
New Pics
It has been a while since I've added any pictures here, so let's take a look at some recent stuff. Some of these need a lot of cropping and some Photoshop work but some of them I'm really proud of, enjoy.
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