Lieutenant Richard Lee Jones was 48 years of age and looked 30. He had never been sick a day in his life, and never passed up the opportunity to say so. Yet, every year, for one week, like clockwork, he contracted a fairly bad cold but never called it an actual sickness. He never used a sick day in his 15 years at the Bionomics Division of the NSA. He loved being in control. Every day he rose at precisely 5:50 AM and immediately started the coffee maker. Then he drank 8 ounces of water chilled to exactly 40 degrees F. At 6:00 AM, he took off the coffee, ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, used the bathroom, dressed for work, and departed his townhouse at 6:35 AM. 6:50 AM found him parking in spot 5A of the NSA parking lot and 6:59 AM found him scanning himself for another day of people monitoring. Or primed, prepped, and prepared for people-monitoring in the official NSA lingo.
Life in the early days of the Bionomics Division, was not always popular. For years a large segment of the Amexicada, or the USA as it was then called, fought against the perceived invasion of privacy the V-chips conferred. In time, like the now defunct credit card that preceded them, it evolved into a practical necessity. 15 years later, the Amexicadan Parliament passed the V-chip amendment, which required all citizens to have the microchip inserted into their body by the year 2015. Now, while it was not a criminal offense to be unchipped, it was so necessary to day-to-day life, that one was held to be a criminal if found without it. (It was criminal to be unchipped in some regions of Amexicada.)
Lt. Jones puzzled over how the man escaped. ‘What kind of electrical disturbance could cause the drone to break down?’ He wondered if the Velkladdaur knew he hadn’t quite told the truth in the matter. Truthfully, it had to be an electrical disturbance. There was no other explanation. 30 days.
* * *
“A.J. old boy, how are you?”
Michael wanted to crawl away and die. He rolled to his side and saw the face of a tall, thin, red-haired man with a beak of a nose staring at him.
“I thought you would be here. Helloooo A.J.” the red-head kicked Michael’s foot. “You awake or not?” He smiled and continued, “sleeping your life away?”
‘He doesn’t look like a sweep patroller,’ thought Michael. He crawled from under the jeep and looked at a man his own age that he had never seen before. ‘It would good to know knew in the world he was.’
“Come on. We’ve got to run,” said Red. “Are you ready to run?”
“Believe me. I’m more than ready to.” Michael crawled from under the jeep and shook his hand. A prickly sensation ran up Michael’s arm. ‘Did I go to high school with this guy?’ he thought.
Red said, ”You wouldn’t believe the trouble I went through to get here. Thankfully, I caught you before you went to the hives.”
“Hives?”
“Yeah,” he pointed to the dome-shaped buildings. “Sure you are all right?”
“Sure. A little light-headed. Why don’t you go on ahead without me. I’ll catch up in a bit.”
”You might find that more difficult than you think.” He looked to the sweep patrollers-now placing their hand-cuffed prisoner into a dark sedan. “Come on now. My ride is by the hives. We’ll take it.”
They joined the parade of people walking to the hives. The dusty path was nearly a mile from the parking lot to the first of the hive buildings. With each step, Michael found the presence of evil growing stronger. A half-mile away and his breathing increased notably. His head hurt and his palms became sweaty. He looked to his unknown traveler friend, whistling away as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Who is this guy?” thought Michael. “And why is he going toward the hives?”
“Where am I going?” said the stranger. “You’ll see.” Michael’s nerves, stressed all morning nearly burst at this last comment. They continued in silence.
The first building loomed directly in front of them. People were entering the glass doors that encircled the building at ground level. Nobody was leaving-just entering like a gigantic mouth. Swallowing people. Devouring people. His head throbbed.
“Look here, man. I hate to break the news to you buddy, but A.J. here is feeling a little sick. How about I catch up with you tomorrow?”
“Can you promise you have a tomorrow? What do you think you’ll find when you get back to 331 Newport Street?”
“Michael stopped and looked at the red-head. “How do you know where I live?” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he realized his mistake.
“I know about you than you think,” said the stranger. “Perhaps even more than you know about yourself,” and in a barely audible voice added, “Mr. Perez.”
They arrived at the front of the building and walked around it. Michael felt like walking through jelly. He felt compelled to run into the nearest glass door and scream, “Let me in!”
“Don’t do it,” said the stranger in a calm but stern voice. “Keep walking. Look straight ahead.”
They came to a short grassy hill with steps leading down to a paved lot with half a dozen white vehicles stenciled with the letters TGC on their sides. In addition to a few motorcycles. “Trans-Genic Center. That’s what the letters stand for. You wanted to know.”
This was indeed what Michael wanted to know. He said nothing. They stopped by a TGC- stenciled BMW motorcycle.
“By the way, you can call me Duncan Mackenzie. Better yet, just call me Mac.”
Mac undid a clasp on the bike and produced two helmets. He pressed a switch inside them and gave one to Michael. “This trip might be a little rough. Put this in your ear.” He gave him an earpiece with a transparent wire attached to it. “You’ll have to twist it a little to get it in there.”
Michael inserted it into his hear with the end of the wire in front of his mouth. “It feels like a pencil eraser stuck in my ear.”
“You’ll get used to it. Won’t even know it’s there after awhile.”
Mac pressed a switch on his watch and talked. Michael heard his voice, loud and clear, and faintly metallic, in his ear. “Works by infrared. Useful when you don’t want people listening in on random radio-linked voices.” Michael got the idea.
Mac and Michael jumped on the BMW and headed to the front of the first hive. They made a sharp right and drove leisurely past four more identical hive buildings on the same road. Michael found that the evil presence seemed muted with the helmet. Soon, they passed the fifth hive.
The road continued on past some abandoned warehouses. Then it led through a massive junkyard of scrapped cars, office machines, and old airplanes. The road became worse and pockmarked with holes. At times, great sections of the road were completely eroded. Mac carefully threaded his way down the eroded banks and up the other sides. After a time, the junk disappeared until all he saw was a desolate wasteland. No trees, plants, and no farms. Simply an enormous wasteland of rocks and sand.
“We’re going to my place,” said Mac suddenly.
“A little dusty, isn’t it? Why so much dust?”
“Can’t see much.”
“Exactly. Dust covers hidden cameras, and is hard on equipment. Makes it easy to hide from prying eyes. Useful when you want to hide.”
“You can hide for only so long before the satellites find you.”
“Not if you’re underground.”
“You live in a hole in the ground. . .like a hobbit?”
“Err, not quite.”
Michael heard a throaty, thumping sound-like a helicopter. Ahead of them, and to their left, another road joined theirs. A cloud of dust was moving along it caused by a large boxy vehicle with large squares sticking out the sides. Mac gunned the BMW’s engine hoping to arrive at the intersection before the other car. They arrived the same time, but as the road widened at this point, the two vehicles didn’t collide.
The boxy car, now only a few feet from them and parallel, had an open cockpit and looked to be made of concrete. The two side squares were fairly curved, and swept back. The driver, wearing a helmet and goggles, didn’t look at them. The noise was deafening.
“What is it?” asked Michael.
“Rhino.”
Michael looked at the large, lumbering, sand-colored square upon wheels. Black smoke belched from its rear. It smelled like sulfur. The two wings moved slightly and extended outward. At once Mac shot forward ahead of the Rhino.
They’re nuclear-powered,” came Mac’s tinny voice over the sound. “Those two wings are boosters. You don’t want to be behind a Rhino when those things fire up. It’s like being stuck behind a jet engine-and very loud.” Michael wondered if anything could get louder. “They also fire rockets from the wings. Very useful.”
Mac increased his speed and soon the Rhino was merely another lumbering dust cloud.
“Friends of yours?”
“Hardly. Rhino operators are usually unchippers and not overly friendly. They’re rough people. I call the drivers Ruff and Gruff. Those guys only shave about three times a month and you can never understand what they’re saying.
Ruff and Gruff were shaggy old souls,
and shaggy old souls were they.
They smoked, and choked, and lived on coke,
And used up mom’s DNA.
Stay out in the sun too long,
And soon you’ll be as old as they.”
“I’m confused,” said Michael.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Please do.”
* * *
“Good morning Mr. Jones,” came the cheery voice of Candy Skipper.
“Any messages?” asked Jones.
Candy Skipper, fond of chewing gum, mini-skirts, different hair styles, and Celtic pewter jewelry was the secretary of Lt. Richard Jones. She was his complete opposite, yet for obscure reasons unfathomable to her creative mind, she had developed a crush on the Lt. Whether he knew this is a matter of some debate, but Candy, due to her unique mindset, felt it would be a serious social faux pas to come out and tell him.
In celebration of pay day, Candy wore green hair, gold shirt, and silver skirt.
“The techies have been calling all morning. They’re down in room 312. . .
The drone lay on a white table. It’s insides spread out like a bad car wreck.
“What have you found?” asked Jones.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing to speak of. All the systems are working properly, at least until we completely disassembled everything.”
“I want a test run.”
“We’ve done that.”
“And?”
“It went perfectly. Killed all our test rats in one fell swoop. Even Smart Sparky got zapped.”
“Sparky’s dead?”
“Tragic, I know boss. . .but science is science.”
“We downloaded the video and see the unchipper in the plaza. The best we can figure out is the tramp stood directly in the line of sight between the drone and Mr. No-chip while the video was running. Sort of like the moon during a solar eclipse. See right here at 17’00”35.6. And then as we go to 17’00”42.7.” Here the technician fast-forwarded the downloaded video. “Here we see the plaza empty except for these two.”
“You didn’t get a video of the unchipper’s face?”
“Nope. Strangest thing too. All the video shows is the back of his head. When he turned around facing a camera, there either was somebody directly in front of him, or in once instance, the video just went blank. It’s probably just an electrical surge in the wiring induced by the Prime Minister’s call.”
Jones put his face in his hands, and then said. “Get me a picture of the unchipper anyways. The best you can come up with. A close-up. I want to see what the guy was wearing. The Velkladdeur seems to think it important to find this guy.”
The technician whistled. “What for?”
“Not certain. But know this. When the Velkladdeur wants his man, that man has something worth taking.”
* * *
“Here you go Lt.” The technician laid a digitally-enhanced photo on Rick’s desk. “Abercrombie and Fitch khaki pants and looks like size 32-34 waist. Light blue long-sleeved shirt with partially rolled-up sleeves. The shoes appear to be size 11 black Adidas hiking boots.”
“Thank you. That only narrows it down to about. . .3,000 different people in this city.”
* * *
The Velkladdeur sat alone in his office brooding over the fact that an unchipped man escaped with his life intact and his identity unknown. He knew that Lt. Jones most likely would never find the man within 30 days- if ever, but he felt it was good practice for the NSA employees to see a man killing himself to get a job done. Every once in a while the agency needed a good shake down. And if he had to sacrifice a man-so be it. He knew fear or threat bred loyalty to an organization. He had seen this countless numbers of times in his life.
The Velkladdeur was old, much older than anybody knew. True, his 157-year-old body had been artificially lengthened by gene therapy, but the fact remained that although his body was in excellent condition, his mind was subject to unexplainable fits of anger and increasingly, for the past decade, he made choices solely by instinct rather than through conscious thought. His formidable mind gave him the ability to make logical inferences about events rivaling that of any supercomputer.
Whoever this unknown man was, Velkladdeur knew he divined his presence. The world is a cohesive whole. Everything is linked to everything else. When a man talks at 11:00 AM, the words affect the very fabric of space so that one well in tune, one whose mind is in-phase with the space-time continuum, will detect the waves or ripples generated from the speech and discern his location.
“I must find this man!”
The Velkladdeur viewed all the possible outcomes from each decision he made. Ina great many future outcomes, he saw his body lying in state in a large auditorium. This did not frighten him. Throughout his life, he had met others like this unchipped man and eliminated them.
An hour past sunset, the Velkladdeur made his way to the roof of the NSA. He had a room, surprisingly small, that he entered on a weekly basis. Once inside, he closed and locked the doors, lie down on a table, and shut his eyes. The room, sound-proof and always kept at 98.6 F and 0% humidity, was a key component for his longevity. He pressed a button on the wall, placed a visor over his eyes, and waited.
A series of images flashed off and on at such a rate it seemed to be mere pulses of light. The images were discrete pictures of daily events in his life. A daily photographic record of his last 67 years. It was found out that viewing these clips reinforced the neural network in his genetically-enhanced brain. It also forced his brain into a default-type setting. When humans first started undergoing gene therapy trials, the neurons had trouble adapting to the increased life span. As a result, people went insane, which defeated the purpose of gene enhancement. In 1999, Dr. Abram Nasglow, a cognitive scientist at MIT, discovered that if you stimulated neurons, new and more connections would form between them, so that thinking became clearer. One of the drawbacks was the Velkladdeur was unable to dream.
19 October 2006
Macrobia 2
“You lost him?” asked the VelkLaddeur.
“No, Sir. We got him, but somehow he escaped,” said Lt. Jones.
“What do you mean ‘you got him.’ If you got him, he would be dead.”
“Yes, Sir. But you see, when we sent in the corpse collection unit, all they found was an old man named Max Dudley.”
“Didn’t the drones see the unchipper in the plaza?”
“That they did, Sir. But there was some kind of electrical disturbance that confused the drone’s circuitry. The unchipper must have escaped then. The most likely explanation is the drone. . .once the electrical disturbance ceased. . .automatically assumed Mr. Dudley was the unchipped man.”
“Mr. Dudley was a chipped man Lt. How could the drone assume otherwise? Machines never assume Lt. Never. What kind of electrical disturbance was this?”
“We’re still uncertain. Our tech guys are checking it out as we speak. Nothing’s turned up yet. It seems in perfect working order.”
“Keep looking Lt. And keep looking until you find the problem. The last thing we need is another unchipped cowboy running around footloose and fancy free.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I want a full report of the problem ASAP. See to it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“One more thing. See the safe nurse before you leave.”
“But, Sir.”
“You know the Law Codes. Eye for eye and tooth for tooth.”
“What if we don’t find him?”
“Thirty days Lt. You have thirty days before the methyl butyrate is released.”
Lt. Jones left the VelkLaddeur’s office. The last thing he saw was his Cheshire cat-like grin. It unnerved him.
Lt. Jones grumbled to himself as he walked the long corridor to the safe nurse’s lab. He hated this building, the National Security Agency. Every conversation was under constant surveillance, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. One couldn’t even grumble aloud without it going on record. Secretly, he was glad when it was quitting time. Working in the NSA gave one a headache. One couldn’t even go to the bathroom without some roving mechanical Cyclops staring at you. Yet, this was the case for all government buildings. Constant surveillance. Always watching.
Lt. Jones entered the safe nurse lab where he instinctively held out his hand and passed it over the receptionist’s scanner. It beeped.
“We’ve been expecting you,” said a thin, middle-aged woman with short hair, plain face, who could easily have passed for a man. Her name tag said Leah. Dr. Charan will see you now. She led him to a small room with pink walls and told him to sit on a table. Leah closed the door and left. He tried the door. Locked. The room was bare. No cabinets, tables, or anything to suggest he was in a doctor’s office, yet he knew he was monitored. A moment later the door opened.
Dr. Ali Singhe Charan was short, bald, bushy gray eyebrows, and wrinkly forehead. “You know how this works,” said Dr. Charan immediately. “Same principle as the V-chip in your right arm. This will be in your left arm. Roll up your sleeves.”
Jones rolled up his left sleeve and relaxed as Dr. Charan rubbed alcohol on his arm. Then he picked up a needle, inserted a rice-sized capsule, and carefully inserted it in the lt’s arm.
That’s it?” asked Jones.
“Yes,” replied Charan. “In 30 days the capsule is programmed to release 100 micrograms of hexylbutyrate and 50 micrograms of pentane dioxide. First you fall asleep, then the heart stops beating. So quick, easy, and painless.”
“And the antidote?”
“There is no antidote for the red capsule. We remove it manually.”
Lt. Jones forced a grin. “I feel like Damocles.”
“You are Damocles,” said Dr. Charan.
“No, Sir. We got him, but somehow he escaped,” said Lt. Jones.
“What do you mean ‘you got him.’ If you got him, he would be dead.”
“Yes, Sir. But you see, when we sent in the corpse collection unit, all they found was an old man named Max Dudley.”
“Didn’t the drones see the unchipper in the plaza?”
“That they did, Sir. But there was some kind of electrical disturbance that confused the drone’s circuitry. The unchipper must have escaped then. The most likely explanation is the drone. . .once the electrical disturbance ceased. . .automatically assumed Mr. Dudley was the unchipped man.”
“Mr. Dudley was a chipped man Lt. How could the drone assume otherwise? Machines never assume Lt. Never. What kind of electrical disturbance was this?”
“We’re still uncertain. Our tech guys are checking it out as we speak. Nothing’s turned up yet. It seems in perfect working order.”
“Keep looking Lt. And keep looking until you find the problem. The last thing we need is another unchipped cowboy running around footloose and fancy free.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I want a full report of the problem ASAP. See to it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“One more thing. See the safe nurse before you leave.”
“But, Sir.”
“You know the Law Codes. Eye for eye and tooth for tooth.”
“What if we don’t find him?”
“Thirty days Lt. You have thirty days before the methyl butyrate is released.”
Lt. Jones left the VelkLaddeur’s office. The last thing he saw was his Cheshire cat-like grin. It unnerved him.
Lt. Jones grumbled to himself as he walked the long corridor to the safe nurse’s lab. He hated this building, the National Security Agency. Every conversation was under constant surveillance, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. One couldn’t even grumble aloud without it going on record. Secretly, he was glad when it was quitting time. Working in the NSA gave one a headache. One couldn’t even go to the bathroom without some roving mechanical Cyclops staring at you. Yet, this was the case for all government buildings. Constant surveillance. Always watching.
Lt. Jones entered the safe nurse lab where he instinctively held out his hand and passed it over the receptionist’s scanner. It beeped.
“We’ve been expecting you,” said a thin, middle-aged woman with short hair, plain face, who could easily have passed for a man. Her name tag said Leah. Dr. Charan will see you now. She led him to a small room with pink walls and told him to sit on a table. Leah closed the door and left. He tried the door. Locked. The room was bare. No cabinets, tables, or anything to suggest he was in a doctor’s office, yet he knew he was monitored. A moment later the door opened.
Dr. Ali Singhe Charan was short, bald, bushy gray eyebrows, and wrinkly forehead. “You know how this works,” said Dr. Charan immediately. “Same principle as the V-chip in your right arm. This will be in your left arm. Roll up your sleeves.”
Jones rolled up his left sleeve and relaxed as Dr. Charan rubbed alcohol on his arm. Then he picked up a needle, inserted a rice-sized capsule, and carefully inserted it in the lt’s arm.
That’s it?” asked Jones.
“Yes,” replied Charan. “In 30 days the capsule is programmed to release 100 micrograms of hexylbutyrate and 50 micrograms of pentane dioxide. First you fall asleep, then the heart stops beating. So quick, easy, and painless.”
“And the antidote?”
“There is no antidote for the red capsule. We remove it manually.”
Lt. Jones forced a grin. “I feel like Damocles.”
“You are Damocles,” said Dr. Charan.
Macrobia
This blog entry is the very rough, coarse, most likely to be re-written 7 more times, 1st (2nd really) draft of chapter 1 of something I'm calling Macrobia, a city-state in the not too distant future of the United States.
This chapter is spread out over a few blog entries because of the word limit. . .and to make it easier to read.
Feel free to comment, critique, offer suggestions, food, and Nepalese Rupees. All will be welcome.
Sincerely,
Someone
PS. I'm copying and pasting this thing from Word.
The call, a high pitched wailing cry, went out from the walls of the castle. Almost by instinct, people everywhere in the plaza emptied their pockets of everything. Receipts, credit cards, pens, watches, necklaces, even cash, and immediately laid it down. Michael hesitated, even though he knew they would check his pockets. Still, there was the chance. He hesitated, thought better, and pulled out a wad of cash and a handkerchief, and shoved it in a crack in the nearby concrete wall.
Michael Perez was a shade under 6-foot-tall and fair in complexion. His thin angular face and dark-grey eyes seemed to pierce one’s soul. People found it difficult to look him in the eyes. They said they felt transparent in his presence and were found wanting. He wore his hair short and as a rule never let it go more than 6 weeks without getting it cut. His long, thin, but very dark eyebrows gave his face a hawk-like bearing. He wore sand-colored khakis and denim long-sleeved shirt. He always wore khakis and long-sleeved shirt, and never varied.
“Of all the times for the Prime Minister to call, it had to be now,” he thought to himself. He looked around. Everyone looked like hippies in a drug-induced stupor. . .or just stupid. He felt ridiculous leaving his money out for the entire world to see. But everyone knew the Law and the sweep patrols were always more than happy to remind you.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m not going to the PM.” The plaza was nearly deserted. A few stragglers hurried past, but other than that nobody remained. Lots of shops surrounded the brick-lined square. He walked in the opposite direction from the PM’s castle keeping his head down to avoid suspicion. Not everyone had to see the PM today. You only had to see him once a year, but once a year was enough.
Michael picked up his pace, and came to a deserted street. It hit him at once like a splash of cold water. “He’s coming. Velkladdeur is coming. He’s at the end of the street.” Michael had developed an uncanny intuition. He could divine events before they happened, and he felt Velkladdeur, the chief of the PM’s secret police, approaching in his mind’s eye. His hair stood on end. His skin crawled. He turned and walked back towards the shopping plaza and the PM.
The plaza was empty. A wave of nausea hit him. He gulped and ran towards the only door left open. Too late. It snapped shut.
“Man, man, man, man, man, MAN. . .this is not good,” he thought. “Hide. I must hide.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tarp-covered park bench adjacent to a construction site. Velkladdeur’s presence was gone, but something else approached. Drone. A flying globe that detected motion. A flying machine, basketball-sized, that sensed the smell of blood. He felt the flying droid hovering around the corner. He turned towards the tarp and nearly ran into a homeless man-the Can Man.
The Can Man was a balding fellow with short, curly, greasy, brown hair. You smelled him before you saw him. The Can Man could always be recognized by his clothes, since he always wore the same thing; faded blue-jeans, tee-shirt, and faded denim jacket. Even in the middle of summer. People said he had a wardrobe full of identical outfits, sort of like a regular Ernest P. Worrell of whom he bore a slight resemblance. The Can Man walked around the city with a black garbage bag collecting aluminum cans to get insulin money for his diabetic wife. There was a slightly devious look in his eyes. Not enough to commit a big crime, like murder, but perhaps a pickpocket or two.
Michael glared for an instant, and then grinned. The Can Man said, “sorry,” in his soft timid voice. Michael ran on.
He dropped to the ground and rolled under the tarp. Seconds later the drone rounded the corner and hovered over the very spot Michael stood. It paused for a moment as if sniffing the air, and then silently buzzed through the air zigzagging to detect the subtle change in the air temperature. It hovered above the tarp-covered picnic table. Michael froze. The flying drones, some no bigger than a sparrow, detected humans by hat and movement. Lie perfectly still and there was a chance you could avoid detection.
“Steady. . .steady, Michael,” he told himself. “Just don’t move.” Every muscle in his body relaxed. He could feel the faint metallic clicking of the manhunter probe slowly ejecting from the drone.
Michael sensed rather than felt the tip of the long, snaky probe rest against the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if the probe registered his existence or not. An alternate thought struck him. “It may think Mr. Can is me.” He didn’t know for sure.
Heart rate: 80 bpm
Blood type: O+
Height: 1.98 m
Weight: 51.1 kg
ID Number: 63MX4R_hss
Caught! He sensed the drone scrape cells from his skin. Just a few were needed for a complete DNA analysis. Why did the drone register him as 63MX4R_hss? He had never been chipped before. His employer kept prodding him to do so, but something about the process bothered him. Nobody dared appear before the PM without proper identification. To do so was certain death. Besides, you couldn’t carry on business without it for long in the city.
He felt the sensor remove from his body and recoil back to the drone. It flew away. Michael relaxed.
Sometime later he heard voices on the plaza. He rolled over and gasped. The Can Man was lying beside him the entire time. His eyes stared directly into Michael. A thin mucus covered them. He was dead.
Michael rolled away and emptied his stomach. A minute later he left the tarp in time to see the first people emerge from the PM’s cathedral. “Something is different about them,” he wondered. “Their eyes. . .they’re glazy, hollow. . .and yet, they live.”
Two women and a little boy walked past. He followed them.
The mass of people headed towards a complex of dome-shaped buildings a mile away. Michael felt compelled to investigate. The closer the buildings, the greater the sense of evil grew on him. “I must…not…enter…that…complex. Complex bad.”
The air seemed heavier, thicker. And, “are my eyes getting blurry?” He wondered.
They walked by a gravel parking lot. “Now is my chance. I’ll just act like I’m going to my car, then duck out of site until everybody is gone.” Michael scrambled three feet down a dusty path and surveyed the lot. “Let’s see now. What kind of a car would Mr. Perez, molecular biologist at ZantraTec Pharmaceuticals drive? The white Mustang? Nope. Too flashy. The black Ford SUV? It would be easy to hide under, but too hot in the July sun. And in this corner we have a green Jeep. Ahh, just right.”
Michael walked to a dirty Wrangler and peered inside. “Whoever owns this thing, must have stock in McDonalds and Marlboro.” The floor was littered with cigarette butts and Big Mac wrappers. It was an older model Jeep, one that required you to punch in a numeric password to open. Unlike the newer versions that only required one to pass your arm over a dash-mounted scanner. The scanner detected the microchip in your arm and presto. . .the door unlocked itself. In the decade since the government began mass-chipping the population, automobile thefts dropped to virtually zero. Still, some people refused to purchase new cars and relied on pre-2015 models.
Embedded microchips first became available in the 1990s when Applied Digital Solutions of Delray Beach, Florida created a device about the size of a grain of rice that could easily be inserted into a person. The VeriChip™ was a tiny implantable radio frequency identification device or RFID. In humans, the microchip is inserted in the back of the upper right arm. Because of its tiny size, it is practically undetectable once embedded. A polyethylene cover helps the chip bond with the skin so it doesn’t migrate.
The chip works in much the same manner as the bar code scanner at your local grocery store. Only instead of a bar code, one has the half inch long microchip in your shoulder. When a scanner or reader passes over, a radio signal energizes the dormant VeriChip™ which then transmits a unique sixteen digit identification number. This number is used to provide access to a secure database in Switzerland containing the person’s complete medical history.
“Ow! Let me go!” shouted a voice. Michael heard scuffling at the end of the parking lot. Two men wearing identical clothing; black pants, black shirt, black shoes, were arresting somebody. The sweep patrol.
In a matter of seconds, the sweep patrollers subdued the man, scanned him, and subjected him to a breath test on their portable GC-MS systems that monitored volatile organic compounds, or VOC’s, that were considered markers for various disease. They also told you what food you ate, how much, and where you purchased it.
A crowd gathered around the scene like a pack of hyenas. And like hyenas, they laughed and stared at the prisoner.
Michael threw himself to the ground and rolled under the Jeep. He didn’t hear or see the man in black watching him. So when a face appeared some time after the mass of people had passed by, he thought for certain he was caught.
This chapter is spread out over a few blog entries because of the word limit. . .and to make it easier to read.
Feel free to comment, critique, offer suggestions, food, and Nepalese Rupees. All will be welcome.
Sincerely,
Someone
PS. I'm copying and pasting this thing from Word.
The call, a high pitched wailing cry, went out from the walls of the castle. Almost by instinct, people everywhere in the plaza emptied their pockets of everything. Receipts, credit cards, pens, watches, necklaces, even cash, and immediately laid it down. Michael hesitated, even though he knew they would check his pockets. Still, there was the chance. He hesitated, thought better, and pulled out a wad of cash and a handkerchief, and shoved it in a crack in the nearby concrete wall.
Michael Perez was a shade under 6-foot-tall and fair in complexion. His thin angular face and dark-grey eyes seemed to pierce one’s soul. People found it difficult to look him in the eyes. They said they felt transparent in his presence and were found wanting. He wore his hair short and as a rule never let it go more than 6 weeks without getting it cut. His long, thin, but very dark eyebrows gave his face a hawk-like bearing. He wore sand-colored khakis and denim long-sleeved shirt. He always wore khakis and long-sleeved shirt, and never varied.
“Of all the times for the Prime Minister to call, it had to be now,” he thought to himself. He looked around. Everyone looked like hippies in a drug-induced stupor. . .or just stupid. He felt ridiculous leaving his money out for the entire world to see. But everyone knew the Law and the sweep patrols were always more than happy to remind you.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m not going to the PM.” The plaza was nearly deserted. A few stragglers hurried past, but other than that nobody remained. Lots of shops surrounded the brick-lined square. He walked in the opposite direction from the PM’s castle keeping his head down to avoid suspicion. Not everyone had to see the PM today. You only had to see him once a year, but once a year was enough.
Michael picked up his pace, and came to a deserted street. It hit him at once like a splash of cold water. “He’s coming. Velkladdeur is coming. He’s at the end of the street.” Michael had developed an uncanny intuition. He could divine events before they happened, and he felt Velkladdeur, the chief of the PM’s secret police, approaching in his mind’s eye. His hair stood on end. His skin crawled. He turned and walked back towards the shopping plaza and the PM.
The plaza was empty. A wave of nausea hit him. He gulped and ran towards the only door left open. Too late. It snapped shut.
“Man, man, man, man, man, MAN. . .this is not good,” he thought. “Hide. I must hide.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tarp-covered park bench adjacent to a construction site. Velkladdeur’s presence was gone, but something else approached. Drone. A flying globe that detected motion. A flying machine, basketball-sized, that sensed the smell of blood. He felt the flying droid hovering around the corner. He turned towards the tarp and nearly ran into a homeless man-the Can Man.
The Can Man was a balding fellow with short, curly, greasy, brown hair. You smelled him before you saw him. The Can Man could always be recognized by his clothes, since he always wore the same thing; faded blue-jeans, tee-shirt, and faded denim jacket. Even in the middle of summer. People said he had a wardrobe full of identical outfits, sort of like a regular Ernest P. Worrell of whom he bore a slight resemblance. The Can Man walked around the city with a black garbage bag collecting aluminum cans to get insulin money for his diabetic wife. There was a slightly devious look in his eyes. Not enough to commit a big crime, like murder, but perhaps a pickpocket or two.
Michael glared for an instant, and then grinned. The Can Man said, “sorry,” in his soft timid voice. Michael ran on.
He dropped to the ground and rolled under the tarp. Seconds later the drone rounded the corner and hovered over the very spot Michael stood. It paused for a moment as if sniffing the air, and then silently buzzed through the air zigzagging to detect the subtle change in the air temperature. It hovered above the tarp-covered picnic table. Michael froze. The flying drones, some no bigger than a sparrow, detected humans by hat and movement. Lie perfectly still and there was a chance you could avoid detection.
“Steady. . .steady, Michael,” he told himself. “Just don’t move.” Every muscle in his body relaxed. He could feel the faint metallic clicking of the manhunter probe slowly ejecting from the drone.
Michael sensed rather than felt the tip of the long, snaky probe rest against the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if the probe registered his existence or not. An alternate thought struck him. “It may think Mr. Can is me.” He didn’t know for sure.
Heart rate: 80 bpm
Blood type: O+
Height: 1.98 m
Weight: 51.1 kg
ID Number: 63MX4R_hss
Caught! He sensed the drone scrape cells from his skin. Just a few were needed for a complete DNA analysis. Why did the drone register him as 63MX4R_hss? He had never been chipped before. His employer kept prodding him to do so, but something about the process bothered him. Nobody dared appear before the PM without proper identification. To do so was certain death. Besides, you couldn’t carry on business without it for long in the city.
He felt the sensor remove from his body and recoil back to the drone. It flew away. Michael relaxed.
Sometime later he heard voices on the plaza. He rolled over and gasped. The Can Man was lying beside him the entire time. His eyes stared directly into Michael. A thin mucus covered them. He was dead.
Michael rolled away and emptied his stomach. A minute later he left the tarp in time to see the first people emerge from the PM’s cathedral. “Something is different about them,” he wondered. “Their eyes. . .they’re glazy, hollow. . .and yet, they live.”
Two women and a little boy walked past. He followed them.
The mass of people headed towards a complex of dome-shaped buildings a mile away. Michael felt compelled to investigate. The closer the buildings, the greater the sense of evil grew on him. “I must…not…enter…that…complex. Complex bad.”
The air seemed heavier, thicker. And, “are my eyes getting blurry?” He wondered.
They walked by a gravel parking lot. “Now is my chance. I’ll just act like I’m going to my car, then duck out of site until everybody is gone.” Michael scrambled three feet down a dusty path and surveyed the lot. “Let’s see now. What kind of a car would Mr. Perez, molecular biologist at ZantraTec Pharmaceuticals drive? The white Mustang? Nope. Too flashy. The black Ford SUV? It would be easy to hide under, but too hot in the July sun. And in this corner we have a green Jeep. Ahh, just right.”
Michael walked to a dirty Wrangler and peered inside. “Whoever owns this thing, must have stock in McDonalds and Marlboro.” The floor was littered with cigarette butts and Big Mac wrappers. It was an older model Jeep, one that required you to punch in a numeric password to open. Unlike the newer versions that only required one to pass your arm over a dash-mounted scanner. The scanner detected the microchip in your arm and presto. . .the door unlocked itself. In the decade since the government began mass-chipping the population, automobile thefts dropped to virtually zero. Still, some people refused to purchase new cars and relied on pre-2015 models.
Embedded microchips first became available in the 1990s when Applied Digital Solutions of Delray Beach, Florida created a device about the size of a grain of rice that could easily be inserted into a person. The VeriChip™ was a tiny implantable radio frequency identification device or RFID. In humans, the microchip is inserted in the back of the upper right arm. Because of its tiny size, it is practically undetectable once embedded. A polyethylene cover helps the chip bond with the skin so it doesn’t migrate.
The chip works in much the same manner as the bar code scanner at your local grocery store. Only instead of a bar code, one has the half inch long microchip in your shoulder. When a scanner or reader passes over, a radio signal energizes the dormant VeriChip™ which then transmits a unique sixteen digit identification number. This number is used to provide access to a secure database in Switzerland containing the person’s complete medical history.
“Ow! Let me go!” shouted a voice. Michael heard scuffling at the end of the parking lot. Two men wearing identical clothing; black pants, black shirt, black shoes, were arresting somebody. The sweep patrol.
In a matter of seconds, the sweep patrollers subdued the man, scanned him, and subjected him to a breath test on their portable GC-MS systems that monitored volatile organic compounds, or VOC’s, that were considered markers for various disease. They also told you what food you ate, how much, and where you purchased it.
A crowd gathered around the scene like a pack of hyenas. And like hyenas, they laughed and stared at the prisoner.
Michael threw himself to the ground and rolled under the Jeep. He didn’t hear or see the man in black watching him. So when a face appeared some time after the mass of people had passed by, he thought for certain he was caught.
17 October 2006
14 October 2006
Sir Spam-a-lot
This message came to my e-mail account. It's from a perfect stranger, and I have no clue what he, or she, or it is talking about.
Who else would think this was a good idea?
has just been released.
More photos coming soon! They are known by any number of other names, such as foo fighters, flying saucers, and Transient Luminescent Phenomena.
One of the issues I hit while setting. " I was suddenly hit with such a strong feeling of utter emptiness that I didn't have the heart to continue.
Well, besides fly and make guacamole.
" Do you need me to slow down? Often, however, we exit a sold-out theater feeling deceived after the hype. Someone should remind him of this fact, because likely he's forgotten about it, along with his name. While I do not expect car stereo manufacturers to grok podcasting, it would be nice if. They are no standard shape, but instead seem to vary as fashion demands. While the latter is perhaps a more accurate description, it is too sterile to capture the imagination of most researchers and seems confine to a doctor of geology studying Pine Bush, NY. Occasionally, it is reported that the objects seem aware of humans and will react to being seen.
Finally, they fell apart.
They are no standard shape, but instead seem to vary as fashion demands.
You know that, right?
Already, their were website scrutinizing the fliers and trying to ponder Shane's next move.
While the latter is perhaps a more accurate description, it is too sterile to capture the imagination of most researchers and seems confine to a doctor of geology studying Pine Bush, NY. He looks like he would be good at frisbee, but further testing will be necessary.
No, I was frozen simply by the raw passion of their kiss-the opposite of the complete emptiness that had washed over me and from which I was still trying to escape.
Occasionally, it is reported that the objects seem aware of humans and will react to being seen.
While I do not expect car stereo manufacturers to grok podcasting, it would be nice if.
Who else would think this was a good idea?
has just been released.
More photos coming soon! They are known by any number of other names, such as foo fighters, flying saucers, and Transient Luminescent Phenomena.
One of the issues I hit while setting. " I was suddenly hit with such a strong feeling of utter emptiness that I didn't have the heart to continue.
Well, besides fly and make guacamole.
" Do you need me to slow down? Often, however, we exit a sold-out theater feeling deceived after the hype. Someone should remind him of this fact, because likely he's forgotten about it, along with his name. While I do not expect car stereo manufacturers to grok podcasting, it would be nice if. They are no standard shape, but instead seem to vary as fashion demands. While the latter is perhaps a more accurate description, it is too sterile to capture the imagination of most researchers and seems confine to a doctor of geology studying Pine Bush, NY. Occasionally, it is reported that the objects seem aware of humans and will react to being seen.
Finally, they fell apart.
They are no standard shape, but instead seem to vary as fashion demands.
You know that, right?
Already, their were website scrutinizing the fliers and trying to ponder Shane's next move.
While the latter is perhaps a more accurate description, it is too sterile to capture the imagination of most researchers and seems confine to a doctor of geology studying Pine Bush, NY. He looks like he would be good at frisbee, but further testing will be necessary.
No, I was frozen simply by the raw passion of their kiss-the opposite of the complete emptiness that had washed over me and from which I was still trying to escape.
Occasionally, it is reported that the objects seem aware of humans and will react to being seen.
While I do not expect car stereo manufacturers to grok podcasting, it would be nice if.
13 October 2006
12 October 2006
Life
I must say, I envy people who own their very own washing machines.
These people are superb.
God likes them.
I dream of no more trips to the laundromat with a bulging pocket full of quarters jangling in your pants making you look like a circus clown with a tumor on his thigh. No more reading 3 year old McCall’s magazines with the coupon for a free bottle of slim fast cut out. No more deep conversations with 50 year old greasy, slobbery men, wearing shorts and too small tee- shirts, who scratch their bellys and play video games and still live with mom. No more quality time spent wanting to smack little unruly children wandering around the parking lot playing tag, and sometimes running up to the chair you’re sitting on and holding on to it for dear life because they’ve made it ‘home.’ No more mumbling under you breath saying “Please don’t look at me like that ever again woman.”
I want to be REALLY happy in Life, not simply mediocre happy.
My sister is a year and a half younger and single. It would be very strange to see her wedding, to see her married. To know that she’s doing all those things married people do that single people don’t, or rather shouldn’t, because if they wait, it will be better than if they hadn’t. So, they wait, and get antsy, and pester God with silly questions, and go outside and run 12 miles, then take a shower, a cold one, because they’re hot and salty, which makes them thirsty, so they drink water, tap water, which isn’t cold enough. So they put it in the freezer to chill, meanwhile they chill, by taking a nap, and oversleep because of a heat headache. So they make coffee, boil it to extract extra caffeine. Drink it to make the headache go away, which it does, in time. Of course now they have to go to the bathroom since the caffeine is a highly diuretic substance, which makes them thirsty again, so they get the water from the freezer, but it’s harder than a deBeers diamond, so they make iced coffee, which breaks the blender, and splashes coffee on their white tee-shirt, which means another laundromat trip to Hades across the River Styx, trying to avoid Medusa, but can’t, Pandora’s Box has been opened, the goddess has perceived your singlehood, asks if you want to be REALLY happy, so you put on solemn airs and say as seriously as you can, “Por lo siento senorita, para yo no hablo ingles bien,” she is not amused, nor are her 7 out of wedlock children, she’s leaves in disgust, but not after forgetting and leaving a dirty sock on the floor, which falls by your foot, which you try to avoid by contorting your body like a Hindu mystic, and in doing so convince the guy across the room, the ‘big-boned’ fella with Big Mac and fries breath, you need more trans-5-omega-7-gluclosidase mindotoxine pills to cure you, he’s an expert in such things, read it in Cosmopolitan, right beside the astrology column.......ahhhhhhhhhh........Life.
These people are superb.
God likes them.
I dream of no more trips to the laundromat with a bulging pocket full of quarters jangling in your pants making you look like a circus clown with a tumor on his thigh. No more reading 3 year old McCall’s magazines with the coupon for a free bottle of slim fast cut out. No more deep conversations with 50 year old greasy, slobbery men, wearing shorts and too small tee- shirts, who scratch their bellys and play video games and still live with mom. No more quality time spent wanting to smack little unruly children wandering around the parking lot playing tag, and sometimes running up to the chair you’re sitting on and holding on to it for dear life because they’ve made it ‘home.’ No more mumbling under you breath saying “Please don’t look at me like that ever again woman.”
I want to be REALLY happy in Life, not simply mediocre happy.
My sister is a year and a half younger and single. It would be very strange to see her wedding, to see her married. To know that she’s doing all those things married people do that single people don’t, or rather shouldn’t, because if they wait, it will be better than if they hadn’t. So, they wait, and get antsy, and pester God with silly questions, and go outside and run 12 miles, then take a shower, a cold one, because they’re hot and salty, which makes them thirsty, so they drink water, tap water, which isn’t cold enough. So they put it in the freezer to chill, meanwhile they chill, by taking a nap, and oversleep because of a heat headache. So they make coffee, boil it to extract extra caffeine. Drink it to make the headache go away, which it does, in time. Of course now they have to go to the bathroom since the caffeine is a highly diuretic substance, which makes them thirsty again, so they get the water from the freezer, but it’s harder than a deBeers diamond, so they make iced coffee, which breaks the blender, and splashes coffee on their white tee-shirt, which means another laundromat trip to Hades across the River Styx, trying to avoid Medusa, but can’t, Pandora’s Box has been opened, the goddess has perceived your singlehood, asks if you want to be REALLY happy, so you put on solemn airs and say as seriously as you can, “Por lo siento senorita, para yo no hablo ingles bien,” she is not amused, nor are her 7 out of wedlock children, she’s leaves in disgust, but not after forgetting and leaving a dirty sock on the floor, which falls by your foot, which you try to avoid by contorting your body like a Hindu mystic, and in doing so convince the guy across the room, the ‘big-boned’ fella with Big Mac and fries breath, you need more trans-5-omega-7-gluclosidase mindotoxine pills to cure you, he’s an expert in such things, read it in Cosmopolitan, right beside the astrology column.......ahhhhhhhhhh........Life.
09 October 2006
Prey
By Michael Crichton is not worth reading. It has potential, but he should re-write the book because it's f-l-a-t.
State Farm sent me a gift certificate for paying my bills on time. With it, I bought two books at Amazon.com, and one only cost me 46 cents.
State Farm sent me a gift certificate for paying my bills on time. With it, I bought two books at Amazon.com, and one only cost me 46 cents.
08 October 2006
Visitors
The Bushes were in town yesterday.
Former President George H.W. Bush and his sons, President George W. Bush and Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, after the christening of the aircraft carrier named for the senior Bush. DELORES JOHNSON / THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Former President George H.W. Bush and his sons, President George W. Bush and Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, after the christening of the aircraft carrier named for the senior Bush. DELORES JOHNSON / THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
07 October 2006
Let them eat cake
My sister, God help her, baked this cake from scratch in our oven. In most cases, I would lick the icing in some obscure part of the cake so as not to arouse suspicion. In this case, it just didn't seem right anywhere.
06 October 2006
Obsessive Compulsive. . .me?
You May Be a Bit Obsessive Compulsive... |
 Meticulous and detailed oriented, you have some irrational obsessions. Maybe it's your super neat closet or washing your hands a gazillion times. You probably know it's weird, but you just can't stop thinking about it. In fact, the more you think about your quirks, the more you have to do them. |
05 October 2006
Blogging
"I spend way too much time reading blogs of strangers cause it's addicting to read the personal and semi-private online journals which tells me that I have a curious nature, much more than normal, and I should really find some other things to do with my life so as not to waste so much time because, after all, what good can one glean from the perusing of all this blogomania?" thinks Jason as he types on his Compaq at 3 PM while staring out the window at the cleaning ladies troop from apartment to apartment on golf carts sweating profusely in the 75 degree sunny weather here in Virginia Beach and the squirrels who play in the front grassy area before the children return from school and chase them with rusty tricycles and streamers and ice cream in their pudgy little hands.
The area beside the apartment complex here to Regent University (a mile away) is a large, wooded area home to fat old foxes who come out at night looking for rabbits and other small furry creatures with whom or of whom, I forget which it's supposed to be, they can spend and agreeable night with. The creature I saw the other night was the fattest fox I have ever seen. It was checking out the 3 large rabbits that hang out in my front yard and when it saw me coming, trooped off back to the woods.
Have you ever felt like Charlie from Flowers for Algernon. . .after he comes down from his medication? Yeah, it's kind of a bazaar feeling, knowing that you have a prodigious quantity of knowledge in your mind, but can't access it for unexplainable reasons. . .actually you could, but to do so would require something extraordinary to jog your memory banks.
I wonder what heaven will be like has been the dominant thought in my mind, not brain, mind, mind you, lately and I cannot seem to get rid of it nor do I want to. I also have this incredible feeling that God is staring at me like a giant biologist looking down through a rather large microscope and keeping me separate from other humans to see what I do. It's like he is reserving me for some future event in the Earth's history and right now I'm not ready to do that task, deed, or work, but will soon be called to do it for nobody else will know how or won't want to and this is one reason why I am not yet married as it would be in the best interest of humanity in the long term if I do it. . .sort of like Jeremiah the prophet. Nevertheless, in the meantime I feel absolutely compelled and driven to write like a madman, (this is horrendous writing and I know it and do not even care to know what my grammar is like-though actually I do), write write write right now. Ahora. Ecrivez maintenant. Blog blog blog. Slog slog slog. Slog through the blog. Slog through the blog like a frog in the bog. Blog like a song like a frog in the smog. "A chain in a cog," said the rooster to the throng. "That's my song," said the biker to King Kong as he sat on a log in the bog on a log while he hummed a little song.
The area beside the apartment complex here to Regent University (a mile away) is a large, wooded area home to fat old foxes who come out at night looking for rabbits and other small furry creatures with whom or of whom, I forget which it's supposed to be, they can spend and agreeable night with. The creature I saw the other night was the fattest fox I have ever seen. It was checking out the 3 large rabbits that hang out in my front yard and when it saw me coming, trooped off back to the woods.
Have you ever felt like Charlie from Flowers for Algernon. . .after he comes down from his medication? Yeah, it's kind of a bazaar feeling, knowing that you have a prodigious quantity of knowledge in your mind, but can't access it for unexplainable reasons. . .actually you could, but to do so would require something extraordinary to jog your memory banks.
I wonder what heaven will be like has been the dominant thought in my mind, not brain, mind, mind you, lately and I cannot seem to get rid of it nor do I want to. I also have this incredible feeling that God is staring at me like a giant biologist looking down through a rather large microscope and keeping me separate from other humans to see what I do. It's like he is reserving me for some future event in the Earth's history and right now I'm not ready to do that task, deed, or work, but will soon be called to do it for nobody else will know how or won't want to and this is one reason why I am not yet married as it would be in the best interest of humanity in the long term if I do it. . .sort of like Jeremiah the prophet. Nevertheless, in the meantime I feel absolutely compelled and driven to write like a madman, (this is horrendous writing and I know it and do not even care to know what my grammar is like-though actually I do), write write write right now. Ahora. Ecrivez maintenant. Blog blog blog. Slog slog slog. Slog through the blog. Slog through the blog like a frog in the bog. Blog like a song like a frog in the smog. "A chain in a cog," said the rooster to the throng. "That's my song," said the biker to King Kong as he sat on a log in the bog on a log while he hummed a little song.
03 October 2006
02 October 2006
28 September 2006
New things in my life
My left pointy finger is numb and cold. I think I squashed a nerve in my back that travels through my forearm and attaches to it.
This apartment smells like apples.
The Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia does to.
I saw a fox in downtown Chesapeake the other night.
Last night at work a co-worker told me a shofar (a rams horn) is the sound of God and asked me if we had one at church. I said no and told him you can't blow those things in Virginia Beach because the police will put you in jail. He then proceded many times that night to imitate a rams horn because he thought I was being too secular.
I got plenty of rest when I clocked out and went home.
I ate the rest of the jalepeno flavored pretzels for part of my breakfast.
My car needs washed.
I lifted weights 1/2 and hour ago and want more food but all the dishes are being washed in the dishwasher.
This apartment smells like apples.
The Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia does to.
I saw a fox in downtown Chesapeake the other night.
Last night at work a co-worker told me a shofar (a rams horn) is the sound of God and asked me if we had one at church. I said no and told him you can't blow those things in Virginia Beach because the police will put you in jail. He then proceded many times that night to imitate a rams horn because he thought I was being too secular.
I got plenty of rest when I clocked out and went home.
I ate the rest of the jalepeno flavored pretzels for part of my breakfast.
My car needs washed.
I lifted weights 1/2 and hour ago and want more food but all the dishes are being washed in the dishwasher.
27 September 2006
Moon-Watcher
In the book, 2001 A Space Odyssey, (my current read) Moon-Watcher is the leader of the last tribe of hominids in Central Africa around 3 million years ago.
Note: I don't think the Theory of Common Descent is the best explanation of reality, but it does make for a good story.
He is nearly five feet tall, hairy, and has two women and a cave. What cements his status as a local legend is the day he kills a leopard and impales the head on a stick. This act alone makes him ruler of the free world and the inventor of shish-kabob. Which brings me to my next topic-current world leaders.
My aunt sent me this picture of one world leader and I don't know what to make of it. I'll let you write the caption.
Note: I don't think the Theory of Common Descent is the best explanation of reality, but it does make for a good story.
He is nearly five feet tall, hairy, and has two women and a cave. What cements his status as a local legend is the day he kills a leopard and impales the head on a stick. This act alone makes him ruler of the free world and the inventor of shish-kabob. Which brings me to my next topic-current world leaders.
My aunt sent me this picture of one world leader and I don't know what to make of it. I'll let you write the caption.
21 September 2006
Thank You
from http://www.edvard-munch.com/Paintings/anxiety/scream_3.jpg
I want to take this time right now to thank all the drug and chemical manufacturers at Bayer Pharmaceuticals for the wonderful mind-altering and semi-hallucinogenic substances that you sell to the general public.
The last 24 hours went by quicker than I thought thanks to your products.
While laying prostrate since late Tues,early Wednesday. . .details are fuzzy. . .I had much time to reflect on how much I have yet to accomplish in Life. I also had some very very strange dreams which is to be expected when it feels like Satan himself visits you and is jabbing your forehead with a laser beam and making you feel like experiencing the ice cream headache from the 7th level of Hades.
I dreamed (by the way. . .I've never done any illegal drugs in my life). . .that the government passed a law sending all Americans back to their 8th grade English class for a semester of remedial treatment. All my grade school friends were there, including their wives, children, and other English teachers (not everyone-some had died). And we spent the day going over gerunds, and dangling participles, and how we should put i before e except after c (and some other word). And I remarked how fat the former cheerleaders were. At lunch, we went to Africa and were standing on a bridge watching a herd of 1,000 elephants drink from a river. I had one picture left and then discovered my camera had a chip that could record 100 more. Then we went to a petting zoo with antelope, springboks, white-tailed deer, elk, moose, sheep, goats, and zebras. One of the antelopes was head-butting a baby goat, then a lion escaped, but nobody paid much attention because we were going to England. In England, we came to a mountain that looked almost exactly like the one I grew up on, except instead of houses there were enormous trains. It was, in fact, a museum dedicated to trains. . .and all the trains were about 100 feet high and painted in bright shiny colors. Then we went to a ski lodge because somebody wanted to rent a jet plane on call up there to 'cruise around a bit.' The pilot was there watching us though none of us knew it, and we were discussing rumors about how much of a drunk he was. Nobody rented the jet.
Then, I met a man who designed a jet-car. I saw him flying through the air over some very high mountains (Pyrenees?), then he ejected in a thing like a rocket and parachuted down to earth in an asbestos and kevlar parachute that felt like one of those scouring pads one uses to wash dishes.
Back to the lodge, we made plans to go skiing next week in West Virginia. I told the guys I went just a few weeks ago forgetting that it hasn't snowed in West Virginia since, oh, the last Ice Age, but somehow I distinctly remember doing so, but it was very muddy.
Then I woke up, drank an espresso, cooked an omelet, and prayed never to go through an experience like that ever again.
You can start psycho-analyzing me now.
18 September 2006
Motivation
I am taking a break from Regent U this semester to finish working on a science-fiction novel. I need a break.
A man who has no purpose in life cannot possibly be motivated to do much. He may work hard and be very intelligent, but if he has no defined goal, he is fulfilling another man's dream. He is a mere pawn in another man's vision.
When a man has a specific dream, he cannot be stopped. He may encounter hardships and difficulties along the way, but the path to greatness is never easy. . .unless he wins the lottery. Besides, life wouldn't be that interesting if it weren't for all these little 'adventures' that people like to talk about when they're old and gray and smell funny.
A man who has no purpose in life cannot possibly be motivated to do much. He may work hard and be very intelligent, but if he has no defined goal, he is fulfilling another man's dream. He is a mere pawn in another man's vision.
When a man has a specific dream, he cannot be stopped. He may encounter hardships and difficulties along the way, but the path to greatness is never easy. . .unless he wins the lottery. Besides, life wouldn't be that interesting if it weren't for all these little 'adventures' that people like to talk about when they're old and gray and smell funny.
15 September 2006
Profoundnessness
"I used to be with it. But then they changed what it was. Now what I'm with isn't it. And what's it seems weird and scary to me."
- Abe Simpson
It is high noon here on the east coast and (so far) this is my deepest thought of the day.
- Abe Simpson
It is high noon here on the east coast and (so far) this is my deepest thought of the day.
13 September 2006
The new manshack and some philosophy
Here, ladies and gentlehobbits is the new place. . .the new castle. . .which during hurricanes has a fairly cool moat.
And now, some philosophy. . .
"Every ant knows the formula of its anthill
Every bee knows the formula of its beehive
They know it in their own way, not ours
Only mankind does not know its formula"
--Fyodor Dostoevsky
And thus we rely on alternate means to make meaning of Life. Means that were not meant to be used, or rather, we use our faculty of logic which is an attempt to reduce everything down to biology. I'm talking Survival of the Fittest, Reductionism, the Law of the Jungle.
This is the natural inclination of mankind when he forgets, or fails to realize, that there exists a spiritual reality far more concrete than the physical reality we observe with our biological senses. The one composed of atoms, molecules, electrons, quarks, and muons all the way up to planets, solar systems, and galaxies.
When a civilization fails to acknowledge the unseen, all it's decisions must be based on the seen. In due course, that civilization must decline, like Rome.
But you say, "Well, in a hedonistic society like 2006 America, we're doing pretty good."
That's because we are living on the moral capital of the last 200 years. Furthermore, are modern Americans really better off now than they were in, say, the 1950's?
Most people I see are obese, dull-witted, and unable to think an original thought more than twice a week (I'm trying to be nice here).
It seems to me that we are losing the moral momentum of the previous generations, and are slowing down, fast, due to the friction of immorality.
12 September 2006
Yes, miracles do happen
At precisely 10:19 A.M. as I lay sleeping in bed, with one cocked open staring at the little green led on my dsl modem,(The one that has not been on for 3 weeks),I witnessed a miracle. I heard a pop! and lo! the little green light came on!
Hurriedly, I picked up my phone to congratulate the copper-wire-using Horrorizon telecommunications ogre on arriving to the 21st century and heard voices talking. . .Voices of people that do not live in this apartment. . .and classical music.
In time, the voices ceased and the music stopped. A man then called asking if I wanted to test drive a BMW.
"Not right now," I'm still sleeping.
Another phone call. This time a different man called asking if I lived in the apartment beside mine. . .the one with the two old people and barking dog that keeps licking it's chops every time it sees me.
"No, I live here, not there."
OK, so he comes over here, as opposed to there, and asks if my dsl works. And it did, and still does. And I am still in shock and awe.
Hurriedly, I picked up my phone to congratulate the copper-wire-using Horrorizon telecommunications ogre on arriving to the 21st century and heard voices talking. . .Voices of people that do not live in this apartment. . .and classical music.
In time, the voices ceased and the music stopped. A man then called asking if I wanted to test drive a BMW.
"Not right now," I'm still sleeping.
Another phone call. This time a different man called asking if I lived in the apartment beside mine. . .the one with the two old people and barking dog that keeps licking it's chops every time it sees me.
"No, I live here, not there."
OK, so he comes over here, as opposed to there, and asks if my dsl works. And it did, and still does. And I am still in shock and awe.
The brand spanking new Wigglepad
Unfortunately, this computer won't recognize any photos of the place except this one which is the very first thing one sees when walking through the door. What one actually sees when walking through the front door is an aquarium with 2 fighting fish, a Bob Dylan poster, some plants, a treasure chest, some cardboard boxes, and a hand-made wooden cobra with ruby eyes guarding a small wooden chest containing approximately $50 worth of Nepalese rupees, a golden ring (not THE ring of course), and two nice Gneiss rocks collected from Mt. Everest Base camp.
And one might also see a replica of van Gogh's Starry Night and Salvador Dali's Persistence of Memory.
Should you wish to call me, however, you might find it difficult since a certain telecommunications company, which we'll called Horrorizon, has been mysteriously unable to provide me with anything like telephone service for the past three weeks.
11 September 2006
Today's sign of the Apocalypse
I saw a sign saying gas (87 octane) was $2.39/gallon and I thought to myself that this is really cheap.
09 September 2006
Talk
A good conversation is like a dance. Two minds twirling around one another. Complementing souls. I've found in Life, the best talks complete you, make you whole. It's mental synergicism. Each sentence, each phrase contributing to some undefinable, yet tangible, masterpiece. A masterpiece seen only in the mind's eye, and not wholly complete or recognizable until after a lifetime.
06 September 2006
Just Life
Moving.
This is the one week anniversary of my moving into a new apartment.
It's also the one week anniversary of Verizon telephone company being unable to reconnect my service.
And. . .It's the one week anniversary of not having an internet connection (This entry is being made on somebody else's computer)
It is strange having a roommate after the better part of a decade. And when it's your sister, whom you've only seen an average of once or twice a year since the late 90s, it's even stranger.
I must remind myself to stop talking to myself.
This is the one week anniversary of my moving into a new apartment.
It's also the one week anniversary of Verizon telephone company being unable to reconnect my service.
And. . .It's the one week anniversary of not having an internet connection (This entry is being made on somebody else's computer)
It is strange having a roommate after the better part of a decade. And when it's your sister, whom you've only seen an average of once or twice a year since the late 90s, it's even stranger.
I must remind myself to stop talking to myself.
24 August 2006
Hi Mom. No, I'm not bulemic. . .
I present to you, oh gentle reader, the receipt I received for the 11 items I purchased today.
All 7 ft 11 inches of it.
I'm glad I wasn't shopping for an orphanage.
All 7 ft 11 inches of it.
I'm glad I wasn't shopping for an orphanage.
23 August 2006
Must Read
Attention all English-speaking humans. Read this book. It's hilarious and funny as well. It's like a Pacific-Northwest version of 'To Kill a Mockingbird.' (Of course, I'm only at pg 198-that may change)
21 August 2006
I found this while packing today among some files
STUDENT BLOOPERS by Richard Lederer (St. Paul's School)
(Note: I obtained this text file at an education conference. Copies were distributed to all in
attendance to promote a forthcoming book by Mr. Lederer. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
I laughed until tears came to my eyes.
--H. Bonillas)
One of the fringe benefits of being an English or History teacher is receiving the occasional
jewel of a student blooper in an essay. I have pasted together the following “history” of the world
from certifiably, genuine student bloopers collected by teachers throughout the United States, from eighth grade through the college level. Read carefully, and you will learn a lot.
The inhabitants of ancient Egypt were called mummies. They lived in the Sarah Dessert and
traveled by Camelot. The climate of the Sarah is such that the inhabitants have to live elsewhere, so certain areas of dessert are cultivated by irrigation. The Egyptians built the Pyramids in the shape of a large triangular cube. The Pramids are a range of mountains between France and Spain.
The Bible is full of interesting caricatures. In the first book of the Bible, Guinesses, Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree. One of their children, Cain, once asked, "Am I my brother's son?" God asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac on Mount Montezuma. Jacob was a patriarch who brought up his twelve sons to be patriarchs, but they did not take to it. One of Jacob's sons, Joseph, gave refuse to the Israelites.
Pharaoh forced the Hebrew slaves to make bread without straw. Moses led them to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread, which is bread made without any ingredients. David was a Hebrew king skilled at playing the liar. He fought with the Philatelists, a race of people who lived in Biblical times. Solomon, one of David’s sons, had 500 wives and 500 porcupines.
Without the Greeks we wouldn’t have history. The Greeks invented three kinds of columns—Corinthian, Doric, and Ironic. They also had myths. A myth is a female moth. One myth says that the mother of Achilles dipped him in the River Stynx until he became intolerable. Achilles appears in The Illiad, by Homer. Homer also wrote The Oddity, in which Penelope was the last hardship that Ulysses endured on his journey. Actually, Homer was not written by Homer but by another man of that name.
Socrates was a famous Greek teacher who went around giving people advice. They killed him. Socrates died from an overdose of wedlock.
In the Olympic Games, Greeks ran races, jumped, hurled the biscuits, and threw the java. The reward to the victor was a coral wreath. The government of Athens was democratic because people took the law into their own hands. There were no wars in Greece, as the mountains were so high that they couldn't climb over to see what their neighbors were doing. When they fought with the Persians, the Greeks were outnumbered because the Persians had more men.
Eventually, the Ramons conquered the Greeks. History calls people Romans because they never stayed in one place for very long. At Roman banquets, the guests wore garlics in their hair. Julius Caesar extinguished himself on the battlefields of Gaul. The Ides of March murdered him because they thought he was going to be made king. Nero was a cruel tyranny who would torture his poor subjects by playing the fiddle to them.
Then came the Middle Ages. King Alfred conquered the Dames, King Arthur lived in the Age of Shivery, King Harold mustarded his troops before the Battle of Hastings, Joan of Arc was cannonized by Bernard Shaw, and victims of the Black Death grew boobs on their necks. Finally, Magna Carta provided that no free man should be hanged twice for the same offense.
In middevil times most of the people were alliterate. The greatest writer of the time was Chaucer, who wrote many poems and verses and also wrote literature. Another tale tells of William Tell, who shot an arrow through an apple while standing on his son's head.
The Renaissance was an age in which more individuals felt the value of their human being. Martin Luther was nailed to the church door at Wittenberg, for selling papal indulgences. He died a horrible death, being, excommunicated by a bull. It was the painter Donatello's interest in the female nude that made him the father of the Renaissance. It was an age of great inventions and discoveries. Gutenberg invented the Bible. Sir Walter Raleigh is a historical figure because he invented cigarettes. Another important invention was the circulation of blood. Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100-foot clipper.
The government of England was a limited mockery. Henry VIII found walking difficult because he had an abbess on his knee. Queen Elizabeth was the "Virgin Queen." As a queen she was a success. When Elizabeth exposed herself before her troops, they all shouted, "hurrah." Then her navy went out and defeated the Spanish Armadillo.
The greatest writer of the Renaissance was William Shakespeare. Shakespeare never made much money and is famous only because of his plays. He lived at Windsor with his merry wives, writing tragedies, comedies, and errors. In one of Shakespear’s famous plays, Hamlet rations out his situation by relieving himself in a long solilguy. In another, Lady Macbeth tries to convince Macbeth to kill the King by attacking his manhood. Romeo and Juliet are an example of a heroic couplet. Writing at the same time as Shakepear was Miguel Cervantes. He wrote Donkey Hote. The next author was John Milton. Miltonwrote Paradise Lost. Then his wife died and he wrote Paradise Regained.
During the Renaissance America began. Christopher columbus was a great navigator who discovered America while cursing about the Atlantic. His ships were called the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Fe. Later, the Pilgrims crossed the Ocean, and this was known as Pilgrims Progress. When they landed at Plymouth Rock, they were greeted by the Indians, who came down the hill rolling their war hoops before them. The Indian squabs carried porpoises on their back. Many of the Indian heroes were killed along with their cabooses, which proved very fatal to them. The winter of 1620 was a hard one for the settlers. Many people died and many babies were born. Captain John Smith was responsible for all this.
One of the causes of the Revolutionary War was the English put tacks in their tea. Also, the colonists would send their parcels through the post Without stamps. During the War, the Red Coats and Paul Revere was throwing balls over stone walls. The dogs were barking and the peacocks crowing. Finally, the colonists won the War and no longer had to pay for taxis.
Delegates from the original thirteen states formed the Contented Congress. Thomas Jefferson, a Virgin, and Benjamin Franklin were two singers of the Declaration of Independence. Franklin had gone to Boston carrying all his clothes in his pocket and a loaf of bread under each arm. He invented electricity by rubbing cats backwards and declared, "A horse divided against itself cannot stand." Franklin died in 1790 and is still dead.
George Washington married Martha Curtis and in due time became the Father of Our Country. Then the Constitution of the United States was adopted to secure domestic hostility. Under the Constitution the people enjoyed the right to keep bare arms.
Abraham Lincoln became America’s greatest Precedent. Lincoln’s mother died in infancy, and he was
born in a log cabin which he built with his own hands. When Lincoln was President, he wore only a tall silk hat. He said, "in onion there is strength." Abraham Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address while traveling from Washington to Gettysburg on the back of an envelope. He also freed the slaves by signing the Emasculation Proclamation, and the Fourteenth Amendment gave the ex-Negroes citizenship. But the Clue Clux Clan would torcher and lynch the ex-Negroes and other innocent victims. It claimed it represented law and odor. On the night of April 14, 1865, Lincoln went to the theater and got shot in his seat by one of the actors in a moving picture show. The believed assinator was John Wilkes Booth, a supposingly insane actor. This ruined Booth's career.
Meanwhile in Europe, the enlightenment was a reasonable time. Voltare invented electricity and also wrote a book called Candy. Gravity was invented by Isaac Walton. It is chiefly noticeable in the Autumn, when the apples are falling off the trees.
Bach was the most famous composer in the world and so was Handel. Handel was half German, half Italian, and half English. He was very large. Bach died from 1750 to the present. Beethoven wrote music even though he was deaf. He was so deaf he wrote loud music. He took long walks in the forest even when everyone was calling for him. Beethoven expired in 1827 and later died for this.
France was in a very serious state. The French Revolution was accomplished before it happened. The Marseillaise was the theme song of the French Revolution, and it catapulted into Napoleon. During the Napoleonic Wars, the crowned heads of Europe were trembling in their shoes. Then Spanish gorillas came down from the hills and nipped Napoleon’s flanks. Napoleon became ill with bladder problems and was tense and unrestrained. He wanted an heir to inherit his power, but Josephine was a baroness, she couldn't bear children.
The sun never set on the British Empire because the British Empire is in the East and the sun sets in the West. Queen Victoria was the longest queen. She sat on a thorn for 63 years. Her reclining years and finally the end of her life were exemplatory of a great personality. Her death was the final event which ended her reign.
The nineteenth century was a time of great inventions and thoughts. The invention of the steamboat caused a network of rivers to sring up. Cyrus McCormick invented the McCormisk raper, which did the work of a hundred men. Samuel Morse invented a code of telepathy. Louis Pasteur discovered a cure for rabbis. Charles Darwin was a naturalist who wrote the Organ of Species. Madman Curie discovered radium. And Karl Marx became one of the Marx brothers.
The First World War, caused by the assignation of the ArchDuck by a surf, ushered in a new error in the anals of human history.
(end of file)
(Note: I obtained this text file at an education conference. Copies were distributed to all in
attendance to promote a forthcoming book by Mr. Lederer. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
I laughed until tears came to my eyes.
--H. Bonillas)
One of the fringe benefits of being an English or History teacher is receiving the occasional
jewel of a student blooper in an essay. I have pasted together the following “history” of the world
from certifiably, genuine student bloopers collected by teachers throughout the United States, from eighth grade through the college level. Read carefully, and you will learn a lot.
The inhabitants of ancient Egypt were called mummies. They lived in the Sarah Dessert and
traveled by Camelot. The climate of the Sarah is such that the inhabitants have to live elsewhere, so certain areas of dessert are cultivated by irrigation. The Egyptians built the Pyramids in the shape of a large triangular cube. The Pramids are a range of mountains between France and Spain.
The Bible is full of interesting caricatures. In the first book of the Bible, Guinesses, Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree. One of their children, Cain, once asked, "Am I my brother's son?" God asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac on Mount Montezuma. Jacob was a patriarch who brought up his twelve sons to be patriarchs, but they did not take to it. One of Jacob's sons, Joseph, gave refuse to the Israelites.
Pharaoh forced the Hebrew slaves to make bread without straw. Moses led them to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread, which is bread made without any ingredients. David was a Hebrew king skilled at playing the liar. He fought with the Philatelists, a race of people who lived in Biblical times. Solomon, one of David’s sons, had 500 wives and 500 porcupines.
Without the Greeks we wouldn’t have history. The Greeks invented three kinds of columns—Corinthian, Doric, and Ironic. They also had myths. A myth is a female moth. One myth says that the mother of Achilles dipped him in the River Stynx until he became intolerable. Achilles appears in The Illiad, by Homer. Homer also wrote The Oddity, in which Penelope was the last hardship that Ulysses endured on his journey. Actually, Homer was not written by Homer but by another man of that name.
Socrates was a famous Greek teacher who went around giving people advice. They killed him. Socrates died from an overdose of wedlock.
In the Olympic Games, Greeks ran races, jumped, hurled the biscuits, and threw the java. The reward to the victor was a coral wreath. The government of Athens was democratic because people took the law into their own hands. There were no wars in Greece, as the mountains were so high that they couldn't climb over to see what their neighbors were doing. When they fought with the Persians, the Greeks were outnumbered because the Persians had more men.
Eventually, the Ramons conquered the Greeks. History calls people Romans because they never stayed in one place for very long. At Roman banquets, the guests wore garlics in their hair. Julius Caesar extinguished himself on the battlefields of Gaul. The Ides of March murdered him because they thought he was going to be made king. Nero was a cruel tyranny who would torture his poor subjects by playing the fiddle to them.
Then came the Middle Ages. King Alfred conquered the Dames, King Arthur lived in the Age of Shivery, King Harold mustarded his troops before the Battle of Hastings, Joan of Arc was cannonized by Bernard Shaw, and victims of the Black Death grew boobs on their necks. Finally, Magna Carta provided that no free man should be hanged twice for the same offense.
In middevil times most of the people were alliterate. The greatest writer of the time was Chaucer, who wrote many poems and verses and also wrote literature. Another tale tells of William Tell, who shot an arrow through an apple while standing on his son's head.
The Renaissance was an age in which more individuals felt the value of their human being. Martin Luther was nailed to the church door at Wittenberg, for selling papal indulgences. He died a horrible death, being, excommunicated by a bull. It was the painter Donatello's interest in the female nude that made him the father of the Renaissance. It was an age of great inventions and discoveries. Gutenberg invented the Bible. Sir Walter Raleigh is a historical figure because he invented cigarettes. Another important invention was the circulation of blood. Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100-foot clipper.
The government of England was a limited mockery. Henry VIII found walking difficult because he had an abbess on his knee. Queen Elizabeth was the "Virgin Queen." As a queen she was a success. When Elizabeth exposed herself before her troops, they all shouted, "hurrah." Then her navy went out and defeated the Spanish Armadillo.
The greatest writer of the Renaissance was William Shakespeare. Shakespeare never made much money and is famous only because of his plays. He lived at Windsor with his merry wives, writing tragedies, comedies, and errors. In one of Shakespear’s famous plays, Hamlet rations out his situation by relieving himself in a long solilguy. In another, Lady Macbeth tries to convince Macbeth to kill the King by attacking his manhood. Romeo and Juliet are an example of a heroic couplet. Writing at the same time as Shakepear was Miguel Cervantes. He wrote Donkey Hote. The next author was John Milton. Miltonwrote Paradise Lost. Then his wife died and he wrote Paradise Regained.
During the Renaissance America began. Christopher columbus was a great navigator who discovered America while cursing about the Atlantic. His ships were called the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Fe. Later, the Pilgrims crossed the Ocean, and this was known as Pilgrims Progress. When they landed at Plymouth Rock, they were greeted by the Indians, who came down the hill rolling their war hoops before them. The Indian squabs carried porpoises on their back. Many of the Indian heroes were killed along with their cabooses, which proved very fatal to them. The winter of 1620 was a hard one for the settlers. Many people died and many babies were born. Captain John Smith was responsible for all this.
One of the causes of the Revolutionary War was the English put tacks in their tea. Also, the colonists would send their parcels through the post Without stamps. During the War, the Red Coats and Paul Revere was throwing balls over stone walls. The dogs were barking and the peacocks crowing. Finally, the colonists won the War and no longer had to pay for taxis.
Delegates from the original thirteen states formed the Contented Congress. Thomas Jefferson, a Virgin, and Benjamin Franklin were two singers of the Declaration of Independence. Franklin had gone to Boston carrying all his clothes in his pocket and a loaf of bread under each arm. He invented electricity by rubbing cats backwards and declared, "A horse divided against itself cannot stand." Franklin died in 1790 and is still dead.
George Washington married Martha Curtis and in due time became the Father of Our Country. Then the Constitution of the United States was adopted to secure domestic hostility. Under the Constitution the people enjoyed the right to keep bare arms.
Abraham Lincoln became America’s greatest Precedent. Lincoln’s mother died in infancy, and he was
born in a log cabin which he built with his own hands. When Lincoln was President, he wore only a tall silk hat. He said, "in onion there is strength." Abraham Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address while traveling from Washington to Gettysburg on the back of an envelope. He also freed the slaves by signing the Emasculation Proclamation, and the Fourteenth Amendment gave the ex-Negroes citizenship. But the Clue Clux Clan would torcher and lynch the ex-Negroes and other innocent victims. It claimed it represented law and odor. On the night of April 14, 1865, Lincoln went to the theater and got shot in his seat by one of the actors in a moving picture show. The believed assinator was John Wilkes Booth, a supposingly insane actor. This ruined Booth's career.
Meanwhile in Europe, the enlightenment was a reasonable time. Voltare invented electricity and also wrote a book called Candy. Gravity was invented by Isaac Walton. It is chiefly noticeable in the Autumn, when the apples are falling off the trees.
Bach was the most famous composer in the world and so was Handel. Handel was half German, half Italian, and half English. He was very large. Bach died from 1750 to the present. Beethoven wrote music even though he was deaf. He was so deaf he wrote loud music. He took long walks in the forest even when everyone was calling for him. Beethoven expired in 1827 and later died for this.
France was in a very serious state. The French Revolution was accomplished before it happened. The Marseillaise was the theme song of the French Revolution, and it catapulted into Napoleon. During the Napoleonic Wars, the crowned heads of Europe were trembling in their shoes. Then Spanish gorillas came down from the hills and nipped Napoleon’s flanks. Napoleon became ill with bladder problems and was tense and unrestrained. He wanted an heir to inherit his power, but Josephine was a baroness, she couldn't bear children.
The sun never set on the British Empire because the British Empire is in the East and the sun sets in the West. Queen Victoria was the longest queen. She sat on a thorn for 63 years. Her reclining years and finally the end of her life were exemplatory of a great personality. Her death was the final event which ended her reign.
The nineteenth century was a time of great inventions and thoughts. The invention of the steamboat caused a network of rivers to sring up. Cyrus McCormick invented the McCormisk raper, which did the work of a hundred men. Samuel Morse invented a code of telepathy. Louis Pasteur discovered a cure for rabbis. Charles Darwin was a naturalist who wrote the Organ of Species. Madman Curie discovered radium. And Karl Marx became one of the Marx brothers.
The First World War, caused by the assignation of the ArchDuck by a surf, ushered in a new error in the anals of human history.
(end of file)
18 August 2006
Jack and Buck
I have-in my possession-a cassette tape of a one Mister Clive Staples Lewis giving a speech on the four loves. I do not remember exactly where I procured this little audio treasure. I believe I found it online.
The voice: is not what I expected it to sound like. Intuitively,this was known. You read everything someone has written-and then-hear them speak for the first time, and it's never quite what you expect. He sounds exactly how he writes, but I prefer the book version instead.
Uncle Buck:
Ever see the movie? I have an Uncle Buck. Yep. Tis true. In my biological family, there is a man who is classified as an uncle in relation to me, and his name is Buck. Actually, he's my great-uncle Buck, but I still call him
Uncle Buck
Uncle Buck has long curly red hair and a pointy red beard. Uncle Buck rides a Harley and smokes a pipe. Uncle Buck always wears blue jeans. Uncle Buck lives in the mid-west and can play a banjo. Uncle Buck does not wear ties-he wears bolos. Uncle Buck likes to bowl.
Uncle Buck
The voice: is not what I expected it to sound like. Intuitively,this was known. You read everything someone has written-and then-hear them speak for the first time, and it's never quite what you expect. He sounds exactly how he writes, but I prefer the book version instead.
Uncle Buck:
Ever see the movie? I have an Uncle Buck. Yep. Tis true. In my biological family, there is a man who is classified as an uncle in relation to me, and his name is Buck. Actually, he's my great-uncle Buck, but I still call him
Uncle Buck
Uncle Buck has long curly red hair and a pointy red beard. Uncle Buck rides a Harley and smokes a pipe. Uncle Buck always wears blue jeans. Uncle Buck lives in the mid-west and can play a banjo. Uncle Buck does not wear ties-he wears bolos. Uncle Buck likes to bowl.
Uncle Buck
16 August 2006
Emotions
Emotions.
You've got to love them. That's my stumbling block. I'm terribly logical and try to rationalize everything. Spontaneity is good, but I have to plan it. But of course faith doesn't work that way, nor women. God wants us to be at least a little spontaneous. He hates boredom. Mediocrity. Something I detest with passion. Man is a fascinating creature with endless possibilities to create and invent. I see most of my friend's lives and observe. After 25 years on Earth, mediocrity sets in. They become set in their ways; their hearts harden and loves becomes cold. They fear. Change bothers them, as they mosey through life in humdrum fashion. 'What might have been' could be the story of man. But this is wrong, unnatural, the result of the fall in the garden...I feel a rotisserie chicken fit coming on. Will someone help me?
You've got to love them. That's my stumbling block. I'm terribly logical and try to rationalize everything. Spontaneity is good, but I have to plan it. But of course faith doesn't work that way, nor women. God wants us to be at least a little spontaneous. He hates boredom. Mediocrity. Something I detest with passion. Man is a fascinating creature with endless possibilities to create and invent. I see most of my friend's lives and observe. After 25 years on Earth, mediocrity sets in. They become set in their ways; their hearts harden and loves becomes cold. They fear. Change bothers them, as they mosey through life in humdrum fashion. 'What might have been' could be the story of man. But this is wrong, unnatural, the result of the fall in the garden...I feel a rotisserie chicken fit coming on. Will someone help me?
14 August 2006
12 August 2006
Accidents Happen
I...think...I...just...accidently...deleted...every...single...picture...I...took...this...afternoon...on...my...digital...cam-er-a...
!!!!!!!!!!!
repeat
!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!
repeat
!!!!!!!!!!!
11 August 2006
Where I grew up
This is a satellite pic of where I grew up. . .courtesy of Bill Gates and the Microsoft gang.
It's the white square box about an inch above the 'e' in Katy Village and a little to the right.
It's the white square box about an inch above the 'e' in Katy Village and a little to the right.
10 August 2006
Dreamscape
Twas the night before Friday
And all thru the lab
Not a creature was stirring
Except Jason the lad
The rest of Virginia
Lie snug in their beds
While visions of tacos
Danced in his head...Yep, I'm hungry
I awoke Thursday morning in the usual state of mind which accompanies the return of consciousness. As I looked through the eastern window of my bedroom, a faint streak of orange-pink color, dividing a cloud that just rose above the low swell of the horizon, announced the approach of the sun. As my thoughts, which a deep and apparently lighthearted sleep had dissolved, began again to assume crystalline forms, the strange events of the foregoing night presented themselves anew to my inquiring mind. It came to me in that period of consciousness somewhere between sleeping and waking. (I remind you I'm almost perfectly normal, have never done drugs, and, with perhaps one small and highly debatable exception involving dry reeds, a stolen bicycle, and old pine, a small country Methodist church, and a very very small forest fire, have never smoked. Nor have I ever, again, with the exception of cough syrup and vanilla flavoring, consumed alcohol in any significant quantity, nor have the faintest idea what it tastes like. But we'll return to this subject later.) And I thought about Life.
This is a different sort of blog entry. There is no plot, no underlying thread of unity, just a long rambling semi-coherent stream of consciousness run-on sentence of things that are in my heart I felt strangely compelled to get out.
I want to write seven great American novels. I want to go on a 3 week safari in Africa and videotape lions lounging about the range rover in the hot Kenyan sun, swatting flies aimlessly with their golden tails and learn Swahili. I want to go trekking in the Alps. I want to raise sheep in New Zealand. I think I MAY want to raise chickens. I want to pan for gold in the Yukon. I'll get back to you on that one. Something compels me to move to a place where I see trees every morning, and there's a fence nearby, in the country and a long dusty road. I run on the long dusty road nearly everyday. I can also wash my car once a week here and not worry about snoopy neighbors. I have this image of myself reading bedtime stories to a little girl with long hair and twinkling eyes in a bedroom during winter. The scent of cinnamon is in the air. I am a much older man. I desire to have my own library with lots of hard-back books...thousands upon thousands...with time to read them all by a fireplace, a blanket, and a large, somewhat worn, leather chair. In a different section of the library is a well-lit area with stacks and stacks of hand-written notes and folders....and many pencils....mechanical ones. I need to get my hair cut today. I wish to spend time in the countries bordering the Mediterranean Sea. I LOVE the word 'Mediterranean.' It appeals to a deep part of my being.
And all thru the lab
Not a creature was stirring
Except Jason the lad
The rest of Virginia
Lie snug in their beds
While visions of tacos
Danced in his head...Yep, I'm hungry
I awoke Thursday morning in the usual state of mind which accompanies the return of consciousness. As I looked through the eastern window of my bedroom, a faint streak of orange-pink color, dividing a cloud that just rose above the low swell of the horizon, announced the approach of the sun. As my thoughts, which a deep and apparently lighthearted sleep had dissolved, began again to assume crystalline forms, the strange events of the foregoing night presented themselves anew to my inquiring mind. It came to me in that period of consciousness somewhere between sleeping and waking. (I remind you I'm almost perfectly normal, have never done drugs, and, with perhaps one small and highly debatable exception involving dry reeds, a stolen bicycle, and old pine, a small country Methodist church, and a very very small forest fire, have never smoked. Nor have I ever, again, with the exception of cough syrup and vanilla flavoring, consumed alcohol in any significant quantity, nor have the faintest idea what it tastes like. But we'll return to this subject later.) And I thought about Life.
This is a different sort of blog entry. There is no plot, no underlying thread of unity, just a long rambling semi-coherent stream of consciousness run-on sentence of things that are in my heart I felt strangely compelled to get out.
I want to write seven great American novels. I want to go on a 3 week safari in Africa and videotape lions lounging about the range rover in the hot Kenyan sun, swatting flies aimlessly with their golden tails and learn Swahili. I want to go trekking in the Alps. I want to raise sheep in New Zealand. I think I MAY want to raise chickens. I want to pan for gold in the Yukon. I'll get back to you on that one. Something compels me to move to a place where I see trees every morning, and there's a fence nearby, in the country and a long dusty road. I run on the long dusty road nearly everyday. I can also wash my car once a week here and not worry about snoopy neighbors. I have this image of myself reading bedtime stories to a little girl with long hair and twinkling eyes in a bedroom during winter. The scent of cinnamon is in the air. I am a much older man. I desire to have my own library with lots of hard-back books...thousands upon thousands...with time to read them all by a fireplace, a blanket, and a large, somewhat worn, leather chair. In a different section of the library is a well-lit area with stacks and stacks of hand-written notes and folders....and many pencils....mechanical ones. I need to get my hair cut today. I wish to spend time in the countries bordering the Mediterranean Sea. I LOVE the word 'Mediterranean.' It appeals to a deep part of my being.
07 August 2006
One reason why little boys are dangerous and should be monitored
Under my chin there is a half eraser sized area that will not grow facial hair, hardly recognizable.
If you rub your finger over it, you can feel a smoother area of skin. When I was eight years old, my parents visited some friends. My sister and I were bored, so they sent us outside to play. In the backyard, we discovered a family of rabbits. Naturally, we tried to catch one to play with. Didn’t work. So, refusing to give up on my quest to catch a pet rabbit, I got the bright idea of building a catapult to launch rocks . . . the theory being that the unsuspecting rabbits would be knocked out with a falling missile from the sky. After many trials and tribulations, the weapon of war was built. Smooth stones, silently dubbed with names like ‘Peter’ and ‘Fuzzy’ were loaded. The eight-year-old wonder boy, in direct defiance of his mother’s wishes to leave the furry creatures alone, leaped onto the catapult . . . Miss. More stones . . . Miss again. That’s OK. Edison didn’t invent the electric lightbulb on his first try. He burnt down a railway carriage first. The catapult was tweaked to perfection. Another stone named ‘Cottontail’ loaded. I leaped . . . HIT! It hit! It hit me in the chin and broke blood. My sister ran inside to get my parents, who were, by the way, not amused, and fixed me up. Along with a stern warning to never do something that stupid again. “After all,” she said. “What if that had been your eye?”
And that is why I have under my chin a half eraser sized area that will not grow facial hair.
If you rub your finger over it, you can feel a smoother area of skin. When I was eight years old, my parents visited some friends. My sister and I were bored, so they sent us outside to play. In the backyard, we discovered a family of rabbits. Naturally, we tried to catch one to play with. Didn’t work. So, refusing to give up on my quest to catch a pet rabbit, I got the bright idea of building a catapult to launch rocks . . . the theory being that the unsuspecting rabbits would be knocked out with a falling missile from the sky. After many trials and tribulations, the weapon of war was built. Smooth stones, silently dubbed with names like ‘Peter’ and ‘Fuzzy’ were loaded. The eight-year-old wonder boy, in direct defiance of his mother’s wishes to leave the furry creatures alone, leaped onto the catapult . . . Miss. More stones . . . Miss again. That’s OK. Edison didn’t invent the electric lightbulb on his first try. He burnt down a railway carriage first. The catapult was tweaked to perfection. Another stone named ‘Cottontail’ loaded. I leaped . . . HIT! It hit! It hit me in the chin and broke blood. My sister ran inside to get my parents, who were, by the way, not amused, and fixed me up. Along with a stern warning to never do something that stupid again. “After all,” she said. “What if that had been your eye?”
And that is why I have under my chin a half eraser sized area that will not grow facial hair.
04 August 2006
Reds Traveler
States and Countries I've been to. . .this site is cooler than the other side of the pillow.
create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.
create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands
3% of the world-I should get out more.
create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.
create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands
3% of the world-I should get out more.
03 August 2006
Hooded Bandits
Doctors scare me.
Why?
I’ll tell you.
How would you feel if your one and only mother lay sick and injured with a HOLE in her body that should not be there. A HOLE mind you. A HOLE inflicted by strangers. Men in masks...masks to conceal their identity for their deeds are evil. Men who shun the light and hate the truth.
Hooded Bandits.
Armed with sharp knives. . .and. . .and daggers that pierce, and slice, and slash.
Blades.
And what do these bloodthirsty savages do to this lonely forlorn creature? They entice her with sly words, lure her with golden tongues. Take her to a dark room. Give her drugs...narcotics...mind-altering hallucinogenic chemicals to numb her mind and induce forgetfulness.
And then...(I can hardly bring myself to say it)...they...these beasts...(sniff, sniff)...← tears of pain.
These cold-hearted SAVAGES slice into the very flesh of her body! They rippppp her skin, flay her with knives, drawing blood, scarring her for life. They have no mercy...they hack, and hew, and rip, and bite, and tear, and remove a hunk...of...her...flesh. Then...(more weeping)...after carving her like a Thanksgiving turkey?...they TOSS the very body part into a trash can to hide the evidence! That’s what they do.
Of course, they merely call it an appendectomy.
Now. My mother. This poor, sweet, innocent, little lady with twinkling eyes, with a gash, a wound. . .a festering wound, a hole in her body...an unnatural orifice that beckons germs, bacteria, fire ants, (who KNOWS what else???)...lay curled up in the fetal position alone.
Why?
I’ll tell you.
How would you feel if your one and only mother lay sick and injured with a HOLE in her body that should not be there. A HOLE mind you. A HOLE inflicted by strangers. Men in masks...masks to conceal their identity for their deeds are evil. Men who shun the light and hate the truth.
Hooded Bandits.
Armed with sharp knives. . .and. . .and daggers that pierce, and slice, and slash.
Blades.
And what do these bloodthirsty savages do to this lonely forlorn creature? They entice her with sly words, lure her with golden tongues. Take her to a dark room. Give her drugs...narcotics...mind-altering hallucinogenic chemicals to numb her mind and induce forgetfulness.
And then...(I can hardly bring myself to say it)...they...these beasts...(sniff, sniff)...← tears of pain.
These cold-hearted SAVAGES slice into the very flesh of her body! They rippppp her skin, flay her with knives, drawing blood, scarring her for life. They have no mercy...they hack, and hew, and rip, and bite, and tear, and remove a hunk...of...her...flesh. Then...(more weeping)...after carving her like a Thanksgiving turkey?...they TOSS the very body part into a trash can to hide the evidence! That’s what they do.
Of course, they merely call it an appendectomy.
Now. My mother. This poor, sweet, innocent, little lady with twinkling eyes, with a gash, a wound. . .a festering wound, a hole in her body...an unnatural orifice that beckons germs, bacteria, fire ants, (who KNOWS what else???)...lay curled up in the fetal position alone.
Hotness
The great thing about the current temperature of 103 degrees Fahrenheit is that the body's metabolism is running at optimal efficiency.
The heat has got me thinking about dinosaurs. With a year-round average temperature of 90, does it make any difference if they were warm-blooded or cold-blooded?
3 weeks until my sister moves in with me. I foresee this blog becoming more interesting as she is an artist who attracts other artists who will probably come over to visit and ask me. . .the cave dweller and introverted recluse. . .many thought-provoking questions. Or maybe they'll just stare at me.
The heat has got me thinking about dinosaurs. With a year-round average temperature of 90, does it make any difference if they were warm-blooded or cold-blooded?
3 weeks until my sister moves in with me. I foresee this blog becoming more interesting as she is an artist who attracts other artists who will probably come over to visit and ask me. . .the cave dweller and introverted recluse. . .many thought-provoking questions. Or maybe they'll just stare at me.
02 August 2006
Anon
"Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for a lifetime."
--Anonymous dead Chinese guy
"Give a wiggle a fish and he will eat it for breakfast. Teach a wiggle to fish, and soon he'll be planning his Bar Mitzah."
--Puddle E. Glum
"Ach-oo!"
--a nose
--Anonymous dead Chinese guy
"Give a wiggle a fish and he will eat it for breakfast. Teach a wiggle to fish, and soon he'll be planning his Bar Mitzah."
--Puddle E. Glum
"Ach-oo!"
--a nose
01 August 2006
31 July 2006
29 July 2006
Some Pictures
Top: Me at last job wondering why I studied biology.
Middle: Me doing biology stuff that made me have thoughts in top pic.
Bottom: Family at Grandfather's house at Christmas time with Hound of the Baskervilles.
27 July 2006
Aliens and Fur
The bulk of this entry was created on exactly one hour and fifteen minutes of sleep and, if it's not coherent totally not, you why know.
Close encounters of the 4th kind: This is where you think you're the alien. Has anybody else experienced this? This 4th kind? They say it happens alot with geniuses and madmen. So. . .if you're smart, witty, linguistically-gifted, and speak in complete paragraphs that can stand unedited in the New Yorker,you might know.
Some people's affection for large dogs has me thinking. Suppose that all animals (at least mammals) were rational sentient creatures as ourselves. Would we have any need for pets? I would think not. After spending 3 hours with Harry and the Hendersons, our need for cute, fuzzy, cuddly creatures with slobbery dispositions would ebb. What do you think?
I think Malacandra is a good name for a castle.
Will blog more later. The mother ship calls.
Close encounters of the 4th kind: This is where you think you're the alien. Has anybody else experienced this? This 4th kind? They say it happens alot with geniuses and madmen. So. . .if you're smart, witty, linguistically-gifted, and speak in complete paragraphs that can stand unedited in the New Yorker,you might know.
Some people's affection for large dogs has me thinking. Suppose that all animals (at least mammals) were rational sentient creatures as ourselves. Would we have any need for pets? I would think not. After spending 3 hours with Harry and the Hendersons, our need for cute, fuzzy, cuddly creatures with slobbery dispositions would ebb. What do you think?
I think Malacandra is a good name for a castle.
Will blog more later. The mother ship calls.
26 July 2006
Le post du jour
Je m'ennuie officiellement avec l'anglais. C'est probablement juste une crise du milieu la semaine et je reviendrai à ma langue natale dans l'avenir.
Sincerely,
Puddle E. Glum
Sincerely,
Puddle E. Glum
Return of the Shadow
In a few minutes, I will, for the 10th time, at least, re-read the Lord of the Rings. I've been reading alot of books edited by his oldest son on how Tolkien wrote LOTR.
What I find interesting is how Tolkien thought Gandalf was originally a lower order angel that, when he went to Middle-Earth, shed his extra-dimensional capabilities and had to re-learn everything once getting there.
There is a family of raccoons that visits the lab parking lot pretty much on a regular basis. A big one and 5-6 little ones. I think it's part of their territory. They make it a point to inspect all the dumpsters and should any doors be left open, well, naturally they inspect those as well.
In exactly one month, my sister will be moving in with me. Is it temporary? We shall see. I've not had a room-mate in 5 years. This should be interesting.
What I find interesting is how Tolkien thought Gandalf was originally a lower order angel that, when he went to Middle-Earth, shed his extra-dimensional capabilities and had to re-learn everything once getting there.
There is a family of raccoons that visits the lab parking lot pretty much on a regular basis. A big one and 5-6 little ones. I think it's part of their territory. They make it a point to inspect all the dumpsters and should any doors be left open, well, naturally they inspect those as well.
In exactly one month, my sister will be moving in with me. Is it temporary? We shall see. I've not had a room-mate in 5 years. This should be interesting.
24 July 2006
Get along l'il dogie, before I brand yore hide. . .
Tattoos.
Branding Humans.
A relative of mine is obsessed with tattoos, body piercings, and the people who make it all possible. I don't share her devotion to stained epidermis. Something about the process just irks me. . .sort of like Big Macs and dead worms on the sidewalk after a rainstorm irritates me.
I'm not saying its wrong-just a trivial foolish,child-like, and somewhat de-humanizing. I picture in my mind's eye a plot hatched by higher order beings to mock and dehumanize humans by branding them with ink. . .like a herd of cows. It's as if these higher order entities have some sort of vendetta against us because we remind them of somebody who they will never be like. Like apes defacing a statue of Michaelangelo's David.
I've noticed alot of people trying to fit in with the dominant culture by tattooing barbed-wire and other ring-like designs around their upper arms. Like it's a necessity to be accepted into a universal society of clowns. Are clones really happy? Are clowns really happy? Once upon a time I was cussed out by a clown-so apparently not.)
Many tattooed guys like to shave off all their body hair, get tanned, and mutilate themselves. What blows me away is that some women find this attractive. What they look like is a lizard. A gecko. They've fallen in love with a G-E-C-K-O.
"But he's sooo maaannllyyyy. . .He looks like He-man."
"No, he's not. He's a Gila monster. He's got no hair, dark skin, and blue splotches all over his body. He sits in the sun all day sweating and drinking beer. Yep. Lizard comes to mind."
Branding Humans.
A relative of mine is obsessed with tattoos, body piercings, and the people who make it all possible. I don't share her devotion to stained epidermis. Something about the process just irks me. . .sort of like Big Macs and dead worms on the sidewalk after a rainstorm irritates me.
I'm not saying its wrong-just a trivial foolish,child-like, and somewhat de-humanizing. I picture in my mind's eye a plot hatched by higher order beings to mock and dehumanize humans by branding them with ink. . .like a herd of cows. It's as if these higher order entities have some sort of vendetta against us because we remind them of somebody who they will never be like. Like apes defacing a statue of Michaelangelo's David.
I've noticed alot of people trying to fit in with the dominant culture by tattooing barbed-wire and other ring-like designs around their upper arms. Like it's a necessity to be accepted into a universal society of clowns. Are clones really happy? Are clowns really happy? Once upon a time I was cussed out by a clown-so apparently not.)
Many tattooed guys like to shave off all their body hair, get tanned, and mutilate themselves. What blows me away is that some women find this attractive. What they look like is a lizard. A gecko. They've fallen in love with a G-E-C-K-O.
"But he's sooo maaannllyyyy. . .He looks like He-man."
"No, he's not. He's a Gila monster. He's got no hair, dark skin, and blue splotches all over his body. He sits in the sun all day sweating and drinking beer. Yep. Lizard comes to mind."
22 July 2006
Floyd
Floyd.
Floyd won.
Floyd won the Tour de France.
Unless he falls off the bike in Paris, Floyd just won the Tour.
You know that an American winning in France for the 8th year in a row does not make France happy. I like what Jay Leno said about the French soccer player in the World Cup. The one who head-butted the guy in the final. It was the closest a man in a French uniform has come to armed combat in nearly 60 years.
Floyd won.
Floyd won the Tour de France.
Unless he falls off the bike in Paris, Floyd just won the Tour.
You know that an American winning in France for the 8th year in a row does not make France happy. I like what Jay Leno said about the French soccer player in the World Cup. The one who head-butted the guy in the final. It was the closest a man in a French uniform has come to armed combat in nearly 60 years.
21 July 2006
Le Tour
July. Tour de France time. No Lance. Lance is gone. Along with half the best riders left. Except Floyd. Floyd's in France. Floyd. The Great White Hope. Floyd from PA. The Mennonite. A Mennonite just won a stage on the Tour de France. An Alpine stage. A mountain stage with one unclassified climb its so steep. Floyd. This must be another sign of the Apocalypse. Floyd can win the Tour tomorrow if he beats the two Spaniards in the time trial. Think of it. Floyd the Mennonite winning the worlds most prestigious bicycle race. Raised on goat cheese and corn and going to school in the shadows of steel mills.
I'm looking for a castle in the Alps. Ideally one that is near L'Ape d'Huez so I can watch it from my front porch.
http://www.chateaux-world.com/DisplayHPG/LI/P_DetailsForSale.asp?P_ID=791-12&Viewer=Viewer
I'm looking for a castle in the Alps. Ideally one that is near L'Ape d'Huez so I can watch it from my front porch.
http://www.chateaux-world.com/DisplayHPG/LI/P_DetailsForSale.asp?P_ID=791-12&Viewer=Viewer
18 July 2006
Time Out
My life was on hold for the past two days because I have been suffering from a migraine. A painful condition that feels like two ice-picks jammed into your skull. I thought that after bowing down to a certain local deity and lying curled up in the fetal position for hours at a time would make it go away. Instead I ended up vomited so hard, I gave myself two black eyes.
Then my air conditioner ceased worked properly. Wait. . .it works but not that well. Maybe I'm just delerious. Hard to say. They say that when you die, or are very close to it, your life passes through your very eyes. Yesterday, I clearly remember reciting every teacher's name I ever had from middle school. Remembered their faces and everything. I was in more pain than I realized
Then my air conditioner ceased worked properly. Wait. . .it works but not that well. Maybe I'm just delerious. Hard to say. They say that when you die, or are very close to it, your life passes through your very eyes. Yesterday, I clearly remember reciting every teacher's name I ever had from middle school. Remembered their faces and everything. I was in more pain than I realized
14 July 2006
0-Possoms
West Virginia people call opossums. . .or is it opossum?. . .Possoms. And when we run over one, we call them o-possoms. I ran over an o-possum very early this morning. Like 5 AM this morning, and felt really bad doing so as it was a youngish-looking marsupial with a full life ahead of it. Apparently, they don't have 9 lives.
The local Barnes and Noble does not have the middle book of Ted Dekker's Circle trilogy. This fact, coupled with a thunderstorm, made it a dark day here in Christendom. Hence, I will buy it on amazon.com.
Some random thoughts in my mind today:
-"Yeah though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil. Because I've got these two massive sticks to beat dark creatures to a pulp with. "
-"Why didn't MacPhee and Grace Ironwood get married at the end of 'That Hideous Strength.'???
-Why is my apartment 92 degrees inside when the outside temperature is also 92 degrees, when the air conditioner has been on 24/7 for the past week and the thermostat set on. . .oh, about 60?
The local Barnes and Noble does not have the middle book of Ted Dekker's Circle trilogy. This fact, coupled with a thunderstorm, made it a dark day here in Christendom. Hence, I will buy it on amazon.com.
Some random thoughts in my mind today:
-"Yeah though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil. Because I've got these two massive sticks to beat dark creatures to a pulp with. "
-"Why didn't MacPhee and Grace Ironwood get married at the end of 'That Hideous Strength.'???
-Why is my apartment 92 degrees inside when the outside temperature is also 92 degrees, when the air conditioner has been on 24/7 for the past week and the thermostat set on. . .oh, about 60?
10 July 2006
Dead Chicken's Society
Right now, as I type, I am cooking a dead chicken in my oven. There is a prodigious quantity of smoke in the air from the burning olive oil that I am not quite 100% sure on how to eliminate. I ate strawberries, cole slaw, cheddar cheese, Mediterranean salad, coffee, and part of an energy drink for breakfast. . .at 100 PM. This morning I read the first three chapters of a Ted Dekker novel at a laundromat while enduring the furtive gazes of emotionally-dependent, somewhat overweight, and most likely single women. And my fingers are wrinkly from washing dishes.
"It is not good for man to be alone."
God said this, not me. Since he made humans, I am inclined to think he knows what he is talking about.
Other news: Saturday morning at precisely 7:07 AM, in Starbucks, I got a free venti-sized vanilla bean frapacchino.
God likes me. I'm happy.
"It is not good for man to be alone."
God said this, not me. Since he made humans, I am inclined to think he knows what he is talking about.
Other news: Saturday morning at precisely 7:07 AM, in Starbucks, I got a free venti-sized vanilla bean frapacchino.
God likes me. I'm happy.
05 July 2006
The Great Dismal Swamp
Being somewhat Marshwiggle-inclined, I decided to explore the Great Dismal Swamp yesterday. At the center of this swamp, one of the largest in the country, there is a perfectly spherical lake. If you're ever here, it's definately worth hiking 9 miles to see. I wouldn't recommend doing it when the temperature is 91 degrees, but if you do, bring your DEET. Some of the mosquitos are so big they look like little cherry tomatoes with wings.
01 July 2006
Toothbrush bending
OK. So maybe boiling my toothbrush in water wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had.
But hey. . . it's sterile.
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