Illusion Fusion

Zack's New Axe

2009-06-27T23:16:00.000-07:00

I bought Zack a new guitar today. It's still a midget, but it's far superior to that twelve-year-old piece of crap that he 'inherited' from his older brother, Brando.

Zack was so stoked, he wouldn't even let me tune it before he ran upstairs to 'play band.'

I Think I've Created A Monster

2009-06-27T23:12:00.000-07:00

So Zack knows how to get into my computer, turn on iTunes, find all the Kiss albums, order them chronologically, and hunt down the tracks he likes to listen to. All at the age of five.

I walked into my room the other day and found him like this (notice him giving the horns):

Feet kicked up, listening to Kiss.

Zack's Sushi Adventure

2009-06-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

So Z and I go get sushi on a regular basis. Zack loves to go. So do I. Zack always gets a cheeseburger and fries, but he still thinks he's eating sushi. Maybe it's because he eats the fries with chopsticks. Who knows.

Tonight, Zack announced that he wanted to try sushi, so he ordered some shrimp, tuna and salmon. All of which he hated.

"But at least I tried them." He said. "I'll try it again when I'm six."

Here's the pics.

New Goal

2009-06-18T01:26:00.000-07:00

Buy property in Hawaii a year from now.

Iron In The Soul

2009-06-11T23:54:00.000-07:00

I just went to check on my son, who had been asleep for two hours. I found him playing air guitar in his sleep.

I Should Work Out More

2009-05-07T22:11:00.001-07:00

To Z

2009-05-01T22:09:00.000-07:00

I love you even though your feet stink.
I love you even though you sometimes leave your toys out at night.
I love you even though your farts are horrifying.
I love you even though you might be smarter than me.
I love you even though you spilled water on my computer.
I love you even though whine every once in a while.
I love you even when forget to be nice to your little brother.
I love you even though you hate to eat your vegetables.
I love you even when you forget to flush the toilet.
I love you even though you don’t ever do the dishes.
I love you even though you make me do all your laundry.
I love you even though you wake me up at three in the morning to fix your blankets.
I love you even though you lost your belt.
I love you even though you spilled Gatorade in my brand new car.
I love you even though you wake up too early on the weekends.
I love you even though you headbutted me in the nose and about knocked me out.
I love you.
Even though...

You Suck

2009-04-21T07:59:00.000-07:00

I'm Such a Dork

2009-04-16T22:36:00.000-07:00

I'm such a dork, I took pictures of Zack getting his haircut.

Zack's Giant Easter Leap

2009-04-12T23:02:00.000-07:00

BACKSTORY:

About eight months ago, Zack stood terrified at the threshold of the hallway in our apartment. He was dancing a bit and holding his wiener. I knew what was wrong, but I asked anyway.

"Zack, what are you doing with your wiener?"

"I have to go pee-pee."

"Ok. Go."

"But it's dark" he said lifting a quivering finger to the darkened abyss that was our hallway. Beyond which, lay my bedroom. Beyond which, lay the toilet.

I meandered over and peeked (all dramatic-like) down the hallway. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's dark. And it's scary."

"And what are you afraid of?"

He tightened his grip on the old wiener. "Monsters."

"Monster's? What monster's?"

"Can you just turn the light on for me?"

"You mean that light that is only five feet from where you're standing?"

"That one right there."

"Why can't you turn it on?"

"I'm afraid."

"Of monsters?"

"Yes," he said as he started to cry.

To which I responded by kneeling down and looking him straight in the eye. "Zack, why are you crying?"

"I don't want you to be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Zack."

"You're not?" He said as he wiped the tears from his eyes; one eye at a time, since he was still pinching the old one-eye.

"No, I'm not mad at you. I just want to explain something to you." I gave him a big hug and wiped the rest of the tears from his eyes. "Zack, it's okay to be afraid. Alright? It's okay to be afraid of something. What's not okay, is to run away and hide simply because you're afraid of it."

"Okay."

"What you need to do is run down that hallway as fast as you can and turn on that light as soon as you get to it."

"But it's dark."

"But as soon as you turn on that light it won't be dark anymore."

I saw the wheels in his head turning. With no further response from him, Zack darted down the darkened hallway, flipped the light on has he ran passed it and went straight for the can.

To which I responded by meandering back to the couch.

After a moment, Zack came back, a big smile engendered across his face. He popped up on my lap and told me that he did it.
"Just like you told me to, Dad."
I kissed him on the forehead. Mission accomplished, I thought to my self.

EASTER SUNDAY, 12 APRIL 2009:

Since Easter really doesn't fit into my own personal (should be patented) conglomeration of Judao-Christian (both classical and some of that newfangled stuff some mad-fools created), Buddhism, Wicca, Taoism, Jedi, Atheism, Zoroastrianism, Paganism & Agnosticism, I have him stay with his Mother on Easter.
Tonight, Zack called me to give me a very well-intentioned "Happy Easter." And I love him for it. During the conversation that ensued, he told me that he had been terrified to go see the Easter Bunny, but he did it anyway, even though he was "so scared." I sat for a moment and congratulated myself for helping him to learn to stand up to his fears.
He then proceeded to ruin a perfectly good zen for me by telling he was being a bad boy at his Mother's house.

Why does my son tattle on himself. He knows I'm going to chastise him (which I did). I've never seen another kid call his own Father on the phone and then rat himself out.

Anyway, I thought Zack's little comment about the Easter Bunny was great. He made me so proud.

Zack Started T-Ball

2009-03-08T23:24:00.000-07:00

But I didn't take any pictures.

The Wall

2009-03-03T21:55:00.000-08:00

Last week when I was at my friendly neighborhood Zia Records, I happened to find a used copy of Pink Floyd's Is Anybody Out There?, which is a remixed and remastered version of the live performance of The Wall in its' entirety.

I had certainly heard bits and pieces of this album (the studio version, actually) over the course of my life, as have most people, but I had never really listened to the album as a cohesive piece of music. It's amazing to me that I made it to 33 years of age without embracing the brilliance of this triumph of an album.

What amazes me more than the power of the music itself, and indeed the power of the album as a whole, is how so much of the story seems to mirror my life in one way or another.

The impact this album has had on me over this past week has been profound, and it's story is poignant, punctuated perhaps. by the recent passing of Pink Floyd's keyboardist, Richard Wright.

Not to be taken literally, necessarily, but this opening verse from Another Brick In The Wall, Part 1 strikes me pretty hard every time I hear it:

Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory
Snapshot in the family album
Daddy what else did you leave for me?
Daddy, what'd'ja leave behind for me?!?
All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
(lyrics by Roger Waters)

Crayons, And The Insipid Nature Of Everything Other Than Children

2009-02-12T23:06:00.000-08:00

I've been so busy that I haven't had the time to be bothered with the hassles of maintaining a measly little blog that no one really reads anyway. In fact, in the interest of my pursuits of all things creative in nature, and my insistence on crossing off 100% of my annual "To Do" list at the end of this year, I had considered closing the blog entirely. My creative energies are better suited elsewhere. Especially when so many of the things I plan on accomplishing this year require my creative attention.

But I haven't had the time to make backups of all the little tidbits and musings about Zack. The rest of the garbage I write on here is mostly useless, but the bits about Z are priceless. Especially the bit about his magic poop theory and his unplanned pregnancy scare.

Things like that are why this quasi-waste of a blog still exists.

Anyway, I've been so insanely busy working (now) four jobs and being a single Dad, that I haven't even had time to shower. Just kidding. Maybe. Perhaps that's why I'm still single.

Anyway, I saw this over at Break.com, and I thought it was worth coming up for air to show you.

Make With The Love

2009-01-19T16:06:00.000-08:00

This might be the best commercial ever made. I think it's safe to say that this will never air in the United States. Americans are too prudish. Which I cannot understand. We can probably thank religion for that one.

You know if they aired these commercials in this country, perhaps the rate of unplanned pregnancies would drop a little.

Watch it. But beware, there's lots of humping.

Z's Fantabulous Birthday Shindig Recap

2009-01-19T10:04:00.000-08:00

So Zack's fifth birthday party went off with only the slightest of hitches. He, once again, chose Chuck E. Cheese for his party. I hate that place. Loathe, actually. Anyway, in my undying persistence to be the best Father I can, I relented and suffered through the atrocities that are collectively known as Chuck E. Cheese.

Here's Z and his big brother Brando reveling in the wonders that are Iron Man.

Z was stoked about the Iron Man, so thanks to Lord Windesmere and his progeny for that one.

Pokey gave Z a remote control flying wasp, which he thought was the coolest thing ever.

Here's taking pictures of his friends with the camera he got for Christmas.

I'm not sure what to make of Violent J's face, but I think it's hilarious.

This is Z in his contemplative mode.

So here's the only hitch that occurred in our party: The hostess that was supposed to cater to our every need didn't bother to show up for work, so we got stuck with this little bundle of hotness. That's not the hitch, though. The hitch was that she had to take two parties at once, and the other party was bitchy and running her ragged. She took great care of us, and I supposed it's a good thing I am so laid back. It's too bad she wasn't five years older, because I would have taken her home with me. And I told her that, too. And she agreed. Damn, I hate being old(er).

If you look close enough, you'll see Z giving the horns. Zack rules.

I can't think of anything witty to put here.

This is Z and Violent J hiding from Chuck E. Cheese. I've never seen anything like this. Z will strut around like a bird dog around all the girls, but he's the first one to run for the hills when Chuck comes calling. Meanwhile, all the little girls are flocking to Chuck. Maybe I should buy myself a mouse costume.

Z and Pokey.
I don't know what's up with this picture. Maybe he had to poop, but didn't want to leave the SkeeBall. Who knows.

Overall it was a fabulous (and expensive) endeavor. But Z and his friends had a blast. And that's all that matters.

Erback Yobama

2009-01-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

So Z asked me tonight what "president yobama" meant. I started by opening up a map of the US and showing him all the states and told him that all the states had a bunch of cities. The boss of each city is called the Mayor. And the boss of each state is called the Governor. And all the states together were called "The United Stated of America." And the boss of the country is called the President. I know that's not exactly how it works, but Z is only almost-5.

So then we talked about how all the adults get to choose who the President is going to be, and that, like it or not, Barack Obama is going to be the President starting on Uncle Babaganoosh's birthday.

We talked for about a half hour, and I thought it was great, but I couldn't get him to say Barack Obama properly. He kept saying, "I voted for Erback Yobama, too."

It was adorable.

The Incredible, Edible White Chocolate Rappers

2009-01-07T18:27:00.000-08:00

I don't care what anyone says, this guy has mad skills. Beware, curse words abound.

Dear Apple, How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways

2009-01-06T18:36:00.000-08:00

Apple has once again delivered an astounding new piece of technological wonderment. Check this out.

Ghosts, #1

2009-01-03T22:30:00.000-08:00

I think it is safe to say that at some point in the next few days I will regret posting this video. Last week I was visited (perhaps haunted) by a ghost from my past. It was one of those things that I had completely and totally put to bed, only have it woken again in a violent fit of petrifaction. Whatever that means.

Anyway, whilst (involuntarily, perhaps) perusing my past, I happened on this gem of a home video. This is some friends of mine (at the time, at least), and myself jamming along to a metal classic. I'd like to say that we were playing the song, but we were, in fact, only playing along to the song. FIfteen years later, and I still don't know how to play this one.

Anyway, enjoy. And watch for the guy in the tight pants and the goofy hat wearing his Dad's flannel shirt. The 90's were great.

This Is A Little Bit Inspiring

2009-01-01T10:09:00.000-08:00

Read this story.

Then watch this video.

It's really great to see the big, famous celebrities come down off their clouds to mingle with the little people. Especially when it makes such a monumental difference in the life of the little person.

Twenty years old is such a young age to be whisked away by the sands of time, but at least, as the story indicates, his journey got a little bit easier because Slash was just a phone call away.

The Return of Zackzilla

2008-12-31T23:37:00.001-08:00

So Z tonight told me that he didn't want to be called Floopy McDoopy anymore. He much prefers the nickname Zackzilla. Which is fine, because I prefer that one too.

He also told Grandpa that his nickname should be Forehead. Everyone thought that was hilarious, even if it wasn't all that appropriate.

Here's a pic, you be the judge. Please forgive the poor photoshop work. I did it in about fourteen seconds.

Z's Belated Xmas Extravaganza

2008-12-26T11:04:00.000-08:00

I got stupid this year and only took a few pictures of Z opening his presents. Here's one right before he got started. He was really bummed when I picked him up from his Mother's house. He said that he had been a bad boy this year, because Santa hadn't brought him any presents at his Mom's house. He was on the verge of tears.

"You said Santa would bring me presents at Mommy's house and your house." He said.

"I was pretty sure that he would." I told him.

"I thought I was a good boy."

"You were."

"Santa didn't bring me any presents."

"What do you mean?"

"At Mommy's house. Santa didn't bring me any presents."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, Santa brought you a whole bunch of presents at our house."

"Really?" His face beamed.

"Really, Zack."

"So I was a good boy?"

"Of course you were a good boy."

"Can we go open them?"

"Yes, Zack. Right now."

It made me very sad to think that he thought he was a bad boy this year.

Not A Creature Was Stirring

2008-12-24T22:41:00.000-08:00

I knew this would come. I've known it for a year, actually. This is the year Z spends Christmas morning with his Mother. It is now coming up on 11 pm on Christmas Eve, and I am winding down for the night all by myself.

What I would rather be doing is drinking hot cocoa with my son, in our jammies and fuzzy slippers, with Z excitedly telling me how he is getting a green car and a door for Christmas in the morning. Then I would tuck him in bed and all would be well.

Just like last year.

But this year, I get to tuck no one in bed, and drink hot cocoa with no one and fall asleep alone and depressed in my empty, cold and almost lifeless insignificant little condo.

Perhaps it might be easier if it didn't mean I was alone, but my once strong social circle is now officially 1 person deep, and every single one of those who used to linger in that circle have all disappeared or faded with time, or buggered off along some other path.

And that's okay, I suppose. Life goes on, and those who I once thought would always be there, just won't always be there. I need to learn to deal with that.

Every person has their own path. Sometimes they cross. Sometimes they get twisted around like a silly little wiener package. And sometimes they might run parallel to yours and then jet off in the opposite direction with no warning at all.

I hope your holiday will be better than mine.

Mazel, Mazel. Good things.

This Is The Worst Prank I Have Ever Seen

2008-12-24T12:36:00.000-08:00

This is really messed up. This is worse than when I got my own dirty shoes in my stocking.

A Few From Within Temptation

2008-12-22T23:32:00.000-08:00

Right now, this is my favorite band. I have a weakness for the female voice, especially when it is backed by thunderous drums and heavy guitars. Plus, Sharon den Adel is smoking hot. But beware, she's married to the bald guitarist.

If you dig these, then please check out their website. And please don't steal music.

At Least Something Good Came Out Of That Blagoya-Whatever Thing

2008-12-21T22:31:00.000-08:00

I totally stole this from The Hot Dog Queen. It's funnier than a retard eating hot wings. And I stole that line from Larry The Cable Guy.

This Is What I Love About Football (Which You Call Bananas)

2008-12-20T22:51:00.000-08:00

Nigel's Early Christmas

2008-12-20T22:23:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, this complete and total douchebag that I worked with tipped me off about this guitar amp that was at the Pawn Shop down the street. He knew I had been looking (rather passively actually) for a new guitar amp, and he knew that this one at the Pawn Shop was the same model I was looking at.

I stopped by the shop on my way back from lunch (I had Panang, super spicy no meat) and imagine my surprise when, not only was it the same type of amp, but it was a bigger and much louder model (it goes to 11). It was also listed for half the retail price. I offered them less than that and they took it. So I was left lugging this damn near 600 lb behemoth two blocks back to work.

When I got back to work, that dude was pissed at himself for telling me about it, because he wanted to go buy it himself. Too bad for him, right?

Zack was rather nonchalant about it when we got home. Until, that is, he heard me play it with the Meshuggah preset.

"That sounds good, Dad."

Here's a few shots of the new toy, with Z ripping it up.

As an aside, Z told me tonight what he wants for Christmas: A green car and a door. The green car I can handle, but I don't entirely understand the door bit.

Is there someone out there that speaks 'four-year-old' better than me.

Even More Phun With Photos

2008-12-18T21:30:00.000-08:00

Maybe I'm A Leo

2008-12-15T22:39:00.000-08:00

Well it snowed today in this God forsaken hellhole of a town. Does that mean armageddon is coming?

Anyway...

Because we're two retards in a twiztid little wiener package, Lord Windesmere and I went out and shot it. He shot video, because he does it better than me, and I shot stills because I have to justify spending a grand on my camera.

I put them up on my Media Gallery. Check them out here.

-namaste

Phun WIth Bob the Builder

2008-12-15T22:37:00.000-08:00

The Case Of The Phantom Clothing & The Mystery Of The Sacramental Spinach

2008-12-13T14:44:00.000-08:00

Following a cue from my Big Sister, I opened up my own Cafe Press shop. A few years ago, I had been contemplating starting my own rude and offensive T shirt business, but I was never able to find a method of manufacturing and delivering a quality product, so I shelved the idea. Mooch pointed me in the right direction, and over the course of the next few weeks, I will be putting up most, if not all, of my designs.

Take a look, but be warned, as always, that some of the things you may see will probably be offensive to someone. There's only a few up so far (and most of them are coming down in the next few days), but there is more to come.

Here's a pic (courtesy of Floopy McDoopy) of me sporting one of my very first designs:

Has Anyone Seen Captain Chaos?

2008-12-12T21:12:00.001-08:00

He's been a bit reclusive lately, which isn't really that odd, since he's a bit of a recluse anyway.

But I've called him a couple of times and haven't heard back from him.

Maybe Grandma Chaos has heard form him.

Gangsta!

2008-12-12T21:05:00.000-08:00

More Phun With Photos

2008-12-12T21:03:00.000-08:00

Here's a few more pics from my hours of fantastical enjoyment with my iPhone.

Binventor Yestinad

2008-12-10T21:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, I really wanted to come up with something witty to preface this marvelous video, but I can't seem to find anything wacky enough to be apropos.

I will accept submissions, though. No prizes. Only recognition.

Four And Twenty-Eight

2008-12-08T23:06:00.000-08:00

It's a different world without you. Rest in peace, my brothers.

Murdered: December 8, 2004

Murdered: December 8, 1980

The Imaginarium of Good Karma

2008-12-08T22:19:00.000-08:00

Bob the Builder and I watched The Fisher King tonight. For Bob, it was a virgin experience, but it was my, I don't know, tenth time watching it. I still don't get the title, and I still don't fully understand the significance of the Pinocchio doll, except, maybe that it might symbolize Jack's cosmic quest to help Parry become a real person again. Everything in a Terry Gilliam film has meaning. Everything. He is one of my favorite film makers of all time.

Anyway, after I watched The Fisher King, I was checking out some of Terry Gilliam's other films over at IMDB and I noticed an interesting little tidbit about his next film. The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is the film that Heath Ledger was making when he died. For those who might know about Gilliam, this film acts as further proof that he is a cursed film maker. I don't think he's made a single film that wasn't marred by production problems. Some of his work has actually been abandoned due to these problems (see this for further details).

Anyway the trivia section of the Parnassus page mentions that Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell all gave 100% of their income from this film to Heath's young daughter Mathilda, so that her economic future would be secure.

I thought that was really great. That's three salaries from what will undoubtedly be a huge film next year.

I'm still sad about Heath's death. Not depressed, mind you, just sad.

Phun With Photos

2008-12-05T23:25:00.001-08:00

It's official! The iPhone is officially the second greatest invention ever. The first, for those who care, is the flushing thing inside the tank on your toilet.

I got this app for my iPhone called Old Booth. It lets you put your own face on other pictures. It cost me 3 quid, and it has given me hundreds of hours of laughter and frolicking insanity.

Here's a few pics.

Those first two came out perfect. And Floopy looks like a retard in them.

Catches Vinegar (Redux)

2008-12-05T23:04:00.001-08:00

I found that notebook.

It was in Floopy McDoopy's room, if anyone cares.

The Tickle Game Nomenclature Genesis Effect

2008-12-04T21:11:00.000-08:00

Z told me tonight that he wants his nickname to be Floopy McDoopy. I don't know where he came up with that.

Well, actually, I do. Z and I have this game we play. We have this 'Magic Tickle Word.' Anytime he or I say the word, the other person is obligated to tickle that person until they say the 'Magic Stopping Word.' The magic tickle word is poopadoodle and the magic stopping word is sheboyngen.

This little tickling game led to so much fun that it made me realize that I wanted to tickle him more often. So I did. And I told him the magic stopping word only works when you invoke the magic tickle word in the first place. In other words, if I start tickling him for no reason, then the magic stopping word has no terminating effect.

This, of course, is when Z starts to explain that it isn't fair that way, and that we should have a 'Regular Stopping Word' as well. So I told that word would be 'Floopy McDoopy.'

And this is the word Z chose for his new nickname. Not many people are named after a tickling game.

Catches Vinegar And Ensnares Non-Victorious Elucidations And Repeated Episodes of Gross Neglect And Extreme Depression

2008-12-03T22:31:00.000-08:00

Something very tragic has happened, I fear. I have this notebook in which is contained a multitude notes and outlines for over a dozen creative projects, including five feature screenplays, a series of children's books, a trio of one-off children's books, as well as three separate television show pilots.

I can't find it. This is distressing me beyond my capacity to explain.

I am so sick to my stomach, and I have run out of places to look.

Fun With Bob The Builder

2008-11-30T19:34:00.000-08:00

So my Brother-in-Law, Bob the Builder, is spending his weekdays here in town, many, many miles from Mooch and all their crazy little kids. Totally kidding about the crazy bit.

Anyway, Z and I have been having fun with him (evenings only) while he has been here. What follows is a (albeit) brief photographic account of one of our little shindigs.

Z took this picture, which is why it's crooked. I have a tendency to dutch my shots for creative flare. Zack's are usually crooked because the camera is too big for him to hold straight.

I asked them to smile, and Z flipped around and showed me his butt. So I took the picture. Remember, at Z's age butts and farts are among the funniest things in existence. Come to think of it, that holds true for me, as well.

We posed for a group shot before Bob the Builder had to hit the road. Also, it was Z's bedtime. We were all supposed to make a funny face. Too bad I was the only one who forgot.

Too bad Mooch isn't here, too.

A Funny Thing Happened When I Was Making Out With Your Mom Last Night

2008-11-29T13:47:00.001-08:00

You gotta love public access television. What could be a better forum for these fresh up-and-comers? I smell a radio hit.

Well, I smell something, anyway.

What A Wonderful World This Could Be

2008-11-29T09:38:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else disgusted by the fact that a man was killed in a stampede at a Long Island Wal-Mart yesterday?

Here's the story.

It amazes me that human beings, supposedly civilized ones, are capable of this sort of cold and heartless activity. It makes me sick to think that these people were so selfish and greedy that they were willing to break down the door of a store, and trample an employee, just to buy a bunch of crap for a holiday that truly has no spiritual and religious connotations intact. At least in a general sense.

How appropriate to call the first ay of the Christmas season black Friday.

If The Foo What?

2008-11-26T23:13:00.000-08:00

So I had an epiphany tonight. Babaganoosh and I spent most of the afternoon moving the furniture around in my front room. It had to be done, I had grown weary of it's tired arrangement.

Anyway...

After we semi-completed said furniture re-arrangement, we ran for a bite at this cool little dive Babaganoosh found (It's called Cafe Rio), then we ran by Big Daddy's house to meet and mingle with him, Special K and Dad's cousin and her husband.

Somehow, and the means escapes me, we happened onto the subject of Dad's jokes. Now as an aside, Dad only knows three jokes. In fact, I've often razzed Dad that his comedic anti-prowess is rivaled only by Sweet Little Sister's total and complete inability to deviate from her one joke. But that's another post for another time. (Sorry Sis)

So here's a list of Big Daddy's jokes:

The one about the Foo bird.
The one about the bus driver.
And a joke to be determined later.

The first two of these have become the stuff of legend. The first because it is different every time he tells it, but that only lends to the anxiety-ridden experience I feel when hearing the joke; I always think it's a new joke. But alas, it isn't.

The second of these jokes is the stuff of legend because Dad makes a (really) funny face in order to tell the joke. In fact, in my opinion, the face is actually funnier than the joke itself. Think of the act of hearing the joke as being akin to collateral damage; It is simply necessary in order to see the face he makes. The problem is that I have razzed him to the point that he refuses to tell the joke now. And for that I feel bad. But only a little.

The third of these jokes might require a little explanation. Special K insists that the third joke is the fact that Dad can't remember the third joke. Which, at least to me, seems less like an actual joke and more like a blatant and pathetic attempt to pad his (decidedly) small-ish list. Part of my brain wants to immediately strike the third entry and reduce said list to only two jokes, which I would be legally and morally justified in doing, but the rest of my brain wants to give him the benefit of the doubt and hold out for that elusive third joke. Or better yet, perhaps an entirely new joke. But to be honest with you, with Dad being a bit long in the tooth, I am not sure that the humor gland in his brain (it's nestled behind and to the left of the pituitary gland according to wikipedia) could handle the strain of delivering fresh, new material.

Of course this would be the part of the conversation where Dad would chime in by saying that his memory is what he forgets with. But honestly I don't think that should count as a joke either, even though it never fails to garner a few laughs from a virgin audience. For my rationale for disqualifying this remark as the fabled third joke, please refer to to the previous paragraph.

So anyway...

At some point towards the end of the conversation, Dad mentioned that I always ruin his jokes. I laughed and said that I don't ruin them, I just augment them, but on my way home, I really started to consider the veracity of his statement.

And so now I am faced with a quandary. I feel I should apologize for always ruining his jokes. Even though my razzing him generates more laughter. Whether this is at his joke, or at his expense, I dare not say. However, I also feel that coming clean and apologizing for this might very well rob me of a great many opportunities to make others laugh (possibly at Dad's expense). For most of the past few hours, I have been thinking this over, and I believe I have come to the right conclusion.

Dad, I am sorry for always razzing you and ruining your jokes. And I promise I will try really hard to refrain from said maliciousness until you finish reading this post.

This current post notwithstanding.

Love ya, Pops.

-namaste.

The Only Word That Comes To Mind Right Now Is Pickles

2008-11-21T23:52:00.000-08:00

Axl Rose owes me $13.

Remember this?

Same issue. Axl Rose has finally dropped his 17-years-in-the-making Chinese Democracy this past week, much to the chagrin of Dr. Pepper.

Basically, this is what has happened. Axl Rose snuck into the CD manufacturing plant during the night one night, climbed up on top of the CD pressing machine and took a big steamy shit on the part of the machine that imparts the recorded binary code on the surface of the disc. Not just the laser, but the entire apparatus, including the mechanized, robotic arm and the laser on the end of it.

In dropping said steamer, he ensured that every copy of the new Guns and Roses album would have a little bit of shit on it. I can't imagine how my luck steered me this way, but I seem to have gotten the one with most of the shit on it.

They can't all sound this bad. Did anyone get a copy of the CD with the good songs on it?

Someone check iTunes.

Rest In Peace, My Brother

2008-11-19T22:58:00.000-08:00

Chewbacca

Born- Kashyyyk, 200 BBY
Died- Sernpidal, 25 ABY- Saving the life of Anakin Solo, youngest child of Han and Leia Organa Solo

Survived by his Wife, Mallatobuck, and his Son, Lumpawaroo.

{tear}

I'm such a geek.

Let Detroit Go Bankrupt

2008-11-19T11:50:00.000-08:00

I really liked Mitt Romney. To this day, I really don't understand why he didn't get the Republican nomination. If the Democrats could nominate a (half) black man, why couldn't the Republicans nominate a Mormon guy?

Anyway...

Romney published an editorial in the NY Times recently that explored his thoughts on this Detroit fiasco. I tend to agree with him. As I stated a few days ago, I could support a bailout for Detroit, provided that they restructure and overhaul their industry. I think he missed a few points, particularly in regards to the fact that the Government should share some of the blame. It's not all the Detroit Executives fault.

The Government should let them go belly up. Then underwrite their massive re-tooling under Chapter 13.

Here's what Romney said:

If General Motors, Ford and Chrysler get the bailout that their chief executives asked for yesterday, you can kiss the American automotive industry goodbye. It won’t go overnight, but its demise will be virtually guaranteed.

Without that bailout, Detroit will need to drastically restructure itself. With it, the automakers will stay the course — the suicidal course of declining market shares, insurmountable labor and retiree burdens, technology atrophy, product inferiority and never-ending job losses. Detroit needs a turnaround, not a check.

I love cars, American cars. I was born in Detroit, the son of an auto chief executive. In 1954, my dad, George Romney, was tapped to run American Motors when its president suddenly died. The company itself was on life support — banks were threatening to deal it a death blow. The stock collapsed. I watched Dad work to turn the company around — and years later at business school, they were still talking about it. From the lessons of that turnaround, and from my own experiences, I have several prescriptions for Detroit’s automakers.

First, their huge disadvantage in costs relative to foreign brands must be eliminated. That means new labor agreements to align pay and benefits to match those of workers at competitors like BMW, Honda, Nissan and Toyota. Furthermore, retiree benefits must be reduced so that the total burden per auto for domestic makers is not higher than that of foreign producers.

That extra burden is estimated to be more than $2,000 per car. Think what that means: Ford, for example, needs to cut $2,000 worth of features and quality out of its Taurus to compete with Toyota’s Avalon. Of course the Avalon feels like a better product — it has $2,000 more put into it. Considering this disadvantage, Detroit has done a remarkable job of designing and engineering its cars. But if this cost penalty persists, any bailout will only delay the inevitable.

Second, management as is must go. New faces should be recruited from unrelated industries — from companies widely respected for excellence in marketing, innovation, creativity and labor relations.

The new management must work with labor leaders to see that the enmity between labor and management comes to an end. This division is a holdover from the early years of the last century, when unions brought workers job security and better wages and benefits. But as Walter Reuther, the former head of the United Automobile Workers, said to my father, “Getting more and more pay for less and less work is a dead-end street.”

You don’t have to look far for industries with unions that went down that road. Companies in the 21st century cannot perpetuate the destructive labor relations of the 20th. This will mean a new direction for the U.A.W., profit sharing or stock grants to all employees and a change in Big Three management culture.

The need for collaboration will mean accepting sanity in salaries and perks. At American Motors, my dad cut his pay and that of his executive team, he bought stock in the company, and he went out to factories to talk to workers directly. Get rid of the planes, the executive dining rooms — all the symbols that breed resentment among the hundreds of thousands who will also be sacrificing to keep the companies afloat.

Investments must be made for the future. No more focus on quarterly earnings or the kind of short-term stock appreciation that means quick riches for executives with options. Manage with an eye on cash flow, balance sheets and long-term appreciation. Invest in truly competitive products and innovative technologies — especially fuel-saving designs — that may not arrive for years. Starving research and development is like eating the seed corn.

Just as important to the future of American carmakers is the sales force. When sales are down, you don’t want to lose the only people who can get them to grow. So don’t fire the best dealers, and don’t crush them with new financial or performance demands they can’t meet.

It is not wrong to ask for government help, but the automakers should come up with a win-win proposition. I believe the federal government should invest substantially more in basic research — on new energy sources, fuel-economy technology, materials science and the like — that will ultimately benefit the automotive industry, along with many others. I believe Washington should raise energy research spending to $20 billion a year, from the $4 billion that is spent today. The research could be done at universities, at research labs and even through public-private collaboration. The federal government should also rectify the imbedded tax penalties that favor foreign carmakers.

But don’t ask Washington to give shareholders and bondholders a free pass — they bet on management and they lost.

The American auto industry is vital to our national interest as an employer and as a hub for manufacturing. A managed bankruptcy may be the only path to the fundamental restructuring the industry needs. It would permit the companies to shed excess labor, pension and real estate costs. The federal government should provide guarantees for post-bankruptcy financing and assure car buyers that their warranties are not at risk.

In a managed bankruptcy, the federal government would propel newly competitive and viable automakers, rather than seal their fate with a bailout check.

Yeah, That's Great. But What Will You Do When Your Luck Runs Out?

2008-11-18T22:52:00.000-08:00

This guy sucks.

A Very Lucky Day - Watch more free videos

Life Begins At Half Past One

2008-11-17T20:15:00.000-08:00

I going to wax geeky for a moment and come clean about something. I have a very private (not anymore, I guess) love for the old MGM musicals. The ones that were made back when movies were still simple. Harmless. I saw them all. I got introduced to them back when I was working at Blockbuster Video. You know what I love about them? They're cheesy. Really cheesy.

I can't really explain what it is about them, really. The music is old and the vernacular is archaic, but something about them makes me keep watching them. Well, not really anymore. With a dwindling interest, as their original demographic withers away, most of these old gems get lost to the sands the time.

For years, I have been looking for a copy of Babes on Broadway, which happens to be, not only my favorite musical, but one of my favorite flicks of all time. Laugh if you want. I don't care.

The good news is that last week, my search ended. I'm sure most of you don't care. I happened to notice, over at IMDB that, Babes on Broadway had been released on DVD, in a box set with three other flicks. How superb!

So, to celebrate, I am bringing you a few pieces of this marvelous work of song and dance, directed by the legendary (though, probably unknown at this point) Buzby Berkeley.

Like The Ripples In The Shifting Sands, I Scream 'Wallflower' To The God Of Insurpitousness, And Beg For Mercy From The Nayfaring Deitonne, Lord Chumb

2008-11-17T00:11:00.000-08:00

I thought this was interesting. It might seem like propaganda, and many of you might expect me to argue against this, but I can't. I could easily support a Detroit rescue package. Provided, of course, that I get my money back eventually, and the suits in DC require them to drastically overhaul the industry.

The Fisher King Dream (Stream of Consciousness Therapy #14)

2008-11-17T00:05:00.001-08:00

He awoke with a start, the point blank gun shot still ringing in his ears. In his mind. The dream had been so real. Again.

He stirred, lapsing for a moment before realizing where he was. He had fallen asleep on the couch. Again. The menu on his son’s Spongebob DVD looping ad nauseam. He reached for the remote and cringed as the kink in his neck shot a stabbing pain into the back of his head and deep into his mind.

After the TV blinked off, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In the darkness of the room, the vision returned. It had been the same dream. The Fisher King dream he called it; that horrific scene where the gunman blows that woman’s brains all over her husbands face. Only in his dream it wasn’t a woman. It was his son.

He felt some moisture on his chin. In his half-sleep, he was afraid it might be blood. But it was only drool. He wiped it on his shirt and sat back on the couch, staring in solitude at the ceiling, the flicker of shadows cast by the slow-turning fan became mesmerizing. Anything to suppress the vision. Anything.

Only a few hours earlier, he had found himself in his most vulnerable state. Kissing his son goodbye as the child skipped down the path with his Mother. The child being the center of his existence. The Mother being the bane of it.

But he let the child go anyway. It was only proper. Not fair. But proper. Sending any child off with that woman could never be counted as fair. But he never came home with bruises, and she wasn’t starving him, so it was only proper.

As he shut the uncharacteristically heavy door behind them, he whispered a silent prayer to whomever might be listening to keep the child safe for another three days. Only three days. That was all he ever asked.

He turned from the door and stumbled to the couch. His son’s Spongebob still playing, he dropped to the couch as the sponge reverberated his dolphin-safe giggle around the barren walls of the room. The stupid star creature did something else dumb, sending the sponge into another fit of outrageous laughter.

What was this garbage? And how can children watch it? Still, the star guy was pretty funny, so he sat and watched.

The dream hazed into form so slowly that it almost seemed to be part of the cartoon.

“What’s going on?” The dream echoed. The dream echoed? Someone was talking. Save for a few vulgarities, most of the speech was incoherent.

The image unblurred a bit and he saw someone waving a gun and shouting out orders to a group of terrified people, all kneeling in a line on the floor of a shop.

“What is this?” The dream echoed again. Was it the dream? Or was he talking to himself?

Then the gunfire rang out, echoed by a dull thud and series of screams. He looked down the line and saw the man at the end lying motionless, the woman beside him now screaming that silent scream that was always more horrifying than the audible screams.

The gunman wasted no time. He moved to the woman and dropped her with a single shot to the face. She fell backward against the shelving.

“What the hell is going on here?” The dream echoed again. The man looked around. There were four terrified people left in the line. He was the last.

Wait. Something caught the corner of his eye. He turned and glanced off his left shoulder and was horrified to find his son staring up at him through trembling eyes.

“Daddy?” The boy sobbed. He scooped the child up and held him tight. The man knew what was coming, and cried into his son’s ear, begging him to stay calm.

Another thud and the man looked up to see the hot end of a gun barrel pointed at his face. He knelt there, staring at his destiny, while the crazy gunman sneered at him. The man kissed his son on the cheek, then turned his eyes to the gunman. The gunman, he noticed, was eyeing the boy.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” The man with the gun hissed, cocking the hammer on the weapon. “I’ll let you choose who will die first.”

The Father’s reply was instantaneous. “I don’t want my son to watch me die.”

And in an instant it was all over. The gunman, without so much as a pause, turned the gun on the boy and fired.

The Father screamed, collapsing in his grief onto his sons body, cradling his shattered skull in his bloody hands. The boy’s lifeless eyes stared at infinity, their silent stare filled with pain and terror.

The Father, still holding his dead son in his arms, nestled the boy’s face into the crevice of his neck, kissing the boy’s cheek as it passed his lips. The boy’s warm blood ran down the Father’s arms and dripped to the ground below. Through a wall of tears, the man looked up at the sneering gunman.

“Don’t torture me. Just get it over with.”

The Father collapsed again onto his son’s body, embracing the child and preparing for death.

“No actually,” The gunman replied. “I kind of like this better.”

The gunman pocketed his weapon disappeared through the back door.

Windows Is So Great, But The Matrix Was Stupid. Or Is It The Other Way Around?

2008-11-16T09:43:00.000-08:00

I only saw the first Matrix, and I didn't get what the big deal was. So I didn't see the rest. Of course, the fact that Keanu Reeves was in them certainly didn't foster any further desire to see them. Keanu Reeves is terrible. He's like a pickle with lips.

All that being said, I thought this video was funny.

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Baked Beans, Spam, Spam Spam & Spam

2008-11-15T23:33:00.000-08:00

Ah, the wonders of a good Python skit.

Anyway...

I have a strong desire to change the subject. Read this, or read part of it, and then explain to me what it is about Spam that makes people eat it. This has to be the same mentality that has caused McDonald's to be recession-proof. Gotta love that dollar menu, right? Not really though.

Bill Engvall (who I don't think is very funny except for that bit about the Dorkfish) once said that Spam was an acronym for Stuff Posing As Meat. That sounds about right.

Personally, I don't think I could consume something that listed both pork and ham on the same ingredients list. Isn't that the same thing? Or is one a lower grade of meat than the other. Does 'ham' only refer to the shank and roast? Does everything else get categorically thrown into the ominous 'pork' heading? Is 'pork' reserved for the frugalities of things like ears and lips? Or is it the stuff that the hot dog people won't even use? Can you imagine that? Something so bad even Oscar Meyer turns his nose up. And he'll eat anything. Ever seen that head cheese stuff?

I think I would rather feed my shoe to my son than feed him Spam. It's enough to make me a vegetarian.

Well, not quite enough. But almost.

Simon Pegg Is A Funny Guy

2008-11-15T21:28:00.001-08:00

I found this on Simon Pegg's Myspace. I think it's funny as hell.

SIMON’S BLOG: In a completely different universe...

I was walking Minnie this morning and an idea for a little Star Wars fan fiction came to me. I think it's because I've been playing The Force Unleashed quite a bit. This kind of thing feels a little outdated now. I'm not sure how many people really give a shit. All the same, I give you...

The Plan

Massai Temple, Yavin 4. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa are seated around a large stone table discussing the aftermath of Order 66 with the last remaining Jedi; Shaak Ti, Kazdan Paratus, Rahm Kota, Obi Wan Kenobi and a holo-transmission of Yoda. Captain Madine enters looking worried.

MADINE:
Our spies bring disturbing news from the Imperial Sector, Anakin Skywalker is alive.

KOTA
What?

MON MOTHMA
How can this be?

KENOBI
But I stood on the lava banks of Mustafar and watched him die.

SHAAK TI
I still don't understand why you didn't help him. He was your padawan.

KENOBI
I was really tired.

Yoda
Grave news, this is.

KENOBI
I wouldn't worry. He was in a terrible state when I left him. Both his legs were off and he was on fire.

KOTA
That's another thing. Why did you just leave him there?

KENOBI
I dunno.

PARATUS
If what Obi Wan says is true, can Skywalker really be much of a threat?

MADINE
The Emperor has rebuilt him. Apparently he's more machine now than man.

KENOBI
Creepy.

MADINE
What is more, intelligence reports that he has been reborn as the Sith Lord, Darth Vader.

KENOBI
Cool name.

YODA
Feared this, I did. The dark side has found a terrible ally

MON MOTHMA
What about the babies? Surely he will seek them out.

YODA
Hidden, they must be.

KOTA
Hidden and separated.

KENOBI
Aw.

YODA
Right, General Kota is. Strong is their bond. Easy to sense.

BAIL
I will take Leia. My wife and I have long yearned for a daughter. We will raise her as our own. Concealed in the light of royalty.

KENOBI
Nice.

MON MOTHMA
What about the boy?

PARATUS
He needs to be hidden as far a way as possible.

KENOBI
How about Tatooine? I have a friend there who has always said, if there's a bright centre to the universe, Tatooine is the planet that it's farthest from.

MON MOTHMA
Who is this friend?

KENOBI
Owen Lars.

SHAAK TI
Can he be trusted?

KENOBI
Oh yes.

PARATUS
How did you make his aquaintence?

KENOBI
He's Darth Vader's step brother.

EVERYONE
What?

KENOBI
It'll be fine, seriously. He won't think to look there.

BAIL
Are you sure?

KENOBI
Positive.

KOTA
Master Yoda?

YODA
Out of ideas, am I.

PARATUS
Very well. Leia Organa and Luke Lars -

KENOBI
Skywalker.

EVERYONE
WHAT?!

KENOBI
He should be Luke Skywalker. Come on, it sounds cooler.

Mon Mothma
What is it with you and names?

KENOBI
I think it's important. Why do you think I changed my name to Obi Wan? Nobody's going to be frightened of a Jedi called Benjamin.

YODA
Fear leads to agression...

KENOBI
Yeah yeah. If I had a credit for every time you wheeled that one out.

YODA
Up shut!

MON MOTHMA
Really, this bickering is pointless.

YODA/KENOBI
Sorry.

KOTA
Doesn't keeping his name defeat the object of hiding him?

MON MOTHMA
Yes, what if Vader vanity surfs?

BAIL
Mon Mothma is right. he may have a moogle alert attached to his name? What if he checks to see what people are saying about him and happens upon an article about Luke winning a spelling competition or a pod race or something.

KENOBI
Never gonna happen.

KOTA
Very well, if you're sure.

KENOBI
Hey, have I ever let you down?

YODA
Anakin Skywalker, did you train.

KENOBI
Oh throw that in my face why don't you!

KOTA
Silence. General Kenobi we will abide by your wisdom...

Kenobi makes a nah nah face at the holographic Yoda.

KOTA
But you have to go and live on Tatooine.

KENOBI
What?

KOTA
You have to go and live in a little house on Tatooine and keep an eye on him.

KENOBI
Oh man! It's boring on Tatooine. And what about all the sandpeople? You have to make that funny noise to scare them off and I can't do it because I've got a deviated septum.

PARATUS
You'll have time to learn.

Kenobi looks sulky.

KOTA
It's either that or we change his name and hide him somewhere less obvious.

KENOBI
Alright then.

BAIL
Good.

KOTA
Then it is settled.

PARATUS
Very well.

SHAAK TI
Let us ready a shuttle.

YODA fizzles out.

MON MOTHMA
I have a bad feeling about this.

Solidarity

2008-11-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

I almost didn't post this, in fear of an inevitable heated debate with most of the people who I know frequent this blog. I got this video from my new brother, Antinous Mondragone. We crossed paths recently by happening across a blog of common interest. Both of us have been effectively, though unofficially, banned from said blog. It's really unfortunate that shallow, self-righteous, narrow-minded people are allowed to breed. Some of these people should be removed from the gene pool. George Carlin called it passive eugenics. I'd call it active eugenics. Because if I was in charge (and thank the maker, I'm not) I would hunt these people down. Just like in Blade Runner.

I don't know for sure about Keith Olbermann's orientation (I'd guess straight), but he gets pretty passionate about this issue. That impresses me. I like to see another heterosexual (like me) take an active role in the fight for freedom and equality for all of mankind. Not just those deemed worthy by the suits on high.

It saddens me to a profound degree that a religion (that being the whole of Christianity) that is capable of doing so much good in this world, gets sidetracked on these tangents that only leave a lasting impression of hatred and oppression. For a bunch of people who tell you to "love one another," they sure make a valiant effort to teach people how to hate.

I don't get it. Actually I do. It's inherent in Christianity. Ever since mankind took it over. Don't believe me? Go ask the Cathars how nice Christianity has been to them. Oh, that's right. They're all dead. And they were Christians, too. It was even worse for the (so-called) heretics.

Any institution that encourages or teaches the active oppression of anyone, can't possibly be a Christian organization. If you were to study the historical Jesus, you would know that he cavorted with prostitutes, sinners and religious zealots alike. And he loved them all and treated them all with love and respect. Somehow, somewhere along the way, religion completely lost sight of what it was that Jesus tried to teach people.

Religion doesn't remember how to love. Mankind got in the way.

At Least He's Not Clairvoyant (or- I Hope He's Not Clairvoyant)

2008-11-13T23:10:00.000-08:00

Z went to bed tonight with no fuss, as usual. After about three minutes, I responded to a whimpering cry from his room. I sauntered in to check on him and found him on the verge of tears.

"What's the matter, Zack?" I asked kneeling at his bedside.

"I don't want you to die, Daddy."

"What?"

"I don't want you to die when I'm small."

"Zack, I'm not going to die."

"Ever?"

"Well...Zack why are you thinking about this?"

"Cause I don't want you to die when I'm so small. I want you to stay here with me."

"Well, I want to stay here with you."

"So you're not going to die?"

"Zack why are you thinking about this?"

"Cause I don't want you to die, Daddy."

"Why do you think I'm going to die?"

"I don't know. I just don't want you to."

The conversation went on in this manner for a few minutes, with Zack very quickly falling to tears.

"Why do people die, Daddy?"

"Well, Zack, sometimes people get very sick and can't get better. Sometimes people get very old. Sometimes people get hurt very badly. And sometimes these people can't get better and they have to go live with the angels."

"Like Grandma?"

"Yes, Zack, just like Grandma."

"Why did Grandma have to die?"

"She got very sick inside of her body and she tried very hard to get better, but she just couldn't. And then she had to go live with the angels."

"And God?"

"Yes, Zack, she went to live with God, too."

"Why did she get so sick?"

"Nobody really knows."

"Did she eat something that she wasn't supposed to?"

"Nothing like that, Zack. We don't know why she got so sick. She just did."

"And then she went to live with the angels?"

"Yes."

"I didn't want Grandma to die."

"Well, nobody wanted Grandma to die. But she was sick before you were even born. She was sick for a very long time. And then she got too sick and went to live with the angels."

"Are you gonna die?"

"Not any time soon, I hope. Maybe when I'm a lot older."

"Like Grandpa Great?"

"Yes, like Grandpa Great."

"Where is Grandma now?"

"Up in heaven. With my Grandma. And my sister, Shirley Anne."

"What are they doing?"

"Watching you. Making sure your safe."

"Does Grandma still love me?"

"Of course she does, Zack."

"What about your Grandma?"

"What?"

"Does your Grandma still love you?"

"Yes. And my Grandma's been keeping me safe for a long, long time."

"How long?"

"Since I was your brother's age."

"Zorko?"

"No Brando."

"Oh."

"Zack why are you worrying about this?"

"I don't know."

"Zack, please don't worry about this."

"Okay."

"You should be worried about what you're going to pick for your show-and-tell tomorrow. And making sure you are nice to your friends. And making sure you are a good big brother. And making sure you pick up your toys. And making sure you are a good boy for your Mom. That's all you need to worry about at four years old."

"Dad, I'm four-and-a-half."

"Of course."

How am I supposed to deal with this?

...

2008-11-12T16:22:00.000-08:00

Bored at work. Bored at work. Really bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. ,.sjdfhaslkfjhsdflksjfhslkfjshdflks jfhskl;fj lkj lfkjsdh lskjrlk rhe;kjfhsdlkfjhasfd lkjsd flkre hredlisudyc8 Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Really bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Really bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work. Bored at work.

Speaking Of Wanking

2008-11-11T10:53:00.000-08:00

This is Michael Angel Batio. I've known about this guy for a long, long time, and I've known that he played these freaky siamese-twin guitars (though I didn't understand how) but only recently did I actually watch one of his videos. I can't tell you the name of a single band he has been in. I can't imagine a guy in need of this much attention working all that well as part of an ensemble.

This guy is the ultimate guitar wanker. He even gives Steve Vai something to strive for. I can respect this guys abilities, which are profound, but I don't really understand the 'flashy for the sake of being flashy' idea. It's the kind of mentality that Alice Cooper made a living with, and Marilyn Manson took to new extremes.

Anyway, dig this guys ability to play two guitars at once. His capacity for thinking with both sides of the brain floors me. This takes a lot of practice.

I wish I could play one guitar this well.

This Is Shred

2008-11-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

{initiate sarcasm module}

Look how great this guy is. Notice how he casually looks around while he is shredding, just to let us know that he doesn't need to focus on what he is doing. Also, notice how he looks at his biceps while he is playing and then again while he is talking. This guy is so great!

{/terminate sarcasm module}

What a retard. This guy should do a little less wanking on his guitar and a little more soul searching. Then perhaps he would find a little emotion inside of himself, and perhaps, just perhaps, let a little of it seep into his playing.

I don't care how fast he can play, this guy blows. And his cocky attitude belongs back in the 1980s on stage with bands like Poison, Warrant, Danger Danger..

I could go on, but it is making me want to vomit.

I do like the funny faces he makes while he his playing. This could easily be a case study on how much distortion can hide bad playing. Specifically poor right hand technique.

Chocolate Lovin'

2008-11-09T20:27:00.000-08:00

Zack and I stopped by the Walgreens a couple of days ago to pick up some saline to help prevent my nosebleeds. While we were in line to pay, Zack grabbed some M&Ms.

"Are you getting those?" I asked him.

"Yeah. I'm gonna buy these."

"Oh, okay." I responded. "Did you ask?"

"Dad, can I get these?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Thanks."

When we got out to the car, he gave me the M&Ms.

"Here, Dad."

"What?"

"I bought these M&Ms for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I wanted you to have them."

He is so thoughtful that he catches me off-guard sometimes.

Do You Want To Be Inspired?

2008-11-09T12:12:00.001-08:00

Read this.

Isn't One Guitar Enough?

2008-11-08T22:40:00.000-08:00

So all this political hobokum is starting to wear me down. I wanted to post something about how I am the fourth greatest person ever created, but I am afraid it might culminate in a political argument. I also toyed with the idea of relating the story of how my Dad fell in the pool again today, but I decided to shelve that one for another time. In lieu of said topics, I have decided to post something I have been sitting on for a while.

The late (but very great) George Carlin used to say that "life is a series of dogs." He also said, "If you're not the lead dog, the view never changes." But the latter isn't really apropos. There's that word again. I really can't stand dogs, so for me life has been a series of guitars. Except they don't die off like Tipsy did. They just hang around. Literally.

I recently had an addition to my family of musical instruments, and I thought it might be interesting (if only to me) to peruse each one and recount how I came to acquire it.

First off, here is what I wake up to every morning. This and a G5. Could it get any better than this? Well, it certainly could, but it would involve dating, and that doesn't really interest me that much. Anyway, this isn't even the entire collection. Let's take a look one by one.

This was my very first guitar. After putting up with my constant nagging for a few years, Big Pops finally relented and took the plunge. Initially I had wanted to play drums. Dad was quick to squash that one. Too expensive and too loud. I totally understood, so I wasn't all that upset. Disappointed, maybe, but not upset. They also shot down my request to play the bass. Dad told me that and this is a quote, "Nobody gets famous playing bass." Really Dad? You sure? He apparently didn't listen to Victor Wooten or Doug Wimbish, or Les Claypool. Not to mention Paul McCartney, Geezer Butler and Steve Harris. I think what he meant was nobody gets famous playing bass in a country and western band. For that matter, no one gets famous playing anything in a country and western band. You have to sing to make in country. Can you name any player in any country and western band? Ever? My point exactly.

Anyway, I scored this bad boy for Christmas when I was about 14 or 15. It originally came with a tobacco sunburst finish on it, but I got bored one day and stripped off the finish. I ended up refinishing it about four times. In some respects I wish I had never stripped off the original finish. But, seriously, in the annals of my youth, this might be the worst thing I did. You live and learn, right?

I put this thing on layaway at Guitar Center and paid for it for about three months. It has a really fast neck. In fact, out of all my guitars this might be my favorite neck. I think it's a Wizard II, if that means anything to anyone. I love this guitar. It's the first one I bought with my own money. It's got a really sick Floyd Rose Lo-Pro trem. Super cool. I wrote most of my songs I have ever written on this guitar. It's very played. And it's been very loyal.

Now this bad boy has an interesting story behind it. We were living on the Northwest side of Chicago, when my brother, my friend and I decided to drive to the Guitar Center on the south side of Chicago. You know, just for fun. It took us about 90 minutes to get there and when we got there we found this little tiny guitar shop that we were really disappointed with. Buried back in the back of the shop, hung this freak of nature, unlike anything I had ever seen. It was listed at $750. I played it for a few minutes and went back the next day and bought it. turns out this is a limited edition (at least the original run was) and it originally sold for quite a big chunk of change. Whoever owned this guitar before me really messed it up. I had to rip out and replace the electronics just to get it to be playable. I'm pretty sure this has a maple neck, but the body feels like alder. Well, sounds like alder, anyway.

Not much to say about this one. I bought this thing mail-order for $99 because it looked like a PRS. I promptly replaced the pickups with a set of Gibson 57 Classics, which run for about $150 each. Now it sounds killer. Maybe killer is the wrong word. It has a very warm, bluesy sound. Which is exactly what I was looking for.

This might be my favorite guitar. I had a friend who had been playing guitar for decades tell me that this was the finest instrument he had ever played. The neck is thin. The fret board is slick and the transparent green finish is amazing. This bad boy has seven strings, instead of the customary six. That gives it a wider sonic range. I absolutely love this instrument. I paid about $700 for the guitar and then put in these $400 pick ups. I connect with this instrument in ways that I can neither understand or explain.

I realized, at some point, that I probably had enough guitars. So I bought this bass. Because Dad wouldn't. I only wanted a bass to mess around with, so I scored this thing on eBay for $150. I had intended to put in some active pickups from EMG, but the system that was in this thing sounded so good, that I left it in. You have to have really strong fingers to play bass. I love playing bass. But not as much as I love playing guitar.

I really wanted an acoustic guitar. When I started looking for one, I decided to go with a classical guitar, which has nylon strings that give it a nice warm sound. I prefer this sound to the metallic tinge of a regular acoustic. I play this one when I am down, since it helps to pull the low end emotions out of me. Playing guitar is very therapeutic. Even cathartic. And this one channels that energy very easily.

I wanted to get some EMG pickups for the Jackson that I already had. So I found this guitar listed on eBay for less that the pickups cost new. I bought it and intended to pull the pickups out of it and put them in the other guitar. The problem was that when I got this guitar, I fell in love with it just the way it was. So I left it that way. And my Jackson still doesn't have EMGs. Which is fine for now.

I went a few years without buying a guitar. One of the reason was that I wanted a proper acoustic. I knew that I wanted this model, but I didn't want to buy an acoustic sight unseen. I had to play it first. You should actually do this with every guitar, but I am guilty of buying a few online, but they were never meant to be serious guitars. They just turned out to be. This past summer, I walked into a guitar shop around the corner from my house, and they had, in stock, the exact guitar I had been looking for (very passively, mind you) for a few years. I played it then I bought it. It's beautiful and it sounds beautiful. What more could you want?

I bought this monster a few weeks ago. I wandered into a guitar shop looking for a little tiny amp to hide in my desk at work, and I saw this massive eight string behemoth hanging up at the top of the guitar wall. It was calling my name. This bad boy has two extra strings, giving it an even wider sonic range than the green guitar above. This could very easily be my favorite guitar, but right now it is still the new guy. He has to work himself in there a little more to achieve that appointment.

This guitar is very special to me. It was my Mothers. I don't know when she got it, or how long she owned it, but I do know I never saw her play it. It was always stashed behind the recliner in the living room. It's not playable at all. It spent too many years with the same old, tensionless strings and the neck is now bowed beyond repair. But that's okay. I still hang it on the wall with the others. I even dust it off from time to time so it doesn't look like it never gets played.

So that's it for now. I have a few more I want to get. I also have a few that I want to build. That's a project for Dad and me. At some point.

Now I know there will be some of you, provided that anyone actually read through this, that will say, "Nigel that's retarded. Why do you need so many guitars?"

The answer to that is a simple one. Actually it's a multi-part answer and I'm pretty sure that disqualifies it as a simple answer. 1) I'm an adult and I can do what I want. 2) Every guitar has it's own personality. Even if they look the same,they are still different. It's like twins. One of them is shy and withdrawn, and the other is the secret serial killer. But on the surface they look the same.

Now I want to go buy another guitar. I need a fix.

-namaste

Vocabulus Giganticus

2008-11-06T21:20:00.000-08:00

I tried to tickle Z tonight and he yelled to me, "No tickling, Dad. I don't want a confrontation."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Where did you get a word like that?"

He looked at me, dumbfounded. "From you." He replied, quite matter-of-factly.

Nigel Flannery Livingston And The Quest For The Holy Grail Halitosis

2008-11-05T18:00:00.000-08:00

In the year of our Lord, 1992, I went to an LA Guns concert. This, of course, was long before they started to suck. They are kind of a joke now (actually there are two versions of LA Guns now, and they both are a joke), but this was 1992. And that was 16 years ago. Think about what you were doing 16 years ago.

Anyway...

There was this band opening for LA Guns called the Electric Love Hogs. Don't believe me? Here's a picture of their CD:

I thought they totally rocked. Way better than LA Guns. Anyway, I bought their CD when it came out and I still love it to this day.

So who cares, right?

Well, while we were still living in Chicago, The Electric Love Hogs did an in-store signing thing that my brother K-Dogg when to. At this lovely event, they were giving away a promo CD that contained two songs. The first track was an edited version of a song off their CD. No big deal. The second track was an exclusive live track called Holy Halitosis. Track 2 was an amazing bombastic and brutal diatribe on the horrors of bad breath.

Since K-Dogg had yet to adopt the CD thing (he was still doing tapes) he gave the CD to me. Somewhere during our journey from Chicago to Las Vegas, a box of my stuff got lost. No one knows where it went, but I'm pretty confident some of my CDs were in that box. Including this promo CD that K-Dogg scored at the signing thing.

So, with the year being 1995, and the internet (and by extension, eBay) being years away, I had pretty much given up all hope of ever finding another copy of that CD.

When I discovered the wonders of eBay, and then discovered how it actually worked, I began a search for a replacement copy of this promo CD. This was a search that ended last week. Just about every time a went looking through eBay for anything, I would also search for this CD. Last week, I found a copy for $2.37 (plus a dollar shipping). You would think I had found an oil well up my nose, I was so excited.

The CD came in the mail today. The disc was in immaculate condition, to my surprise, and the cardboard case had only minor edge wear. Considering this was a promo CD for a band only seven people remember, finding one in this condition is pretty impressive. If only to me.

I documented my joy so as to share it with all of you.

Here's a close up of the CD, itself.

You can call me lame. I don't care. I've been hearing that one my entire life.

Short and Curlies

2008-11-05T00:04:00.000-08:00

Well, Sweet Little Sister somehow didn't entirely believe our dear Mother when she said (long ago, apparently) that I had very curly hair. Up until very recently, I have worn my hair very short. Not like a jarhead, but still short.

For most of this year, I have decided not to cut my hair. Now the curls are starting to show.

Here's the proof, Sis.

The Canadians Don't Entirely Suck

2008-11-03T10:36:00.000-08:00

So this is who you guys want for Vice President? These guys claim they got this prank set up and through to Palin in less than four days. That's a record eclipsed only by the slightly more gullible Britney Spears. That's pretty shitty compared to the two months it took for them to get Sir Paul McCartney to fall for a prank call.

I guess it's too bad that Paul is from Liverpool and not LA.

It's scary to me, thinking about the fact that this woman might very possibly be President someday.

Very scary.

Dimebag Squarepants

2008-11-01T23:03:00.000-07:00

A very interesting thing happened tonight. It was one of those times where you get to see the wheels in your kids head really starting to turn. Z really impressed me tonight, the incident with the vegetables notwithstanding. But at the same time, it made me a little sad.

Let me explain.

Z was watching Spongebob tonight. I was running around trying to cook dinner and wash dishes and continue my (seemingly) never ending task of ripping all 1400 of my CDs. As I walked past the couch where Z was watching TV, patiently waiting for dinner to finish, I heard the (very) unmistakable sound of Dimebag's guitar.

Dimebag, of course, being one of the guys who made me want to play guitar. He also is one of the (relatively) few people who helped to shape modern metal music. He was also the guitarist in the metal maelstrom known as Pantera. He was also shot six times in the back and in the head and killed while playing one of his own shows. He also, apparently, scored an episode of Spongebob.

It took me a moment to wrap my brain around what I was experiencing. It was pretty surreal, to say the least. One of my guitar gurus (I always hesitate to use the term idol for fear of blaspheming), rocking out during an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. I asked Z if he knew who was playing the guitar.

"No but I like it." Ha said.

I stopped the DVD and backed it up to the opening credits and found a credit that mentioned the Pantera score, complete with their logo. Zack recognized the logo as being on one of his shirts that he picked out (all by himself, mind you) at Hot Topic earlier this year. He ran and got the shirt out of his room and I ran to get one of their CDs. He showed me that the logos were the same, and I showed him the CD. He opened the CD and looked at the band picture.

"I like this band, Daddy." He said perusing the booklet. "We should go see them when they play band."

"Well, we can't Zack."

"Why not?"

"They don't play together anymore."

"Why not?"

I had thought, for only a brief second, about making up some cock and ball story, but I chose to go with something closer to the truth, not even thinking about the proverbial can of worms that I was opening up.

"Well, see this guy?" I said pointing to Dimebag in the group photo. "He died."

"Oh no." He replied with genuine concern. "How?"

Here is where I thought it best to deviate a bit from the truth. "He got in an accident and couldn't get better, so he had to go live with the angels."

"Just like Grandma?"

"Yes Zack, just like Grandma."

"Maybe he dropped his guitar on his foot and got a really bad owie, and then he died."

Zack went through half a dozen possible explanations for Dimebag's unfortunate death, but none of them included the fact that a psychotic ex-marine (Thanks, Uncle Sam) ran up on stage during his concert and put two bullets in his back, and then picked him up in a head lock and put four bullets in the top of his head.

In fact, with the clear exception of the Bullet Bills in Super Mario Bros, I don't think Zack even knows what a bullet is. Which, for now, is fine with me.

In the end, Zack determined that since Dimebag couldn't be here "playing band" with his brother (who was the drummer in Pantera), then maybe he's playing band with Grandma.

"Yes Zack. I'm sure he is." I replied somberly. "He's up there playing band with Grandma and Randy Rhoads, and Cliff Burton and John Lennon and Michelle Meldrum and George Harrison and Jerry Reed and John Bonham and Bon Scott and Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison and Robert Johnson and Jimi Hendrix and Eric Carr and Luciano Pavarotti and Chuck Schuldiner and Tommy Bolin and Bo Diddley and Witold Kieltyka and Steve Clark and Syd Barrett and Jesse Pintado and James Brown and Denis D'Amour and Joe C and Eazy E and Biggie Smalls and Freddie Mercury and Johnny Cash and Jam Master Jay and Joe Strummer and Waylon Jennings and Randy Castillo and Layne Staley and most of The Ramones and Chet Atkins and of course, Tiny Tim."

Obviously, I didn't rattle off all those names to him. It would require far too much explanation. Which he would have demanded.

Anyway,

-namaste

Chicken Bones To Warm The Soul

2008-11-01T22:26:00.000-07:00

Tonight was quite an adventure. I roasted a full chicken for the first time in my life. I cook chicken quite often, but never before have I cooked the entire thing. Zack told me that he loves going to El Pollo Loco with his Mother, which apparently is something they do quite often. Personally, I hate El Pollo Loco, but the other day Z all but begged me to take him there, so I did. While we were there, he told me that he liked the chicken there, because it was better than the chicken I make at home. You've gotta love that brutal honesty, right?

Anyway, since I would always prefer to cook at home than go out (except for sushi), I decided to roast up a whole chicken to show Z that I could make one like them. I think he might actually prefer dark meat to white, which is what I normally make at home. This might explain why he thinks that garbage at El Pollo Loco is so much better than mine.

So I marinated this dead bird carcass for most of the day. I used my Mother's trick of marinating it in Italian dressing. She actually mixed the Italian with some lemon juice, but I didn't have any, and I don't know the proportions anyway. Mooch might know. You should ask her.

I also chose to make up some of my Mother's potatoes. These are new (or baby) potatoes, pretty much sloshed in butter. I threw some garlic in there and buried the entire thing in parmesan for that nice crusty, cheesy goodness in the end.

I also made some green beans, but there was nothing special about them.

So here's a series of pics outlining this monumental undertaking:

This one is a little crooked, but I was tired, so deal with it.

This is where the head used to be.

By the time you read this, these drumsticks might be somewhere in Z's lower intestine. Maybe even lower.

Mmm. Potatoes.

So this is my masterpiece all plated up and ready to be turned into pooh.

Z doesn't look too thrilled. I think he just realized what the term green beans actually meant.

This is after Z realized that green beans and potatoes weren't all that bad at all.

Of course, he did an immediate about-face on this one and our evening ended with a long talk about why I won't feed him junk like his Mother does. This is going to be a long battle, but I refuse to let up on it. Z needs to learn to eat his vegetables. Period. Of course, this would be a lot easier if it was a battle fought on both sides of the fence, if you take my meaning. But just like bed time, this might take me months before I can declare victory.

Weekend Update, With Nigel Flannery Livingston

2008-10-31T23:18:00.001-07:00

Let's see if I can get through this before my system completely shuts down. Here's a few meaningful (perhaps only to me) pictures from the past two days.

1- Zack showing Special K his homework from school. He is working on long vowel sounds, and he is very proud of himself for filling in all the correct vowels for the various pictures on the page. He's picked up this reading thing surprisingly fast. He's already (capably) stumbling through the modern equivalent of those retarded Dick and Jane books.

2- This is Z's introduction to video chatting, or Skyping I think they call it. I think the idea of talking like the Jetson's did is pretty cool, but so far there isn't anyone who wants to Skype with me. Zack spoke briefly with Special K's daughter and granddaughter.

3- Z went trick or treating with his cousins tonight. They had a blast, in spite of getting sick of walking around. Z is so stoked about all his candy, but the interesting thing is that he won't eat any of it. He hates candy. Which I think is a good thing, personally.

4- Zackzilla and Mercury, both enjoying Halloween. Z asked me to make sure his cousins all knew he wasn't the real Darth Vader. It was only him in a costume. He didn't want his cousins to be afraid.

5- Babaganoosh and I pose for a quick shot. Z took this picture with my big expensive camera. I need to get him his own. And by the way, Babaganoosh is my little brother.

6- This picture is somewhat of a tradition in our family, as I'm sure it is in many families. Whenever possible, we try to take a picture with as many generations of Livingston's as we can. Gramps has been visiting here since the beginning of summer. He went home this morning, and it was very difficult to say good-bye to him last night. Given the fact that he is a bit long in the tooth, I'm not really all that sure that I will get another opportunity to take this picture, if you take my meaning. For those of you who remember this post, it was entirely inspired by the impact Gramps has had on me.

When I saw him at the beginning of the summer, it had been four years since I had seen him, and his physical condition startled me. It caused my mind to think on all the ways that he had impacted me, and I realized that he had been one of the very few people who held my clay in their hands. He did well with that clay, not even knowing what he had done.

Gramps is one of the few genuinely great people that I have ever met. Not to mention the funniest person I have ever known personally.

I'm Too Tired To Come Up With A Creative Title For This One

2008-10-30T08:04:00.001-07:00

Scott Weiland, vocalist for Stone Temple Pilots, is a huge drug addict. And for that I have very little respect for him. But he said something in a recent interview that I thought was interesting:

"Patriotism is a word that has been thrown around a lot this year, but I believe we have failed to define patriotism. McCain calls himself a renegade and patriotic, but is he really? This country was founded on patriots who were also radicals. They had to be in order to stand up against a government that was oppressive, a government that didn't allow personal freedoms, a government that ruled and controlled by force. Does this sound familiar? Does this sound like McCain is part of the solution, or part of the problem?

Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution

2008-10-26T23:57:00.001-07:00

Well the apocalypse might be really close now. I broke down and finally bought an AC/DC album. But I did it for a good cause: my own karma.

Perhaps a bit of background...

I loathe Wal-Mart. They are evil. If the devil came to earth and forgot his raincoat, he would go buy one at Wal-Mart. They should be VERBOTEN! But they aren't, because even the bureaucracy is evil. For the most part. It all started tanking when they killed Bobby Kennedy. He was the last great American.

But I digress...

A few weeks ago I had a moment of horrendously embarrassing weakness when I bought a box of strawberry whoppers from the devil when I went to Wal-Mart with my brother-in-law in Loveland, Colorado. It only cost me $.87, but it really made me feel guilty.

Fast forward to tonight. I went to Zia Records to pick up a Static X CD, when I saw at their store the new AC/DC CD, which was supposed to be a Wal-Mart exclusive.

A Wal-Mart exclusive? Seriously?

Yes, the new CD from AC/DC (a band I swore I'd never spend my money on) is a Wal-Mart exclusive in North America. This is retarded. When I asked the clerk at Zia how they managed to score the album he told me that there was a retailer in Europe who hated Wal-Mart as much as I do. They sold the AC/DC CD at cost to a bunch of North American retailers so that they could sell it instead of Wal-Mart.

I immediately grabbed the CD and added it to my small pile of purchases. I may not be a big fan of AC/DC, but I certainly hate Wal-Mart more than them.

Zack's Special Place

2008-10-26T00:00:00.001-07:00

I'm pretty sure that Zack was born with his junk in his hands. I'll have to refer the tape for verification (though it contains parts of his Mother's body I don't care to re-live). Ever since the day he came out, like any real man, he's had his hands in his pants.

Yesterday in the bath, he found his right testicle. You'd think he was doing a breast exam with his horrified reaction to a little bump (not really that little, actually). He was very concerned. And it was very funny. I did the proper Fatherly thing and told him it was supposed to be there. But when he asked me what it was for, I was completely without words. I mean, I know what it's for, but how do you explain that to a four-year-old with out guaranteeing him a trip to the Oprah show sometime in the future?

I totally chickened out and explained that it was a little monster egg and that when it was fully grown, it would hatch and bite him on the ass if he was bad.

Just kidding. I told him it was part of his wiener. I'll have to think up something clever for when he finds the other one.

This is almost as good as when he thought his wiener was on crooked.

Zack's Big Weekend

2008-10-21T23:08:00.001-07:00

Zack and I went to The Children's Discovery Museum this past weekend. The place is kind of a dump, and some of the exhibits are broken, but Z loves going there. I took a picture of him playing in the Grocery Store exhibit. He was playing with some random little girl and they were ringing up each others groceries. When Z rang her up he charged her $700.14, but when she rang him up, she only charged him $02. I thought it was kind of funny, and perhaps indicative their respective abilities concerning their grasp on reality. Even a four-year-old's reality. That little girl did seem kind of ditzy.

These next two show Zack after I finally broke out the Wii Fit. I think it's really cool. Zack loves the Ski Jumping game. I made the mistake of pointing out how to balance properly to acheive turbo speed, and now he holds 7 of the top 10 places for record long jumps, including places 1 and 2. Such crap.

{sigh}

2008-10-20T07:39:00.001-07:00

My Wii Fit told me I was obese.

Z's Pix

2008-10-18T22:51:00.000-07:00

Zack and I spent over an hour going through thousands (literally thousands) of pictures of him. We started off with the pictures of the moment he was born and just worked our way forward. He kept asking for explanation for what was happening in each picture. It was nice to go through them all with him, but it reminded me of how much I want another kid.

Here's a few pics that kind of moved me this morning:

Z and his cousin Mr. Conductor.

Zack eating, I don't know, let's say bananas. It certainly wasn't rice.

The uncensored version of this is really impressive, but it just might land me in jail.

I want another kid.

Poop Loser

2008-10-17T22:00:00.000-07:00

I have always wanted to use the word apropos in a real sentence, and now I have an occasion. The wonderful freaks over in San Francisco have decided to give Ol' W a fitting going away present. So very apropos.

Great Albums With Buttholes On The Cover, #2

2008-10-13T07:09:00.000-07:00

Far Beyond Driven, represents a turning point for the late great Pantera. Prior to this, they had traveled on a trajectory that took them from being a wimpy (but still pretty good) edgy Kiss band to being a balls out metal monster that just happened to change the face of metal music. With each subsequent album being more aggressive than the last, they mutated their sound into something that altered people's perceptions of metal music. Whether that was good or bad is very subjective.

This album, being the turning point, cross the line in many ways into the realm of controlled noise. As a band, they explored this idea even further on their next album, The Great Southern Trendkill. These two albums comprise my favorites from this band, even with the exploration of using noise as music.

This album cover, of course, was banned in the US, in the name of great American squeamishness. It was replaced with a shot of a drill embedded in a skull, which for some reason is less offensive.

I don't claim to understand the censor's. In fact their rationale seems to be heavily steeped in the retarded more times than not.

Number Eleven

2008-10-12T21:04:00.001-07:00

Count those strings...

Braids, Rain, Cold and A Smelly Little Dog

2008-10-12T15:11:00.001-07:00

Babaganoosh and I took Z-Rizzle to Loveland, Colorada for the weekend. It was cool. Literally. It was so friggin' cold there that we spent most of the time indoors. Which was fine. Except for the time that Mooch sent us to the Chicago Hot Dog place that turned out to be closed for business. That was bullshit.

Apart from that, it was a good time. It rained the whole time. Which was fine, because I roamed through the park across the street and took a series of photos of rain drops. Go check them out here. Let me know what you think of them. Some of them are a bit redundant, but that's fine.

Also, my niece, Angelica Rose Fullabologna, braided my hair. Dig it.

A full report is coming later. Maybe. I need to go get some sushi first.

Nigel's Nocturnal Necrophilia

2008-10-09T02:05:00.000-07:00

Just kidding about the necrophilia. Not really. I'm a perfectly normal necrophiliac.

Is bestionecrophilia a word? Maybe it should be hyphenated.

So it's after 2 in the morning and I can't sleep. Which sucks, because I have to get up insanely early in the morning. I've been lying in bed for the past few hours trying to sleep, but I can't because my mind is racing. Let me explain, without divulging any secrets, what exactly has been racing through my mind.

First off, my dreams manuscript has officially been put on hold. I know I haven't revealed too much info about this one, but it has to be shelved for the time being, due to the fact that I have a far more pressing project to address first.

I have been sitting on a project for a few years due the fact that some key elements were missing. Primarily, these elements were actually personnel. I was missing a few important people behind the cameras, and one very important person in front of the camera. This person has to be on-camera next to me, and I had to shelve the project for a long time because I couldn't find the right person.

As some things happen to work out, I recently landed a gig that, for the most part, put me back in touch with an old associate. I've wanted to work with her for a long time, and this recent project allowed me to do that.

Suddenly the idea of re-birthing this shelved project suddenly became a realistic possibly. I (kind of) pitched the idea to her (KitKat) and she totally went for it. Well, she went for it as much as you can without actually getting any details. Those finer details still need to be discussed, but she is on board on a preliminary level.

And this is the part that has me juiced to dive into this project again.

The problem is that with this project now (just about) green lighted, all these ideas for this project are running through my mind. Since this is, essentially, intellectual property, I can't really give away anything else until I have my legal interests taken care of. And those (few) of you who know about this project, please shut the hell up.

So this is the reason I am now blogging and not snoring. But, the truth is that I think this is a good thing. This is when I accomplish my most creative points of genesis; when I am hovering in that in-between stage that separates wake from sleep.

Sometimes I have to get up and write them down. Sometimes I fall asleep and most of those unrecorded creations get lost to the destructive sands of time. If only I had a midget that could follow me around at all times taking notes for me.

I'll have to work on that.

Anyway, I'm stoked about having the chance to work with KitKat again, and I am happy that Captain Chaos, Claymation and Lord Windesmere are all on board, too.

This will be a really good thing. Some of the reasons are obvious. Most of them are probably not. And that's okay, but they'll have to stay that way.

Love, Peace and Geese,

Nigel.

Birthdays

2008-10-07T09:31:00.000-07:00

So today marks the Old Man's birthday. I have a tendency to remember his birthday, even though he has a tendency to miss mine by a day. But that's okay.

So today Dad turns, I don't know, let's say 67.

67 years! That's almost 80 years!

So happy birthday Pops. And everyone, we're all gathering at Dad's house tonight to administer the customary spankings, as well as a bacon slapping contest.

And the spanking will have to be done in shifts, because 67 spankings is just too much for one person to administer.

Zeitgeist: Addendum

2008-10-07T01:29:00.000-07:00

Watch this.

Walking On Water

2008-10-05T22:02:00.000-07:00

My old man tries to be the blogging type, but he rarely actually posts anything.

Tonight, I noticed he had posted something new, so I darted over to his blog to check it out. I knew it had to be monumental to warrant a posting on his blog, so I was eager to see what it was. Lo and behold, it was more monumental that even I could have imagined. And I can imagine quite a bit.

Read his post here.

I only wish I could have been there to experience said joy first hand, rather than reliving the mental imagery I have to concoct in the absence of said first hand experience.

And how inappropriate of Special K to not have a camera rolling at the time.

Chop Sticks

2008-10-05T10:55:00.000-07:00

Z and I went to Kobe last night. Lord Windesmere came with. It was so good. Since Z doesn't eat sushi (yet), he ordered a Cheeseburger from their non-sushi menu. Since he's only four, and he still thinks I'm the coolest person in the world, he likes to copy everything I do. Including eating his french fries with chop sticks.

This Might Be The Most Disgusting Thing I Have Pulled Out Of My Body

2008-10-04T21:53:00.000-07:00

That's my body of course, because I have seen after-birth, and it was way worse than this.

My nose has been bleeding nocturnally for many years. Usually the only signs it leaves are smears of bloody goodness across my face and pillow. This morning, however, I pulled this whopper out of my nose. It was so long, that it tickled the back of my throat while I was performing this booger-ectomy.

It reminded me of a joke Richard Pryor told once about the big black booger that scared him so much he almost quit doing cocaine. Almost.

Anyway, this is the second (that's right, second) biggest booger I have ever pulled out of my nose. I'm not sure where the line is that separates boogers from blood clots, but I imagine it should be established at this point in human history.

For purely scientific reasons, of course.

Great Albums With Buttholes On The Cover, #1

2008-10-04T17:06:00.000-07:00

This is a great album, even if it does have a butthole on the cover. Blaze is one of those guys who never gets a fair shake in his career. He was hired to replace the irreplaceable Bruce Dickinson in the metal monster Iron Maiden. The fans didn't really take to him, which is a shame because I think he has a great voice. Not great like Bruce's, but great in its' own way.

Blaze parted company with the rest of the band after two lackluster albums, and pursued a solo career. Which I think was a good thing because his solo material stomps all over the stuff he did with Maiden. Besides, his departure paved the way for the return of Bruce Dickinson.

Anyway, this album rocks. I was listening to it today, because earlier this week, Blaze's wife died. She inexplicably slipped into a coma three months ago. Last week she suffered a stroke and she passed away earlier this week. It made me sad. Very sad.

Tripping On A Hole In A Paper Nothing

2008-10-03T21:45:00.000-07:00

Do you ever just start tripping and then realize, after said trip, that you had nothing, in fact, to trip about in the first place?

I've been riding this emotional high for that past two weeks and crashed hard tonight. For no reason. I won't discuss the trigger, but there are a few out there who will doubtlessly already know what it is.

In retrospect the crash seems so adolescent and juvenile. Silly, to be honest with you.

I mean, how bad could it possibly be to maintain my present course and trajectory throughout the rest of my life?

There's no bumps. No detours. And no road blocks. So really my present course and trajectory are pretty badass.

Even if it is like driving through Nebraska.

On the other hand, a little scenery doesn't hurt...

Random Word List #10

2008-10-03T20:20:00.000-07:00

-Mystery

-Suspicion

-Implicit

-Alarming

-Pangea

-Dictatorship

-Dangling

-Immersive

-Metaphysical

-Dissident

Tonight I Made A Little Boy Cry

2008-10-02T22:34:00.000-07:00

Z and I went to Fuddruckers tonight. As we were leaving, we ran into a friend of mine, who had claimed that she was a balloon sculptor. I really didn't believe that, but tonight we ran into her while she was working at Fuddruckers. Get what she was doing? Sculpting balloons.

To be honest with you, I think the terminology here is a little jacked up. When I think of the word sculptor, I think of a knife. And I don't care how badass you are, if you take a knife to a balloon, it's going to pop. So they need to come up with a new name. Balloon bender or something like that. Something that actually describes the activity being engaged in.

Anyway...

She gave Z a balloon, which he thought was the coolest thing ever and we went home and he proceeded to throw it around and play with it, as any little boy would do.

He threw it up a little high, and I told him to avoid hitting the ceiling with it because the popcorn texture might pop the balloon. His very next throw landed the balloon in the net of his little Nerf over-the-door basketball hoop. I went over to get it for him and stuck my hand up threw the under side of the net, and popped it up right into the ceiling. And with a deafening pop, the balloon shredded under the massive attack of the popcorn texturing.

Just watching the reaction from Z, you would think that someone had run over his dog right in front of his eyes. It was heartbreaking on a level I have never experienced before.

I felt so terrible.

I promised to take him to the store tomorrow and buy him a whole bag of balloons, so hopefully that will be sufficient restitution.

I already feel bad enough about this, so please don't make it worse by telling me what a terrible careless Father I am.

This means you, Captain Chaos. I can see the words falling from your lips even as I type this.

I Have To Do This Quick Because I'm Supposed To Be At Work In Two Minutes

2008-10-02T07:58:00.000-07:00

I have always loved bands that defy convention. Namely bands that have a sense of humor, don't take themselves too seriously and like to have fun with their music. And of course, being able to play well is always a nice bonus.

I Wrestled A Bear Once was a band I immediately ignored when they hit the scene because I felt they had a name that was so stupid that they didn't warrant my attention. There are tons of bands that have stupid names. Want proof? Look here.

Anyway, I saw this video over at Blabbermouth.net, and I thought it was very interesting. Not interesting enough to run over to Zia and buy it, but interesting enough for me to watch the video and post it on my blog.

It was the name of the song that caught my attention. To be honest with you, I think Kevin Bacon is a pretty good actor, but I don't care to ever know what he tastes like. That thought is disturbing on a level I can't even begin to comprehend.

Flush

2008-10-01T01:10:00.000-07:00

I finally got the chance to see Head's music video. There's a whole lot of hoopla going around about this album he just released. And for all the wrong reasons. Some retailers (probably Wal-Mart) have yanked this album because they say that this music video condones drug abuse. And of course they have this opinion because they are too shallow and unintelligent to understand the true meaning of this song.

This song is proof that a man can devote his life to Christ and still rock out hardcore. This song is about Head's journey that began with him being a meth-addicted mega rock star with no future, and culminated in him being a drug-free born again Christian. What he did takes real devotion, and I admire that.

This song is heavy as hell. Some of you might hate it because of this. But if you have the capacity, sit back and experience the pain, sorrow and hopelessness in this song. And when the end comes around, notice the hopeful, determined emotion that drips from it. Some might call it ugly, but I think it's beautiful.

Brian Welch is a man who knows pain. I am glad he took the steps to save himself, because so many don't.

And I am also glad that he didn't pull a Cat Stevens and give up on music altogether.

If you like this song, please go buy this album. The messages in this collection of songs is uplifting to a degree I can barely comprehend.

So does this song advocate drug use? You decide. If it does, then explain the backwards video in the end.

Three Cheers For Michigan

2008-09-30T22:34:00.000-07:00

I totally and completely stole this from The Hot Dog Queen's blog.

If this man ran for President, I would believe him when he said he would protect my rights. It made me wish I lived in Michigan. But not enough to actually live there.

Americana Nervosa

2008-09-30T00:12:00.000-07:00

{initiate sarcasm module}

This makes me so proud to be an American.

{terminate sarcasm module}

Can't we sterilize these people? Just consider it active eugenics. It improves the human gene pool.

Redneck Woman Rails on Obama - Watch more free videos

Three Cheers For Nancy

2008-09-29T22:30:00.000-07:00

I've never really had the opportunity to become familiar with Nancy Pelosi. She always seemed really bitchy to me. This speech, which has created so much turmoil on Capitol Hill, raises serious issues with the Bailout Bill.

Suddenly Nancy Pelosi is my hero. I'm glad they defeated that bill. It's about time people stepped up with chisel in hand. There is a way to fix this problem, but it isn't in the bill they presented this week. This is just one more example of big government trying to steal bits and pieces of our freedom whenever they can squeeze it into legislation.

They tried to push this bill, crammed with economy altering (and not for good) legislation, into law when the American people were willing to accept anything to make them feel safe. Isn't that what they did with the Patriot Act? And didn't that, in essence, nullify the Bills of Rights? Or do people not even realize that?

I'm glad someone on the Hill is speaking for the real people.

{sigh}

2008-09-27T09:49:00.001-07:00

Personally, I think Paul Newman was great. Except for that Raspberry Vinaigrette travesty. That stuff was horrid.

"Paul Newman's craft was acting. His passion was racing. His love was his family and friends. And his heart and soul were dedicated to helping make the world a better place for all."

-Newman's Own Foundation Vice-Chairman Robert Forrester

There aren't enough people like Paul Newman. May he rest in peace.

My Name Is Lucifer, Please Take My Hand

2008-09-27T00:02:00.000-07:00

I got a bit bored tonight, and decided to mess around with some stuff we shot the other day. I think KitKat and I look good together.

Here's A Daunting Task

2008-09-24T23:30:00.000-07:00

I recently bought a massive amount of storage for my computer because I am tired of searching through all my CDs for a single album. With the addition of 1TB of storage space, I can now begin the horrifying task of digitizing all of my damn near 1000 CDs.

This might take a while.

This Might Be The Most Important Creation In The Whole Of The Known Universe

2008-09-23T19:32:00.000-07:00

Well, at least within our galaxy...

(Somebody alert Dr. Slim)