tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64319342024-03-13T05:33:17.124-05:00farkleberriesUSACommitting bloggery in the USA! Join your farkleberries host and friends across the country for an unpredictable group blogging experiment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger211125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-66964350950191124102009-09-06T19:26:00.002-05:002009-09-06T20:04:59.038-05:00Everybody Loves a Holy War<span style="font-style:italic;">Just discovered this guy's lyrics -- looks like he could have easily been watching the television news outlets from the past year.<br /></span><br /><p><br />Some say that God has approved of their mob<br />Esteeming their purposes alone<br />Choosing sides with a definite pride<br />And taking their cause for His own<br /><br />Everybody loves a holy war<br />Draw the line and claim divine assistance<br />Slay the ones who show the most resistance<br />Everybody loves a holy war<br /><br />Many's the man with the iron hand<br />Supposing his own thoughts to be Divine<br />He will break any bond -<br />'cause the other man's always wrong<br />It's a handy excuse for his crimes<br /><br />Everybody loves a holy war<br />Draw the line and claim divine protection<br />Kill the ones who show the most objection<br />Everybody loves a holy war<br /><br />Dissident cries are met with cold eyes<br />And treatment the devil would get<br />Righteousness and truth<br />can be weapons in the hands of fools<br />While innocents go to their deaths<br /><br />Everybody loves a holy war<br />Draw the line and claim divine assistance<br />Slay the ones who show the most resistance<br />Everybody loves a holy war<br /><br />Written by Mark Heard. © 1982 Bug 'n Bear Music ASCAP<br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SqRcBbhyJFI/AAAAAAAAAIA/OnPIdQwY6Us/s1600-h/America+red+blue+3D.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 187px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SqRcBbhyJFI/AAAAAAAAAIA/OnPIdQwY6Us/s320/America+red+blue+3D.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378525034626294866" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-56149745034773571092009-05-05T00:30:00.003-05:002009-05-05T00:34:14.514-05:00WWTDD (What Would Tyler Durden Do?)And you open the door and you step inside<br />We're inside our hearts<br />Now imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light<br />That's right . . . <br />Your pain, the pain itself is a white ball of healing light<br /><br />I don't think so<br /><br />This is your life<br />Good to the last drop<br />It doesn't get any better than this<br />This is your life and its ending one minute at a time<br /><br />This isn't a seminar<br />This isn't a weekend retreat<br />Where you are now you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like<br />Only after disaster can we be resurrected<br />It's only after you've lost everything you are free to do anything<br /><br />Nothing is static<br />Everything is evolving<br />Everything is falling apart<br /><br />You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake<br />You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else<br />We are all part of the same compost heap<br />We are the all singing all dancing crap of the world<br /><br />You are not your bank account<br />You are not the clothes you wear<br />You are not the contents of your wallet<br />You are not your bowel cancer<br />You are not your grande latte<br />You are not the car you drive<br />You are not your fucking khakis<br /><br />You have to give up<br />You have to realize that someday you will die<br />Until you know that<br />You are useless<br /><br />I say, let me never be complete<br />I say, may I never be content<br />I say, deliver me from Swedish furniture<br />I say, deliver me from clever art<br />I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth<br /><br />I say you have to give up<br />I say evolve, and let the chips fall as they may<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/Sf_PvQLG7lI/AAAAAAAAAH4/eVE7PkXGJeE/s1600-h/soap.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/Sf_PvQLG7lI/AAAAAAAAAH4/eVE7PkXGJeE/s400/soap.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332208894532316754" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-52601469275578370112009-02-18T17:38:00.002-06:002009-02-18T17:41:04.151-06:00Why I stopped bloggingJust a note to explain why all my old posts have been deleted and why I won't be blogging for a while.<br /><br />A blogging policy came down from corporate and as a precautionary measure, I won't be blogging at all. It means I can't get myself in trouble for blogging. So for now...I'll be keeping my opinions on everything to myself.Nate Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05589672924684619977noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-74144586551631535852009-02-07T19:09:00.004-06:002009-02-07T19:17:27.432-06:00Bugs Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SY4w-Mjq83I/AAAAAAAAAHw/aqkZf8pD4sE/s1600-h/ants001.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SY4w-Mjq83I/AAAAAAAAAHw/aqkZf8pD4sE/s400/ants001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300227656542516082" /></a><br /><p><br />While it's obvious that the woman in the foreground is reacting in sheer terror, what's the deal with guy in the background? At best, his expression is one of vague puzzlement . . .<span style="font-style:italic;">"Huh . . . as I left the house, covered in fire ants . . . did I remember to shut the lights off?"</span><br /><p>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-75212769286902041062008-11-14T23:27:00.002-06:002008-11-14T23:29:58.638-06:00A Little Bit of SweetMom thinks Obama is Hitler . . . the economy is tanking . . . each day has it's own share of trouble. I'll take sweetness and joy wherever I can find it. I think I found some here.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="302"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2113477&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2113477&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="302"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://vimeo.com/2113477">Once upon a time...</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user115775">Capucha</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-20339346425959393432008-10-03T00:04:00.006-05:002008-10-03T00:24:52.317-05:00Mountaintops<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SOWpHDDnIXI/AAAAAAAAAHk/PCGW9pxlP3g/s1600-h/7-31-2008_022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SOWpHDDnIXI/AAAAAAAAAHk/PCGW9pxlP3g/s400/7-31-2008_022.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252790478942183794" /></a><br /><p><br />My brother John, and me, atop <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santanoni_Peak">Santanoni Peak</a> in the Adirondack Mountains. We replaced the canisters atop many of the trail-less peaks as members of the <a href="http://www.adk46r.org">Adirondack Forty-Sixers Mountain Club</a>. My father crafted the canisters to replace broken or worn out ones. (At the time I completed my forty-sixth, I was one of the youngest ever, at 11 years old). Circa 1975.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-17446002952147622342008-09-14T16:20:00.001-05:002008-10-03T00:04:24.478-05:00The Palin Doctrine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SM2AS9JcdXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ZxtEaFpuy6s/s1600-h/Palin_advice.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SM2AS9JcdXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ZxtEaFpuy6s/s320/Palin_advice.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245990204096673138" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-42941539510468493072008-08-02T01:38:00.009-05:002008-08-02T02:23:31.504-05:00Restrooms For Humans Only<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQHCy3ZqYI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Uyu2sWzvfN4/s1600-h/IMG_0143.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQHCy3ZqYI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Uyu2sWzvfN4/s400/IMG_0143.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229812811879262594" /></a><br /><p><br />This year, the Comic-Con seemed to end all too soon. It felt like we had just arrived, and then, bang, it was over.<br /><br />But I know that I was there. I have photographic proof . . . <br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQKIsojycI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/2h5n6kUeNc8/s1600-h/IMG_0110.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQKIsojycI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/2h5n6kUeNc8/s320/IMG_0110.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229816211820497346" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I find your lack of faith disturbing."</span><br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQKmdadRDI/AAAAAAAAAFY/WpAvHWaab4o/s1600-h/IMG_0112.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQKmdadRDI/AAAAAAAAAFY/WpAvHWaab4o/s320/IMG_0112.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229816723130893362" /></a><br />Not everyone's cup of tea, but from my perspective, <a href="http://suicidegirls.com/">Suicide Girls</a> are hot.<br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQK6jBbjEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/BjHk6jjdcww/s1600-h/IMG_0113.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQK6jBbjEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/BjHk6jjdcww/s320/IMG_0113.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229817068233919554" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Convention-goers were becoming desperate in their attempts to find transportation to the event.</span><br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQLVwmJ6KI/AAAAAAAAAFo/469B5g0V8nk/s1600-h/IMG_0134.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQLVwmJ6KI/AAAAAAAAAFo/469B5g0V8nk/s320/IMG_0134.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229817535734081698" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">One of many very impressive steampunk outfits.<br /></span><br /><p><br />More pix and details will follow.<br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQIx4hJKqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/_oFpSLk8Sds/s1600-h/IMG_0128.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SJQIx4hJKqI/AAAAAAAAAFI/_oFpSLk8Sds/s400/IMG_0128.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229814720361999010" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-65853623905108628202008-07-16T00:44:00.003-05:002008-07-16T00:54:57.526-05:00Primitive Oil Cat Will Devour You<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SH2LEdNQmuI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rfahXCPAIW0/s1600-h/OilCat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SH2LEdNQmuI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rfahXCPAIW0/s400/OilCat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223484051495623394" /></a><br /><br />I found it repellent, yet I was enraptured at the same time. And for $20, how could I go wrong? (Thanks to the folks at Charleston Antique Mall, 307 West Charleston Blvd, Las Vegas).Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-74033457332434954282008-07-09T23:40:00.006-05:002008-07-16T00:52:12.330-05:00The Return of Grown Men Reading Comic Books<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SHWdN_Tl5AI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/mL8rkv-J5bM/s1600-h/RCrumb2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SHWdN_Tl5AI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/mL8rkv-J5bM/s400/RCrumb2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221252206663427074" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />It's wall-to-wall nerds, and I'll soon be in the thick of it again, with wife and daughter to share the joy. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.comic-con.org/">Comic-Con International</a>, by default, has become our family vacation. I enjoy it for a lot of reasons -- the artwork, the pop-culture, the previews, the window-on-the-world look at the people who attend . . . and that's still not doing it justice. It's been great to meet the actual artists behind <a href="http://www.plymptoons.com/">The Tune</a>, or <a href="http://www.tmcm.com/">Too Much Coffee Man</a> . . . my daughter Hannah even got to meet <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matt_Groening">Matt Groening</a> (class act, BTW). And although I'm a bit of a <a href="http://www.scn.org/~jonny/genx.html">squire</a> nowadays (mortgage, job, kids, spouse, responsibilities, etc.), I like to think that I still hold a grasp on some small thread of <a href="http://www.subgenius.com/">subversive</a>. The Comic-Con is a way for me to re-live (revive?) some of that, in some small way. <br /><br />Much of it has to do with reminiscing over my older brother Dave's reading material, and I'm happy to say I've been able to track down long-lost copies of . . . <a href="http://www.freaknet.org.uk">The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers</a> (soon to be animated . . . who knew?). <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YINWUjFQRDU&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YINWUjFQRDU&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />I'm also on the hunt for the more elusive <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trashman_(comic)">Trashman</a>. I'm a huge fan of a comic I discovered via a random purchase at Samurai Comics in Phoenix, AZ several years ago: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_and_Rockets_(comics)">Love and Rockets</a> (Maggie, Hopey, and the entire ensemble from the barrio of Hoppers). I've known of Robert Crumb's work for decades, as well as Harvey Pekar's "American Splendor," although I've yet to pick up a copy . . .maybe this year?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SHWcZADUn8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/R1KcC9MXUnQ/s1600-h/TrashmanCover.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SHWcZADUn8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/R1KcC9MXUnQ/s200/TrashmanCover.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221251296330555330" /></a><br /><br />Stay tuned . . . photographic documentation of the madness will follow in upcoming weeks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SHWcspeSFOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Y77Oig1REwc/s1600-h/locaslp9.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SHWcspeSFOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Y77Oig1REwc/s320/locaslp9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221251633867003106" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-66051487739340309132008-04-30T20:27:00.004-05:002008-04-30T20:46:40.512-05:00Huey Is Pissed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBkdwoUpbHI/AAAAAAAAADw/gFgEORhArEA/s1600-h/Picture.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBkdwoUpbHI/AAAAAAAAADw/gFgEORhArEA/s400/Picture.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195216366443523186" /></a><br /><br />This is a candid shot from the corner of Rancho and Craig in Las Vegas. If the people and prices are so friendly, why does "Huey" look like he would benefit from some anger management therapy? Is this the kind of duck you want to see behind the counter of your local convenience store?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBkeDYUpbII/AAAAAAAAAD4/9cNrIeZBCEo/s1600-h/ResidentElvis+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBkeDYUpbII/AAAAAAAAAD4/9cNrIeZBCEo/s200/ResidentElvis+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195216688566070402" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-26449992217696448452008-04-28T00:07:00.008-05:002008-04-28T20:46:04.369-05:00Makes You Think All the World's A Sunny DayAs a Gen-X'r (<span style="font-style:italic;">Atari Wave, not Nintendo Wave</span>) I have one foot firmly placed in the nostalgia of my youth: 8mm film, AM and FM radio, land-line phones, broadcast analog television . . . yet I accept and enjoy the technological progress that I have witnessed: DVD's and streaming video, mp3's, cell phones, satellite television, to name just a few. As much as I've enjoyed those "old-school" things, you won't find me comparing 45 RPM records with streaming audio and trying to convince someone of the merits of, well, historical technology. <br /><br />Despite this, the film slide transparency of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kodachrome">Kodachromes</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ektachrome">Ektachromes</a> have yet to be surpassed for me. Do I have any delusions that technology won't trump these images? No. Someday they will. But not yet.<br /><br />Years ago, I read a novel by Steven King that he wrote under the pen-name Richard Bachman. The novel, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rage_(novel)">"Rage,"</a> recounts a Columbine-esque scenario of a disturbed young man. I recall the story only because of a passing reference in the story of the main character gazing at the image of a relative in a slide image that was being projected. The colors, the luminance, the big-as-life picture hanging there in the dark . . . for a moment, you find yourself back in that place, hearing those sounds, seeing those people . . . it's almost as if you could step into the picture. How would you be received? What would you say? Could you make them understand? Would it change anything? Would they believe you? Would it matter?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBVhj4UpbFI/AAAAAAAAADg/CZlUm_xGdzM/s1600-h/4-18-2008_009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBVhj4UpbFI/AAAAAAAAADg/CZlUm_xGdzM/s400/4-18-2008_009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194165014284037202" /></a><br /><br />If I could step back into this picture, what would the the little boy in the tan pants say to the tired-looking 40-something man who coalesced from the ether and appeared in front of the boy's father, a man roughly the same age but holding a <a href="http://www.camerapedia.org/wiki/Topcon">Beseler Topcon</a> 35mm SLR?<br /><br />Could any of them hear these words? Would they want to? <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Look over your right shoulder, Jimmy. Your brother Tom is going to spend his life working with what he loves most -- cars. Engines of all kinds. He'll marry a woman named Joyce, have two sons, and live in the Catskills. He and Joyce love their horses, and they have grandchildren now. Look over your left shoulder. Your brother Dave will live what some call a colorful life. He'll marry, but he'll let the winds of change carry him where they will. From woman to woman, job to job, enjoying a sip of this, a snort of that, and a toke of this or that along the way. But he'll live without worries. He'll be gone in 24 years. Maybe it was his physiology -- a proneness to cancer, which he survived 7 years before this picture was taken. Maybe it was the Cobalt radiation that saved his life, coming back for him. The cigarettes sure as hell didn't help, but like I said, he lived without worries.<br /><p><br />Enjoy the fun times with your brother Johnny, Jimmy-boy. You won't get along very well for, well, nearly a decade. By and large he'll kick the shit out of you for no particular reason. What you lack in physical skill and strength you will compensate with a quick wit and sharp tongue. Not that it will stop him from kicking your ass. You'll emerge relatively unscathed, though as a grown man you tend to be one moody motherfucker, although that might just be a character defect. Oh yeah, you swear a lot. Fuck yeah. I won't tell your mom if you don't. John will stop being a prick after his 18th birthday, and you'll actually get along with each other in a phenomenal way. He'll die at age 19 in a head-on collision while riding his bike home from church. Remember what I said about the swearing? Well, that is going to fuck with your head for years. <br /><p><br />Your sister, Janie (Why is she frowning? Is the sun in her eyes?) will, after a string of boyfriends that don't seem to meet with Dad's approval, marry her high-school boyfriend Eric. No kids, but they'll have a long string of doggies that amuse them. They love each other, and are financially comfortable. They actually live in the same area they grew up in. Everyone else scatters, eventually, even your parents. Your mom, by the way, will have a severe stroke in two years, but experience a fantastic recovery. A little numbness, but she'll regain full speech, full memory, full mobility. That health scare will change your parent's eating habits. Your father will begin jogging and running long-distance, and stay with it even into his retirement. You won't see him much from this point forward, because there is very little construction work in New York for an ironworker like him. You'll see him on weekends, because all the construction work is in Massachusetts.<br /><p><br />Strangely enough, and I don't want to give everything away, but you and your parents will eventually leave New York behind for the Southwest. Your father will pass away from complications of heart surgery in 2006 . . . and 2006 is one motherfucker of a year for you, by the way. But you'll find out soon enough. Keep an eye out for a woman in college named Joanne. You'll kiss on April Fool's Day, and celebrate many anniversaries. You named your only son John, after your brother, and you'll have two daughters. You'll pursue the career of your dreams, and find it doesn't pay shit. You'll shift gears, career-wise, and find relative contentment. And you're blessed to have some good friends."</span><br /><br /><br />Would I believe anything that future James might say to me, should he emerge unexpectedly?<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Not a fucking word, most likely.</span><br /><br />By the way, here's how little Jimmy reacted when I told him his father's male-pattern baldness was hereditary:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBVtAYUpbGI/AAAAAAAAADo/jCXS2B_ALxM/s1600-h/4-23-2008_001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/SBVtAYUpbGI/AAAAAAAAADo/jCXS2B_ALxM/s200/4-23-2008_001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194177598538214498" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-8877675461134965162008-04-06T02:22:00.002-05:002008-04-06T02:28:36.121-05:00YES !!!!!!!!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R_h7lASAFdI/AAAAAAAAADY/dbqgLxchnxY/s1600-h/skull.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R_h7lASAFdI/AAAAAAAAADY/dbqgLxchnxY/s200/skull.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186030846578005458" /></a><br /><p><br /><table style="width: 320px; border: 1px solid gray; font: normal 12px arial, verdana, sans-serif; background-color: white;"><tr><td colspan="2" style="background: white; color: black; padding: 5px;"><b style="font: bold 20px 'Times New Roman', serif; display: block; margin-bottom: 8px;">How will I die?</b> <div style="font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 4px;">Your Result: <b>You will die while having sex.</b></div><div style="width: 200px; background: white; border: 1px solid black;"><div style="width: 90%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div><p style="margin: 10px; border: none; background: white; color: black;">Your last moments in this life will be enjoyable indeed...hopefully. Do not fear sex. Try not to become celibate as a way of escaping death. You cannot run from destiny.</p></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will die in a car accident.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 55%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will die while saving someone's life.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 53%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will die in a nuclear holocaust.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 51%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will be murdered.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 50%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will die of boredom.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 33%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will die from a terminal illness.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 32%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td style="color: black; background: white; padding: 3px;">You will die in your sleep.</td><td style="background: white; padding: 3px;"><div style="width: 100px; background: white; border: 1px solid black; margin-top: 4px;"><div style="width: 31%; background: red; font-size: 8px; line-height: 8px;"> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" style="text-align: center; padding: 8px;"><a href="http://www.gotoquiz.com/how_will_i_die"><b>How will I die?</b></a><br><a href="http://www.gotoquiz.com/">Create a Quiz</a></td></tr></table>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-87695310308602788702008-02-29T20:04:00.005-06:002008-02-29T20:17:21.018-06:00You Roll The Dice and You Take Your Chances<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R8i71-jdS9I/AAAAAAAAADI/nWb0U2shn_U/s1600-h/esh.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R8i71-jdS9I/AAAAAAAAADI/nWb0U2shn_U/s200/esh.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172590708034194386" /></a><br /><br />I spent my first month <a href="http://www.extendedstayamerica.com/hotels/las-vegas-valley-view.html">here</a>, after moving to Vegas. Now <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/health/2008/02/29/fear-and-ricin-in-las-vegas/?mod=googlenews_wsj">this</a>.<br /><br />The worst thing I experienced during my time there? The chubby guy who insisted on going shirtless and leaving the curtains of his room open.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R8i8FOjdS-I/AAAAAAAAADQ/vOnxQAL9wVg/s1600-h/sfg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R8i8FOjdS-I/AAAAAAAAADQ/vOnxQAL9wVg/s320/sfg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172590970027199458" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-61535437280287717802008-01-25T14:49:00.000-06:002008-01-25T14:59:08.069-06:00The Roof, The Roof, The Roof Is On FireThe PR spin should soon be churning at about 7800 RPM, letting everyone know that only the facade was actually involved, and that rampant wagering will resume in a very short time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R5pNXhDtrRI/AAAAAAAAADA/VR2Es9w3mRQ/s1600-h/34932983.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R5pNXhDtrRI/AAAAAAAAADA/VR2Es9w3mRQ/s400/34932983.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159521389512600850" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Interesting fact: did you know that the concrete used to build the palatial casinos of Las Vegas is actually comprised of cement mix and the tear drops of bankrupt tourists? (Of course, don't forget that concrete slab where Fat Tony rests in peace. If only he had kept his mouth shut).</span>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-22440370539537428332007-12-20T00:29:00.000-06:002007-12-20T01:24:09.122-06:00More Meandering Thoughts and Notes From Las VegasWhile driving across town, I happened to pass by a Citizens Area Transit bus stop just as a woman stumbled away from the bench and re-enacted <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsGSMJV_KqI">this scene</a>.<br /><br />When we moved into our current rental home, there was an opening in the wall between the dining room and the living room. The realtor called it a "pony wall". At the office, when they use inter-office mail, they don't say "send it by inter-office mail", they say "pony it to the other office." What the hell is it with these people and ponies?<br /><br />Real deal diner: My significant other and I have found a great diner -- <a href="http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/content/nc/a-e/taste/single-story/article/hardy-diners/">Miami Beach Grill House</a>. The food is great, which just makes the Formica counters, stainless steel, neon, and the Wurlitzer jukebox all the more enjoyable. It's already a Saturday morning tradition for us.<br /><br />A visit to some area furniture shops has exposed me to a type of overstuffed, over-carved, over-guilded furniture that I've only been able to describe as "Las Vegas Grotesque". It's the furniture equivalent to the old man with the spray-on tan, the comb-over, the over-sized mirror sunglasses, and multiple gold chains.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.goldcoastcasino.com/restaurants/ping-pang-pong.html">Great food, silly name</a>. Or is that just my Western ear?<br /><br />Our company Christmas party at Tuscany Casino was down the hall from a cross-dresser's coronation party. Their music was better.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R2oX57_e6HI/AAAAAAAAAC4/cvrxtRhd3KI/s1600-h/chair.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/R2oX57_e6HI/AAAAAAAAAC4/cvrxtRhd3KI/s200/chair.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145951808348153970" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-58713912582459580762007-10-15T12:24:00.001-05:002007-10-15T12:24:42.694-05:00Prof. Roger Myerson: Dude, You're Going To Stockholm!Farkleberries offers our heartiest congratulations to the <a href="http://www-news.uchicago.edu/releases/07/071015.nobel.myerson.shtml">University of Chicago's Prof. Roger Myerson on winning</a> <a href="http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/economics/laureates/2007/">this year's Nobel Prize in Economics</a>, jointly with Prof. Eric Maskin and Prof. Leonid Hurwicz. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/reznicek111/1579739216/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2022/1579739216_7859cd6bf4.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="Prof. Roger Myerson at University of Chicago Press Conference for his 2007 Nobel Prize in Economics" /></a><br /><br />My apologies for the slightly blurry photo taken at this morning's press conference at Mandel Hall, but it was the best I could do without flash. From left: Prof. James Heckman (won the Nobel Prize in Economics 2000), Prof. Roger Myerson, Prof. Gary Becker (1992), and Prof. Robert Lucas (1995). Missing is Prof. Robert Fogel, who won the prize in 1993.<br /><br />Strange to come to work with news crews waiting outside the Prof's door, awaiting the newly announced laureate's arrival. Even stranger is the fact the University's Department of Economics now has five - count them, five - current Nobel prize winners (not counting professors passed on, or emeriti). Five laureates out of 38 active faculty members means...<a href="http://economics.uchicago.edu/faculty.shtml">13.2 percent of our department has won the Nobel Prize</a>. That's just kind of...extraordinary.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-40472103656741743612007-10-05T15:28:00.001-05:002007-10-05T15:42:00.270-05:00SOBAPUNK!It's not often I click advertising links that appear in the margins of my Gmail account, but this one (in all Japanese characters) intrigued me...after all, how I could I not wonder which of the key words in my otherwise innocuous English email generated a Japanese ad?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ouuLF8n4Fo0/RwafYnc5ETI/AAAAAAAAANc/jyU0cd1HCOU/s1600-h/sobapunk.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ouuLF8n4Fo0/RwafYnc5ETI/AAAAAAAAANc/jyU0cd1HCOU/s320/sobapunk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117953271808987442" /></a><br /><br />Behold...<a href="http://www.jagajagamall.com/store/storeHome.aspx?storeid=116&menuId=605&displayLanguage=en">SOBAPUNK</a>. Exactly what it sounds like. It's food...it's fashion! T-Shirts with cute skull-and-crossbones logos, piles of noodles with "punk"-style shredded laver seaweed pieces on top. Click on the link and you'll see their catchy motto:<br /><blockquote>HEALTHY PUNK LIFE<br />SOBAPUNK NOODLES = BUCKWHEAT GREEN TEA TASTE NOODLES<br />Opening Special: Buy Punk T-Shirts Get One Free SOBAPUNK Noodle!!!!</blockquote><span style="font-style:italic;">ONE Free Noodle?!?!</span> Now, <span style="font-style:italic;">that's</span> punk.<br /><br />The 'user comments' are choice:<blockquote> A healthy alternative...and it tastes great! Celo<br />Sobapunk is an amazing product. Besides being cleverly packaged with distinguishable and hip artwork; sobapunk noodles are a great tasting and healthy alternative to junkfood. It compliments a variety of condiments and is very satisfying. My first experience with it left me craving for more! Gotta have my sobapunk!<br /><br /> This is Real Japanese taste Raichu<br />A friend of mine gave me 1 pack of Soba Punk. I followed the instruction to cock cold soba. I don’t think it’s difficult to cock if you follow the instruction. That was very helpful. And the most importantly, taste was amazingly great</blockquote>Or, would that be "cold-cocked" soba?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-41206490793640408632007-09-22T02:19:00.000-05:002007-09-22T03:00:32.626-05:00The Last of the Famous International Playboys<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RvTHEZ3jLYI/AAAAAAAAACo/zOjxNK10_QY/s1600-h/morrissey.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RvTHEZ3jLYI/AAAAAAAAACo/zOjxNK10_QY/s320/morrissey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112930355449638274" /></a><br /><br />Just got back from a <a href="http://www.morrissey-solo.com/">Morrissey</a> concert at the <a href="http://www.palms.com/">Palms Casino</a>. Good lord. I used to play <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Smiths">The Smiths</a> in <a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/wplt-1">my college radio show at Plattsburgh State</a>. It only took me, what -- <span style="font-style:italic;">21 years</span> to find the time and money to make this happen? <br /><br />Ironic that Morrissey, who drapes himself in pompadoured iconography now himself follows involuntarily in the footsteps of Elvis . . . rising to prominence in his youth, only to spend the B-side of his life dodging fat jokes. Although to be fair, Morrisey's homages are to 1950's rebel icon <a href="http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/38659/james_deans_demonic_porsche.html">James Dean</a>, who had the good sense to die young and tragically, thus avoiding the ravages of male pattern baldness or involuntary weight gain.<br /><br />The man can still croon, and his lyrics are as beautifully cynical as ever. All in all, a great concert. And to his credit, when the occasional lunatic fan stormed the stage (and there were many), he would still offer up an arm's length handshake as security dropped them to the floor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RvTHOJ3jLZI/AAAAAAAAACw/hhwWhYzy5c8/s1600-h/kristeenyoung.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RvTHOJ3jLZI/AAAAAAAAACw/hhwWhYzy5c8/s320/kristeenyoung.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112930522953362834" /></a><br /><br />The show opened with <a href="http://www.kristeenyoung.com/">Kristeen Young</a>. I had heard of her, but by name only. I was liking her music too, and I think she's someone to keep an eye on. <br /><br />But man, she's a real curio -- imagine if <a href="http://www.katebush.com/">Kate Bush</a> had an illegitimate daughter, weaned her on Red Bull, and then abandoned her to be raised by Bjork, with only an electronic keyboard to play with. That weird, and that wonderful.<br /><br />BTW, no O.J. sightings . . . besides, apparently <a href="http://www.tmz.com/2007/09/21/oj-gets-frozen-out-of-palms/">he's no longer welcome at The Palms</a>.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-56527332446485930092007-09-17T01:14:00.000-05:002007-09-22T22:02:18.273-05:00Random Notes on Las Vegas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/Ru4bxuzKx2I/AAAAAAAAACg/iBqBjcXL1Xs/s1600-h/ResidentElvis+copy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/Ru4bxuzKx2I/AAAAAAAAACg/iBqBjcXL1Xs/s320/ResidentElvis+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111053168302278498" /></a><br /><br /><br />Coming from Yuma, AZ, I realized that I'm one of the few new Las Vegans who've actually experienced a <span style="font-style:italic;">drop</span> in temperature.<br /><br />Two days after I arrived in town, I was leaving a Walgreens pharmacy. There was a young guy sitting on the sidewalk, with his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and I realized this guy was actually sobbing. Not something you often see, unless a guy has been kicked in the junk, or had his heart broken. There was no crotch-grabbing involved, so I'm assuming a troubled love-life.<br /><br />My wife visited from AZ this weekend, and we decided to mingle with the tourists (which <span style="font-style:italic;">we</span> were, technically, up until a few weeks ago). We experienced a rare event -- my wife and I trumped the sales staff at Bloomingdales and some trendy tea shop. She asked for a particular brand of cookware, and the sales assistant admitted to never having heard of it before. Later, we asked the attendant at the tea shop about chrysthanthemum tea ( a tree-barky tasting tea I've developed a taste for), and we received the same reply. I was feeling pretty impressed with myself, up until the moment I banged my head against the clear glass door as we left. PWANG! Damn you, karma!<br /><br />I was informed (politely) that I was pronouncing Nevada incorrectly. Apparently, it's not 'Neh - va -dah', but rather 'Nuh - vat - uh'. Because I will make public presentations on occasion at my new job, I've been forcing myself to make this sound -- and it's never going to feel right. But I have to, as it's a matter of developing credibility with born & bred locals. Yeesh. I still have to fight off the urge to wince -- like hearing Canadians say 'paa - sta' instead of 'pah -stuh'. I can still hear Tony Fortunato (Brooklyn) from my freshman year at Plattsburgh State, after hearing a commercial on the CTV network . . . "What did they say? It's 'pah -stuh', you stupid mother-f . . . . .!"<br /><br />I really, <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> like neon.<br /><br />I'm disappointed to have not yet made an Elvis sighting.<br /><br />My driving habits quickly devolve to the lowest standard of those in which city I am driving.<br /><br />After moving here from the Mexican border, I've actually had to re-adjust to seeing so many white people.<br /><br />The billboards and taxicab advertising placards show lots of hineys. Not that I'm complaining.<br /><br />Did I mention that I like the neon?Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-68993175508804662552007-07-23T23:07:00.000-05:002007-07-23T23:27:27.319-05:00Grown Men Reading Comic Books (Year 3)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RqV9F7E8gtI/AAAAAAAAACQ/qdzCBZ71PMY/s1600-h/love_and_rockets.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RqV9F7E8gtI/AAAAAAAAACQ/qdzCBZ71PMY/s320/love_and_rockets.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090612494523466450" /></a><br /><br />In just a few short days, the family heads to San Diego for the <a href="http://www.comic-con.org/">2007 San Diego Comic Con</a> -- 4 days (3 for us) of comic books, pop culture, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cosplayers">cosplayers</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jpop">jpop</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anime">anime</a> and more, along with a critical mass of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urkel">nerds</a>.<br /><br />Pictures will be taken to document the madness, which will likely include a picture of me as this guy from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Final_Fantasy_VII">Final Fantasy VII</a> . . . <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RqV9m7E8guI/AAAAAAAAACY/pjWy5oCBI0E/s1600-h/Rude.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RqV9m7E8guI/AAAAAAAAACY/pjWy5oCBI0E/s320/Rude.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090613061459149538" /></a><br /><br />Not my cup of tea, but I'm a dad who wants to share something with his daughter -- and this is her thing. I told her this will be the first and last time . . . and besides, it's not much of a stretch from my typical office wear.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-54817167228236900402007-07-20T10:48:00.000-05:002007-07-20T11:16:58.676-05:00That Dangly-Down Thingy At The Back Of Your ThroatFor no particular reason, my Top Ten Amusing Words:<br /><br />10. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Riboflavin.</span> Who knows what it does? I'm sure it's full of vitaminy goodness.<br /><br />9. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Defenestrate.</span> I know it means to toss something/someone out the window. I like it because it sounds dirty <span style="font-style:italic;">("What? He defenestrated her right there in front of the whole class?").</span><br /><br />8. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Credenza.</span> That's what's wrong with our country -- we've lost all the best words. When is the last time you looked for something, and had someone reply <span style="font-style:italic;">"I think it's on top of the credenza"?</span><br /><br />7. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Uvula.</span> Yes, that dangly-down thingy at the back of your throat, made famous by a distraught Charlie Brown and also the Gilda Radner/Chevy Chase era of SNL.<br /><br />6. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Panini.</span> What's not to love? It tastes great and sounds funny, especially when quickly repeated. Let's just hope the panini doesn't repeat on you.<br /><br />5. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Pectin.</span> Another one of those "it ought to be a dirty word but it isn't" words.<br /><br />4. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sheboygan.</span> The city from the Land of Cheese. I don't know why, but when I hear this word, I picture it being spoken by Borscht-belt comics.<br /><br />3. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Frenulum.</span> Yeah, another body-related word (mouth or naughty bits -- the choice is yours). Weird.<br /><br />2. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Schmetterling.</span> The German word for butterfly. For me, it's the perfect name for a new army recruit being berated by his gruff boot camp instructor: <span style="font-style:italic;">"Schmetterling! Front and center!"<br /></span><br />And, my top favorite amusing word of all time is . . . <br /><br />1. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Craisins®.</span> I don't need a reason. I just like it. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Craisins. </span>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-43551222782651689062007-07-04T17:27:00.000-05:002007-07-04T17:30:46.510-05:00Happy Independence Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RowfLQdYHEI/AAAAAAAAACI/VU1ujFKhKs4/s1600-h/flame1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RowfLQdYHEI/AAAAAAAAACI/VU1ujFKhKs4/s320/flame1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083472357651651650" /></a><br /><br />It's 114 degrees Fahrenheit in the desert today. I'm going to liberate some Tecate beer from the refrigerator.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-22215434467315101852007-06-04T16:43:00.000-05:002007-06-04T16:55:23.655-05:00At The Vanguard of Toilet Humor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ouuLF8n4Fo0/RgLA2LdpigI/AAAAAAAAAIs/QkGEwS303bE/s1600-h/kohler-toilet.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ouuLF8n4Fo0/RgLA2LdpigI/AAAAAAAAAIs/QkGEwS303bE/s400/kohler-toilet.jpg" border="0" align="left" hspace=10 vspace=10 alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044806569630992898" /></a>Nice to know that we at Farkleberries are at the vanguard of coolness: months after <a href="http://farkleberries.blogspot.com/2007/03/stop-my-toilet-i-challenge-you.html">this post appeared</a>, <a href="http://gizmodo.com/gadgets/kohler-hotness/sexy-plumber-babe-entices-you-to-flush-stuff-265736.php">Gizmodo "discovers" Kohler's Jo the Plumber</a> interactive I-dare-you-to-flush-this site.<br /><br />Although, I must say, some of the comments there had me laughing far too hard. ;) <blockquote><span style="font-style:italic;">"Sure, the one time you might want to see some plumber's crack, and she's wearing belted high-waisted pants. Is there no justice in this universe?"<br /><br />-----<br /><br />Pinching loaves? I prefer a euphemism of that euphemism to make it sound even more sterile and cryptic. "Hey, I'll be right back, I'm gonna go steal some bread. And stink up your bathroom." My old favorite was always "taking a deuce".<br /><br />-----<br /><br />So why is it perfectly normal to flush a bra and some dog food down the toilet, but 'silly' to flush some flowers. Jo's hot, but she's on crack.</span></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6431934.post-39312326335857390972007-06-03T18:33:00.000-05:002007-06-03T19:13:49.800-05:00Memories of Life In The Cheap Seats<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RmNXdxwCsXI/AAAAAAAAACA/K8CuuF6xiXE/s1600-h/James%5BPerry+Neal%5D1985.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RmNXdxwCsXI/AAAAAAAAACA/K8CuuF6xiXE/s320/James%5BPerry+Neal%5D1985.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071993774431973746" /></a><br /><br /><br />A short time ago I did a Google search using the name of the band I fronted in college back in upstate New York: "Balcony of Ignorance". What can I say? Idle curiosity and boredom (plus access to the internet) can lead you down some strange paths.<br /><br />Not surprisingly, there weren't many hits; in fact, there were only two. One of them was <a href="http://farkleberries-usa.blogspot.com/2007/01/great-name-for-college-band.html">this blog</a>, and the other was a website written completely in Russian, with a few exceptions: the quotes "Balcony of Ignorance" and "Museum of Corruption". That's when it got really intriguing. <br /><br />It's a long stroll down punchline path, but stay with me . . . . . <br /><br />Balcony of Ignorance was our college band name. Museum of Corruption was the name of another band, and later a music/literary 'zine by my fellow bandmate Carson (I went by the name of Perry Neal -- that's a joke, ask someone in the medical profession what it means -- and Carson went by the name Patty O'Furniture). Anyways, this Russian website appears to be an interview of the various bandmembers of Brooklyn-based heavymetal/punk/rapcore group <a href="http://www.biohazard.com/biohazard_main.html">Biohazard</a>. Could it be that one of our two "homemade" cassettes are still floating around out there? We were together for only about two years, and only played on two public occasions -- the German Club in Burlington, VT, and live on Plattsburgh State University's PSTV college television station. Some of us graduated, and in short order, we all pretty much scattered to the four winds. <br /><br />I eventually found the Myspace page of the Biohazard bandmember making the quote (the particulars of which I still don't know, as the text is all in the Cyrillic alphabet, and Altavista translations can only offer so much). I wrote to him, and it turns out that, yes, he heard us/saw us/listened to us back in the day. In some small way, we offered an inspiration/influence of some sort. And I'd like to emphasize the word "small" in my observations and remarks, as there's no comparison between the weekend musical diversions of four college students who described their music both as "the sound of things falling apart" and "ranging from migraine blues to epileptic polka" and the accomplishments of a band that has actually toured the world, sold countless albums, and have made a career in the music industry.<br /><br />But still. How freakin' cool is that? <br /><br />By the way, a week later, I found yet another link: click on the photo below to see what Sound Choice magazine really thought of Balcony of Ignorance.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Ouch.</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RmNXERwCsWI/AAAAAAAAAB4/KO1UgV-M_dI/s1600-h/Sound+Choice+Loved+Balcony+of+Ignorance.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_udbYJpk3Zsk/RmNXERwCsWI/AAAAAAAAAB4/KO1UgV-M_dI/s400/Sound+Choice+Loved+Balcony+of+Ignorance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071993336345309538" /></a>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10028530646117117490noreply@blogger.com