Friday, April 21, 2006
The Dark Arts
While grinding a set of spin plates at work, I realized that I was indulging in the dark arts at work. While making my final pass across the plates as they revolved on the turntable of the specially modified surface grinder, I advanced the diamond grinding wheel .020 each revolution. A full turn of the wheel that controls this is .100 inch. By turning the handle two the imagined points of an inverted hexagram, I could visualize my progress points without watching the exact meter readings. It's not rocket science, just saw chain. When I did look at the readings, I discovered that the downward point of the inverted pentagram was at .0666 inch. It takes 66.6 passes to make enough step increases to get across the entire spin plate.
I also happen to know that the motors for our rotary parts washers weigh 666 lbs.
I also happen to know that the motors for our rotary parts washers weigh 666 lbs.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
TAZ (Temporary Autonamous Zone)
When I parked TAZ, the 1973 Ironhead ('old Harley' to the uninitiated), he ran. I took the cover off of him this spring, and he didn't. I hate that. The old battery wasn't taking a charge, so I bought a new one and charged it up. Nope, that didn't work. Oh, I forgot to polarize the generator after having the battery disconnected for an extended period. Nope, not that either. I'm getting gas, but I'm not getting spark. Well, let's check the coils. Input resistence is low at 3 ohms instead of 4.5 to 5 ohms. Maybe. No continuity between the inputs and the high voltage outputs. Everything is normal there. Resistence between the two high voltage outputs should be 11,000 ohms. This thing is reading 20 ohms. WTF? But I'm using a crappy little radio shack ohm meter. Let's get out the back-up one.
Yes, I'm one of those guys who not only has one of those esoteric devices for taking all manner of electrical readings but actually has a back-up one. I don't normally keep a battery in it because I generally don't need to use it. I hunt down a battery, do a quick test, yep, it's all good. Let's try those readings again. My back-up model has one of those nifty digital displays. It takes several readings over a few seconds, numbers changing dramatically, and then gives you an idea of 'normal' if the situation is considered in a normal range. First test, inputs, 2.83 ohms. Ouch. Second test, input to output, no continuity. As it should be. Finally the high voltage outputs, 18.437 ohms when it should be 11k. Yeah, I think I found the problem. Time to order up a new ignition coil.
Yes, I'm one of those guys who not only has one of those esoteric devices for taking all manner of electrical readings but actually has a back-up one. I don't normally keep a battery in it because I generally don't need to use it. I hunt down a battery, do a quick test, yep, it's all good. Let's try those readings again. My back-up model has one of those nifty digital displays. It takes several readings over a few seconds, numbers changing dramatically, and then gives you an idea of 'normal' if the situation is considered in a normal range. First test, inputs, 2.83 ohms. Ouch. Second test, input to output, no continuity. As it should be. Finally the high voltage outputs, 18.437 ohms when it should be 11k. Yeah, I think I found the problem. Time to order up a new ignition coil.
Where is Who?
In an effort to hunt down early episodes of Doctor Who, a bounty is being offered. Find a missing episode and win a replica Dalek! Not some little toy thing. No, this is a life sized, ready to take over the universe Dalek.
For information on which episodes are missing, you can find a list here. Unfortunately, I have no film cans lying around so I can't even get the giddy high of expectation.
Musik der Maschinerie
The machines at work sing to me. I often find myself nodding along to the rythm. And my job is to help them keep the beat. When you get them all wound up and running well, with the right ears it sounds like a symphony.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Business as Usual
Keeping with his long tradition of blind ignorance, the Bush administration is experiencing yet another shake-up. Press secretary Scott McClellan is quitting. Senior adviser Karl Rove is giving up policy-development.
The moves were part of an effort by new White House Chief of Staff Josh Bolten... to help Bush rebound from sagging polls and bolster American confidence in his leadership.Because as any business man knows, if your company is failing, blame the advertising department. A good advertising department can sell pig shit to a hog farmer. Whatever you do, don't admit that your product is shit. And a look at the top tier will remind us all, shit floats.
Video: For the Ladies
Ladies, just try to tell me you can resist this? Mr. Switzerland hand milking a cow with the voiceover, "Where men spend...more time on you." It's from a Swiss tourism ad campaign targeting so called 'soccer widows' while the World Cup takes place in Germany.
Because as I learned from my farm days, milking cows makes you irresistible to the women.
Because as I learned from my farm days, milking cows makes you irresistible to the women.
Working as Intended: Some AWPCs
Guy: Blacks bitch about how hard it is to be black. Mexicans bitch about how hard it is to be Mexican...
Me: Whites bitch about how hard it is to be white.
Guy: Yeah, I suppose we do. But I've never heard the Chinese or Japanese complain.
Me: I've always figured that the government likes to pump up the race card to keep workers from realizing we're all getting screwed. That way we never band together to focus on our common enemy.
Guy: Hey! I bet you're right! I hadn't thought of it that way.
Anonymous: With our military all tied up in Iraq and Afghanistan, if Americans were to all rise up against these bastards, by the time the troops got back here there would just be a bunch of bodies to clean up.
Guy: Bikers don't hang out at dive bars because they're poor. They hang out there because they know where to get the best burgers.
Me: Whites bitch about how hard it is to be white.
Guy: Yeah, I suppose we do. But I've never heard the Chinese or Japanese complain.
Me: I've always figured that the government likes to pump up the race card to keep workers from realizing we're all getting screwed. That way we never band together to focus on our common enemy.
Guy: Hey! I bet you're right! I hadn't thought of it that way.
Anonymous: With our military all tied up in Iraq and Afghanistan, if Americans were to all rise up against these bastards, by the time the troops got back here there would just be a bunch of bodies to clean up.
Guy: Bikers don't hang out at dive bars because they're poor. They hang out there because they know where to get the best burgers.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
From My Pineal Gland
There has been a death of some distant relative and I show up at some luxurious lodge for the wake. I press the doorbell and it both chimes and screams. An older woman in a long black dress, black hair, and sensible flat toed mid-heel shoes answers the door. She looks like someone who spent years as a Madame before turning the lodge into a legit business, a decision that put more strain on her than dodging the law ever did. She gives me a weak smile and leads me up a flight of stairs behind us. This isn't the way she normally shows me in. It's the service stairs as I can see pipes and ducts down crawl spaces off of the stairwell. The woman is limping as though her left foot has been injured. Something is wrong here. At the top of those stairs are three large men in black suits waiting to jump me. I can't see them, but I know they are there. So I make a break for it down the stairs. I glance back to see the woman smiling with relief. I jump out an open window into the parking lot. Trucks fill most of the stalls and I need to find the one a friend loaned me. Was it green or grey? I'm pretty sure it was a Dodge but the key in my hand has the embossed letters of GM on it. Screw it. I hop in a dark red Firebird and take off.
At some other point in the dream I give someone a five dollar bill to cover laundry expenses. In last night's I gave someone a five dollar bill for a haircut.
At some other point in the dream I give someone a five dollar bill to cover laundry expenses. In last night's I gave someone a five dollar bill for a haircut.
Step Inside
In jr. high and my freshman and sophomore years of high school I kept a dream journal. Each morning I would wake up and record the twisted screenplays of adolescence. Those journals were sacrificed by fire. No great loss. Page after page of lurid sex dreams.
I've decided to try the experiment again. I'll probably share bits and pieces. Who wouldn't want to hear all about my dreams of Hells Angels kicking each other in the nuts, punky girls writing their names backwards next to esoteric numeric codes, and men with heads covered in boils who can't tell the difference between a Mormon Tabernacle and a Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall? What about me searching for a door, putting my leather jacket in the fridge, and the door suddenly appearing? Or vacant streets lined with multi-story buildings with hippies dressed like Uncle Sam taking hits from their pot pipes while standing on the roof tops? And that was all just one night!
Yes, I'm sure there'll be sex as well.
I've decided to try the experiment again. I'll probably share bits and pieces. Who wouldn't want to hear all about my dreams of Hells Angels kicking each other in the nuts, punky girls writing their names backwards next to esoteric numeric codes, and men with heads covered in boils who can't tell the difference between a Mormon Tabernacle and a Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall? What about me searching for a door, putting my leather jacket in the fridge, and the door suddenly appearing? Or vacant streets lined with multi-story buildings with hippies dressed like Uncle Sam taking hits from their pot pipes while standing on the roof tops? And that was all just one night!
Yes, I'm sure there'll be sex as well.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Virus With Shoes
For the last week I've been wandering around this existence of mine thinking that some vital piece of information was slipping me by. A notion was floating through the aethyr and I had yet to grab onto it and add it to my internal library. Where was it? Was I just imagining this thing? Then tonight it popped out of the aethyr and into my lap. It wasn't new information for me, but it came from a very unexpected source and spoke with a very clear and accessible tongue. Call it a much needed reminder.
Unless you are at work, go and listen to how Joe Rogan explains life. NOW!
Unless you are at work, go and listen to how Joe Rogan explains life. NOW!
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Kingdom of Hors
hortatory \HOR-tuh-tor-ee\, adjective:
marked by strong urging; serving to encourage or incite
marked by strong urging; serving to encourage or incite
Friday, April 14, 2006
Weirdo in a Weird Land
With the closing of the Portland branch of my credit union, I had to venture into suburbia to make a deposit of large, unmarked, non-sequential bills.
A city is a small and compact thing. While to some it feels crowded, it is merely a jungle. In your travels you learn to discern landmarks, visual cues, that guide you. Suburbia is a vast and sprawling land. Signs indicate that you have left one locale and are entering another, but the landscape never changes. In my travels across these United States I have seen this same town over and over again. The same shops, the same parking lots, the same houses. Where am I? The sign says Beaverton but it is virtually indecipherable from neighboring Hillsboro or far away Brooklyn Park.
The suburbs are not meant for people. This is a land of mobile steel, rubber, and specially formulated dent resistant polymers. Drive up this and drive through that. With a watchful eye you can sometimes spot one of these behemoths launching a fleshy little satellite that will dash, braving exposure to the elements, to retrieve some unknown necessity that a proprietor has thoughtlessly made inaccessible by any other means.
There, at the bus stop, stands a lone figure. He is a tall, awkward figure with his dyed black hair, wire rimmed glasses, and dark trench coat. You can see him pressed in upon himself, hands in pockets, elbows tucked in, feet together, head bowed down, the pressure of some demonic nightmare trying to squeeze this blight into oblivion.
A fleshy guidance system for one of these roaming lords of suburbia has it's ear pressed to some sort of communications device as it absent mindedly cuts off my path of travel. I roll down the window and shout, "You dirty animal! You filthy pig fucker! You shot Kennedy!" Perhaps coffee is the wrong drug for this place. Everyone else looks like they've been speed balling for years, constantly switching gears between intense, undirected bursts and frantic mother's milk relaxation.
Dear lord, get me out of this hell. Deliver me from this nightmare before I decide to follow through on the impulse to ram the next vehicle with a "W 04" sticker in the window. Carry me back over that ridge and down into the valley of the weird. Take me back to the stench of BC bud, french fry bio-diesel, and patchouli. Lead me to a land where one can actually see people, where I don't have to look at the numbers to tell the difference between houses, where I can walk into a store and smile at the owner who smiles back at me.
While I now sit safe in the valley, it is only a matter of time before I'll have to run that gauntlet of pig fuckers again. They have the city surrounded and have claimed it as their own. But we'll fight them, to the death if necessary. Every last freaky one of us.
A city is a small and compact thing. While to some it feels crowded, it is merely a jungle. In your travels you learn to discern landmarks, visual cues, that guide you. Suburbia is a vast and sprawling land. Signs indicate that you have left one locale and are entering another, but the landscape never changes. In my travels across these United States I have seen this same town over and over again. The same shops, the same parking lots, the same houses. Where am I? The sign says Beaverton but it is virtually indecipherable from neighboring Hillsboro or far away Brooklyn Park.
The suburbs are not meant for people. This is a land of mobile steel, rubber, and specially formulated dent resistant polymers. Drive up this and drive through that. With a watchful eye you can sometimes spot one of these behemoths launching a fleshy little satellite that will dash, braving exposure to the elements, to retrieve some unknown necessity that a proprietor has thoughtlessly made inaccessible by any other means.
There, at the bus stop, stands a lone figure. He is a tall, awkward figure with his dyed black hair, wire rimmed glasses, and dark trench coat. You can see him pressed in upon himself, hands in pockets, elbows tucked in, feet together, head bowed down, the pressure of some demonic nightmare trying to squeeze this blight into oblivion.
A fleshy guidance system for one of these roaming lords of suburbia has it's ear pressed to some sort of communications device as it absent mindedly cuts off my path of travel. I roll down the window and shout, "You dirty animal! You filthy pig fucker! You shot Kennedy!" Perhaps coffee is the wrong drug for this place. Everyone else looks like they've been speed balling for years, constantly switching gears between intense, undirected bursts and frantic mother's milk relaxation.
Dear lord, get me out of this hell. Deliver me from this nightmare before I decide to follow through on the impulse to ram the next vehicle with a "W 04" sticker in the window. Carry me back over that ridge and down into the valley of the weird. Take me back to the stench of BC bud, french fry bio-diesel, and patchouli. Lead me to a land where one can actually see people, where I don't have to look at the numbers to tell the difference between houses, where I can walk into a store and smile at the owner who smiles back at me.
While I now sit safe in the valley, it is only a matter of time before I'll have to run that gauntlet of pig fuckers again. They have the city surrounded and have claimed it as their own. But we'll fight them, to the death if necessary. Every last freaky one of us.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Sprint unveils mobile child locator service
Reuters
Suggestions for teens:
"I left it in my locker."
"It must have fallen out of my bag."
"I guess it just slipped out of my pocket."
"Our phones got swapped. That was (sibling) at the head shop."
"(Friend)'s parents don't make her carry a phone."
"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?"
The service lets parents look at maps on their cellphones or computers to locate their children who also carry mobile phones. Parents can also program the service to automatically send them text messages at specific times each day to confirm that their children have arrived at home or in school.
Suggestions for teens:
"I left it in my locker."
"It must have fallen out of my bag."
"I guess it just slipped out of my pocket."
"Our phones got swapped. That was (sibling) at the head shop."
"(Friend)'s parents don't make her carry a phone."
"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?"
Information as Self
Today's Lesson: Language as Information
As a fan of the non-fiction works of Robert Anton Wilson, it often perplexed me that he would put forward the same, seemingly simple ideas, over and over again. Why did he need to do this? Didn't people 'get it' the first time around? I certainly felt like I got it. Then I would meet other Wilson fans and discover that while they clearly shared my love for the author, they just didn't seem to 'get it'. Years later I would read works read previously. There he had those same ideas in the exact same language (same book, after all) but I viewed them differently. It felt as though I had missed some portion the first time around. Apparently I didn't get it. Then I viewed his works chronologically, discovering that he often had to change his opinions on things. Damn if he wasn't just as confused about all this mess as I was. But the underlying themes remain constant. The uncertainty principle just seems to proliferate and infect. Tao-Teh. Run away from people with answers.
For examples, let's do this in 2 parts.
1. In the last presidential election there was some business surrounding Kerry's involvement in Vietnam as a soldier. One side tried to tell you that John Kerry is a war hero. The other side tried to tell you that John Kerry is not a war hero. The problem with either of those statements? Both of them contain subjective information. Attempts at labeling him as a hero or not require a person to make value judgments and argue over false absolutes. As such only one of the following statements contains information.
2. People in general transmit a hell of a lot of static. Pay attention to what individuals say to you and see if you can discern actual information from the static. I fail at this one all the time. I will automatically tune in what I want to hear, "Oh. Yes. Quite right. What a bright lad you are." I will summarily tune out or attack that which I don't agree with, "As long as you are shopping at Walmart you can shut the fuck up about your tiny pay check!" Spend a day listening and see if you can notice filters and auto-response mechanisms kicking in.
Our public face consists of what others perceive about us. Physical appearance contains some fairly concrete information at the moment perceived. Much of how we process that information we could classify as value judgments. For instance, my mohawk makes for a very strong information signal when people see me. Their brains will immediately run that information through the usual routines and filters and categorize and label me based on that piece of information. Much of that process will be illogical programs. After all, it's just a haircut.
As a fan of the non-fiction works of Robert Anton Wilson, it often perplexed me that he would put forward the same, seemingly simple ideas, over and over again. Why did he need to do this? Didn't people 'get it' the first time around? I certainly felt like I got it. Then I would meet other Wilson fans and discover that while they clearly shared my love for the author, they just didn't seem to 'get it'. Years later I would read works read previously. There he had those same ideas in the exact same language (same book, after all) but I viewed them differently. It felt as though I had missed some portion the first time around. Apparently I didn't get it. Then I viewed his works chronologically, discovering that he often had to change his opinions on things. Damn if he wasn't just as confused about all this mess as I was. But the underlying themes remain constant. The uncertainty principle just seems to proliferate and infect. Tao-Teh. Run away from people with answers.
For examples, let's do this in 2 parts.
1. In the last presidential election there was some business surrounding Kerry's involvement in Vietnam as a soldier. One side tried to tell you that John Kerry is a war hero. The other side tried to tell you that John Kerry is not a war hero. The problem with either of those statements? Both of them contain subjective information. Attempts at labeling him as a hero or not require a person to make value judgments and argue over false absolutes. As such only one of the following statements contains information.
a. John Kerry was a cowardSo I started to listen to politicians and pundits with a filter to separate out information from non-information. I found myself playing with the dials, trying to tune in some signal. They all say a hell of a lot. On a few, rare occasions information gets transmitted.
b. John Kerry was a hero
c. John Kerry received three Purple Hearts
2. People in general transmit a hell of a lot of static. Pay attention to what individuals say to you and see if you can discern actual information from the static. I fail at this one all the time. I will automatically tune in what I want to hear, "Oh. Yes. Quite right. What a bright lad you are." I will summarily tune out or attack that which I don't agree with, "As long as you are shopping at Walmart you can shut the fuck up about your tiny pay check!" Spend a day listening and see if you can notice filters and auto-response mechanisms kicking in.
Our public face consists of what others perceive about us. Physical appearance contains some fairly concrete information at the moment perceived. Much of how we process that information we could classify as value judgments. For instance, my mohawk makes for a very strong information signal when people see me. Their brains will immediately run that information through the usual routines and filters and categorize and label me based on that piece of information. Much of that process will be illogical programs. After all, it's just a haircut.
Unpopular
Nobody at work wants to hear me rant about what a bastard Reagan was. And none of them believe he had anything to do with the Iran-Contra affair. Carter was an idiot, Reagan a god, and Clinton got all the credit. And these people call themselves Democrats!
This is what I'm up against. But at least I try.
This is what I'm up against. But at least I try.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Simple Pleasures
When I lived in Albert Lea and was a freelance graphic artist, I would have a professional prepare my tax return. When I came to pick up my prepared paper work she would go over them all with me and have me write out the checks for each. She would then say, "and the government specifically requests that you not staple your forms and check." With a smile on her face she would then pound a staple through all of the federal's, then another through all of the state's. She would then seal them up in envelopes for me to take to the post office.
This year I used a model 545 Swingline. Simple, but effective.
This year I used a model 545 Swingline. Simple, but effective.
Solidarity
During a break, a machinist and I were talking about how we missed working for union shops. (He was a Teamster, I was AFSCME.) We also complained about the state of unions in this country. The biggest complaint of his was that union leadership amongst the AFL-CIO clan seemed more interested in lining their pockets, supporting the status quo, and keeping workers at work then actually fighting for those people that make up the union.
I agree with him. The AFL-CIO has become a business entity modeled after the same kind of businesses the unions have to do battle with. There is a hierarchy with the top dogs getting considerably more benefit than the workers.
But there is an alternative. It's called the Industrial Workers of the World. From their site:
A local hotspot for the IWW is the Red & Black Cafe of Portland, a worker owned coffee shop and one of my favorite haunts.
I agree with him. The AFL-CIO has become a business entity modeled after the same kind of businesses the unions have to do battle with. There is a hierarchy with the top dogs getting considerably more benefit than the workers.
But there is an alternative. It's called the Industrial Workers of the World. From their site:
It is the historic mission of the working class to do away with capitalism. The army of production must be organized, not only for everyday struggle with capitalists, but also to carry on production when capitalism shall have been overthrown. By organizing industrially we are forming the structure of the new society within the shell of the old.
A local hotspot for the IWW is the Red & Black Cafe of Portland, a worker owned coffee shop and one of my favorite haunts.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
SFW: Puritanical Culture
Sex shop deal rocks cricket club.
Nice'n'Naughty had agreed to back Southport Trinity Cricket Club, with their logo already printed on shirts. But the deal was scrapped after the team were threatened with being axed from the Liverpool and District Competition of the ECB Premier League.
NSFW: Masturbate-A-Thon
FYI for those living in or near Portland. Darklady's 5th Annual Portland Masturbate-A-Thon. Insert one of 10,000,000+ sexual innuendos or double entendres here. Say no more.
Bound to Happen
US occupied Afghanistan on one border. US occupied Iraq on the other. How is an Islamic state supposed to keep America off it's soil?
Iran says it joins nuclear technology club.
Iran says it joins nuclear technology club.
Biker Blues
Throughout the 1960's and 1970's, biker gangs frightened the bejesus out of a lot of people. Hardly anyone is frightened by them these days. Most people think of bikers as those nice yuppies on new Harleys going on toy runs and poker runs.
In some parts of the world, outlaw bikers are still large and in charge and not a force you want to mess around with.
Read the news from Canada.
In some parts of the world, outlaw bikers are still large and in charge and not a force you want to mess around with.
"...six members, a prospective member and an associate of the Bandidos No Surrender Crew are dead, shot and dumped in a farm field, as part of "internal cleansing" within the gang,"
Read the news from Canada.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Anarchism in Mythology
Once Cronus had castrated Uranus, he and his wife Rhea took the throne. Under their power a time of harmony and prosperity began, which became known as the "Golden Age"; a time when it was said that people lived without greed or violence, and without toil or the need for laws.
See full text here.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Vasectomy
Here is the run down on my procedure.
I might be the only guy on the planet who thought my vasectomy was FUN! Before the procedure I was talkin' with the doc and telling him how excited I was. So he offered to get me a mirror with a long handle so I could watch. That was so cool. He also asked if a student in residency could observe. I was happy to oblige.
While laying back on the operating slab, legs up in stirrups like women have to do for the OB/GYN, he started with an injection of local anesthetic on both sides of my pelvis at about the level of the top of my penis and midway between that and my thighs. While this settled in he gave me a shave and a hair cut followed by an iodine wash. Typical surgery prep stuff. Then he taped my penis to my belly so it wouldn't get in the way.
We started with my right testicle. Here he injected a VERY local anesthetic directly at the right vas deferens. He made certain it was the right one by tugging on it and asking if I felt it on my right side. This is of course after the first shot of anesthetic so I don't scream out in agony, "YES!" Instead it felt like a gentle little tug, no pain at all. With the vas deferens located, he made a puncture in the center of my scrotum using a tool that was similar to a forceps but had a very sharp tip and no locking mechanism on the handle. With his hand still holding the vas, he reached in and got hold of it with the tool. Pulling the vas out through the puncture, he clamped onto it with another tool that DID have a locking mechanism on the handle. Now he began to strip away layers of blood vessels surrounding the vas. Each time he would strip a layer off he made certain to have the vas secure before removing the clamp and reclamping. You don't want a slip up have to start all over. After three or four levels were stripped away, he had nothing but the vas deferens.
This was quite possibly the coolest part. He used a device that cut through the vas deferens via an arc of electricity. When I called it a miniature arc welder he said, "Yeah, only I don't have to wear the helmet." He cut off a section of the vas deferens about 1-2 cm long. With the vas snipped and sealed by the arc tool, he could now release that but kept hold of the system of blood vessels that had surrounded it. With the two ends of my now severed tube retreated up the network, he did a clover leaf stitch through the network of blood vessels and between the severed ends. He drew this up like a draw string on a bag to provide some additional blockage. This was in case my body put up a fight and tried to reconnect the damn things. He released the tension, still holding onto the thread, to see if I there was any bleeding. After a minute, seeing no bleeding, he snipped the extra thread and fed the works back in through the puncture hole.
The left side went pretty much the same way. There was the injection of the local anesthetic and the tugging to make sure we were getting the left one and not double cutting the right. The left vas deferens was brought out through the same puncture hole that the right one had been pulled through in the center of the scrotum. As he again worked down the outer network I was informed that the left side almost always had more blood vessels than the right. I couldn't watch as closely on this one. The resident was observing from my left and I didn't want the mirror to get in the way of his view. Observing with the mirror on my right side meant that the doctor's hand was sometimes blocking my view. As he finished up with the draw string stitch and let it slack for a bit, there was a bit of bleeding. He stitched a figure eight around the trouble area and let it go slack again. All was fine this time. He snipped the extra thread and stuffed me back inside.
"Hopefully you tell me that this is the most painful part." The doctor then quickly removed the tape that had help my penis to my belly. Yeah, that's the worst part. He cleaned up the area, placed a tiny piece of surgical tape over the puncture spot, and placed a piece of gauze between my penis and scrotum. No tape on that, just gravity keeping it pressed between my penis and scrotum.
The doctor who gave me my initial consultation had forgotten to tell me one thing in preparation for the vasectomy. Wear tight underwear! If you need to, buy a pair or two for the day of and the day after. This was really the only thing that didn't go right for me. The doctor offered to let me take home the two pieces he cut out. I considered it for two seconds and replied, "No thanks."
Recovery has been pretty easy. The day of I spent reclined in an easy chair watching TV. Watching television is far more painful than getting a vasectomy. Most guys will spend the rest of the day sitting on an ice pack or (a favorite from what I hear) a bag of frozen peas. I didn't feel the need to ice so I didn't. As the doc said, "Listen to your nuts." Standing for more than a couple of minutes was a bit uncomfortable as the blood would flow to that area. I had two Vicadin before going to bed that night. I will admit that it felt as though someone had kicked me in the balls. Luckily I was numbed for the actual kicking. As a side effect, I seemed to have the endorphin giggles most of the night.
Day two I woke up and felt a hell of a lot better already. I could walk normally when I woke up and went downstairs to the bathroom. The day was spent between periods of sitting upright and reclining in the chair. Standing for brief periods didn't bother me at all. Ten or more minutes on my feet and the boys would start complaining, but nothing like the previous night. Early in the day I had 2 Vicadin and then in the evening I took 2 more with a couple glasses of red wine.
As I write this I am on the evening of day three. I went out and ran a few errands today. Stood around the kitchen to do dishes. I've done a couple loads of laundry which involves me going down a flight of stairs with a basket full of clothes. Nothing major. There have been some minor moments when I "listened to my nuts" and sat down for a few minutes. A few minutes ago I popped 3 Vicadin with my Guinness. I think doctors really need to take into effect the size and constitution of an individual when writing prescriptions. I can just barely feel the 3 pills working on me.
Tomorrow I return to work. I might have to sit down now and again. Luckily I am on maintenance now, which will make this easier than if I was still operating a machine. I can always pull a bucket up to the machine and have a sit while tinkering with the bits. Not those bits, the bits on the machines!
In four to six weeks I will drop off a sperm sample at the clinic so they can see if there are any survivors. I already have the jar. Seems a lot of guys can't handle the pressure of masturbating in a clinic bathroom. Given all the nurse porn out there I would have figured guys would jump at the chance to jack-off in a hospital. Nothing stopping me though. I mean, I just want them to have the freshest possible sample. Anyway, the doctor said that sperm can show up between two weeks and three months depending on level of sexual activity, "Cleaning the pipes, so to speak." Knowing me, these pipes will be clean in a few days.
And that is the story of my vasectomy. A couple days of discomfort is a small price to pay for a lifetime of sterility. Thanks Doc!
I might be the only guy on the planet who thought my vasectomy was FUN! Before the procedure I was talkin' with the doc and telling him how excited I was. So he offered to get me a mirror with a long handle so I could watch. That was so cool. He also asked if a student in residency could observe. I was happy to oblige.
While laying back on the operating slab, legs up in stirrups like women have to do for the OB/GYN, he started with an injection of local anesthetic on both sides of my pelvis at about the level of the top of my penis and midway between that and my thighs. While this settled in he gave me a shave and a hair cut followed by an iodine wash. Typical surgery prep stuff. Then he taped my penis to my belly so it wouldn't get in the way.
We started with my right testicle. Here he injected a VERY local anesthetic directly at the right vas deferens. He made certain it was the right one by tugging on it and asking if I felt it on my right side. This is of course after the first shot of anesthetic so I don't scream out in agony, "YES!" Instead it felt like a gentle little tug, no pain at all. With the vas deferens located, he made a puncture in the center of my scrotum using a tool that was similar to a forceps but had a very sharp tip and no locking mechanism on the handle. With his hand still holding the vas, he reached in and got hold of it with the tool. Pulling the vas out through the puncture, he clamped onto it with another tool that DID have a locking mechanism on the handle. Now he began to strip away layers of blood vessels surrounding the vas. Each time he would strip a layer off he made certain to have the vas secure before removing the clamp and reclamping. You don't want a slip up have to start all over. After three or four levels were stripped away, he had nothing but the vas deferens.
This was quite possibly the coolest part. He used a device that cut through the vas deferens via an arc of electricity. When I called it a miniature arc welder he said, "Yeah, only I don't have to wear the helmet." He cut off a section of the vas deferens about 1-2 cm long. With the vas snipped and sealed by the arc tool, he could now release that but kept hold of the system of blood vessels that had surrounded it. With the two ends of my now severed tube retreated up the network, he did a clover leaf stitch through the network of blood vessels and between the severed ends. He drew this up like a draw string on a bag to provide some additional blockage. This was in case my body put up a fight and tried to reconnect the damn things. He released the tension, still holding onto the thread, to see if I there was any bleeding. After a minute, seeing no bleeding, he snipped the extra thread and fed the works back in through the puncture hole.
The left side went pretty much the same way. There was the injection of the local anesthetic and the tugging to make sure we were getting the left one and not double cutting the right. The left vas deferens was brought out through the same puncture hole that the right one had been pulled through in the center of the scrotum. As he again worked down the outer network I was informed that the left side almost always had more blood vessels than the right. I couldn't watch as closely on this one. The resident was observing from my left and I didn't want the mirror to get in the way of his view. Observing with the mirror on my right side meant that the doctor's hand was sometimes blocking my view. As he finished up with the draw string stitch and let it slack for a bit, there was a bit of bleeding. He stitched a figure eight around the trouble area and let it go slack again. All was fine this time. He snipped the extra thread and stuffed me back inside.
"Hopefully you tell me that this is the most painful part." The doctor then quickly removed the tape that had help my penis to my belly. Yeah, that's the worst part. He cleaned up the area, placed a tiny piece of surgical tape over the puncture spot, and placed a piece of gauze between my penis and scrotum. No tape on that, just gravity keeping it pressed between my penis and scrotum.
The doctor who gave me my initial consultation had forgotten to tell me one thing in preparation for the vasectomy. Wear tight underwear! If you need to, buy a pair or two for the day of and the day after. This was really the only thing that didn't go right for me. The doctor offered to let me take home the two pieces he cut out. I considered it for two seconds and replied, "No thanks."
Recovery has been pretty easy. The day of I spent reclined in an easy chair watching TV. Watching television is far more painful than getting a vasectomy. Most guys will spend the rest of the day sitting on an ice pack or (a favorite from what I hear) a bag of frozen peas. I didn't feel the need to ice so I didn't. As the doc said, "Listen to your nuts." Standing for more than a couple of minutes was a bit uncomfortable as the blood would flow to that area. I had two Vicadin before going to bed that night. I will admit that it felt as though someone had kicked me in the balls. Luckily I was numbed for the actual kicking. As a side effect, I seemed to have the endorphin giggles most of the night.
Day two I woke up and felt a hell of a lot better already. I could walk normally when I woke up and went downstairs to the bathroom. The day was spent between periods of sitting upright and reclining in the chair. Standing for brief periods didn't bother me at all. Ten or more minutes on my feet and the boys would start complaining, but nothing like the previous night. Early in the day I had 2 Vicadin and then in the evening I took 2 more with a couple glasses of red wine.
As I write this I am on the evening of day three. I went out and ran a few errands today. Stood around the kitchen to do dishes. I've done a couple loads of laundry which involves me going down a flight of stairs with a basket full of clothes. Nothing major. There have been some minor moments when I "listened to my nuts" and sat down for a few minutes. A few minutes ago I popped 3 Vicadin with my Guinness. I think doctors really need to take into effect the size and constitution of an individual when writing prescriptions. I can just barely feel the 3 pills working on me.
Tomorrow I return to work. I might have to sit down now and again. Luckily I am on maintenance now, which will make this easier than if I was still operating a machine. I can always pull a bucket up to the machine and have a sit while tinkering with the bits. Not those bits, the bits on the machines!
In four to six weeks I will drop off a sperm sample at the clinic so they can see if there are any survivors. I already have the jar. Seems a lot of guys can't handle the pressure of masturbating in a clinic bathroom. Given all the nurse porn out there I would have figured guys would jump at the chance to jack-off in a hospital. Nothing stopping me though. I mean, I just want them to have the freshest possible sample. Anyway, the doctor said that sperm can show up between two weeks and three months depending on level of sexual activity, "Cleaning the pipes, so to speak." Knowing me, these pipes will be clean in a few days.
And that is the story of my vasectomy. A couple days of discomfort is a small price to pay for a lifetime of sterility. Thanks Doc!
On Anarchism and Voting (yes, again)
In 1987 I watched a documentary in which Abbie Hoffman stated that the 1960's counter-culture was born out of the idea that, "there must be something better and if there isn't anything, we'll take that. Anything is better than this garbage." He also once stated that, "The only way to support a revolution is to make your own." Granted, Hoffman wasn't the best role model. My freshman year he committed suicide out of depression for a society and a generation that had lost its vision. I remember sitting in homeroom expressing my depression over his passing. Everybody said the same thing. "Abbie Who?"
"To steal from a brother or sister is evil. To not steal from the institutions that are the pillars of the Pig Empire is equally immoral."
Voting is a sacred act in America. I will admit to having more distaste for people who don't bother to vote than for those who do vote. But to actively say, "this game is rigged and I'm not going to play it anymore," is a supreme blasphemy. To say you don't believe in participating in voting in the US is equivalent to saying you don't believe in participating in Salat (the daily prayers) in Afghanistan or Iran. Just as Christians are continually encouraging me to pray to a God that is supposedly wiser and more powerful than myself, so do those in favor of representational democracy constantly try to get me to vote for someone supposedly wiser and more powerful than myself. Since I feel certain that no person is better fit to represent me than me and likewise that I should have no say in how others choose to live their lives, if I did vote, wouldn't I be a blaspheming hypocrite?
I might be the only person running for office that is actively encouraging people to vote for me by not voting for me.
"To steal from a brother or sister is evil. To not steal from the institutions that are the pillars of the Pig Empire is equally immoral."
Voting is a sacred act in America. I will admit to having more distaste for people who don't bother to vote than for those who do vote. But to actively say, "this game is rigged and I'm not going to play it anymore," is a supreme blasphemy. To say you don't believe in participating in voting in the US is equivalent to saying you don't believe in participating in Salat (the daily prayers) in Afghanistan or Iran. Just as Christians are continually encouraging me to pray to a God that is supposedly wiser and more powerful than myself, so do those in favor of representational democracy constantly try to get me to vote for someone supposedly wiser and more powerful than myself. Since I feel certain that no person is better fit to represent me than me and likewise that I should have no say in how others choose to live their lives, if I did vote, wouldn't I be a blaspheming hypocrite?
I might be the only person running for office that is actively encouraging people to vote for me by not voting for me.
Another Point of View
If you accept and consent to the right of another individual to make decisions for you, vote for them.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Real Courage
Nothing like saying "Don't Vote" to stir up people's emotions.
This country was founded by the upper 10% of colonialists. Look through the signers of the Declaration of Independence and you'll see for yourself. The American Revolution was a war started by the new colonial elite made rich off the land and labor (tenants, servants, and slaves) of the new country. They were rebelling against the old aristocratic elite of Britain. Look at the early form of this government. In order to vote you had to be a land owner. As it became easier to control the outcome of votes, voting rights were reluctantly given up to more unsavory types like the landless, non-whites, and women.
Flash forward to 2000. That was the year I learned that a person does not have to win an election to win an election. That was the year I learned about 'voting discrepancies' and the unregistering of voters.
Last time I voted was 2004. That was the year that I learned about voting machine allocation, computer glitches, untrackable voting, provisional ballots, and voter harassment by law enforcement agencies.
If voting could make a difference, it would be outlawed. Unfortunately, if not voting could make a difference it would be outlawed. The curses of the damned.
So what is one to do if they don't want to legitamize the circus side show? Do I just sit back, point my finger at the mess, and sigh? Hardly. You may not realize this, but most people have no clue about the real history of these United States. So I educate them. I try to peel back those layers of propaganda laid on about the super-hero status of super wealthy land owners like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. I give them history as I see it, massive struggles between elite classes in which the workers get sent off to die over and over again. The powerful can build a revolution that way. When the workers revolt, it is generally a case of a situation reaching critical mass. I feed the flames.
This country was founded by the upper 10% of colonialists. Look through the signers of the Declaration of Independence and you'll see for yourself. The American Revolution was a war started by the new colonial elite made rich off the land and labor (tenants, servants, and slaves) of the new country. They were rebelling against the old aristocratic elite of Britain. Look at the early form of this government. In order to vote you had to be a land owner. As it became easier to control the outcome of votes, voting rights were reluctantly given up to more unsavory types like the landless, non-whites, and women.
Flash forward to 2000. That was the year I learned that a person does not have to win an election to win an election. That was the year I learned about 'voting discrepancies' and the unregistering of voters.
Last time I voted was 2004. That was the year that I learned about voting machine allocation, computer glitches, untrackable voting, provisional ballots, and voter harassment by law enforcement agencies.
If voting could make a difference, it would be outlawed. Unfortunately, if not voting could make a difference it would be outlawed. The curses of the damned.
So what is one to do if they don't want to legitamize the circus side show? Do I just sit back, point my finger at the mess, and sigh? Hardly. You may not realize this, but most people have no clue about the real history of these United States. So I educate them. I try to peel back those layers of propaganda laid on about the super-hero status of super wealthy land owners like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. I give them history as I see it, massive struggles between elite classes in which the workers get sent off to die over and over again. The powerful can build a revolution that way. When the workers revolt, it is generally a case of a situation reaching critical mass. I feed the flames.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Too Much of an Anarchist
At a young age I started to consider myself an anarchist. Like a lot of things, people just assumed I'd grow out of it. I haven't. And like many other things people thought I'd grow out of, I've just gotten worse. For example, I used to be a voting anarchist. I figured until we got it all worked out and people decided they no longer needed leaders telling them what to do, I might as well have a say.
Fuck that!
Republican or Democrat?
Bloods or Crips?
Atilla the Hun or Genghis Khan?
Government exists to uphold rights. What rights? Property rights. Who has the most to gain from government? Those with the most property. The so called 'founding fathers' were mostly rich or land owners from the upper crust of society. We have today a government which they created out of a desire to stop the taxation of the rich and to protect the property rights of those powerful elite who already held it. Societies that have a concept of personal wealth have strong central governments. Even communists and socialists need a strong central government because they view wealth accumulation as the goal of the state for the good of the people they supposedly serve/rule over. Societies that have had no concept of personal wealth have no need for a strong central government, just 'ambassadors' to go and talk things over with the neighbors.
Founding fathers aside, what did the common laborer think of the war between the colonies and Britain? What did these people who were faced with a choice of either joining the revolutionary army or going to jail think of what was taking place? "Tyranny is tyranny let it come from whom it may."
Don't vote! It only encourages the bastards.
Fuck that!
Republican or Democrat?
Bloods or Crips?
Atilla the Hun or Genghis Khan?
Government exists to uphold rights. What rights? Property rights. Who has the most to gain from government? Those with the most property. The so called 'founding fathers' were mostly rich or land owners from the upper crust of society. We have today a government which they created out of a desire to stop the taxation of the rich and to protect the property rights of those powerful elite who already held it. Societies that have a concept of personal wealth have strong central governments. Even communists and socialists need a strong central government because they view wealth accumulation as the goal of the state for the good of the people they supposedly serve/rule over. Societies that have had no concept of personal wealth have no need for a strong central government, just 'ambassadors' to go and talk things over with the neighbors.
Founding fathers aside, what did the common laborer think of the war between the colonies and Britain? What did these people who were faced with a choice of either joining the revolutionary army or going to jail think of what was taking place? "Tyranny is tyranny let it come from whom it may."
Don't vote! It only encourages the bastards.
AWPC
Biker Tim: Even though you don't work tomorrow, I bet I'll be having more fun.
Me: Are you kidding? I've been waiting 20 years for this. As soon as I found out about vasectomies I thought, 'I gotta get me one of those'.
Me: Are you kidding? I've been waiting 20 years for this. As soon as I found out about vasectomies I thought, 'I gotta get me one of those'.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Bondage
From the 16th and into the 19th centuries there is documentation that slaves would sometimes kill their offspring rather than have them born into servitude.
Friday I am getting a vasectomy. Ain't progress grand?
Friday I am getting a vasectomy. Ain't progress grand?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Mmmm, Feature Film
Just as I am losing interest in The Simpsons they announce a feature film. Coincidence? Watch the teaser here.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Burning It Up
Most of Saturday I kept wondering where this irritating rash on my arms came from. And why did it have a straight line across the top of it?
Sunday morning in the shower I look at it again and it all became clear.
Friday at work I was welding a new tip on a pick up rail. I cranked the welder up, grabbed some stoody, and let fly. I had gloves on but was wearing a t-shirt. When I used the arc welder back on the farm I always wore a long sleeved shirt. True, it was polyester and riddled with burn holes, but it HAD sleeves. So I'm building this fantastic tip out of the stoody and all I need to do is get the steel to flow so I can mix it up for a strong weld. The heat was getting real intense but the bead was just starting to flow. When you get a good bead going, you have to keep it flowing.
The end result was a rail tip that was passed around the shop for admiration Friday night and me finally realizing on Sunday that I have what is basically a sun burn on my upper arms. I think all the hair shielded my forearms.
Sunday morning in the shower I look at it again and it all became clear.
Friday at work I was welding a new tip on a pick up rail. I cranked the welder up, grabbed some stoody, and let fly. I had gloves on but was wearing a t-shirt. When I used the arc welder back on the farm I always wore a long sleeved shirt. True, it was polyester and riddled with burn holes, but it HAD sleeves. So I'm building this fantastic tip out of the stoody and all I need to do is get the steel to flow so I can mix it up for a strong weld. The heat was getting real intense but the bead was just starting to flow. When you get a good bead going, you have to keep it flowing.
The end result was a rail tip that was passed around the shop for admiration Friday night and me finally realizing on Sunday that I have what is basically a sun burn on my upper arms. I think all the hair shielded my forearms.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Friday, March 31, 2006
Smokin'
We all know that Budweiser, Winston, Playboy, and many other 'sin' brands sponsor music and sporting events. Here's one that took me by surprise. Check out Zig Zag Live! That's right, a company known for premium rolling papers (for tobacco use only) is sponsoring a small tour. It may be a club tour and it may be dominated by emo/indie college rock crap, but it still impresses me.
There are a lot of different rolling papers out there. Only Zig Zag has real brand recognition. People who have never inhaled a single puff recognize Zig Zag. Most afficianados I have met prefer Zig Zags with the orange pack 1 1/4's tops on the list.
But if you are trying to tell me that Zig Zag has reached a high enough level of consumer loyalty that it can sponsor a club tour because of tobacco products... what have you been smoking?
There are a lot of different rolling papers out there. Only Zig Zag has real brand recognition. People who have never inhaled a single puff recognize Zig Zag. Most afficianados I have met prefer Zig Zags with the orange pack 1 1/4's tops on the list.
But if you are trying to tell me that Zig Zag has reached a high enough level of consumer loyalty that it can sponsor a club tour because of tobacco products... what have you been smoking?
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Drug Testing
I'm one of two guys on the maintenance staff for my plant that has NOT gotten a DUI. Pretty sad IMHO. The most recent one to join the DUI club was saying that at his most recent drug test he was told that a new type of urine test was being implemented that would allow them to detect alcohol use within 4 days. The general consensus was that they were bullshitting him. So I came home and did some research. Nearly everyone says 12-24 hours. A place that sells detox kits said up to 2 days. Nowhere could I find a 4 day test. Anyone out there heard of such a thing?
This blog did start as a political idea. So here's the politics.
I have never and will never get a DUI. If you don't drink and drive you can't get caught driving drunk. I am still against drunk driving laws. We have lots of regulations covering how a person must operate their motor vehicle. If a person can stay in their lane, drive the speed limit, avoid pedestrians, follow traffic signs, and generally drive better than some fuck wit on their cell phone, who cares if they are drunk or sober? Yes, I know the statistics. But for all you people who claim to be all about less government, how is driving while drunk any worse than driving while stupid? Who amongst you has the cahones to say that we should put stiffer penalties on stupid people? And then you have to go in for an IQ test every week to prove that you aren't too dumb to drive.
And I still hold a lot of hate for Republicans in general and Reagan specifically for allowing work place and general drug testing as a matter of public policy. Being on drugs and being a threat to society are two separate issues. After all, Islam forbids the use of drugs INCLUDING alcohol, many sects even frowning on tobacco use. Some of these entirely way too sober individuals think it's a GOOD idea to kill themselves and as many others as possible in the process. At least a drunk driver feels sorry about killing someone when he sobers up.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
This blog did start as a political idea. So here's the politics.
I have never and will never get a DUI. If you don't drink and drive you can't get caught driving drunk. I am still against drunk driving laws. We have lots of regulations covering how a person must operate their motor vehicle. If a person can stay in their lane, drive the speed limit, avoid pedestrians, follow traffic signs, and generally drive better than some fuck wit on their cell phone, who cares if they are drunk or sober? Yes, I know the statistics. But for all you people who claim to be all about less government, how is driving while drunk any worse than driving while stupid? Who amongst you has the cahones to say that we should put stiffer penalties on stupid people? And then you have to go in for an IQ test every week to prove that you aren't too dumb to drive.
And I still hold a lot of hate for Republicans in general and Reagan specifically for allowing work place and general drug testing as a matter of public policy. Being on drugs and being a threat to society are two separate issues. After all, Islam forbids the use of drugs INCLUDING alcohol, many sects even frowning on tobacco use. Some of these entirely way too sober individuals think it's a GOOD idea to kill themselves and as many others as possible in the process. At least a drunk driver feels sorry about killing someone when he sobers up.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
WARNING! ART
Check out this Testament to Pro-Life featuring Britney Spears and being exhibited in a New York gallery. Couldn't find a shot of her kid's head popping out of her vagina.
And people thought my Pro-Choice sculpture was in poor taste.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Check it Out
Saturday. Red and Black Cafe. The Swede Transvestite and I got checked out by several young women. A few men, too. Not just casual curiosity, either. One purple and black haired gal slowly looked me over head to toe while standing right in front of me. Then she gave me a big smile.
Monday. Work. While doing a wheel change I catch an operator looking me over. I smile at her and she smiles back.
If I got caught behaving that way as a male, it could be considered sexual harassment. Or maybe I'd just be a male chauvinist pig or a dirty pervert. As a 30 something man who has been happily married for about nine years now, I like having girls in their early twenties appreciatively looking me over. It's flattery.
Monday. Work. While doing a wheel change I catch an operator looking me over. I smile at her and she smiles back.
If I got caught behaving that way as a male, it could be considered sexual harassment. Or maybe I'd just be a male chauvinist pig or a dirty pervert. As a 30 something man who has been happily married for about nine years now, I like having girls in their early twenties appreciatively looking me over. It's flattery.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Spooky Similarities
"Times have not become more violent. They have just become more televised."
-Marilyn Manson
"Bad storms are not becoming more prevalent, but news about them and the population of the areas they hit have certainly expanded."
-Me, a couple of weeks ago at work
-Marilyn Manson
"Bad storms are not becoming more prevalent, but news about them and the population of the areas they hit have certainly expanded."
-Me, a couple of weeks ago at work
Saturday, March 25, 2006
AWPC's Abound!
So after a month of them breathing down our necks about production, production, production, tonight I went to work to discover that we had temporarily run out of orders and would spend the night cleaning.
Mikey: Do you think there'll be lay-offs?
Me: Unlikely. Spring is here and soon tornados will be tearing up the Midwest.
Tim: And hurricanes.
Me: Ooo, and straight line winds.
Tim: And mudslides.
Me: Disaster will strike.
Tim: And everybody will run to Home Depot to clean up the mess.
Me: And we'll be back in business.
Then I found out that packaging is divided between those who think Tim is cute and those who think I'm cute. I found out when I answered a maintenance call back there.
Maria: I think this one's cuter.
Lana: I'm sticking with the other one.
Maria: Please don't tell them what we talk about back here.
Jake: I perceive nothing that happens outside of the immediate vicinity of the machine that I am working on.
Maria: Huh?
Lana (w/ bad German accent): He knows nothing.
Tim and I guilt tripped some operators into sharing their lunch.
Tim: You ordered pizza? Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have gone in on it, too?
Jessica: I'm sorry. Seray and I will share some of ours.
Tim: Both you and Seray ordered pizza?
Jake: And you never stopped to think that maybe the guys who make your machines run might want some?
Jessica: It was Raeline's idea!
Tim: Raeline too! I see how it is.
Jessica: We'll share.
Jake: No, no. We're obviously not important to you.
This ended with us scoring a couple slices of pizza for lunch.
Finally, Tim offered me this bit of wisdom about inebriation.
Tim: You can drink a girl pretty, but you can't drink her skinny.
Mikey: Do you think there'll be lay-offs?
Me: Unlikely. Spring is here and soon tornados will be tearing up the Midwest.
Tim: And hurricanes.
Me: Ooo, and straight line winds.
Tim: And mudslides.
Me: Disaster will strike.
Tim: And everybody will run to Home Depot to clean up the mess.
Me: And we'll be back in business.
Then I found out that packaging is divided between those who think Tim is cute and those who think I'm cute. I found out when I answered a maintenance call back there.
Maria: I think this one's cuter.
Lana: I'm sticking with the other one.
Maria: Please don't tell them what we talk about back here.
Jake: I perceive nothing that happens outside of the immediate vicinity of the machine that I am working on.
Maria: Huh?
Lana (w/ bad German accent): He knows nothing.
Tim and I guilt tripped some operators into sharing their lunch.
Tim: You ordered pizza? Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have gone in on it, too?
Jessica: I'm sorry. Seray and I will share some of ours.
Tim: Both you and Seray ordered pizza?
Jake: And you never stopped to think that maybe the guys who make your machines run might want some?
Jessica: It was Raeline's idea!
Tim: Raeline too! I see how it is.
Jessica: We'll share.
Jake: No, no. We're obviously not important to you.
This ended with us scoring a couple slices of pizza for lunch.
Finally, Tim offered me this bit of wisdom about inebriation.
Tim: You can drink a girl pretty, but you can't drink her skinny.
Friday, March 24, 2006
The Beautiful People
Went down to the Burgerville on Powell by the high school for lunch. What a grand time I had. High school kids are just like adults except they only wear one costume. Adults learn to hide elements of themselves that society finds objectionable. Those HS kids, while obviously posing and posturing their screwed up little agendas, don't yet have that obvious second layer. Several adults will put on even more layers. Ever met one of those guys who wears a suit to work, kicks it around town in khakis and a polo shirt, but secretly wishes they could wear ripped jeans and a Led Zepplin T-shirt?
2 cents, folks. School uniforms and dress codes are tools of the man to beat kids into a subservient mindset. All the chatter about discipline, school violence, gang clothing, and classroom distraction... utter bullshit designed to beat down the independent spirit, even if that independent spirit is trying desperately to look like everyone else. It's all part of the pack game.
What did I see...
That chubby kid with the frizzy hair and the algebra book. He gets his books dumped in the hall all the time.
That girl wearing the tight hip huggers and an even tighter top showing midriff. She spent over an hour this morning making sure her hair was perfect.
Those two girls with the spiky black hair. One is wearing black tights under shredded jeans, the other has on Carharts overalls. They spend all their free time in the art room and will spend their sophomore year of college as lesbians.
That kid with the straight dark hair who has managed to grow a wispy mustache. He still can't figure out why he doesn't get the ladies.
The tall boy with the mature face and a permanent 5 o'clock shadow. He's the one to go to when you want cigarettes and beer.
That table of girls in sweats. Not fat girls. Not skinny girls. Not pretty girls. Not ugly girls. It's got to be the high school volleyball team.
Hurray for stereotypes!
2 cents, folks. School uniforms and dress codes are tools of the man to beat kids into a subservient mindset. All the chatter about discipline, school violence, gang clothing, and classroom distraction... utter bullshit designed to beat down the independent spirit, even if that independent spirit is trying desperately to look like everyone else. It's all part of the pack game.
What did I see...
That chubby kid with the frizzy hair and the algebra book. He gets his books dumped in the hall all the time.
That girl wearing the tight hip huggers and an even tighter top showing midriff. She spent over an hour this morning making sure her hair was perfect.
Those two girls with the spiky black hair. One is wearing black tights under shredded jeans, the other has on Carharts overalls. They spend all their free time in the art room and will spend their sophomore year of college as lesbians.
That kid with the straight dark hair who has managed to grow a wispy mustache. He still can't figure out why he doesn't get the ladies.
The tall boy with the mature face and a permanent 5 o'clock shadow. He's the one to go to when you want cigarettes and beer.
That table of girls in sweats. Not fat girls. Not skinny girls. Not pretty girls. Not ugly girls. It's got to be the high school volleyball team.
Hurray for stereotypes!
Quack!
I needed a new set of Carhart's for work. Went down to Freddie's and couldn't decide if I wanted the black or the duck. Then I looked at the tags. The black were made in Mexico from US components. The duck were 100% Made in the USA. I bought the duck.
At one time all Carharts were union made in the USA.
At one time all Carharts were union made in the USA.
AWPC and an Exercise in Beauty
Guy: I walked into this strip club and couldn't decide who I was going to spend my money on. They were all goddesses.
Me: I have similar feelings about the women I see just walking down the street.
Guy: No, seriously, they were all drop dead gorgeous goddesses.
Me: No, seriously, I can feel the same way walking down the street.
Activity time everybody. After you read this, spend the next 24 hours looking at everyone you see and figuring out in what way they are absolutely beautiful. You will fail. If anyone can actually make it a whole week, let me know. I've never made it more than a day. I think I got lucky.
If you can train yourself to see everybody as beautiful, you will find yourself living in a very beautiful world.
Me: I have similar feelings about the women I see just walking down the street.
Guy: No, seriously, they were all drop dead gorgeous goddesses.
Me: No, seriously, I can feel the same way walking down the street.
Activity time everybody. After you read this, spend the next 24 hours looking at everyone you see and figuring out in what way they are absolutely beautiful. You will fail. If anyone can actually make it a whole week, let me know. I've never made it more than a day. I think I got lucky.
If you can train yourself to see everybody as beautiful, you will find yourself living in a very beautiful world.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
Pot, Kettle, Black
Mr Lukashenko’s victory is likely to increase the international isolation of a regime the US has labelled “Europe’s last dictatorship”. The White House said on Monday night it did not accept the vote, and European Union foreign ministers denounced the elections as “neither free nor fair”.
Full story.
Full story.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Friday, March 17, 2006
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
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?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Monday, March 13, 2006
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.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
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 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!
Friday, March 10, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, March 06, 2006
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.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
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.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, March 03, 2006
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.
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.
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!
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!
Thursday, March 02, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Javacrucianism
CoffeeisoneofmyfavoritedrugsandjustbecauseIlikethespeedy
jittersofagoodoverindulgencecoffeebuzzdoesn'tmeanI'ma
coffeejunkiebecauseIcanquitanytimeIwantIjustcan'tthinkof
anyreasonwhyIshouldandallofthereasonsyougivemearelittle
morethantheinsanerantingsofapuritanicalpukesothere!
jittersofagoodoverindulgencecoffeebuzzdoesn'tmeanI'ma
coffeejunkiebecauseIcanquitanytimeIwantIjustcan'tthinkof
anyreasonwhyIshouldandallofthereasonsyougivemearelittle
morethantheinsanerantingsofapuritanicalpukesothere!
Friday, February 24, 2006
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.
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!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
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.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Quote
"I wanna love you."
Gibby Hanes of the Butthole Surfers appearing on Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry
Gibby Hanes of the Butthole Surfers appearing on Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry
Saturday, February 18, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Friday, February 17, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
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.
, 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.
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.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
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.
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.
Give the gift of biker love this Valentine's Day.
Friday, February 10, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
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?
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Monday, February 06, 2006
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.
"IF ELECTRONICS REALLY GET YOUR JUICES FOLLOWING... LET'S TALK."
It's like they aren't even trying.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
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.
Brutal Aussies Trounce South Africa. Cooie!
What? Like there was anything better to do on a Sunday afternoon.
Friday, February 03, 2006
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.
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...
"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
Hunter S. Thompson
Thursday, February 02, 2006
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.
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.
Dean: What are you gonna do without me to give you advice?
Jake: Fake it like everyone else does.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
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.
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.
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