Something New

Barbecue beef waffle sandwiches don't suck. In fact I think it could actually be quite tasty with a layer of apple sauce. And with a side of beans, yeah.

Freudian AWPC

Her: Can I get a screw?

(Long pause.)

Her: For that air thing on the pick-up rail. It's flopping around and the parts won't go down.

AWPCs

What a day!

Jake: Oh no. You don't get to choose who works on your machine. You just turn on your light and you get who you get.
Operator (a little Vietnamese gal who sounds almost exactly like Mad TV's Ms. Swan): But you actually fix machine.

O1: It just keeps laying the rivets down sideways.
Jake: Did you ask it to stop doing that?
O1: I did. It said it wanted Jake to come over and take a look at it.

O2: How come you're the only one who comes over here?
Jake: Maybe if you'd stop being so mean to them they'd come over more often.
O2: I think they're scared to come over here because none of them know how to actually fix anything.

All the ego stroking today was nice. Not quite as nice as receiving a pay increase commensurate to your skill level, but I'll take my pleasures where I can get them. Like the way all the Latinas at work pronounce my name with a soft J. It's very reminiscent of all the old Swedes I grew up around only prettier. But my favorite today was when our joke of a maintenance guy tried to put something simple together backwards.

Jake: If that guy gets any dumber he's going to end up President.

Satan's Six Sided Eye

Further evidence that Saturn is inhabited by evil worker bees plotting galactic communist enslavement. Or maybe the Devil has one wicked tit.



SPACE.com -- Bizarre Hexagon Spotted on Saturn

Riddled

In a Universe of infinite probabilities, people still laugh at reruns of Seinfeld.

No Idea

I took the idea. I ran with it like a pair of scissors. I tripped, fell, and came up with Repeated Expletives:. Right now it boasts nothing plus one. Perhaps in the near future RE: will host a broader spectrum of thought. Keep an eye out.

An Idea

Last night I had a thought for a collaborative project. My circle of blogging friends tend to be neither right or left of the political spectrum but we all tend towards criticism. We often don't agree. Could we have fun doing a collaborative blog where each of us can post news items with our personal takes on them? We pretty much do this individually already. Why not centralize it? Yes, lots of places already do such a thing. What would the difference be? Nothing other than it would be us instead of them. Bathroom punditry. Opinions and Assholes: Everybody has them but chances are nobody wants to see, hear, or smell yours no matter how great you think it is. Yet people scour the web looking for both.

Any takers?

Bad Cover Version

After weighing all sides of the issue (not all sides, really; just the ones that came to mind relatively quickly) I have made my own observations on a situation brought to my attention by Jewbacca in his post Mencia still a thief. The evidence as given shows that Carlos/Ned clearly lifts material from other comics. The attention seems to be on his theft of material. Borrowing material from other artists is nothing new. Johnny Cash stole material from all sorts of people and everybody stole from Bob Dylan. Film studios come out with remake after remake of once great films. My wife is currently reading Wicked, a book that features the villain of another book by a long dead author. So why not comics? The point here should be that he does covers of other people's material without giving credit. If a Kiss cover band tried to claim the songs were their own original material, as was the costuming, some serious ass kicking would be due.

More importantly than the whole theft issue, Mencia is just a bad comic. From what I've seen (not much) he has a total lack of presence and timing. Then again, cover bands usually do suck.

Competition

I agree with my honorable opponent.

AWPC

M: How are you today, Jake?

Jake: Good.

M: No. Really. How are you today?

Jake: Well actually I've got this phlegm build up in the back of my throat that's been driving me nuts.

M: That's what I love about you, Jake. You always know just what to say. Is that a Minnesota thing?

Jake: No. That's a Jake thing.

Intentionally Shifting Reality Tunnels

In my Machine Design feed I found this short article.

Steadily increasing U.S. GDP, a strong commercial construction market, and increased demand from major end-use industries are bolstering the U.S. market for compressors, vacuum pumps, and industrial spraying equipment. The value of air and gas compressors combined with vacuum pumps could rise from $3.7 billion in 2006 to $4.4 billion in 2010, according to market research publisher SBI, a division of MarketResearch.com. Similarly, the value of the industrial spraying-equipment market is projected to increase at a compound annual growth rate of nearly 12%, from $1.5 billion in 2006 to $2.3 billion in 2010.

While I have bent my mind into several different roles in attempts to better understand people and situations, this one is rough. Someone on the editorial staff at the magazine decided that the readership would benefit from this news. Who is the person reading that snippet and getting excited? What sort of individual views such an article and is thankful a publication such as Machine Design shared this news with them? Will they go home to their significant other and try to engage in an animated explanation of the great news they heard today?

Perhaps it stems from believing that in every field there exist people who genuinely love what they do. I want to get inside the mind of someone who gets overly enthusiastic about an expanding compressor, vacuum pump, and industrial sprayer market. "I'm tellin' ya, Ethel, the world is finally catching on. They called me a fool. But someday soon everyone will know the importance of heavy equipment that sucks and blows."

Puritanical Pukes

A Rhode Island couple has received probation for having sex in front of the woman's nine year old daughter. (Reuters)

"Basically, and I'm tempted to say idiotically, they believed it was helpful to the girl, Ms. Arnold's daughter; they believed it was helpful to her development to see them engaging in various sex acts in front of her," said Mike Healey, spokesman for state attorney general Patrick Lynch.

Basically, and I'm tempted to say idiotically, the state seems to think they know better than the parents how to raise the child. In no way do I disapprove of this method of sex education. Would I choose a similar strategy if I were to have a child of my own? HELL NO! But I'd much rather find out that parents are letting their kid watch them have sex then to find out they bought their kid a TV for their bedroom. Especially with cable. That's brain damaging.

This reminds me of a thought I had last week. For some reason that totally escapes me, I was thinking about Little House on the Prairie. Damn, it hurts just typing those words. Growing up in Southern Minnesota, one summer we took a day trip to Walnut Grove to see the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum. Contrary to what many who grew up watching the TV show may think, there are NO mountains anywhere near Walnut Grove. None. Little House on the PRAIRIE! If you look at pioneer housing, it was really basic. Most of it consisted of a single room with a loft. Lots of big families all living in a single room with a loft. How did those families get so big when there was just a single room with a loft? I don't think puritanism has the answer.

Thank you Rhode Island for preventing the next Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Honor and Dignity

As though the Universe picked up on my rant and granted its blessings on my opinions, today's news feed included this piece on America's 10 Horniest Presidents.

Is there any job more alpha than Commander in Chief? It's no wonder the Oval Office has seen so many out-sized libidos. And contrary to what Newt and friends would have you believe, William Jefferson Clinton was a choirboy compared to our most potent POTUS's (several of whom also happened to be our greatest presidents).

If elected I promise to do my best to fill the scandal sheets with rumors of leather, handcuffs, and far too many viewings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I think Putin would make a great Riff Raff. I'll even let Hillary be Columbia.

Reagan Bashing

I hate Ronald Reagan. I hated his movies. I hated his presidency. Now I hate anyone who says good things about that rat bastard. Google "Reagan Bashing" and you get a bunch of links from conservative sources bitching about the liberal media's attacks on the charlatan. But I did find an obituary in the Village Voice that gave me the main line Reagan hating fix I so desperataly craved.

...in The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, Oliver Sacks tells a remarkable story about watching a presidential speech in a roomful of people with severe aphasia, a condition that impairs or destroys understanding of verbal content but leaves its victims preternaturally alert to the authenticity of facial expressions, mannerisms, and tone. Every solemn, ringingly earnest sentence out of Reagan's mouth had the patients rolling on the floor laughing.

Never forget!

Surf Day

Surf report for the Pacific Northwest this Sunday: AWESOME!

Waves at Short Sands ranged from 3-6 feet varying from foamy
to glassy. Not a lot of power but plenty of speed. The water had a
beautiful sea of green hue. As waves crested and curled over it looked
like old glass. The misty fog clung to the tree tops like thick spider
webbing. Everything looked so beautiful it didn't matter if I got good
surf or not. I took the opportunity to practice my duck diving and did
a couple of barrel rolls for good measure. Enough salt water passed
through my schnoz to at least temporarily clear out the mucous from
this week's cold. To make the day totally awesome, I even rode a few
waves! My surfing skill has improved from 'totally sucks' to 'sucks'.

I also discovered that women with dogs are irresistibly attracted to me... because they have a dog pulling them towards me.

Sinfest Sunday Edition

Kind of an AWPC

Stripper: Are you guys having a good Saint Patrick's Day?

M: Fuck no! We have to work. This is just our lunch break.

To note, when a stripper wraps her boobs around a bottle, it's only impressive if it disappears.

Holy Day

Today I will participate in that noble tradition of workers everywhere, mandatory overtime. And since it also happens to be St. Patrick's Day, I can show my Irish pride by getting good and hammered before going to work.

The Other

I continue to operate under the notion that while I have a waking consciousness that views and interacts with reality, another consciousness operates within my brain. That other consciousness deals with the hidden, the abstract, and general analysis and computation of input data into a personal experiential universe. Just as the daily operational mind receives inputs and offers outputs (car coming, stick out hand and act like arrogant fool) so does the other half. Except the other half tends to communicate like an adolescent crack head on acid.

Nowhere is this more apparent than when I just wake up and the flood of ideas from the other half spills across receptors not quite tuned in for the mundane tasks of the day. Working swing shift with no alarm to taint the information allows me to lay back and experience it for a few minutes every day. It's the transition period, the shift change. The Other is coming down from the psychedelic trip, the manic acid fueled energy is still spewing forth frantically. The receptors are still in overdrive, but fuel has run out. The manic reorganization of the universe according to the grand scheme of some sick and twisted librarian is done for now. Time to kick back and meditate. But the social self can come out and play. This portion of the brain can do things like eat food, sip beverages, tie shoe laces, punch buttons, and tell bums to go bother rich people. It bounces around the still hyper-active synapses like the minister's sheltered daughter at summer camp... in Tijuana.

The two Jakes. My constant companion and the deranged lunatic of a friend that nobody understands. Over time the translations get better, but I still wish he'd try a little harder. Yes. You communicate in symbols, I get that. But what the hell kind of symbol is an eight legged creature that acts like a small dog but looks more like a chia pet with lush bonsai trees popping out of its segmented back?

Take that, Freud.

Holy War

Knight of Pan has declared a Holy War against Islam. I say, let's take it to the streets. Whenever you see a Muslim, hug them. Especially if they are of the opposite sex. Embrace their culture literally. Paint yourself in liquid latex and go hug Muslims. Throw on a corset and high heels and embrace Islam.

Or if every Muslim you've ever met was a somewhat decent and rational individual who never flew any type of aircraft into anything, then don't bother.

Weak

When a person gets sick, the first response typically involves trying to figure out how they got the illness. The blame starts spreading around. Was it that coughing fiend who used the pay phone just before you? Perhaps you should be mad at your friends for handing you their baby. Perhaps getting that girl at the bar to give you a blow job in exchange for your last cigarette wasn't such a good idea. People tend to seek out the source.

I blame myself. My body wasn't strong enough to fight it off. I am weak. I am vulnerable. I am mortal. I will find those responsible for making me feel this way, rip their veins open with my teeth, and blow my nose on the gaping wound.

Chicks

It wasn't enough to have the Cub Scouts selling candy and beef sticks outside of the store. Very interesting twist on the traditional fund raiser, kids. I really liked the addition of faux meat. But besides those kids prying a dollar out of my hand for some peanut butter cups, inside the store were the chicks.

I hate chicks. Sure they all looked cute lounging around underneath the sun lamps. I knew better. I knew that they were going to grow up and get mean, vile, ugly, and nasty. The Cub Scouts outside had hope. Perhaps when they got older they would remember that strange looking guy who instead of brushing them off like so many others had that day, he stopped by the table and gave them a dollar. Perhaps they would think that maybe, just maybe, all those freaks out there aren't so bad and might even try a freaky lifestyle themselves. Or maybe they'll get the idea that even weirdos can get suckered out of their money and open up a Hot Topic. But at least they have a chance. Not those chicks inside. Worthless. Doomed. I hope to never see them again until they are dead.

Chicks are deceptive. Their young form masks what they will become. But I know better. Never will I drop so much as a dime on a chick. Perhaps ducklings or goslings, but never chicks.

Down Under

Looks like Jake is causing quite a stir in Australia. Check it out.

Java Junkies

This was a coffee weekend. I didn't plan it that way. It just happened. Very few people know how to get their coffee on. They either mainline it daily like a hopeless junkie, or sip the occasional espresso drink. Hardly anyone sets out to get ripped on coffee.

I do. But that wasn't the plan this weekend. It just happened.

The Cure

The cure for my pre-work boredom. Shonen Knife.

Inner Nerd Connectivity

The geek within needs some feedin'. I downloaded Ubuntu, a Linux distro, and tried to get it running on my Mac. Looks nice and clean, but it failed the first and most important test. I could not get the damn thing onto the network. The live CD I burned was for the 6.10 edgy version. Right now I've got 6.06 desktop versions for both PPC and Intel downloading. If I can get it to run and like it, I want to wipe Windows from my world. It requires two very important caveats. First I need to see if WoW runs well. After reading a few articles on this, looks like a wait and see situation. Second, it has to recognize my MMC card reader. Mac OS X won't leaving me to rely on my PC for grabbing the pics from my camera.

Another possibility if I can get the wireless working with Ubuntu, wipe the iBook. The poor thing has a small drive and could benefit from the simplified OS.

Catching a ride home from work, someone commented that they have a blackboard in their house where they write down all the drinks they want to try.

Jake: We have a whiteboard in our dining room. But we tend to be nerds.

M: Nerds rule!

Jake: Yeah, our board tends to get filled with notes, art, functions, trig, and calculus equations.

G: See, he's a real nerd. You're just a video game nerd.

Everybody thinks they are a nerd. Somewhere back in the 1990's it became cool.

AWPC: Covert Socialism

Man: Why is it that government employees get the best wages, the best benefits, and every other Monday and Friday off for some goddamn holiday or another all on the tax payers' dime?

Jake: Because the state wants to be the premier employer to seduce everyone into working for the government. In most states government is already the single largest employer. It's covert socialism.

Man: Hardly covert. But at least we beat those damn Ruskies and showed 'em what real socialism is all about.

American Idol Democracy Syndrome

Turn the sound off!!! Don't listen. Doesn't matter. But watch the video. That face has the make-up caked on like a clay mask. The lights are going full tilt from multiple directions. Wash those wrinkles out! Would you trust the words of someone going through such pains to project a false appearance?

And yes, I know all politicians do it. Movie actors. Celebrities. Winners of the popularity poll. American Idol Democracy Syndrome. That's right, the USA has AIDS.

Rejecting Jesus

News

On several occasions I have experimented with intentional news blockouts. During a given period of time I stop reading news online, in the papers, avoid it on the radio, and continue to almost never turn on my television. News is a terrible habit. After a while you start to believe it, follow it, and actually care about the story line. Must be similar to watching the soaps.

For the past month something different has happened. Rather than intentionally blocking out the news, I just haven't felt the urge to look it up. Here we are, a new month, and I decide to take a look.

Physical nausea hit me. My body rejected headlines. Columbine. Taleban. Clinton. Kennedy. Vietnam. Words meant to panic and/or pull me in repulsed me. BBC, New York Times, CNN, Village Voice, The Guardian, Reuters, all using the same words I have seen over and over again. Source doesn't matter. Pig fuckers, one and all, cornering the market on fnords.

Perhaps the most surreal was seeing a headline with the word 'Jesus' in it and momentarily assuming it was about me.

Delving into insanity so you don't have to.

Triggers

Tearing off the cartoon on the Far Side daily calendar I saw a picture of a mouse coming through his front door and staring down at a mouse trap with a hunk of cheese on it. First thought, why cheese? When did the conjunction of mice and cheese occur?

Which lead to the thought of how we used to put out mouse traps with no bait on them in our old farm house. We would put them along their path of travel and we always caught mice.

Which then lead to the old rat traps we used in the milkhouse of the barn. We only used them in the milkhouse so the cats wouldn't get caught in them. Can you conjure an image of the stereotypical bear trap? One of those large jagged jaw contraptions requiring a thick soled boot to set. We used smaller versions of those meant for raccoons, possums, and similar rodents. They had rust all over them from years out in the elements. One morning we went into the milkhouse and discovered that a mouse had gone for the bait on the trap. It must have really pounced on the food to set off that old rusty trap. There he sat, nibbling away on the oats we had used as bait, unable to escape due to his tail being caught in the jaws that snapped together over him. In all unfairness, we threw it to the cats, still caught in the trap and unable to run.