Revelation

November 2nd, 1989, 10:05pm CST.

I killed God.

A Different Breed of Lazy

Sooner or later, a maintenance guy burns out and needs to be lazy for a while. The average guy will then spend time trying to dodge doing any kind of work. That requires a lot of effort and hoping that nobody catches you goofing off. I go about it differently.

Doing my Sunday overtime today I got back from my last break and knew that I really didn't want to do much for the next two hours. I looked out at the sea of machines with their blue maintenance lights on. Let's see now, which machine has had it's light on all day for some real kick in the pants problem that's not going away any time soon? Ah, there it is. So I deliberately parked myself at one of the oldest, crappiest, screwed up piece of shit machines. I knew that I would spend the last two hours of the day at that one machine and with a little bit of luck, I just might get it to run a little better. There was no chance that I could 'fix' this old beast. Nobody has fixed that thing the entire time I've worked there. A good maintenance guy can get it to run well for a shift, maybe two if they're lucky.

How is parking myself at a piece of shit machine being lazy? With the right mind set, it turns into your playground. It already doesn't run for shit, so you can start playing with all of the different pieces of the puzzle. What does this do? What if I do that? It's a game. The operator has spent all day cussing at the machine and has given up any hopes they may have harbored of actually getting production out of it. They are more than happy to sit back and let you mess with it as long as they don't have to touch it for the last two hours. They'll chat with you and keep you company while you tinker. And after a couple of hours, it runs a little better. The operator turns in their paper work for the day, turns off the machine, turns out the maintenance light, and thanks you for your hard work.

The Butterfly Effect

I thought for certain I would hate this film. But somebody lent me their copy saying I would probably really enjoy it. So I went into this film thinking for certain that I was going to find that I just wasted the last two hours of my life.

I was wrong. The Butterfly Effect is a very well written film. This is probably the first time I've watched a film and gone, "Wow! What a great script!" The acting was average. They pulled it off. In defense of Ashton Kutcher, he manages to not destroy a great script. But if you want to watch and really enjoy the film, watch the director's cut. I was told to do so because of the extreme difference in endings. After watching the film I flipped the disk and watched the theatrical ending. If that is what they feel they have to do to a film to make it acceptable for American audiences, it's a good thing I'm not making movies.

Maybe it's because I have several volumes of journals that I keep, but The Butterfly Effect really did draw me in. Just watch the director's cut.

St. Patrick's Day Rant`

Because it's St. Pat's Day I'm listening to Flogging Molly and the Dropkick Murphys. Listening to DKM's Worker's Song I stopped what I was doing, raised my fist in the air, and repeated the lyrics to myself.

They're the first ones to starve
They're the first ones to die
The first ones in line for that pie in the ski

I am a worker. Fuck those of you who never have been. Just for today. You will never know. Fuck you.

Power to the Workers

A really great guy at work quit today. They told him that they were going to move him to a different shift. He was sick of getting tossed around by management, so he quit.

Right afterward he came up to me, handed me his phone number, and said, "I just quit. Fuck them."

People shortly after that came up and started to talk. Why did he quit? He was such a good worker. Strong production. I took the opportunity to implant my own agenda in everyone's heads, and it worked.

To quit when the bosses are dicking you around takes a strong individual. It's a liberating feeling to say, "Fuck you! I ain't your whore." This was the real kicker. "If you want any indication of what the company really thinks of you, take a look at who walks the quitters and the people who get fired out the door. It's the material handlers. That's all we are to them."

So cheers to you, Damon. I'll give you a call this weekend. Some may call you unemployed. Right now, you are in charge.

At least until the money runs out.

NSFW: Let the Games Begin!

If ever there were a sport to which I have any qualifications to judge, it would be the Exotic Dancing Finals.

If ever there were a sport where even amateurs can provide an entertaining experience, it would be the Exotic Dancing Finals.

The prize money is WAY too low for what these athletes have given to America.

Yeah Baby!

The "A" Word

Talking politics at work is always risky territory. But hey, they started it.

They started off on good ground, talkin' about everything wrong with the current el presidente. They continued with solid discourse on other bad 'leaders' this country has had. Then someone had to screw it all up by mentioning who they thought had done a good job. What's worse? They said Reagan.

That's when I popped the A-word. There is no such thing as a good politician. No individual can ever represent 'the people' because the people can't agree on what they want done. That is why, when it's all said and done, I remain an Anarchist.

"And I happen to be running for President in 2008. I'm not voting for me. My running mate isn't voting for me. I encourage all of you to do the same." I may have gotten a taker, too.

The other biker talked with me about it afterwards, expressing ideas of how people could make a change if they really wanted to, but the populous is way to apathetic about it. The people get who they deserve. "If we could get just 5% of the population to all write their representatives we could start making some real change."

"I've got a better idea. I say it's better because it requires people to do NOTHING. Get 10% of the population to do NOTHING on tax day. Can you imagine 10% of Americans deciding they just won't pay their taxes this year?"

"I like it! Money talks, bullshit walks, and even the laziest guy has no excuse."

It's still strange to use the A-word at work. I might as well tell them I'm a Shiite Cleric running an al Qaeda splinter cell.

Har Mar Superstar

Are you short, pudgy, balding, and can't get laid? It's probably because you can't dance like the Har Mar Superstar.



My wife went to school with him at his first high school. I was a security guard at the high school he graduated from. I also had an earlier band of his, Calvin Krime, headline the last ever music festival I held on my parent's dairy farm, the sixth annual Blood Orgy of the Atomic Fern (a nod to the Dead Milkmen). He's a swell enough guy that I'd piss on him if he was on fire. And I'm pretty certain I'd find his videos fall on the floor funny if I didn't know him.

If a guy like the Har Mar Superstar (aka. Sean Tillman) can hang with the movers and shakers and score some major tail, plumbers everywhere can have hopes for a brighter future. It still ain't gonna happen, but they at least have someone to point to and say, "I am not necessarily undesirable!" Of course they gotta learn to dance first.

Cricket

In world test cricket there are no mascots, no silly team names. I like that.

Too Smart for the Factory

The folks on the floor figured it out while I was an operator. Jake's a smart boy. Now the folks in the machine shop and tool and die have figured it out. They've been asking what I used to do, what my education is, stuff like that. It always ends with a question phrased with almost the exact same words every time.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Is Huge In Japan

Walking out of work I looked at the silhouetted landscape and then up at the hazy Portland sky. The sky is a lot bigger.

Pimpin'

Who's the biggest, baddest pimp daddy of them all? That's right, Uncle Sam be the man. He's the one who gonna take care of all his hos. Just bend over and take it for the man, bitch, and Uncle Sam will see nothin bad happens to you. And what does big pimp daddy Sam ask for his generous protection? He just wants what's comin' to him. The bitch better have his money. He ain't runnin' no charity.



I mean really, who but a pimp could get away with wearin' those threads? Ain't we all lucky bitches to be workin' for the biggest, baddest pimp in town? Show 'im some respect or y'all be gettin' the slap down you deserve!

I Am Mean

The landlord next door hates me. Ever since one of his tenneants let their cat get into our backyard (with dog meets cat results) he has harbored ill will towards me.

Today he was next door as my hound barked at him. "I'm going to have to get into your yard to fix what your dog has done to my fence."

"Let me take a look." I walk over and inspect the fence. "You see, your post is rotted at the base. That's your problem."

Miffed. "Well, I still want to come over and prop a couple of 2x4's between the tree and the fence. That should hold it."

"You're not propping anything against the tree in our yard."

Funny thing is, if he hadn't wrongfully blamed my dog for the fence, I might have let him do it. It's just a rental property.

Spicy!

A guy at work brought in some red hot chili peppers marinated in pepper oil. He had all the guys back in the maintenance pit try one. Everyone agreed they were WAY too hot. One guy who has a reputation for liking spicy food ate two and said, "No more." Another guy ate one and turned bright red.

Then I got done cleaning tanks and hit the lunch room. Ajay offered me one of the peppers and all the guys started to giggle. "Really? I can have one?" Sure enough, so I took one, popped it in my mouth, and chewed. It was heavenly! The hot pepper came to life on my tongue and caused my whole body to experience a quick flush. Not only were these things hot, but they had flavor. "Ajay, these are fantastic!" Later he asked if I wanted more. I certainly did. So he gave me the rest of them! He had a whole jar of them at home.

Now Ajay and I make jokes about how the other guys can't handle REAL peppers.

Mmm, I think I'm going to go have a few right now.

Upbeat

I've recently read through a lot of articles in which people tell you what is wrong with the way things are and sometimes tell you what they think should be done to fix things. Such an exercise could make a person very distressed. It used to get me all worked up. "No, no. You've got it all wrong!" Not tonight.

Oh, I still disagreed with almost all of them. Regardless, I found a common thread that gives me hope. These people not only realized that the current system is failing and will ultimately fail out-right, but that the solutions they postulate, while seeming like good ideas right now, will also ultimately fail and be replaced by something better. In theory (mine) this will go on until there is nothing left to try.

All this makes me happy. There is no end-all-be-all. There is no answer, no solution, only options. It's a mind-set I would like to see more people try, even if it is doomed to eventually fail.

The Posers

Confession: I like Marilyn Manson. I also love his wife, Dita von Teese. These two are the absolute cutest couple in the world right now. Probably because they are both total posers who gave up on being anything but the posers they are. As a total poser, I like that.

Disbelief

I had shut off the grinder head, but it was still in spin as I lifted it to check the condition of the wheel. I brought my hand close to the wheel, waiting for it to stop but already seeing signs of it breaking apart irregularly. Then something came off of the wheel and sent a flash of searing pain through the little finger of my right hand. It only hurt for an instant. I withdrew my hand and saw a tiny piece of metal sticking out of my finger. I get slivers all the time at work. In fact I was glad to see a piece sticking out well enough for me to easily remove the sliver. As I pulled it out, my amazement grew. I removed a two and a half inch sliver of metal from my finger. Hardly any blood. I doused the hole in isopropyl alcohol and went back about my business. Of course my finger is now very bruised, a little swollen, and hurts when use it.

Bad Taste: An AWPC

During lunch in the break room...

Machinist: In Fiji they used to be cannibals. The first time they saw a white man they hunted him down and cooked him. They had never seen shoes before so they cooked his shoes as well. Then the Indians arrived, civilized them, and taught them how to grow sugar cane.

Me: Because sugar is SO much better for you than people.

Correcting Myself

A fresh day and a fresh new way of looking at things.

I was staring at the pictures of the new concept Camaro. So many things seemed decent, but not quite right. That's when I realized that Chevrolet has given the world exactly the kind of muscle car it needs. The Dodge Challenger concept car is a piece of art in and of itself. The new Ford Mustangs are a genuine consumer level toy, an affordable novelty.

The new Camaro is the starting ground. Every time I look at it all I can think is how to alter the hood, change the grill, add a blower, maybe some upswept side pipes, and add an aggressive paint job. This is a car that demands to be modified. It's like the Dyna Super Glide by Harley-Davidson. As a stock bike, it ain't much. It's allure is as a base for building your own dream. I think this new Camaro fills that same role in the modern muscle car world for those of us who see transportation as an art form.

Following Suit

It seems GM had finally decided to follow Ford and Dodge by building a Camaro that looks like a modern adaptation of it's original incarnation.



Too little too late? At least my mom will have something to replace her current Camaro when the time comes and Chevy can always be counted on to deliver the power under the hood.

Crabs

Once a year at work the company has a big crab feed. It's one of the few perks they haven't scratched in their expansion and quest for larger profit margins. Each employee is given a full crab to either eat or freeze and take home. They also feed us fried chicken, garlic bread, salad, and cake.

Of course that also means that once a year they entire plant is inundated with jokes about getting crabs, sharing crabs, keep your crabs off of me, eating out crabs, and any other disgusting crab based humor that comes to mind. It's good to know we've all matured since junior high. It's also nice that the company sponsors this event with full knowledge of what will inevitably occur.

Today's Crab Feed AWPC:

Female Supervisor: You're being so delicate with your crabs. To really enjoy it you gotta dive in and get the crab juices all over your face.

Male Operator: Suddenly I've lost my appetite.

Maint. Guy: You get some bad visuals?

Male Operator: To say any more would just dig me in deeper. DON'T EVEN GO THERE!

A Sight to Behold

I wish I would have had a camera at work today. This was simply amazing. One of the punch presses folded a die like a taco. How amazing is this? The die consists of over two inches thickness of carbide and D2 hardened steel. This is some of the hardest steel available. If you asked someone to devise a method for intentionally cold folding it, they would either get a glazed and dazed look on their face or laugh outright. Replacing the die is about three months worth of work, tens of thousands of dollars in time and materials. One of our fine German engineered presses somehow managed to fold this thing. Much to the chagrin of the die shop, everyone in the plant had to come by their bench to check it out.

As for an AWPC for the day...

Maint. Guy: That's a fine crack you're showing there, Jake.

Me (without missing a beat and without changing my position or even looking up from the task at hand): That's my credentials as a trained professional.

Maint. Guy: Damn. I gotta get me one of them.

And I bet everyone's glad I didn't have a camera around for that.

Javacrucianism

CoffeeisoneofmyfavoritedrugsandjustbecauseIlikethespeedy
jittersofagoodoverindulgencecoffeebuzzdoesn'tmeanI'ma
coffeejunkiebecauseIcanquitanytimeIwantIjustcan'tthinkof
anyreasonwhyIshouldandallofthereasonsyougivemearelittle
morethantheinsanerantingsofapuritanicalpukesothere!

The Old Man Voice

Back in my day when people got nostalgic, they talked about how BAD everything was. Now these youngsters, when they get nostalgic, they talk about how GOOD things used to be.

Bah! Country's going right down the shitter.

Follow Up

The lead chose to get the girl turning 21 a case of Henry's instead of Coors Light. Victory!

AWPC: Just Say No!

Lead: It's Jessica's 21st birthday this weekend and I wondered if you'd be willing to pitch in a couple of bucks so we can buy her a six pack and some balloons.

Me: Sure.

Operator: What are you getting her?

Lead: I've heard she likes Coors Light.

Me: In that case, take me off the list. I can't condone that sort of behavior.

Operator: Me too! That's disgusting!

Lead: I drink Coors Light.

Me: I still can't condone that kind of behavior.

Operator: There's no good reason to drink that crap.

NSFW: Beneficial Porn

Tuesday's Porn Star Karaoke Night will be a Benefit for Sankofa Center for African Dance & Culture. I hate karaoke, but if I lived in or near Burbank, I'd be tempted to go. I would bring ear plugs, of course.

Quote

"I wanna love you."

Gibby Hanes of the Butthole Surfers appearing on Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry

Math for Members

When I found measurements for the average male penis, I had to compare. It was mostly because for the first time in my life I encountered an average that included not just length, but also girth. I had never seen average girth as a statistic before. Of course by knowing length and girth I could perform a little geometry and get a rough indication of volume.

The average male penis is roughly equivalent to 3.6 fluid ounces, one of those larger size shot glasses.

John Holmes had what was nearly a 40 ouncer.

And now I have a suspicion as to why I like the feel of a Guinness in my hand, since I'm a pint.

Cheers.

Contrariwise

A friend has linked to me as, "a contrary man for all seasons." It took me quite a while to find this out as I've subscribed to the feed and never go to the main page where the link exists. Then one day I did and saw it.

I saw the link and said, "What's she talking about? I'm not contrary!" But wait, that statement alone betrays otherwise. "Well, January and October are mine too, then." Or some such. Nevermind all that.

Thing is, yes, I am contrary. I listen to conservative talk radio and want to shoot the bastards for being so damn blind to the harsh realities around them. I listen to liberal talk radio and want to drag the whiny bleeding hearts behind my truck. I read anarchist publications and I want to kick the authors to the curb for going into such mind numbing detail about how a world without government would work until they have devised a system that only a politician could appreciate. Fuck them all!

And yet in person I am known as the nice guy. I'm the peace maker. I'm the mellow, happy guy who everyone loves. There you go, more contrariness. Because they all love me, but I hate all of them. And I hate you, too.

Brilliant!

The US must fight back (against al-Qaeda) by operating a more effective, 24-hour propaganda machine, or risk a "dangerous deficiency," (Rumsfeld) said.

Story here.

A 24-hour propaganda machine in Muslim countries. Makes sense. I mean it has worked so well domestically.

There is no news anywhere.

My Package

I got my Fluffers Union CD in the mail today, direct from the boys down in the Lonestar Beer State. Now I get to feed my crazy country urges in style. Thanks Bryan, Derek, Collin, Jeremiah, and all the other good folks who I drank beer with in San Marcus and cheated out of a lot of pocket change playing poker. You're my heroes even if just for tonight.

The Mystic

Today I reached for a tarot deck. Instead of reaching for my usual Thoth deck, I picked up my old Voyager Tarot Deck.

The Voyager deck was my first set of tarot cards. A friend of mine's boyfriend had purchased her the deck. She tried to use them a few times, but the cards are ridiculously huge compared to most decks. While visiting them I made the comment that cards that size were meant for hands my size. Right there she gave me the deck.

The Voyager tarot is an interesting deck. The images on the card are very well done photo collages that try to embody the symbols and meanings of each card. You are just as likely to find an ancient statue of Apollo as you are to find an image of the Apollo 13 module. This deck is 100% touchy feely new age mysticism. For some reason, this deck has also had an uncanny ability to cast light on almost any situation I have posed to it. Drives me nuts sometimes. It was the new age style of this deck that in part made me decide to get Aleister Crowley's Thoth deck.

After years of not touching the Voyager deck, the eerie connection is still there. It tells me exactly when to stop shuffling. It still lays out an uncanny spread that sheds light on the situation at hand. It still drives me nuts. The choices after the fact are mine. It is nice, however, to have a tool for seeing things from new perspectives.

Going Metric

As one of the last nations to still use old standard measures instead of metric, I thought I would try to help Americans make the transition.

The average man's penis measures 6 inches in length when erect. The best an American male can do to brag without exaggerating is to say they measure half a foot. It might sound a little more impressive, but it still lacks. Now imagine telling someone you measure 15 1/4 centimeters. That's right, double digits. Psychologically, 6 just can't measure up to 9 with it only one marker away from that majestic double digit status. But 15 is damn close to 20 even though we're talking about roughly the same corresponding lengths.

As for women, how would you like to transform your 32 inch chest into a mind boggling 81 instantly and without expensive surgery? How would you like to drop from nearly 200 pounds to stating your weight as less than 90 without dieting or going to the gym?

Want to drive 100 per? You can do it without getting a speeding ticket.

These and other miracles await within the metric system.

Me!

Finally! A pre-fab creation device that let's me express who I really am.

Nerdier than Thou: An AWPC

CoWorker: Why don't you play console games? The new XBox rules.

Me: Because I can't edit games on a console. I like to cheat.

Free Love

It's a Valentine's Special! For the month of February you can now download Black Whole Son for free. Or you can purchase a hard(core) copy for just $7.05.

Give the gift of biker love this Valentine's Day.

Making the Cut

In my teen years I practiced an art participated in by many teens; self-mutilation. I would take a knife, razor blade, hypodermic needle, safety pin, or other such device and cut myself. I couldn't tell you why, for certain. But I did it repeatedly and enjoyed the experience.

At work, I cut myself often. This week I rediscovered one of the sensations I had often felt when mutilating myself back in high school. If you take a sharp cutting instrument like a hypo, scalpel, razor, etc, and make a slice across your skin, you can hardly feel the cutting at all and you can cut quite deep without even noticing it. I did this once with a razor blade to my right arm, leaving a huge scar which I eventually covered with a tattoo. I probably should have stitched it up. I could have done it myself. But the fascinating part about this sort of cut is not the cut itself. Once the cut is made, it feels as though you could actually peel back the skin. You feel that if it weren't for bleeding to death, it would be possible to skin yourself alive, leave your 'shell' behind, and walk about truly naked. There is a sensation that one might call pain, but you can view it as just another sensation that doesn't have to rule your actions. Frightening and beautiful simultaneously. I gave myself my first tattoo by cutting open lines with an exacto knife and laying in india ink. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but it does work. It is best done with long, gentle curves. I made short, sharp turns. Regardless, at the end of the tattoo I felt as though I could peel back the area circumscribed and look at the muscles underneath. It was worth the experience.

With that fresh in my mind, I have thought about skin this week. I have thought about how often it feels like an armored container for what we really are.

Burns, which I also got one of this week, do not have this effect. Instead they remind you of just how vulnerable and sensitive your shell really is. They can serve as a reminder as to why we walk around inside of our skins instead of out.

Finally, a note to all. 100% pure isopropynol is a quick way to discover if you actually cut yourself. Also, it doesn't hurt nearly as much on burns as it does on cuts.

Where the Weirdos Are

For quite some time I had wondered why the successful maintenance people all seemed a little off-kilter. Think about the ones you have encountered. Think of those people who have jobs fixing physical problems. All of the ones that do a really good job at it, are weird, possibly a bit nuts. Today while watching a not-so-weird maintenance guy, I finally found an answer.

To be a good maintenance person, you HAVE to be weird. You have to dare to do stupid things. You have to recklessly tear into a situation in an attempt to find the solution to the problem.

The not-so-weird maintenance guy can fix any problem that he has been shown how to fix. He can apply knowledge learned to a given situation. These are good traits in a technician. A technician will make certain a machine runs by making every aspect of it is set up as it should be and will replace parts that no longer meet the specifications.

Maintenance guys don't live in that world. They deal with problems that should not exist, but do. They are forced to make old parts work because the new ones aren't scheduled to be made for another three months. They have tools, raw materials, an inquisitive mind, and a dash of creativity. If they can't fix it, they'll at least get it to run.

All that said, here's a warning. Steer clear of these people while they work. Many of them are accidents waiting to happen. They poke and prod with a screwdriver asking, I wonder what this does?" For some, their luck will run out. It's a good idea to not be anywhere near them when this happens. Who knows how many they will accidentally take with them?

Free Market

An idea.

If the free market is so great, why use a system of taxes? Why not instead sell stock in the US government? I'm sure the investors would line right up.

Applying One's Self

After a very long hiatus, I applied for another job.

Sending out about 4 gross worth of résumés, cover letters, and applications had burnt me out. So when I landed a job, I quit applying for quite a while. I needed a psychological break from that whole process.

Then yesterday while eating lunch I decided to see what kind of jobs were listed locally. Finding one within 7 blocks of home at a glass foundry, I decided to put in an application. So I did that today. I don't need a job. The one I have suits me fine. I did it anyway.

And if they pay me enough, I'll take it. My work place has no loyalty to it's employees. They can fire me any time they want. They won't because I rock. The same could be said of anyone I end up working for.

I Love Aminals

This is a Golden-Mantled Tree Kangaroo, one of several new species found in New Guinea.



This is one of those rare moments when I'll say something is very cute. That and I like the idea of a tree kangaroo.

Fnord

From an emplyment ad in the Oregonian.

"IF ELECTRONICS REALLY GET YOUR JUICES FOLLOWING... LET'S TALK."

It's like they aren't even trying.

The Big Game

They're both world class teams. Still, we all knew it would end like this.

Brutal Aussies Trounce South Africa. Cooie!

What? Like there was anything better to do on a Sunday afternoon.

Dream Wisdom

"I haven't seen such systematic and intentional bumming of America since the 70's. It's everywhere. East Coast, West Coast, Midwest. It's everywhere!"

Me in a dream from last night.

Really?

US to expel Venezuelan diplomat.

"We don't like to get into tit-for-tat games like this with the Venezuelan government, but they initiated this and the US chose to respond," Mr McCormack said.

I'd swear I've heard that line before. Oh yeah, just about every time one of the elementary teachers broke up a playground fight one of the kids would say something remarkably similar.

Venezuela started it.

Did not.

Did too.

And nobody has been able to explain to me in rational terms why Bolivarian Socialist Venezuela is on the US shit list while Communist China gets most favored nation status. Just because Venezuela demands fair trade and China will allow its workers to be exploited...

Quote

"The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side."

Hunter S. Thompson

Seniority

With the shift changed next week, one of the maintenance guys threw a fit about not getting put on day shift. He yelled about the troubles of day care and how he could only work days.

When they hired him, he said in his interview that he could work any shift.

If this was a union shop they could tell him, "Listen buddy. Every maintenance guy here has seniority over you. That means you get to fill in the schedule gaps. You get what's left over." But we're all 'at will' employees, unfortunately. If the choice were mine, I would have said, "You can only work days, huh? We only have an opening for you on swing. See ya later." Pink slip him. He's lucky. Instead they traded him off to dirty, stinky Plant One where he can stay on his weekend day shift.

Too bad, really. The guy who threw a fit insists on being called Michael. I had designs on calling him Mikhail, Mikey, Mongrel, Montana, Ichaelme, Ishmael, Ahab, Leahcim, anything except Michael.

AWPC

Next week we're doing some major shift changes at work.

Dean: What are you gonna do without me to give you advice?

Jake: Fake it like everyone else does.

IRS

Good News: I've figured out a legal loophole that would enable my spouse and me to not pay any taxes.

Bad News: It requires my spouse and me to commit suicide.

Good News: The Supreme Court uphelp Oregon's suicide law.

Bad News: I can't bring myself to do it even if it means screwing over the Feds.

A Fresh Start

After 16 years I've heard it all.

This weekend I got all my hair shaved off. The original plan involved shaving the sides and cutting back the mohawk to a very short length. We did that. Upon doing so we discovered that over the course of the two years since my last full shave, my hawk had drifted about an eighth of an inch to the right. Time to shave it all off, hit the reset button, start from scratch, and re-center.

So everyone at work needed to comment on it. Trouble is, I've heard all the lines before. So now I beat them to it. Attacked by the lawn mower. Clearing out the lice. Hanging with the white supremacists. My favorite description to tell people is still, "I needed to hit the reset button."

In a month I'll have the mohawk back. My hair grows fast.

Why the mohawk? Why do I continue to go back to the same hairstyle time and time again? It has become a part of who I am. I look fantastic with a fully shaved head. Far easier to maintain as well. But the hawk is still the hair style of a rebel. Shaved hair, long hair, mullet, mop top, pompadour, even dreads can be an acceptable male hair style. Maybe some day the mohawk will achieve that status. I doubt it. The hairstyle is naturally aggressive. It demands attention. Over half my life now I've had it, except for when I have to hit the reset button.

Learn more about mohawks!

More Doom!

An addition after some sleep.

My own pet preference views this exponential information increase as 'the end of time'. Ants view the world in an extremely 2 dimensional manner despite existing 3 dimensionally within it. Humans barely exist 3 dimensionally. Concepts of movement within the third dimension seem limited to the aerospace industry, computer animators, and people living and working in tall buildings in major metropolitan areas. Even when people look at a globe they tend to see 2 dimensional surface wrapped around a sphere.

But what if travel through time ceased to be a mathematical ray, a linear thing with only one direction of travel? Everyone seems fairly comfortable with the concept of time travel turning that ray into a line traversable to the beginnings and end of time. It gets far weirder than that. A little research into string theory and we can theoretically expand 'time' past the planar stage right into the spatial phase. After all, time and space are inter-related to the point that you cannot talk about one without invoking the other. We have space/time.

I often think back to when I realized that I was looking at the gravity models with the wrong head. Science teachers will try to explain it to you by using a funnel and rolling a ball bearing down the funnel. You watch it spiral down down down until it disappears. But again, that is a 2 dimensional explanation of a 3 (or more) dimensional phenomenon. When my head clicked and I could finally visualize that gravity funnel expanding into the 3rd dimension, my eyes glazed over. To really see it happening would probably require a third eye.

Damn, got my head spinning again. Space/Time expanding hyperdimensionally. Oi!

DOOM!!!

The Jehovah's Witness guy stopped by to talk to me again. I don't mind his visits. Some part of me enjoys listening to this other perspective, getting insight into how others view the world and the place of religion within it.

He handed me a pamphlet that asked the question, 'Are Disasters Getting Worse?' After talking to him for a while I went and did some research.

Disasters are not getting worse or more frequent. What we do have is an increase in the amount and speed of information relating to disasters. We also have an increase in concentrated population. When New Orleans got hit last year the concentrated population of that area made its impact more apparent. Inflation has also played a major role in making disasters seem worse. We see estimated repairs to an area in the billions. This has very little to do with actual damage done and a whole lot to do with the value of the dollar. A home built for $10,000 or less will now need replacing to the tune of $500,000 or more. Disasters cost more now.

But what about the 2012 Theory? Many individuals use the supposed end of the Mayan calendar as a harbinger of some sort of planetary Doom's Day. To me, this seems unlikely. On the other hand, many researchers have used different indicators that point to a similar phenomenon. Some sort of exponential increase is occurring and it will come to some sort of head this century. What kind of indicators tell us this? They all center around the notion of novelty and progress. Some people look at computer processing power. Others look at medical advancement. Still others monitor patent applications for unique devices. While December 21st, 2012 may not be the actual date of the hyper leap when we experience information doubling several times per second, the signs of such an event approaching are clear and multifaceted.

But what really remains to be seen is what we DO with it. If the past is any indicator, the new kinds of porn available will make Debbie Does Dallas look like Steamboat Willie.

True American Patriots

You know the dealer, the dealer is a man
With the love grass in his hand
Oh but the pusher is a monster
Good God, he's not a natural man
The dealer for a nickel
Lord, will sell you lots of sweet dreams
Ah, but the pusher ruin your body
Lord, he'll leave your, he'll leave your mind to scream

The Pusher - Steppenwolf

With that I say all hail the true American Patriots! All hail the drug dealers. They are independent, entrepreneurial, and have figured out a way to make money without having to pay income tax or business tax or even pay import tariffs. They are a cantankerous bunch of rebels willing to snub unjust laws to make an honest living producing and selling goods people want. If you look at the careers of folks like Samuel Adams and George Washington, I think they'd be proud.

The Independent Economy

Some of my friends work in the computer industry creating different types of software from applications to games. Is it important that when searching for these types of products that I choose ones made by their respective employers? Of course not. Each of them gets paid a set sum regardless of my individual buying habits. In the same vein, if you want to buy saw chain, I can tell you that the company I work for makes a good product. The paycheck I bring home at the end of the week looks the same regardless. Your support of the company represents a drop in the bucket that adds to the company's financial stability and therefor makes my emplyment a bit more secure. Not a huge deal, though.

On the other hand, people like my friends Joanna Wylde, The Unholy, and Fluffers Union get money every time you purchase one of their products. It has a direct impact on their financial well being. Supporting such endeavors is paramount in the struggle for individual freedom. That does not mean you should buy their shit just for the sake of supporting them. It means that when you want something like what they have to offer, you should go directly for their stuff.

It's like my groceries. I buy all I can from the family veggie stand a few blocks away. It puts money into a family's hands instead of adding to the bottom line as figured back at corporate HQ.

Anarchism

Anarchy kept creeping into my thoughts at work. So I made notes on my breaks.

Government and religion are both modes of escaping responsibility.

Government and religion are both modes of escaping rationality.

If you strive for self determination then all laws are an affront to your freedom. While anarchy cannot guaranty any kind of safety, those who value freedom can accept no less. To compromise in any way is to subjugate yourself.

If you're an anarchist, read this. I found it quite unexpectedly after jotting down all of these thoughts at work. Synchronicity is what Jung called it.

If you're not an anarchist, read this. Okay, anarchists can read it too cuz it's just so damn twisted.

My Calling

Older women like me. Gay or straight, any nationality, regardless of income, women 5 to 55 years older than myself tend to really like me.

I guess I should have been a tennis instructor.

Cute

I answered a maintenance call for packaging today and went back to that department to see what was up. One of the weekend crew was doing some overtime and needed her table loop join table fixed. Pretty standard stuff, really.

But she was so darn cute. This petite young girl by the name of Mai dressed in Gwen Stefani fashion with black jogging pants, pink tank top, and a ripped up black sweat shirt bearing in gothic letters the words 'Tough as Nails'. You just wanted to pat her on the head and say in a voice similar to that you would use with a puppy, "I bet you are tough as nails, aren't you? Yes you are."

Just as Important

"How can we prove there is life on a distant planet when we have problems seeing if there is life on Mars?"
Dr Martin Dominik, University of St Andrews

"How can we prove there isn't life on a distant planet when we have problems seeing if there isn't life on Mars?"
Rev Dr Jacob Roth, Universe of Ours

Too Obvious?

The Sex And So Much More Show is an upscale consumer trade show that showcases everything and anything to do with sex, sensuality, romance, and self-improvement.

This stimulating show is exciting and alluring to an affluent, liberal minded audience.

I bet the businesses represented at the show find affluent liberals exciting and alluring... as clients anyway.

Disney buying Pixar for $7.4 billion

Disney will buy Pixar in an all stock transaction that makes (Steve) Jobs Disney's largest shareholder. Jobs will also join Disney's board.

Well… uh… hmm… uh… I guess… yeah.

Like a School Girl at the Mall

OMG! I am like so out of my element. While eating lunch I browsed FASHION news. Talk about totally switching mindsets. Even scarier, I somehow connected with it. I could actually understand the root program behind the people who care about this. Like I read this article on how upscale shoe departments organize their two story stock rooms in order to make certain you walk out with a pair of shoes. If there was a place that did that with men's boots, I would go there all the time and spend way too much money. So I can understand the shoe thing and how amazing it must have been for the fashion editor who got a tour of the place. I could totally tour the Red Wing factory.



And just check out these shots from the latest collection by John Galiano for Dior. Goth is Haute this season! The undead look is very appropriate for fashion models. Photos via Reuters. Don't think for a second that I am making fun of all this and being sarcastic. For once I mean it. This is a natural fit. I may be a rough Harley riding, machine wrenching kind of guy but my pinky goes up when I drink my tea. This collection rocks!



Time for this manly man to go fix machines and make saw chain in my absolutely fabulous knee high Red Wings and my 70's retro chic Harley t-shirt. I'd throw on one of my over-sized crosses, but it might get stuck in a machine. Ciao.

WTF!

I won't go into details. These things never sound as strange and wicked as they actually were.

My dream last night was under an artistic compilation of H. R. Giger, Tim Burton, and Alex Grey. Sound cool? Does having the tails of flat worms sticking out of a welded together cracked skull while they feed off of synaptic response sound cool?

Nightmares no longer frighten me, but they can still disturb the hell out of me.

So to Speak

I saw the headline US 'outsourced' torture to other countries: probe.

I didn't bother to read the article to see if there were any other jokes included.

Essential Elements

Sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll.

When writing a scene, if it doesn't contain at least one of these elements, it's an utter drag. If it contains one or more of these elements, I can't stop myself from writing.

NSFW: Extreme Sports and Extreme Sex

EDIT: Apparently this is misinformation but it is entertaining misinformation so I'll leave it up for entertainment purposes. Misinformation is not always a bad thing.

I had grown a bit tired of the same old news stories day in and day out. You try different sources but you just get different spin. Even science news gets inundated with 'political ramifications'. I wanted a NEW perspective.

So I went out and found an Adult Industry news feed to add to my Google Homepage. Not that I really care about Kim Chambers' birthday party or a new club opening in LA. I just wanted to see what the news feed would be like over time. And I will try to remember to put the NSFW (Not Safe For Work) in titles that contain links to porn sites. Aren't I a peach?

So today I found out that Adam & Eve Stars Sign at ASR Trade Show.

Alarik Skarstrom, President of Blend Marketing, a full service entertainment consulting & marketing company, helped put this deal together. "Upon walking into the AVN Expo in Las Vegas with Bob Christian, I was blown away with how many people were dressed in extreme sports apparel. I made one phone call to Rich Marshall, head of new business development at The Kayo Corp., and we were able to make this happen. Adam and Eve is known as the best company in the adult world. We feel that extreme sports and extreme sex go together extremely well, and look forward to showcasing this in 2006. Most importantly, we know that this clothing line, and its partners involved, are here to promote safe sex."

I understand it, but if I actually READ it, it's all gibberish. It doesn't actually say anything.

Beyond that, this is an excellent example of the mainstreaming of the adult industry. Before the internet porn revolution, adult entertainment was a weak industry. I remember walking into an adult book store in downtown Minneapolis. You could scour the shelves and find maybe a magazine or two with some sub-culture type people in it. Things have really changed. For one thing, almost all of the small adult industry photo publishers have shut down their print operations and gone strictly to electronic delivery. Most content still centers on that 'just turned 18 big boobed blonde'. The American dream. But the freaky people are no longer cut out of the scene. There's sites like Gothic Sluts, Barely Evil, Suicide Girls, and even Rob Rotten's Punx Productions just to name a few of the more dominant ones.

The Adam & Eve story underlines a trend. It's not the sick deviates who drive the porn industry. Regular folks LIKE porn and are fueling the growth of that industry. So much so that an extreme sports corporation has been bold enough to use actual porn stars for promoting purposes. Ten years ago that would have spelled disaster. Now it hardly seems like a risk at all. Adult entertainment has become so popular that this year they will be holding The First U.S. Mobile Adult Content Congress. Dare I say that it is certainly a growth industry? (I had to get one bad joke in there.)

And for those in denial about their love of porn, there's always The Starr Report.

Excrutiating Pain

Thanks to my non-running mate for the heads up on this political announcement.

The Impaler is running for governor of Minnesota and even plans to register for a presidential bid.

Quite some distance from the mainstream, however, is his pledge to execute -- by impalement in front of the State Capitol -- terrorists, rapists, drug dealers, child abusers, repeat drunken drivers and anybody who preys on the elderly.

I almost agree with him here. If people want capitol punishment, make it horrid and painful and public. I think the concept of 'humane' executions has done more to keep the death penalty around than anything. Could you stomach the public execution of a man by evisceration if you had even a shred of doubt about his guilt?

And I personally know terrorists, rapists, drug dealers, child abusers, repeat drunken drivers, and people who have preyed on the elderly who I don't think deserve impalement. Many are fine folks who have made some bad choices at one time or another.

So I will reiterate a point I try to make often. Every law ever written, every code of conduct ever imposed, every rule of man and god, I have found an exception to. I have found someone for whom that supposed absolute does not stick. That breaks the absolute, rendering it null and void.

There is no Law anywhere!

My Place

I've been messing around with Google Earth now that they have made it available for Mac.

For those of you who will never come visit me, this is where I live. It's a lot nicer in person. The trees aren't nearly as flat.

More Toolbox Stuff

Because I just can't stop.

My new toolbox arrived Monday afternoon a few hours before I had to go to work. It was better than expected. It came with all of the ordinance foam rubber, two strips glued into place in the floor of the box, two on the lid, and four other pieces loose. I dremeled in slots for my wrenches in one of the glued in floor strips, packed all my tools in the box, and took it to work.

My supervisor told me to slide another guy's box down the bench behind the big vice. He laughed about it and looked to see if there was any way to move the vice back another inch to make the guys bottom drawer virtually inaccessible. They love messing with each other like that.

The machinists were all admiring my box and marveling at what one could get for just $15. And the brown paint nearly matches the high priced Kennedy boxes they all use.

Oh, and the box also came with a half burnt range plastic dial range finder for the original 81mm cannon shells. I'm keeping that.

Epiphany

After reading a comment I had a brilliant idea.

Campaign Promise of the Day: If elected, I will let my wife run things.

I'll do all the public appearance and mouth piece crap and she can be my Dick Cheney only young and beautiful and sleeping with me. She's not old enough to legally hold the office so this is an obvious ploy to set the stage for her imminent arrival.

Nobody can accuse me of crooked, underhanded politics. I make all my whacked out schemes known from the get-go.

In other news...

When it rains it pours, or so they say. Seems Africa has just installed its first female President.

As for the image, you should also check this out.

Evolved?

Aren't we just racing towards human equality on this planet? We're living in the freakin' 21st century and we can still get major news coverage about Chile's first female President. You'd think that trick would be old hat by now. But it's even bigger news because she is South America's first democratically elected woman.

While we here in the United States can puff our chests out proudly to proclaim that we once elected a President who was Catholic! Once. I mean, let's not go nuts all at once, right?

Don't take this as support for a possible Clinton run. I was thinking more along the lines of Queen Latifah. Hey! She's already Queen. Problem solved. What am I bitchin' about?

Internal Conflict

I don't understand it myself. I hate Hummers, but something about this behemoth makes me smile. Like I said, I don't understand it.

Toilet Tolerance

Some women at work complained about other women 'squatting' or standing on the toilet seat to use the facilities. Leave it to Jake to explain the cultural differences that lead to this behavior.

We have a lot of Asian immigrants working at our factory. The most popular kind of toilet in Asia (and in many other parts of the world) has the individual squatting over it while facing the plumbing. If you find this method of personal waste disposal hard to wrap your head around, you have obviously never roughed it in the woods.

Try to imagine growing up with this style of toilet where one's body never comes into contact with any of the actual device. Now imagine the horror of someone explaining that you should now place your buttocks ON the device while SITTING! Civilized? Why, we're all a bunch of unsanitary, unnatural monsters.

It's akin to explaining how you should place a thin piece of tissue paper in your hand and wipe your bum to an individual who has grown up around bidets. Disgusting!

But is he circumsized?

Scientists at Berkley have discovered that the constellation of Orion has a wang.

"You can think of this structure as a giant, magnetic Slinky wrapped around a long, finger-like interstellar cloud," said Timothy Robishaw.

I bet he's a hit with all the ladies.

Knock Knock

Just awoke from a dream where I was talking with a priest with white hair and beard and wearing a brown robe. He read through my theories on the Chaos Magick of the Teflon Discordians and glanced through the Discordian Coloring Book. He was delighted with the works. He then turned to look deeply into my eyes, peering over the tops of his silver rimmed glasses, and said with a very serious tone of voice, "You need to work towards a degree in religion."

Running Away

Two days straight of working with an extremely runny nose and that bad cold body ache with head fog. Tuesday I figured it would pass. It didn't and I spent all day grabbing paper towels and shop rags. So I came prepared for Wednesday. I learned a trick from my grandfather; hankies. They are soft on the nose and at the end of the day you just leave them in your pocket to do with the laundry. Half way through my shift the over-sized Harley bandana I was using as a snot rag was soaked with the liquid drippings from my nasal passages. But with a hankie, you've always got room for more. So I kept using it. Three-quarters of the way through the shift the dampness of the hankie started to seep through my pocket. Just keep on blowing. So now I've got a filthy hankie and a wet pocket and my nose still runs.

Thus this turns into a mild rant on blue laws. I could really use a bottle of whiskey right now. Scotch, Irish, Windsor, hell even bourbon would do. Instead I have to settle for a big old glass of gin and juice. The vitamin C will do me good, but from my past experiences, whiskey is my cure for the common cold. But bars (smokey) close at 2:30am, the same time I get off of work. Liquor stores close at 9:00pm. Criminal! I have to suffer this cold for another night because some puritans don't agree with my methods of self-medication. And I can't use marijuana to deal with the bodyaches even though I live in a so-called medical marijuana state. It would require me to get a doctor's recommendation, which they won't give for a cold. I would then need to pay an outrageous fee to register as a medical marijuana user. But the sale of it is still illegal, so I couldn't buy any from a legitimate source, just black market. And all of that is moot because being a medical marijuana patient in no way exempts you from work place drug tests, and my employer, like most manufacturing jobs, has a drug testing policy. What kind of backwards, reactionary world do we live in when a man can't medicate himself in the way he sees fit? Like abortion, it is MY choice.

I've heard it often said that dope fiends never get sick. They get the heroin high, and then the subsequent crash, but never actually ill. If true, I would think employers would want to hire more heroin addicts. Nobody calling in sick!

But in the foggy haze of the sinus cold, I had a very important revelation. There was a machine that I worked on that could run just fine as long as the operator was away, like on break or getting mop water or some-such. I ran off several hundred feet of good chain this way. But then she would return and it would go to hell again. Mind you, I was still operating the machine. It was just her presence. She's a nice gal, but today was not a good day for her and the machines. I watched over and over as she would draw near and the machine would start to malfunction. As she left, it got better. Thus I got to have a practical application of one of the main truths of quantum physics. There is no separating the observer from the event. By observing, we become a participant. I try to remember this when I read the news. It helps. But this kind of first hand demonstration really hit it home. Of course folk wisdom was on top of this long before. A watched pot never boils.

My nose is still very runny, but at least it resulted in practical wisdom.

Business Sense

As near as I can tell, management tends to think thusly;

You can spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a new electronic timecard system, send every supervisor and lead to a training class to operate it, and give them all these super huge 666 page manuals to cover all the information they've forgotten from the training session and this is more 'cost effective' than hiring one more person for payroll so we can stick with the extremely flexible and user friendly 'pen on a paper timecard' method.

All hail the computer revolution! Making our lives complicated through the promise of simplicity for over 50 years.

Rain

I know I live in Portland. I know it rains a lot here. But we usually just get a consistent drizzle. Instead we've been getting RAIN! Real droplets of water falling from the sky. Lots of it, too.

Sex as Power Struggle

If we, as a society, removed all sexual taboos as the out-dated modes of thinking they are, things like this couldn't happen.

Television evangelist Jerry Falwell couldn’t resist bragging and finally admitting the truth: he and former Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu did conspire—at a critical time—to trip up President Bill Clinton and specifically use the pressure of the Monica Lewinsky sex scandal to force Clinton to abandon pressure on Israel to withdraw from the occupied West Bank.

Happy Birthday Mr. Hofmann

The inventor of LSD-25, Albert Hofmann turns 100 on Wednesday. I took a World Religions course in college. A very introductory course barely scratching the surface of the topic. One week was devoted to chemicals in religious practice. We talked about soma, peyote, mushrooms, even the wine and bread of the Eucharist. The middle aged professor, a short, mild mannered, and constantly smiling Presbyterian minister, told the class that he had taken LSD in the mid-1960's before it became a schedule one substance. He sincerely wished that there was some way he could arrange for a similar experience for everyone, but alas, it was now illegal to do so.

I wouldn't recommend trying to purchase the drug off of dealers, either. Most likely what you get will not actually be LSD. If you're lucky you'll get some mixture involving amphetamines and X. The less fortunate will get a concoction heavy on the PCP like the legendary 'brown acid' of Woodstock fame. Of course you could always make your own LSD to celebrate Hofmann's centennial. It would still be illegal, of course.

Layout

While playing around with ideas for a book on Chaos Magick, I hit a wall. Not the kind you typically will run into if you miss the door, but a metaphor for an obstacle.

To accomplish my goal I need InDesign or Quark or something similar.

Luckily the old handy dandy word processor works fine. I can continue work on my second 'novel' for the time being.

What is so Sacred About the Rule of Law?

I have stated many times in real life, on my blogs, and even through a fictional character in Black Whole Son, that everyone I know is a law breaker. Outlaws, each and everyone. Apparently I'm not the only one who has noticed we have a very strange outlaw culture.

Word of the Day

A diktat is not what it looks like but can be just as painful.

Time for Another

I started work on another book. Actually, I've got three projects going side by side. But the one I just started should be of interest to those who enjoyed Black Whole Son.

For those who want an hint: Zero Gravity Sex Magick.

Redemption Song

Her Supreme Badassness has redeemed herself. She came home from work and thoroughly cleaned and oiled her secret weapon far beyond what I had done. The Revolution may proceed as planned.

Gonnes

The guy I work maintenance with loves guns. So I come to find out his father-in-law is a gun dealer. We talked for a while and I came home this weekend, pulled out my old shotguns, and wrote down some model numbers. I'm trying to complete my set of Western Field shotguns. In the process I learned three very important things.

Lesson the First: My wife's grandparents and my own bought really cheap shotguns. My Western Fields were manufactured for Montgomery Wards. Her shotgun was manufactured and bears the stamp of the old hardware chain, Coast-to-Coast. These shotguns hold about the same esteem in the shotgun world as Safeway Select Cola holds in the soda world. Decent, reliable, good enough for plugging pidgeons or chasing off vandals.

Lesson the Second: We have two renowned and desirable weapons in our collection. I've got a Mossberg 500, arguably the best pump action 12 gauge in the world. My wife has something so wicked and cool y'all don't even deserve to hear about it. I love my Mossberg but her secret weapon is ten times cooler. I'm going to buy a small box of ammo for it. It has never been fired, but a box of ammo in the safe wouldn't be a bad idea, right?

Final Lesson: When she says she'll get around to cleaning and taking care of her collection, it won't be soon enough. My old guns are in extremely stable condition and I only oil them twice a year. Seeing mine next to the others, I broke down and oiled them all up. Guess what, love? You are off the revolutionary committee until you can prove you will follow this part of the pirate code: That Man that shall not keep his Arms clean, fit for an Engagement, or neglect his Business, shall be cut off from his Share, and suffer such other Punishment as the Captain and the Company shall think fit.

The times they are a-changin'

Can someone please explain to me the differences between an insurgent, a rebel, a subversive, and a revolutionary? Because just about everyone I know considers themselves at least one of the last three.

Jesus: Legacy or Legend?

Italian Court to Decide Whether Jesus Lived

Atheist accuses priest of conning the public with story of Christ.

And how would such a trial begin? "Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you GOD?"

Are You Hyper?

How long until we can blast off into the hyper-dimensions?

Tools

I've got several tools here at home that I want to take into work. I've held off on doing this until I've got a tool box at work to put them in. Right now I've got an old drawer I share with another guy.

But in just two days of work I could have used over half of what I've got waiting. Instead I had to raid other people's tool boxes for the stuff I've needed. Thank goodness for people who don't lock their chests.

Tools

As I expand my tool supply for work, I have discovered the need for a work tool box. The el-cheapo models from Craftsman meant for home use and unable to withstand the rigors of factory life still cost $75 and up. If you want the nice, solid professional strength models they want you to spend $200 and up. Move over to higher end box manufacturers like Kennedy and the price just keeps jumping.

To get an affordable tool box I chose to 'think outside the box' as they say. My new tool box is on the way. It costs $15 plus $23 for shipping. It sports a fully customizable 25x13x7 interior, sealing lid, and solid construction meant to withstand a battlefield. Larger and sturdier than what most of the guys have at a fifth of the price.

The Cause of and Solution to All of Life's Problems!

All those loaves and fishes when they really needed some wine.

The Curse

Upon returning to work we found posted on the bulletin board the daily minimum footage for 2006 per machine. The numbers made me laugh. When I ran those machines and constantly outperformed all of the other grinder operators, I would have made their new MINIMUM footage requirements 15-20% of the time. I considered those my good days.

Under the new minimums the management scrawled the words, "No Exceptions!" What tact. What grace. A management model that has proven effective and desirable throughout history, especially in cultures that approved of slavery. I kept picturing Veruca Salt in that menacing pre-tantrum tension.

The result of such efforts around the plant seem so predictable. Production nose-dived. Machines broke good and hard instead of the more usual quick fix problems. On top of that the leads, under heavy 'threats' from management, try to run all the machines through breaks using maintenance to cover machines. Hmm, ten hour day, an hour worth of breaks, and an hour covering someone else's breaks. So if we always have enough problems to keep us busy when we normally spend 9 hours fixing machines, how much compounding of problems occurs when we can only spend 8 hours doing our job?

All of this only really hits the new folks at work. Anyone who has been around that place for at least a year knows the skinny. Just smile and do your job the way you always have. No pony for the princess.

It's Great to be Me

In less than a week I'll be married to a hot college freshman. I feel an odd kinship with Wooderson.

Give Me the Code!

My love and I spent several hours trying to redo her blog so she could have three columns. We thought we finally got it and she went to bed satisfied.

I rechecked it and found that it had some major issues with clicking on links and comments within the blog body. I then proceeded to spend about three more hours fixing it. The end result? I got it to do what she wanted it to do in the first place. Success!

If I had tried to do something similar for myself I would have dinked around for an hour, decided that much work wasn't worth it, and reverted to the old site. But love does strange things to the head.

Go and check out the new and improved Wicked Wanderings!

Stating the Obvious

A U.S. study has found that teens exposed to alcohol ads are more likely to drink.

Of course it does! Advertising exists to get people to buy shit. If you really needed it, you'd go to the store and get it, go to the woods and hunt it, or go to your neighbor's and steal it. For everything else, we have advertising. Go inside any marketing firm and you will hear the language of war. These people want territory in the form of market share. Like in any war, ammunition cannot just be shot at the participants.

Advertisement resistant humans are an emerging strain. Only those with the mutation will survive the market wars.

For Your Information

I have embarked on the process of recreating the universe in my own image. Please accept my sincere apologies for any glitches in your personal life. Within a couple of aeons I should have it all sorted out.

The Inner Psychopath

Breathe in. Breathe out. Release. Let go. Slip away.

A torso full of arms floats by. There it is. It'’s a torso with many arms. Between the arms are vaginas. The hands at the ends of the arms are busy fingering the many vaginas. A giant ball of ecstasy. I expect it to seem hideous, but instead I find it beautiful. It is pleasure. I can find nothing more beautiful than that.

The heads. All the heads. The heads all open up to reveal color, sky, ideas hidden beneath the grey surface. Peeling away like potatoes or tubes pumping information in and out. Quiet contemplation as the inside works away taking us farther further. Do these heads all belong to me? It seems so. Heads. So many of them. How do so many heads fit inside of mine? But yet they exist simultaneously like some quantum demonstration. One reveals itself when I try to take a measure. Depending on how I measure a different head reveals itself.

Out pops the eye. Only one. That one eye through which we can truly see. Aye I eye. Just the eye. The filter through which we experience. But the one eye sees all if it sees at all.

Small wonder if I see who knew. Over the hillside to the damned bank of despair. Hoorah to who saw the path. Out with it. Four and twenty resting on the hillside. They'’re just baking doughnuts.

Oh cull toward forming. I spy with my little eye the guy in the sky. Rest rewards for the weary.

It'’s the stag! Spirit guide me through the other of the aethyr either or. Father I have found thee! Take me down the path. Send me on my way.

Is it all BS or do you just not understand?

Maybe. Maybe.