Sunday, August 31, 2008

Covert Jazz!

I have a leg holster for my iPod. It's flipping cool. I can hide it inside my pants or under a large coat. If I run the earbud wire under my shirt, I can let the wires come up the back of my neck and keep the buds themselves from being too noticeable.

Chew on that, authority. Do I want to spray-paint something? I think I'll put on some Psychedelic Furs. Do I want to run from the cops? Motteke Sailor Fuku. Rob a bank? Why Can't This Be Love. Case the joint? Research Lab from the Portable Ops soundtrack. Stay awake in class? License to Thrill. Beat up druggies? Hymn of the USSR.

Sounds fun, eh? It's not unlike that commercial I saw for ING bank or whatever. This dude was walking around in the park and there was a dude wearing a tracksuit walking in front of him carrying a boombox playing impressive music (gerunds much?). He was described as a guy with his own themetrack.

What do you think my themetrack should be?

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Sunday, August 24, 2008

I flippin' love this tie!

I was writing a talk for church today on the backs of index cards and, as I am wont to do, I let my mind wander quite a bit while I was doing it. I got to thinking about how I've never run for any sort of electable position at skool. I always blamed it on "I don't want to get involved in weirdo Church of Christ politics (I'm Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, sorta different there)," but I don't think that was entirely honest. I tried figuring out a bit why I never did run. I thought about bizarre confidence problems that seem to come out of the woodwork at times. I mean bizarre. I'd be much more confident as an Olympic gymnast than as an actor in a high-skool production of "Up the Down Staircase." And I've never done any gymnastics before, but I have acted before. Now tell me that isn't bizarre. I mean, how does that make sense? I know I'd make the greatest under-cover soldier guerrilla secret agent ever, but my fear of not being able to properly pull of a Czech accent prevents me from buying a tuxedo and growing a mustache and flying to Spain. I think that's strange too.

So I thought some more, because I knew that it wasn't the confidence that was the issue. I was CONFIDENT that if I ran I would win. I considered lack of caring. That seemed more like it. That's something I'm real good at. Apathy has always been a real cool cannon that I could fire whenever something got in my way. Lame teacher? Blam, I don't care. Bad food? Blam, fish is better, who cares. Hard final exam? Pshaw, I can take an F on this. Caltech isn't gonna look at my seventh-grade Bible grades. (Neither am I, if it means anything.) So apathy was definitely an ingredient.

Now I also told people I NEVER WANT TO BE LIKE AMY HARWELL. Yeah, the one who told me later that her hair was naturally black. (I believe her.) I don't want to be the scapegoat that everyone unfairly blames for all their problems for years afterward. I know, however, that I wouldn't do anything disastrous enough for that to happen. And I certainly wouldn't let the people who control me do that either. Ha ha, Sons of Liberty.

So, guys! I just shot my own excuse full of holes. Should I run next year? Note, however, that if I get a job at the State Department like I'm trying to do, I won't be able to attend the dumb (apathy!) retreat, thusly nullifying my election. But money is no object! I'm rolling in cash! Or actually, my financiers are! So if I should run, then I'll run! And throw everyone's confidence in the toilet!

Salt Marsh: I was serious about the suspenders thing and the chess thing.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Crab battle?

I was getting ready for church this morning, and while I was putting on my suspenders, I noticed my copy of Rise and Fall of The Third Reich on my nightstand (yeah, yeah, so I'm not done yet), and this sort of began to boil in my brain. Almost like making instant ramen.

For people who are keeping score, I've got to say that there's a Golden Age for pretty much everything. There was a Golden Age of totalitarianism in the 1920's. There was a Golden Age of Free Love in the late sixties. There was a Golden Age of "crap we're gonna die" in the late 14th century. There was a Golden Age of bad fashion which began circa 1985 and is generally thought to have ended circa 2002.

Now, on a more human scale, there are high points (COMMENTERS! DO NOT MENTION THE COFFEE SHOP OF THAT NAME!). Personally, I think my high point of lying about brushing my teeth ended about the time I was seven or eight, maybe nine. I've hit my high point of slacking off and getting loads of crap I didn't earn (well, I hope that's not really the case, but I wouldn't be surprised).

I remember the time I used to spend two hours writing a blog post, and then one gay kid would read it and I'd have to delete his comments. I eventually got two more (semi-)regular readers. I mastered the art of saying enough without saying too much. I learned how to tell a story without divulging my identity or giving gender cues about my subjects (writers: it's a real challenge, but very rewarding; try it sometime).

Then I got W3Counter to work and constantly tracked my readers. How they got there, where they lived, how long they stayed. My posts got shorter, it seemed. Not that that's a problem. I just didn't pour my heart into them anymore. Maybe it's because I started keeping a real diary. Maybe not. It's not worse now, just different.

I'm sort of proud of this!

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Dang man!

Turns out that sometimes my plans do work. I have all these great ideas, like using concrete walls as practice for stabbing people with beer bottles, but they always end up really bad. Like I end up stabbing myself with the beer bottle instead. Or all the times I figured out an awesome prank that I was going to do, but it turned out in the end that I didn't care enough to carry it out.

But sometimes my plans do work, like I just said. Then it's freaking awesome. And sometimes there's a little bonus afterwords. It makes me so happy. It validates my existence, in a way.


Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Under the table...

For your viewing pleasure, I have posted a copy of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade."

I didn't make it, so I don't know what the copyright status is.

What in the Heck.

So it is undoubtedly classless, and there lies its strength. A toff can be a bit of a chap as well without, as it were, losing face.

OK. Yes. Is that not the most confusing thing you've ever read? To me it's an example of why British people who refuse to speak English need their own Wikipedia. I mean, there's a "simple English" Wikipedia, so why not an "Andy Capp's" Wikipedia?