Faith Based Execution

The news reports that Saddam Hussein was executed at the gallows. This could very well be the case. Remember that this man had several body doubles for security reasons, seven I believe. If they release DNA evidence that the man hung was indeed Saddam and not a body double, who performs those DNA tests? Are they corruptible? Could black mail or threats of violence against family be involved? Hell, is it possible to fake a hanging? I have already heard suspicions of it being faked because the noose was not a true hangman's knot of 13 loops.

Did they actually hang Saddam Hussein? With all the different ways that such a thing could be faked and/or falsified we will never know for certain. They probably hung Saddam. It was still a faith based execution.

Of course it doesn't matter if they did it for real or faked it. Neither can be absolutely proven. Alive in captivity, hidden with a new identity, or dead at the end of a rope, the general result is the same. Some people are mad, others are elated, and my beer tastes neither better nor worse than the pitcher I had two days ago.

That's New

I woke up early, drove the wife to work, and saw the sun rising over Portland and giving a nice back lighting effect to Mt. Hood. As a swinger I don't see that very often. Is that the right terminology? Let's see what does swinger mean... Oh! I meant as a swing shifter. Second shifter? I mean I'm not a morning person and my lifestyle manifests this in ways other than just bitching about it like everyone else. So as I saw the sun rising beyond Mt. Hood I thought, "It would be awesome to go surfing right now." Alas, no wet suit yet. Soon, soon.

Then there is the other new thing I've been experimenting with. I work with this 21 year old gal who is very cute, very sweet, and represents everything I have ever hated about typical Americans. She drives an SUV for no particular reason. She gets dressed up and puts on loads of make-up and perfume to go out dancing at the clubs. She likes cover bands because she already knows all the songs. She considers herself Christian because she was raised Christian, even though she only goes to church on major religious holidays and parties four or five nights a week. She is oblivious to just about anything happening outside of the mainstream culture. For example, we had to explain to her who Gandhi was and she had never heard of Genghis Khan. So far the only major curve ball she has thrown my way is that she likes Bauhaus but didn't know who Depeche Mode was. Her 23 year old sister also works with us. While not quite as stereo-typical a specimen as her younger sister, she is not far from it. For some reason I have yet to figure out, these two gals have taken a liking to me. They sit with me on breaks, like to chat with me while work on their machines, try to get me to go out with them for drinks after work, and have even invited me to parties. Yes, they know I am married and have even met my wife.

Regardless of why they are enamoured with me, I am absolutely enthralled with these two girls. If we had gone to high school together I would have hated them. Now they fascinate me. What makes them who they are? How do their heads work? What does life look like for someone like that? Most importantly, is it possible to corrupt their operating systems? Are these types of people more than just robots? Is it possible to undo a cultural consumer?

Why would I want to do this? Because I'm evil. Duh. And if I can wyrd out these girls, corrupt their routines and sub-routines, there is hope for the rest of America. But mostly because I'm evil.

Rant

You know what really...

fuck it.

Protecting the Home Break

The latest podcast from Shralp Surf has footage from the Nelscott Reef Tow-In event. After watching it I had to drop them a line to complain. They listed Nelscott Reef as California! Those killer waves are in Lincoln City, Oregon.

The podcast also has footage of bikini clad Brazilian beach babes. I didn't complain about that.

Mood

Somehow Sinfest has captured my mood for the day quite eloquently.

What Will It Be?

So here is one problem with being a Discordian. Since I take my humor seriously and my seriousness humorously, people often can't tell the difference. Was it a serious joke or a lark of a demand? Can you tell the difference?

Finding Happiness

It amazes me how much happiness one little note can bring to a person's life. Just one little note to a friend. Just a simple little note designed to cause needless chaos and confusion for no particular reason. I sent it off this morning and have been giggling all day. Knowing that the friend will take it seriously just makes it funnier.

We Discordians take our humor seriously and our seriousness humorously.

Long and Boring

I play World of Warcaft. My wife plays it a lot more. A lot more. She is a gamer. I knew this when we hooked up nearly 13 years ago. The first time I visited her house her dad sat in a chair in front of the television playing Nintendo. If her dad wasn't playing, her brother was. She didn't play around me but let me know that she was the Tetris queen and she loved playing the Final Fantasy games.

For quite a while I tried to be a gamer. I got a degree in Computer Animation & Design and was a professor of 3D Game Design at Academy College. When it comes right down to it, I'm not a gamer. I like to play video games and can have fun doing it, but I just don't have what it takes to join the ranks of the true gamers. When WoW was first released, it took less than a week for a player to level his character to the maximum of level 60. That was extreme. Most people can do it within two or three months of play. Most gamers now have several characters at level 60. I have one that reached level 58 just last night. That is what I have achieved in two years of game play.

Gaming is an odd one for me to categorize. While it involves staring at a screen for hours, it is not a passive affair like television, film, and theater enthusiasts. While it requires reflexes and strategy, it is not the physical endeavor of sport. Here sits a former professor of 3D Game Design and I can't even describe what a video game actually is. I can tell you about game design strategies, challenge and reward systems, artificial intelligence scripting, polycounts, mapping, and several things that go into a game, but not what a video game is. Choppers, surfing, sex, these things have much to offer on both the amateur and professional levels. I can wax on about any of them with a glazed over dreamy look on my face. Gaming, no matter how hard developers try, is always going to favor the pro. No wax, either.

Since I am not a true gamer, why do I continue to play? My wife put it quite eloquently last week when we were discussing if I should reinstate my own WoW account rather than sharing one with her. "I love playing and I'd like to be able to game with you." That I understand. I love choppers and love it when she goes for a ride with me. I love surfing and appreciate her coming to the beach with me. I love sex and it just wouldn't be the same without her participation. Gaming is something she does and she wants to be able to share that with me. There is one more reason. Working second shift, she is usually trying to sleep while I am winding down from my day. Sometimes I will write or create art. Other times I just want to kick back and relax a little. Rather than do something observational like watch TV or maybe a movie, it can be fun to kick back and kill some monsters.

That is the element lost on most hard core gamers. Video games were developed as a hobby, a recreational activity. Just like drinking alcohol, when it ceases to be a recreational activity and starts to dominate your life, you might want to consider quitting. Luckily my wife isn't anywhere near that category. She is doing great at work, in school, and as a domestic partner. Some of the people she plays with seem to have forgotten this and it can cause problems. I hate coming home from work to hear about some messed up business with the people she plays with. It's a game. Why are her friends taking it all so seriously? By them taking it seriously, she is made to feel like less of a gamer for not taking it as seriously. Rule of thumb; if you don't get paid to do it, it is a hobby. Bowling, surfing, boxing, baseball, motorcycling, rugby, video games, sex, drinking, dancing, whatever. Pros get paid to make it more than recreational. Last time I checked, the only people who get paid to play World of Warcraft were Blizzard employees and Chinese gold farmers. Relax. Don't worry. It is a virtual world. Have fun. If you piss someone off, they can't even hit you. Let's get back to having some fun.

See. Long and boring.

In more exciting news, I now have neoprene booties and gloves for surfing. I am one wetsuit away from being fully equipped.

Not Weird

Waking up with the urge to Listen to Some Candy Talking by The Jesus and Mary Chain, I searched it out on my main list and hit play. With the player set on random, the song finished and immediately launched into another Jesus and Mary Chain song. At first this struck as highly improbable. As an unrepentant nerd, I had to determine the probability of this happening. Turns out that even though this band makes up a relatively small portion of my collection, there was still a 1 in 87 chance of one song by this artist being followed by another. That means it should happen about 4 times a year, and that isn't strange at all.

WoW:TBC

If you can understand the subject line, you might want to preorder now. I have a tough time understanding the escapism of MMORPGs. In real life I am a tall blue-eyed blond punk with a custom early model Harley and a surfboard who can inspire awe, love, and fear simply by entering the room. In WoW I'm a barely capable orc who gets his ass kicked by teenagers. With the expansion I'm going to try my hand at being a petite Blood Elf hottie who relies on the stupidity and gullibility of adolescent boys to get ahead.

Olfactory Observation

Apparently there is nothing wrong with my nose. At the store I was squatted down in the aisle across from some hipster gal. With two six packs and a bottle of soda under one arm, I reached out and got a large bag of dog food with the other. I slid my arm under it, curled it up onto my arm, then hoisted the bag onto my shoulder. Judging by my nose, this display was a turn on for the hipster gal.

Been hangin' with my hound dog too long?

Holiday Greetings

Company Christmas Party

A note to aspiring alcoholics.

Do not ask everyone at the table if they'd like some rum for dessert and within half an hour start acting like you're in a loud and crowded bar. Do not stumble around the room as though you are at a frat party and have forgotten where the keg is. Do not sit at the table next to the supervisors and chuckle loudly about how you had a hell of a time getting the rum from a big jug through the small opening on the flask. Do not make bad jokes about your punch smelling funny. Very amateur.

When sneaking alcohol into a work function, discretely pour under the table and sit quietly with a glazed look in your eyes. Everybody will know what you're doing but won't care. Everyone has had to deal with career alcoholics, usually within their own families. Even if they don't approve, they recognize the actions and are programmed to not do anything about it.

Drunkards get their booze supply cut off. People are scared to take it away from the alcoholic.

Holiday Cheer

End Times

May the next six years be filled with strange and mind bendingly bizarre experiences. In six short years we should know if Terrence McKenna with his Novelty Theory was full of shit. Personally I hope he was right and things get massively weird in that last year. Existence as I currently know it stagnates and replicates like a hillbilly. Give me novelty or give me something crunchy and exciting with asian spices. Or a really sweet wave to surf. Or maybe just legalize drugs so I don't have to deal with the fact that I walk amongst the living dead.

Vertigo Pimp

While I knew Brit back in high school and have witnessed the self perpetuating drama that if harnessed could power a few small third world countries, I have never completely understood the mass phenomenon of her blog Hookers on Stilts other than its brilliant name.

As far as food critique goes, with this one she is spot on.

They say NYC has the best food in the world, everything you could ever possibly want. But if you want to grow a giant, two-airplane-seats fat ass, you come to the Midwest.

P-town has thousands of average eating establishments serving all kinds of foods that are relatively healthy with a rare gem here and there. Minnesota has thousands of restaurants that inspire Pavlovian salivation and gluteal maximization.

AWPC

ACK! They played Christmas music over the intercom all day at work. By wearing ear plugs and humming Beethoven I was able to drown out Silver Bells, Oh Come All Ye Faithful, Little Drummer Boy, and Oh Little Town of Bethlehem.

D: After a couple hours of this shit I'm begining to understand why they killed Jesus.

Me: Hell. I'd do it right now.

Let's not even get into how the Jews and Hindus at work were feeling today.

AWPC

As reference, I gave one of the maintanence guys at work a nick-name because he insisted on being called Michael instead of Mike. His initials were MD. While the other shifts all call him Michael, I have gotten everyone on my shift to call him Mad Dog, and he likes it. I just can't call someone 'Michael' with a straight face. In return he has been known to say, "Let me consult the mohawk."

Me: Thanks for all your help, Mad Dog. Without it tonight would have been really evil. And not the good kind of evil like D&D and Rock-n-Roll. I mean the bad kind of evil like Police Academy 3 and Billy Ray Cyrus.

MD: Dude. That's bad. How could you even go there?

Me: Sorry man. That's just how evil it would have been.

Not An AWPC

This morning I was talking with my gay neighbor. He was excited to go home to Idaho for the holidays but was also a bit apprehensive about the social environment there.

Me: In my experience most people aren't nearly as intolerant as they think they are.

Sometimes I surprise myself.

Jake Time Magazine's Person of the Year

I was deeply honored to see my own face would be on the cover of Time Magazine as Person of the Year. Thank you to everyone who helped make this possible.

While DIY is fun, this year I don't have to break out the scissors and glue.

Sober Cab

I went out this evening to help celebrate a co-worker's birthday. I personally refuse to drive after drinking and offered to be the designated driver for my wife and a friend. If the bar serves decent coffee, which this place did, I don't mind. Getting wired off of coffee is loads of fun. At one point someone asked if I was having a good time despite not drinking. I pointed at my lovely wife sitting to my right, the good looking gal next to her, the cute girl on my left, yet another girl next to her, and raised my coffee mug in a toast. Being boxed in behind a table on a bench seat between four partying women? Yeah, I think I was having a good time. At least I couldn't stop smiling.

It's good to be the guy in a kilt.

Nothing Better

I do love putting on clothes straight out of the dryer on a cold and soggy day. Best thing in the world. Well, maybe second best. Then there is surfing and choppers and the thrill of fixing something and the smell of fresh baked bread. Anyway, it ranks up there pretty darn high.

Oregon Surf

When you mention surfing people tend to think of California, Hawaii, and maybe Florida. So when I tell people I surf in Oregon, they often ask if the surf here is any good. Hmm, maybe they should ask some of the world's top surfers who gathered along the Oregon coast on Friday for the annual Nelscott Reef tow-in invitational. I was hoping it would hold off just one more day, but when the break is pumping, it's pumping. So while the biggest names in big wave surfing were enjoying fast double over-head (and bigger) waves, I was at work. Quintessential bummer. This surf spot is in Lincoln City, only two and a half hours from Portland.

We've also got Seaside Point that provides good waves all winter. Then there is Short Sands that has excellent summer waves. You just have to be stupid enough to surf in 50F water. Yep, I qualify.

Happy X-Mass to Me

When is X's birthday again? I always forget this shit. Anyway, while most folks celebrate X's Mass several days after the fact, I went out and bought myself a present. So now I've got a 7' 9" Bic, Sticky Bumps, and some Sex Wax. Pictures included for those who would otherwise be confused.

End of the month I'll pick up a wet suit and I'll be ready for some Surfin' USA, but only as covered by the Jesus & Mary Chain.

AWPC

Him: I was thinking that we need to pull the collar off of the shaft and take it over to the arbor press so we can resize the gap.

Jake cranks really hard on the bolt to tighten it down.

Him: Or we could always just get a Viking to torque the hell out of it.

The Real Nightmare Before Christmas

For the first half of my life, I enjoyed Christmas. It was a fun time. Then I found out that there was a giving element, too. That got difficult and my family often didn't seem to appreciate the cool things I had found at the military surplus store.

What really sucked about Christmas was the iconography. There wasn't a whole lot to like in the idea of a fat man wearing red and exploiting a bunch of short guys in funny looking shoes to aid him in his evil task of making sure that while bad kids got all the cool shit like Ataris and later Nintendos, the good kids would get socks, a pencil set, and maybe one mid-sized set of Legos or a Matchbox car. Nobody really cares about baby Jesus. He is either a doll or somebody's kid screaming its head off. Mary and Joseph looked like Arabs, and even back then we had the Ayatollah Khomeini we were supposed to fear. He seems hospitable in today's environment. Angels were too frilly. Nutcrackers in leotards? Sugarplum faeries? Tin soldiers? Snowmen? Reindeer? Little boys going rum-tum-tum-tum when every little drummer boy I've ever been around goes BAM-BA-BAM-BAM? It all sucked,

Then tonight I find out about Santa's evil sidekick, Krampus. Somewhere out there in Austria there is a remnant of the old Wild Hunt when people would lock themselves indoors to avoid getting swept up by the parade of dead souls roaming the streets in the dead of winter. I might just have to import this little Christmas beastie.

X-Mass Shopping

Hurray for crass commercialism!

You can get me a present simply by getting other people presents. If you plan on doing any of your shopping at Amazon, then might I suggest utilizing my page. By purchasing items from my Amazon store, or this gift certificate link, or the Amazon search function here, I get a cut. That way you don't have to buy me anything yet you still are giving me something.

AWPC

It was lunch break and I was at the sinks washing up.

Her: You having a good day?

Me: I'm done. I'm going home.

Her: What?

Me: I've had enough. I'm outta here.

Her: Whatever.

Me: Serious. Just wait and see. When you get back from lunch, I won't be here.

Her: No way.

Me: No? Hang around. I'm going to walk over to that time clock and punch out. I've had enough.

Her: Why?

Me: I'm sick of it. I'm sick of stupid operators turning on their stupid lights for stupid problems. I'm sick of stupid supervisors not telling me what is going on before they leave. I'm just plain sick of it. I've had it.

Her: Not me.

Me: Yes, even you.

Just then the other maintenance guy approaches. He doesn't know what I've just been saying.

Him: You can't go.

Me: Ta hell I can't! I'm sick of it and I'm leaving!

Her: You're not really serious, are you?

Me: Just watch me. I'm going to go over to that time clock and punch out right now, and then walk out that door.

I grab my jacket off the garbage can, put it on, and walk over to the time clock. I grab my time card from my wallet and punch out. As I'm walking away...

Me: Good night. Good bye. And good luck!

Her: No! You can't leave.

Him: Hey! Next time you should just hit him.

Me: Whatever, man. I'm gone!

What she didn't know, what none of the operators or even the lead knew, was that I had requested a half day off over a week in advance. But the other maintenance guy knew. That and he is the only other guy on our side of operations to have had theatrical improv training. The poor girl looked like she was going to cry.

I also happen to know that he can't hold an improv character for more than a minute, and would break down over lunch and tell the poor thing the truth. Hack.

Odds are I'll get a big slug in the arm from her tomorrow.

Doomsday Averted

Last weekend I went off about Guinness. Then someone had a grand idea. Why not try buying our Guinness elsewhere and compare? Instead of purchasing it at Safeway, we purchased four cans at the local import bottle shop, Belmont Station. To the fine folks at Guinness, I apologize. You still make the one beer that the world should not be without. To the asshats at Safeway, what the fuck are you doing to fuck up the Guinness so bad?

Dr. Merkwürdig

...or how I learned to stop worrying and love the mall.

That's right, I'm teaching myself to enjoy going to the mall. Not the shopping aspect. That is still bullshit. But I figured out that if I really want to fulfill my life long dreams, I should get comfortable in mall like settings.

It first occurred to my while walking through Lloyd Center. I looked around at the totally enclosed space with no windows on an outside world. There were people crowded into the hallways. I realized that life in an orbital colony would be very similar. Space would be at a premium. If you weren't in your small living space, the commons would almost certainly have a lot of people milling about. Granted, it wouldn't all be shops, but the feel would be very similar to a mall.

Since it is my dream to live in space, I am preparing myself. I can now go to the mall and enjoy myself. I even had a decent time this weekend. Of course wearing a kilt and having all the women and girls checking you out helps. Robert Heinlein was a genius.

Fenris Unbound

As I got out of the truck, the black wolf came at me. I placed my right hand in his mouth as a sign of faith. As he tried to bite down on it, I grabbed his tongue. Seeing as I still have my hand, I guess that means Fenris is still unbound.

This all took place on the moon, of course. Humans had taken up habitation on the surface, but there was a sub-culture. The sub-culture were people who had been 'banished' to live underground to prevent the spread of some disease they had acquired. I was shown the underground habitation, a huge cavern with a floor lined with dragon scales. A little girl let the truth slip. Did they look diseased? Did they look unhappy? And if they were all diseased, why was I being allowed to walk amongst them while others were not? The truth? The sub-culture had discovered this cavern of dragon scales that granted them with eternal life. Here was the real fountain of youth. They spread the rumor of disease to keep people out. El Dorado, Luna.

But as long as Fenris is unbound, it is in danger.

Then I came back down to Earth. So it has been a busy morning for me.

Third Time is the Charm

Guiness is no longer on my shopping list. I've been drinking Guiness for years. But the last three packs of pub draught cans I have purchased have all tasted like watered down shit. There are plenty of kick ass beers out there. If Guiness wants to rest on name recognition and water down what was once the best beer in the world, than fuck them.

Dirty Music

When I get the need for a fix, there is only one thing that really satisifies it. After months of listening to MP3s, the time had come to bust out some vinyl. My record player was top notch, one of the best you could buy back in 1981, and the diamond tipped needle hasn't ever been changed. Every pop, tchik, and hiss is pure dirty bliss. And for some reason I always grab Alice Donut. Dirty, fuzzy, hissing richness in full analog glory. Like the first trickle up the vein hitting the brain, I collapse twisted and tickled. Fuckin MP3s are like snorting sudafed.