Click images for desktop size: "Mountain King" by Unknown - Ancient Chinese The house my dogs and I live in is on a large lot. On the south its about 30 feet to the fence then about 20 yards to the neighbors house. On the north there's about 35 feet to the fence and the neighbors. To the west there aren't any neighbors to speak of. On the east its a bit closer, about 18 feet to the fence and the neighbors.
When you look out the front porch its blackness like a forest blackness. I find that calming.
And yet today I felt smothered and cramped.
Its not a valid feeling, physically. I've been in bed sits in Europe that were no bigger than this place's storage shed. Where your next door neighbor is a two by four and a piece of dry wall away; where you share a toilet and a shower with 6 neighbors. There the humanity oozes out into you. Living so close people get reclusive and afraid. Afraid of people and your neighbors. Sometimes just afraid.
I felt like that today. Like all these people were pressing against me, stealing my breath.
Its the economy, or the lack of it. Its the lack of humanity, for sure. The lack of kindness that frightened people can't bring themselves to give to one another.
Its telephones and emails and pagers and cell phones so that even when your staring off into a black black night you can never feel secure in your peace.
Its not the terrorists, thats becoming a joke now. An excuse to steal the freedom that rich fat bastards have hated having to grant us. Even worse or the cretins whose only goal is to be one of those rich fat cats who blindly slug their fellows instituting their policies, looking for a dollop of spilled gravy.
We enjoy living in fear. We're comfortable with it. We miss it when its gone. So we let the ultra rich rape and slaughter foreign lands, make the world hate us, make the down trodden we have more and more in common with every day our enemies.
We did it in Nicaragua. American Can and Fruit were making a killing. So we supported them by propping up a government that tortured and starved its people. The rich had solid gold telephones
Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Michael Whelan while the workers lived in fields and ate grubs for dinner. The ones lucky enough to work for the American companies endured conditions that our forefathers fought and defeated at Matewan, Detroit, Virginia and Kentucky. Sadly they only got a victory they didn't destroy the rich cats who wanted to take it away from us.
Freedom is easy. You just have to fight and win and then never lose. Someone said that about a slave revolt.
So in Nicaragua the Sandinistas had a revolution so that they might not die and live with dignity. And when they won we decided they were communists . . . And we made the workers, the poor people are now our enemy when they weren't. When there is no reason for them to be. We let the rich win.
That makes me feel that sometimes there is just too much world.
I had a good day today too.
My walk went nothing as planned. It was better.
I took my puppy and my giant dog. Giant dog is huge but timid. When we started off he suddenly went berserk. I even had to turn off the iPod!
He's always going crazy so I didn't pay too much attention. My puppy's new habit is to go over and check whatever makes "the boys" act up. Her interest was perked so I went to see, with some small trepidations over finding some dead thing or . . . What I found was an empty 5 gallon water bottle blowing and banging against a rod in the ditch. It was pretty clean so I picked it up and we walked to the store where I turned it in for a ten buck deposit!
Little makes a day better than found money.
We used the bucks to buy our friend some beer, for a light socket to repair a lamp, and a pepperoni for all the pups.
We even got to go into the liquor store together! I am still won't to take the dogs in me wherever I go.
Another great way to make a day is too to a minor electrical repair and have it turn out well - no sparks, smoke or intense ozone smell.
I repaired an old lamp . . . I don't care. it was fun and thinking about how pleased my friend would be made it better.
The only negative was that the big loud hot movie, "The Machine Girl" was a let down. I don't have a Japanese school girl fetish so the idea of a heroine killing people and flashing her panties didn't really inspire me.
The movie is way over the top. Six gallons of blood per minute pumping out of a severed arm doesn't disturb me, but here, it actually bored me. The movie has no core, so soul. Most of the jokes are predicated on the basis that you've seen too many Japanese TV dramas, too many Cheesy Japanese films (like "The Girls Rebel Force Of Competitive Swimmers".
I was expecting something more subversive, more creative.

Click images for desktop size: "Ben Black Elk" by Unknown The two femme leads were pleasant to look at but they weren't very good fighters. They often looked clumsy. The gore was not good looking and it appeared that they went for the humorous aspect of it, ala "Robocop" because they didn't have the budget or the expertise to make it thrilling or shocking.
Its not a movie I'd have been excited to discover on my own (like "Duel:Aragami"), like a cult klazzik (like "Guinea Pig Flowers Of Evil"). It was just a bit of overt mess that didn't even entertain. It only bored.
What a disappointment.
The new broadband has not kicked in yet. I still have worries about the new independent provider being decent.
I'm not sure why this preys on my mind so. The present provider is one of the worlds worst at bandwidth shaping. I've always believed that the little guy can do better than the monopolies. Maybe because it seems like such an essential service that is still so delicate and prone to grievous errors. I'm committed so anyway, so we'll see.

Posted by David at 9:57 AM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Castro Gold Sea" by Marcus Of Full Reason Yesterday didn't go anywhere like I'd planned it. That's not a bad thing. Plans going awry let you improvise. Best parts of life come from spontaneous improvisation, I think.
What through me off was discovering that DSL modems now are MAC addressed by the provider. How foolish. It does nothing to benefit the consumer. It just makes it easier to void net neutrality and do advanced traffic shaping, which are all detrimental to the consumer who is already saddled with a grossly over priced service. Maybe it helps them prevent theft of service some how. I don't really know.
I mean I figured that a better DSL modem would just plug in and that I'd use it and my router until the new DSL service kicked in. Then I could just have a nice seamless transformation. It seems I'll know when the new service kicks in when this one stops working . . . maybe not. The new carrier promises no traffic shaping and guarantees net neutrality. Maybe the old modem will just send the signal on unimpeded. Who knows.
Anyway, since everything connected and was looking right I was flummoxed as to why the internet it said was there was inaccessible. I tested everything before I figured I should try and see if the modem was somehow being blocked. It was. I confirmed it.
I didn't take a nap watching a mediocre movie. (I like mediocre movies almost as much as I like good ones and half as much as I like great ones but only half again as much as I like bad ones. I only loathe movies like "Pirates Of The Caribbean 3" that opened with unnecessary cruelty to a child. Hitchcock, that erstwhile hack, knew 80 years ago you don't harm a child in a movie. It becomes the apogee of emotion in the film. In "Pirates" it was just for the shock and added nothing, except to make me uncomfortable and wonder where this was leading in a kiddy flic.)
The rest of the day was taken up in the house hold junk. Broke, flat before payday. Using credit cards that have been trying to pay down and eradicate to buy essentials, like gasoline and dog supplies.

Click images for desktop size: "Marilyn Monroe" Had to get the dogs their flea stuff. It had an immediate effect on them. A lot less scratching, except my puppy who has developed a way of running and scratching her tummy with her hind leg . . . she has sores there. I might have to wrap her to let them heal.
My little blind dog has allergies. His scratching may or may not be related to fleas. His blindness was most likely an allergic reaction. He wears clothes to keep him from scratching himself up. He's torn a hole in his side. He bit me when I accidentally touched it. Not hard enough to hurt, just to startle. I guess he was startled.
Like a fool I spent 4 bucks I don't have buying them some dried salmon treats. It never seems like wasting money when its for the dogs or friends.
Then discovered about 2 gallons of vegetarian chili had gone bad. That was planned for dinner and for about the next 3 dinners, so that was a blow. Had plain rice instead. I guess, at least, that's healthy.
I'm still not sleeping well. Got up twice during the night and still got up for good about an hour before the alarm clock went off. Can't blame the puppies for it this time, even though they enjoyed having me up and around.
The new update for Mac OS X was released yesterday. 10.5.3, which are a lot of numbers to type. I haven't noticed any real improvements so far. It was a large 500 meg update so I assume I'll notice them sooner or later. The main thing I have noticed is that the address Book app (that I use primarily to remember my own phone numbers) now has built in sync service for gmail, Yahoo and the overpriced dot mac service.
One thing that bugs me. Aperture is the Mac pro photo management tool I like it much more than iPhoto, except all the added cameras it supports are the over $1,000 ones! Which means my little low end Fuji RAW pix have to be handled through LightRoom. I still use Aperture for the jpg's I shoot with my little compact Olympus and I like it plenty for that. Except I am such a poor photographer, in every way, that I need the tools and exposure latitude in RAW files to get an image that's viewable (except for that happenstance good pic I sometimes take).
I dislike this money based elitism Apple is showing here. Part of the hassle is that the camera manufactures all use a different standard for the mosaic RAW format. But the issue is also that Apple keeps the reading of image files as part of the OS infrastructure. In some ways this is a superior method in terms of speed and color management, but it means guys like me who can only get our little cameras are treated like second class citizens.
I never thought I'd be grateful to Adobe to be able to see my pictures that way I dream of them being.
Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Eric Drudwin(We can forget about me trying to take better pictures. I try and learn but I seldom even think of taking a picture when I'm looking at something, then when I do remember its in such a rush panic that its amazing I get anything. I depend on software tricks to get something good looking or at least visible!)
As for today, I want to take a long walk with my dogs. I need it to take out the pain and kinks in my body and maybe to wear myself out enough to sleep.
And I plan to watch "The Machine Girl" and watch it at an obscene volume level. Its the new Japanese flic that's hot right now. About a girl who loses an arm when her family is murdered by yakuza ninjas (!). She has the arm replaced with a machine gun! School girl murderess!
Its supposed to be colossally funny and supremely gory. Just the way we like 'em.

Posted by David at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Kabaret Poster" by Unknown I heard someplace that a definition of insanity is to repeat the same actions over and over again and always expecting a different result . . . I think that sort of mean we're all insane in one way or another. A realization most of us have about the time we turn thirteen, or shortly after that time when we start being interested in girls (or boys).
But if we're all a touch insane I'd guess that madness is the norm . . . and that would explain why we need so many definitions for insanity. And it would explain why there's so many fascinating books about it. Not just text books either. Its nice to read about ourselves and then if it gets uncomfortable to be able to say that its really not us but some alien thing that lives far over there, behind a tall fence. Preferably electrified.
The legal definition of insanity is, I think, the dullest. Does he know the difference between right and wrong. It harkens back to the Spanish Inquisition and that odd determination that man was born with an instinctive knowledge of god. If he weren't he was a heretic or worse.
For a guy like Jeffrey Dahmer killing and eating your one night stands was exactly the right thing to do. Not eating them was wrong.
Charles Schmidt, mad teenager, picked up two girls and murdered them out of boredom. He couldn't even properly bury the evidence. He left one girls sneakered foot sticking out of her shallow grave. Digging holes tried his patience. To not tell his friends about his crime was wrong to him. It seemed right to his teen friends about it so they could go out and look at the rotting corpses. To them to tell an adult about it or a cop would have been wrong.
Right and wrong seem like a sticky wicket to me. It depends on what most of us have been taught. Like in Charles Schmidt's case all those teens who went and had a beer over the bodies of their old friends was right and within the teen community not ratting out Charlie was the right thing to do.
The clinical/"committ that sucker" definition bothers me too. "Presents a danger to himself and/or others". Jesus Christ was divine, all powerful but he allowed people to scourge him and then crucify him. That's certainly putting yourself in danger but no one would call Christ insane. Every time someone speeds down a
Click images for desktop size: "Longboard At Sunser" by Richard Clark residential street they present a clear danger to kids but you can't or at least don't call them insane. Even drunk drivers don't get treated like lunatics.
This is why I took two philosophy classes in school and then transfered to Calculus. Math was easier on my brain . . .
Contrary to hopes or maybe expectations, I'm not going insane. At least not more so than usual. Its just that once again contrary to common sense or sanity I've done something stupid again.
When I'm unwell I push myself hard until either I break or whatever is bothering me breaks.
I think I always lose these contests.
Walking 9 miles, doing all the yard work has pushed me past the limit. I ache all over and feel worse than being sick . . .
Today the plan is to not be unsane. To take the day off and let my body heal.
My goals for today are to take a walk with my puppies, not a death march but just a walk to the pet store to get flea junk. Fleas are most definitely insane because I say so.
I expect the new DSL modem to be delivered today so I'll hook that up. I've had about 10 hours sleep the past 3 days, can't remember before that, so I'll put on a "good" movie and hope to fall asleep in the middle of it.
And that's it.
This will enable me to go back to my eccentric orbit tomorrow of accomplishing more than any two people could ever dream . . . At least that's what I tell myself. We all have to tell ourselves stuff like that once in a while or we might stop being human.
I wonder if the new modem will work as transparently as I hope.

Posted by David at 9:57 AM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Ancient Japanese Art" Awakened at 4 a.m. by my little blind dog. He was in need. Stayed up to nurse him. He's had four bad days in a row.
As long as he gets excited by going on walks. As long as he keeps getting into trouble; keeps eating, I'm not going to be too worried about him. Just need to stay aware he's got some needs. I have to be careful to listen to him.
Wish I could be that cognizant of everything else that goes on around me.
I have come to a realization. I think I can survive without any RIAA controlled music. Most of you know my attitude about the RIAA, and how they've gone from setting the standards for vinyl record EQ to being the nastiest most corrupt business men on the planet. A national disgrace and working hard to be a planetary sham.
They don't control music though. They're actually pretty easy to side step. Anyone can record their music. There's even an on-line free recording studio. I haven't tested it but you can make your music somehow and get it out there.
Much different from my day . . . (man, that sounds old) when you either had to come up with the cash for a recording studio or be willing to build your own gear (my solution) then come up with another $500 bucks to master and stamp out 250 CD's (or 500 vinyl albums). You could either sell them at your gigs or hustle them to the local record shops.
It as its own kind of fun.
The thing is that music we make ourselves, its not controlled by the RIAA. BMI and ASCAP have as much say and they're difficult groups you need to belong to but they're not as predatory.
Its a lot more difficult to sidestep the growing obnoxiousness of the MPAA. They have a pretty solid monopoly. They don't get busted for it because politico's need celebrity endorsements.
I mean, you can go out and make your own movie but you can't get it shown at any of the big theaters. They'll only book stuff that's been given the MPAA rating seal, which means you have to surrender your baby to them. Ditto for going to the independent distributors. You need the seal. I've been involved in enough of those movies to have seen it too many times.
I guess the MPAA can point to the porno industry. Before video took it over
Click images for desktop size: "Joe" by Avatar Palin their used to be an entire distribution network for porn and porn theaters. Then they can point to the Film Festivals as the alternative. Of course, most guys go to the Festivals hoping to pick up a big distributor and an MPAA seal.
They can point to George Romero and Sam Rami. Rami, with the weight of Dino DeLaurentus got "Evil Dead 2" shown without the MPAA seal. Romero, with the weight of Dario Argento and massive box office receipts stayed independent and got "Dawn of the Dead" into theaters without dealing with the MPAA.
Those are the only examples I can think of off hand. Most people can't afford to risk the money tied up in their movies this way. Selling your movie to a chain of movie theaters is too hard without the seal. The booking agents won't look at it. They can't afford to take the risk or the time.
Sounds like restraint of trade if you were talking making shoes or shirts.
Since tape came into its own there's been a side industry of "direct to video". Interesting things sometimes but most often a dumping ground for stuff that couldn't get a distributer. Its different in the rest of the world, until it comes to American movies, of course. Seeing something at home or on the computer just isn't the same thing at all.
But anyway I realized that 95% of the stuff I listen to is not RIAA product. In fact I can live without the RIAA. (I'll see how strong that resolve is when the new Alkaline Trio comes out next month . . . )
Maybe if I avoid RIAA product even more bands will follow Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails and get their music out there without the onerous threat of the rip off artists.
For me its easy. I think The Come On's "Dollar In My Pocket" is a sensational track. The RIAA may not care about the quality of their product but there's nothing that they've got in their catalog that can compare to this sweet not vacant number.
Dave Wronski is a world glass guitarist. His version of "For A Fistful Of Dollars" may run afoul of Morricone's publishers but that doesn't stop this from being a great stomping instrumental. You can listen to it and dance and feel free because your not supporting the corrupt tone deaf jerks.
That's going to be my solution anyway. At least until the world wakes up and lets music be for the people again. For the musicians and the band fags and the fans.
My strategy might fail but I won't be missing much.

Click images for desktop size: "Marvel Universe" by Marvel Comics I've ordered the new cheaper DSL service. It'll go into effect next week. I'm nervous about it.
It took some juggling of credit cards and cash. Decided to go piece meal about it. Partially for money reasons. You have to pay the whole year in advance . . . and partially out of good old fashioned American fear.
Cutting off the land line and going straight into VOIP is scary when you've little idea of just how decent the connection will be.
I had Vonage when I had cable broadband. I was happy with it. Happy enough anyway. But then i had a decent totally tweaked 7mbs connection. Even then, sometimes the phone connection was lousy. It did restrict what you could do on the internet. With the drain on bandwidth, both on the network and the internet with the AppleTV its one of those things you need to experiment with.
One positive is I get to install my own router. The phone company provides a really lousy router built into the DSL modem. Its near impossible to bridge without a lot of firmware flashing.
I'd expect the network to perform better. This router provides 58% signal strength with 8% noise level AT BEST in a straight line of site 14 foot distance! Usually it falls below that. My Linksys router generally gets 80% and 2% noise at 30 feet through walls!
The DSL is at 5mps. Nothing will make that get better.
But if I suddenly vanish for a while and don't answer emails even worse than I do now don't take it personally . . .
Just imagine me suffering over my sudden inability to communicate in my usual mumbling sputtery way.

Posted by David at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Haunted Hotel" by Hybrid Works I walked 9 miles yesterday. Took me two and a half hours. Not too bad considering all the hills.
This wasn't planned. I started out just planning to get a cup of coffee. Coffee has balms to ease the ravished spirit and mend the bruised ego.
I must live in the only neighborhood in the world that doesn't have a Starbucks every two blocks. Maybe I should open one. I was sure I'd seen a coffee joint somewhere. The two I found were closed. Maybe because it was Sunday. Maybe because it was before noon. So I kept looking.
I noticed that my arms became very heavy. It felt like they were dislocating at the shoulder. My hands cramped badly, painfully. It was odd. Not what I'm used to when I walk.
There were a lot of cars on the road, and a lot of cars in the church parking lots (made me miss living in the bible belt - I owned the streets and stores from 10 am until 1 p.m. every Sunday) but only one other person walking. Fortunately he was memorable.
It was about 70 out and sunny. Pretty pleasant. He was not wearing a shirt and he had on levi cut offs. He had the whitest skin I'd ever seen on a man or woman. (In my entire life no one has ever said I had gorgeous so white skin . . . ) What made it more remarkable is that he was totally buffed out. Like most guys doing their own work out plan the buff was all upper body. He had sad skinny white legs.
It made his chest and delts look huge. Maybe that was the intended effect. His six pack had the smeary effect I usually attribute to using one of those electric pads (The equivalent of 10,000 crunches just by wearing our safe and painless . . . )
He must have been waiting for the first sunny day so he could walk around and show off his wintery body work. I thought about suggesting he hit a tanning salon but thought better of it. I just said, "Hey. Look fit."
He smiled and said, "And I did it all myself!" Which I thought was an odd comment but before I'd come up with a response better than, "Huh?" we'd passed each other.
I never did find a place to get Hi-Q coffee. Ended up at Taco Bell and got a half dozen vegetarian tacos for 7 bucks. That's a taco with beans instead of meat filling. Like a bean burrito wrapped in a corn tortilla.
Click images for desktop size: "Josephine" by A Rodriguez Their profit and loss statement must love people ordering them. They'll make them for you if you ask. I don't like them but my friend does. When I got home found out they'd shorted me one. I tried to eat the last one. It was soggy and not too good. But she ate 4 of them and that's who they were for.
Spent the rest of the day feeling sore.
Did yard work and tinkered with tools. The dogs hate when I do yard work with power tools. I make them stay outside and they are totally convinced I'll do myself some serious damage if I don't have a dog to watch over me.
After I took my puppy and my little blind dog to the store to get a Diet Dr Pepper. Whenever I think my little blind dog is doing well he shows me he isn't. He was overjoyed, as usual, to get to go on a walk. He was dancing along when he walked straight into a concrete lamp post. He staggered for a nano second and then began sniffing the post like nothing at all had happened and just had a great time driving me nuts the rest of the way. Before on the store walk I've had to carry him part of the way. Today he had to stop to catch his breath but eagerly continued on. He loves me. My puppy loves me. Although they both think I'm stingy.
Watched a couple of forgettable movies after starting two others that seemed too good to watch by myself. Then I collapsed into a black sleep. Woken by dogs telling me it was time. Found I'd stretched my legs out full to fight the fatigue and cramping. I'd stuck my feet under the foot rail and was clearly using it too stretch the muscles in my battered legs.

Posted by David at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Foundation" by Rodney Matthews One of the worst parts of some chemo or radiation treatments is if all your hair falls out.
Its unnerving. It disarms you and leaves you feeling defenseless against the coming onslaughts.
I thought about that when I was down by the train tracks. I was going to crush pennies. See if I could remember why, when I was a kid, crushing pennies under train tracks had seemed so special.
I liked the way the pennies would get all flat and retain just a slight memory of what a penny used to look like. It never worked on nickels or dimes. I never tried it on a quarter. Too much money to a kid for experimenting. Too much money for me now to throw away.
I'm sure you've done it. You line some coins up on the rail and wait for a train. Then you shudder and grit your teeth while the train wheels ka-clop over your little trap. After it passes you search between the ties for the squashed metal.
You never told your mom about this flattened treasure. She;d kill you if she knew you were playing on the train tracks . . . again.

Posted by David at 9:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "5 cm per Second" by Kabegami Feeling better today.
Funny I feel worse when I wake up. Then wear down during the day only to pick up after a dosage of Vitamin C. Maybe I'm addicted to Vitamin C? Do junkies wake up with "the hunger"? Could be worse, I guess.
While I was working and being sick I got to listen to a lot of music. It set me off on an odd reverie. I wondered if it would be preferable to be some forgettable dork like whatever guy won the American Idol mess, go out there, make a pile of cash and then be forgotten or remembered quizzically like an off color joke. Or if it would better to just be in a band that gets better and better until you're playing in front of audiences of 500 and every person leaves the club thinking this was one of the best nights of their lives, or at least of the year.
Pretty obvious where I come down. To pick the other would be saying that my life was a failure.
I'm no failure.
I want a guitar. Can't afford one. Even a cheap one (Never buy a new guitar, especially acoustic.)
Even when I tell myself its just for my own amusement, to sing and play to the dogs and my friends, I know that if I ever get through a song without my hands failing me I'll start thinking I should get into a band.
If one of these friends can sing along and harmonize then I'll become determined, then if I meet a guy who can keep a good rhythm pounding on the kitchen table then the search will start for a bass player and the next thing I know it'll be 4 am and we're looking at 500 bucks in wet bills and after paying the bar tab and gas we're stuck trying to figure out how to divide 87 dollars 5 ways. (do they always pay the band with whatever bills got particularly spilled on that night? Or do they think bands only like soggy money? Or did the bass player drop the bills on the way from the managers office on the way to the stage? Mysteries of music 102.)

Click images for desktop size: "Threads of Desire" by K Horne I didn't get to watch any movies. What's the point of being sick if you can't watch a lot of movies. I kept drifting off to sleep every time I'd sit and try and watch one.
There's a lot to do to get caught back up. lots of fretting to do, emails to write.
I did see that they're actually running a dog and pony show in congress. Feels like a joke. Politicians looking stern and asking the "hard" questions right before election year. Congress asked oil execs how much they make a year. One guy claimed over 12 million a year. A couple of others said they didn't know . . .
I wonder if they'll investigate the two who didn't know for perjury. Do to them what they're doing to Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens. I mean its pretty clear cut. They sign their tax forms. They get W-2's. They know but don't want to say seems like a good bet.
They won't bust them for perjury. In fact I'd expect the only thing that will happen is that the exec's who are only making 2 million a year are going to demand raises. Makes you wonder what power lust made Bush give up that kind of cash to make a measly low 6 figures a year.
Since the oil companies made the "compelling" argument that the past 20 years of record gas prices are the only hedge they have to when they aren't making record profits . . . or something like that.
They said they make billions in profit but they need that to continue to make billions in profits. I figure congress will buy off on that, especially in an election year when they need those campaign dollars.
Still it was nice to hear politicians claiming they're looking out for their constituents. None of them seemed to bothered, personally, by high gas prices.
I also saw a rather cool series of photos. A Chinese wedding photographer was working during the earthquake. He got these poetic images of the bridal party suddenly wrapped in one of the worst cataclysms in Chinese history.
The sheer fact that he didn't just drop the camera and run for his life seems to indicate, to me at least, that he deserves some sort of international award. Certainly better than just a posting on his blog.
They're those sort of happenstance pictures that makes a tragedy real and more than just incomprehensible numbers.
Certainly worth a click to see.
And now. Onward. Or something like that.

Posted by David at 5:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Frank Melech One of my major fears has been realized.
I've gotten a cold . . .
I'm never sure if its the chemo or the leukemia that thrashed my immune system but colds hit me pretty hard.
I'm only running a 101 temperature. In the past its gotten as high as 104.5. My normal temp, post chemo, is about 97.5. I think I'm keeping it low now thanks to my vitamin C voodoo.
I forced myself to do a lot of hard physical work yesterday. Almost finished answering kids emails. I feel worse today, more likely due to only a few hours of sleep than due to a failure of massive dosages of vitamin C or to trying to do too much.
Working gives me a sense of security, that I'm not letting these diseases take over my life. Its stupid but its important to me. I actually pay more attention to details. If I relax a bit the work becomes trash but . . . In the past I was told that doing physical labour wasn't dangerous. I'm going to hold the doc's to that.
I'm going to shower. I'm pretty disgusting. I'm hoping that the steam and getting the layer of vile off of me will give me the boost to commit to my work today.
Yesterday I couldn't even watch any movies! Couldn't concentrate on stupid gory zombie flics.
How sick is that?
Its been confirmed that drinking coffee raises the blood sugars . . . how cruel is nature?

Posted by David at 9:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Alone In London" by Graham Thomas I'm slowly recovering from the onslaught of emails congratulating my puppy on surviving me for nearly 3 years . . .
I'm sorry if I've not gotten back to you. My puppy got nearly 200 emails and many of them can't be answered with just a form letter. I'm not really sorry but I'll say I am; kids always take priority over ay-dults.
In a similar vein I deleted 8,500 comments yesterday . . . I was trying to go through and check for any real comments but, as usual, after about 15 minutes and 500 spam comments I accidentally hit the delete all button . . . I don't really regret it. I'm sorry if your comment was lost due to my ennui.
Deleting comments, ignoring emails . . . I guess I'm just incommunicado . . .
One question seems to predominate . . . 3 people asked. What is the best form of martial art . . . running always comes to my mind first. Running really really fast is definitely the best defense.
Working on running really fast will get you in shape, help you lose weight and clear up your complexion. You will be a babe magnet.
When you can't run for whatever reason . . . I have to wonder why my opinion matters on this but I'm used to spouting off opinions and having them taken as fact when I really have no basis to be an authority on much of anything. That said, I've always thought for learning to do the most damage in the least amount of time, kick boxing, muay thai, is an effective martial art. To get to the level of being deadly takes as much time as any other martial art, but if you're just being harassed by a bully or something, than kick boxing can give you a solid basis in about 3 months (if you apply yourself).
For the others I think aikido is beautiful. The whole "sphere of influence" philosophy with all the wrist locks and gentle throws has a nice grace. Unlike most martial arts that believe that anyone insane enough to physically attack must be destroyed as totally and quickly as possible aikido is
Click images for desktop size: "Betty Page" by Bernel most concerned with stopping them with as little damage as can be needed.
(Don't pay much attention to the stuff Steven Seagal does in his movies. He's cool and fast but I've never seen any aikido masters fight like that.)
As to the others, in full contact fighting (kumite) and sparring its really difficult to see much difference between the different schools. (Talking empty handed fighting and not including boxing which is still a sport with clearly defined rules). For long term health and well being I'd pick Wing Chung Kung Fu. Its excellent for health and fitness and remember its where Bruce Lee started. (forget the movies, has there yet been a better fighter than Bruce Lee?)
For mental and physical discipline, Shotokan Karate. Mr Oshima, my teacher, looks 30 while he's 60. He's as calm and gentle a person as you can imagine. He could possibly kick hell out of your entire gang but would genuinely prefer not to. Bushido.
One advantage to Shotokan is that its the only martial arts school out there that is still run as a not for profit. Its affordable, cheap even, some classes in universities are free. I know of several guys doing work around the dojo because they can't afford to pay for classes.
Any of the JKA schools in karate are good and well regulated. They also offer all those crazy color belts. Americans like crazy colors and they like visible signs of how much better they are than you.
I don't like weapons based schools like escrima and kendo. Weapons . . . if you forget your gun your pretty well done with this fight and are back to running very very fast. Which is what you should be working on anyway . . .

I did get to start a new serial, "Zorro's Fighting Legion". Its a "klazzik" serial. The first chapter was very cool. It starts with an elegant speech from Jaurez, Mexico's first President. Jaurez is given a sense of gravitas and sorrow that the movies usually reserve for Abraham Lincoln. Its a fantastic performance.
Also in his 2 minute speech he explained international economics more clearly and concisely than I'd ever known was possible.
That all this beautiful rhetoric is needed to set up a bunch of indian attacks, bad guys and schemes is to its credit!
Zorro is cool. Great costume, and he fights with a bull whip. I'd never heard of Reed Hadley before. He's awesome as Zorro. Tall thin, rides well, and sword fights better. He's awesome with the whip!
It will be cool to see if the rest of the serial can keep up with the level of this first one. The only caveat is that for a story set in Mexico about Mexicans there's not a single Hispanic in sight . . .

Click images for desktop size: "Drumlin" by Ben Schlitter
I also recently finished a V.I. Warshawski novel. I've lost faith with the series.
Warshawski is a great character and Sara Paretsky is a good writer, but the plots have become surprisingly hackneyed. Its like reading a novel based on the Sid Field's school of scripting. Its the exact same situations with the exact same resolutions. Very disappointing to see talent squandered this way.
Laundry, lawn mower repair and yard work on the agenda today. That and hammering out the details of making the big and scary ISP switch. I realize I need the internet. I guess so I can be a bad communicator and pen pal . . .

Posted by David at 10:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Fire Leaf" by Stag This weekend it was pointed out that I have a bad temper. I know I do. Its a flash-on flash-off sort of bad temper. For a moment I'm enraged and then the next moment I've pretty well forgotten what I was mad about.
It was the sort of rage that lasted just long enough to bust through the defensive line and get to the secondary. So as a teen my behavior was tacitly encouraged. Some coaches didn't care about me or any player beyond what we bought into a winning equation.
It wasn't until college that I was able to put most of my demons behind me and see the game of football and my life as something real and beautiful.
But even a brief mention of my temper made me think of something dark. Its a secret I've kept for a lot of years. Its something I've ashamed of, even though its not an willful act or something to be this ashamed of. Its like hitting a squirrel in your car. But it affected me.
Its ancient history. I was walking the dogs. It was a day when the santanas were blowing hard and there was no surf to take advantage of it. While walking I found a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. Blown from its home. My big female Belgian actually found it and whimpered at me until I picked it up.
I looked around some but couldn't see anything that looked remotely like a nest. I couldn't return it to its home so I took it home with me.
It was a tiny brutally ugly thing, all pink, closed eyes. I called my vet and he told me to feed it a mixture of milk, honey and Gerber's pablum. He also said I'd have to feed the thing every three hours . . .
I drove down the hill and got the ingredients and an eye dropper. For the next month plus I feed the little thing. It just kept getting uglier it seemed to me. I mean this deformed pink body soon got covered with these glossy, mucous looking unattractive yellow quills. I was lucky they didn't feel as gross as they looked.
Soon the quills opened into scraggly looking feathers, the bright yellow beak, its best feature at the time, became a mottled black thing that could hurt you when it pecked at you hungry for food.
I couldn't imagine a mother bird ever finding something like this beautiful,
Click images for desktop size: "Flower Sisters" by Tarah Haack but they do and spend all their time hunting for food to feed the ugly things.
I was having my normal sleep issues so the waking every 3 hours to feed the demanding thing didn't bother me too much, if at all. In short order I had a young common sparrow, female. She turned that nice dusky brown. She was fine and healthy. She learned to fly on her own. All over the house. Her droppings were hard little pellets and were easy to clean up. Which is lucky in a house with 3 dogs, two rabbits (who lived outside of their cages), a cockatoo and a two year old boy.
It was a big day when it came time to release her. I took her out in the back yard and watched her fly up high and then turn and fly right back into the house . . .
I took her outside again and this time closed the door. Her response was to dive bomb me, and tangle her feet into my hair. She clearly wasn't going anywhere.
For a couple of weeks I stayed outside with her, trying to get her to acclimate to being outside. I hoped she'd met a nice male sparrow and fly off. She liked darting around the lemon and orange trees but she wasn't going to leave. If I made any moves she was on me like a shot.
I soon grew fond of having a pet wild bird.
She was a nice addition to the household. She ate bird seed and fruit, liked to watch us work. When I'd come home she'd fly up to me sit on my shoulder and then climb into my shirt pocket, turn her self around in there until she could poke her head out. Then she spent the evening having me walk around while she cheeped at the world.
At night she would come and rustle her feathers and sleep on my chest.
That's where the trouble was. Even know 20 years later I still think I should have made her sleep in a cage but she'd lived with us like this for nearly 2 years and and and a whole lot of other justifications I have.
In my sleep I rolled over one night and crushed her.
She was dead and by my hand. I'm still haunted trying to remember what I did in my sleep. I loved my little wild bird who'd picked me for its mama.
There are very few things that I am responsible for that have devastated me like the death of the little bird. I was inconsolable. I blamed myself which makes being inconsolable even harsher.
I probably should have gone to grief therapy. I missed her flying into my pocket. I missed her hovering over the stove, looking for a cool spot to watch me cook. I missed her bringing me little bits of paper or string.
You could say I was being prepared
Click images for desktop size: "Full Metal Alchemist" by Mota for a greater tragedy that was coming but I didn't know that.
All I knew was that I had killed something I loved. And hated that feeling. I hated what I had done.
Since I didn't consider a shrink. I went to martial arts. It was an outlet I'd used before. Sometimes as a mode of controlling my temper, sometimes just as a physical release.
The first one I tried was Aikido. Too much sitting around in zazen position and meditating. It hurt my knees and meditation didn't help me do anything except fall asleep.
While I admired a martial art that had no attacks, only defense it wasn't for me. So next I tried Tae Kawn Do. I liked the violent explosion of it and all the kicks. I was a good size to be effective with it. It just made me better at being violent. It seemed to have no under pinning other than quickly and effectively destroying an opponent. That could have just been my instructor, I don't know.
I played around with various forms of kung fu. I liked it but wasn't a good size for it. I wasn't effective at it as much as I admired its beauty I sort of sucked. I'm not used to not being great at physical things.
This time I listened to my buddy Tom and went to Shotokan karate. He thought it would help assuage my grief and rein me in.
Since Tom is still the most violent person I ever knew I had always had doubts before. Tom's idea of restraint was counting to one before he punched you. I was feeling so bad I went to a class.
The funny thing about Shotokan karate was its strong underpinning in history. The school was founded by Guichin Funakoshi, the guy who invented karate in Okinawa. My teacher was one of his original students.
The class was more miserable than two a days finished with nut cracker drills.
We would throw a punch 1,000 times. Do a horse stance for over an hour. The attitude was that the body had to be exhausted so that the mind left the equation and you became total reflex.
It works.
It also worked for me and managed to take my mind off the death of my little bird. I even got used to the idea that there were women fighters who could easily take my head off.
I went to a special training. A four day regime of hell. The day started with a five mile run, barefoot along gravel roads. The highlight was the day of 10,000 kicks and 10,000 katas. Which were exactly what they sounded like.
And the teacher explaining things to us in a calm patient tone. Philosophical things, talks about combat and how to avoid it. He spoke to me personally. I don't think I've ever been so befriended by someone who had less ulterior motive.
It wasn't enough to make me forget my little bird but it let me come to grips with it. To deal with it.
It made me do everything I could to not hurt things that I loved. It made me more cautious with the things and people I loved.
I still have not forgiven myself. Maybe one I can be that strong.

Posted by David at 9:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Electrogoth" by Envy Since I've had access to the AppleTV i haven't even turned on a DVD player . . . odd that.
It makes me realize the importance of senses and the anthropological psychology of our senses.
Like we've all allowed to have rather lousy memories for sounds. We've all had a friend who we thought had died because we kept hearing the same song pour out of his bed room window, over and over again.
When you finally break in you find out there was nothing wrong. He just dug the tune. Couldn't get enough of it.
Or we've gotten into a car with a friend who played the same track over and over again, all the way to wherever you two were going and you were probably glad it wasn't any further.
If we'd evolved with auditory memory that matched our visual memory we wouldn't be able to do that.
Its like you can listen to a live concert of your fave band a few times without even blinking, but you'd be hard pressed to watch a video of the same show more than once or twice. You'd get bored and relate to editing gaffes instead of watching. Most often you'd end up reading and listening, or looking at anything except the image.
Its part of the power of paintings and photographs I guess, the ability to take you someplace, someplace new or the same familiar place, each time you gaze at a painting even though you know every pixel of the painting by heart. There's more than a certain genius to that, or else we'd all live in bare walled holes.
Our sense of smell is pretty terrible and we only seem to recall smells that are bad or great - a cess pool or your mom's cooking. Even though scents have a way of bringing up a bigger and wider range of emotional responses from us that come closer to re-experiencing the reality of a moment, of all moments connected to a scent.
And touch? Unless its connected to pleasure or pain who remembers a touch. Its why we can do all those cool nasty tricks with peeled grapes and things at Halloween.
All of that is why I don't get to stressed about my little blind dog sitting happily two inches from a wall, apparently staring at it happily.

Click images for desktop size: "Untitled" by Frank FrazettaWith as much effort as we put into communicating with aliens from outer space we don't put much time into communicating with the aliens we share the planet with. John Lilly, a cool enough guy, is the only one I know of who's tried to talk to dolphins.
Dolphins need talking to. There are legends about dolphins rescuing drowning people at sea. Every surfer has a story about some dolphin harassing or playing with them.
(Mine involved the dolphin with a nasty sense of humor. I was on dawn patrol when I saw a gray fin break the water line and come rushing at me. I pulled my feet up on the board and was getting ready to punch the shark in the nose . . . I read in a comic book or saw on TV about how sharks had real sensitive noses and you could not them out with the right punch! The fin submerged. I looked around fearfully and waited for panic when my board was suddenly capsized from underneath. I thought I was fish meat. When I broke the surface the dolphin was up there laughing at me. Laughing at me . . . he spent the day catching every wave I caught and being a real pain in the neck. He seemed to love it best when he could cut me off and create a wipe out . . .)
There an animal with intelligence, at least as much intelligence as the gorillas who've communicate pretty effectively with sign language.
We don't pay much attention to this except as freak show stuff, like the tic tac toe playing chicken. I think it makes us uncomfortable. We're not a very secure species, still clinging to the worries of survival and junk like it. We relate to animals best when we feel comfortably superior and can easily humanize them, at least to our conscious minds.
It seems easy to love something we are in total control of and can give ambiguous human traits to. Its a bit harder to love something that is alien to us. Like a dog.
When my little blind dog stares at the wall with a happy grin on his snuffling face he might not see the wall but I imagine he's got a world of other things to get so lost in. Smells that I can't guess at but that tell him stories and sing him songs. I'm sure he can hear noises that ell him absorbing dog stories, or else why is he so easy to startle when I call to him.
He likes to stay close to me because the other dogs don't tread on him. I'm the for sure alpha dog around this house anyway.
He knows I'm the source for food and pets. And in some canine way he loves me. That doesn't mean the blind little guy doesn't try and escape at every given opportunity. Not to run away but to go find new smells and to hear new things.
This is all the junk you think about on a rainy Sunday morning. Nasty cold day so that even the dogs don't want to go outside.
I need to heal. I think I've been tearing my body up pretty badly with all the yard work. My hamstrings are singing off key
Click images for desktop size: "Feeling My Age" by Anonymous arias to my calves and my hands are clenching and cramping begging to rest.
So it might be just time to watch a lot of movies. Consider finances.
I going to move the house internet connection from the monster monopoly phone company to an independent ISP . . . I'm nervous about this. The internet is the way I communicate, get information and survive and function, I think. Since were doing that we're also going to dump the land line and go to VOIP. I had Vonage before. The service was a tick better than acceptable. It would have been fine except the customer service department were the biggest jerks ever. Sales people should not be called customer service. It bothers me when I understand a tech better than the paid employees who are supposed to trouble shoot the problem, and keep wanting me to buy more services when I struggling with the existing services, but maybe this time it will be okay.
I have to figure out finances. Its a logistical issue with my credit cards and cash availalbe. Th savings become significant if I pay for a year in advance. I mean like over a grand for the year significant. But its hard to come up with the front money. Got to figure it out. Which isn't that big a deal. I just hope the service works well enough.
Other than that I plan to watch movies and sleep during most of the boring bits. I still haven't ordered or rented a movie through the AppleTV. It looks easy enough and maybe its time to try. The 99 cent movie special this week is "The Usual Suspects", which is entertaining enough and my eyes are bad enough to not remember enough of it so its a thought. Of course when I've got about 100 movies I haven't seen yet renting one just to check out the tech is a bit frivolous, even if it is only a buck . . .

Posted by David at 12:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Eight Bit Gaming" by Carlos Eduardo I've been to a lot of parties in my life. Mostly for business, at least that's what I told myself.
I've been to parties with A-List celebrities schmoozing in corners, while B-List celebs checked me out to see if I was worth talking to.
I've been at parties where I had no business being there. Where bands with a top ten single played on a tiny stage at the end of a pool, while an actress who was on the cover of that weeks people magazine, where she'd made a splash explaining why she'd never do a nude scene, danced languidly and nude ankle deep in water on the pool steps.
I've even been to a party at the Playboy Mansion, invited by Hefner's wife. We talked about dogs most of the time. My main memory was how they'd managed to find so many attractive young women who wanted to sleep with old. balding and pudgy men.
The better parties were the ones at the beach. Where we sacrificed surfboards for a bonfire and our brain cells to Micky's Big Mouthed Malt Liquor. We debauched ourselves until dawn in a vain hope that we could entice the Hawaiian god Huey to send us some tasty waves.
I've been to parties all over the world. Enjoyed myself in Milan where I was the only person there who didn't speak Italian and no one else spoke more than a phrase or two of English.
I go on about it so you understand that I have some sort of standard to gauge things against so that when I tell you the best party I've ever been to was last night. My best friend and four dogs.
We went to a restaurant and had french fries ala mode . . . My friend and I didn't, the dogs did. One of the pups was misbehaving moderately badly. He was just too cranked up at being outside and the idea of dining al fresco was too much for him. He took it upon himself to act as a guard to keep the gate crashers away. There were several. As they kept coming his voice got higher and shriller till. at the end, he no longer sounded like a giant beast but more like a yapping toy poodle!
My little blind dog took everything in stride. He was happy to be eating. He loves going out and was in full joy mode. He was having so much fun I didn't even think until now
Click images for desktop size: "Dolls" by Luis Royo how sad it is that he no longer has the endurance to take long walks around town.
The "Angel Dog" was delighted to be out and perplexed by it too. He insisted that his dinner be served to him by hand, on a plastic fork thank you. He graciously allowed my puppy to eat his dregs, a revolting looking melange of melted ice cream and brown gravy. My puppy licked it up like it were a special higher grade of ambrosia.
We spent the rest of the evening remembering, looking at souvenirs of the past 3 years. Like my mini-screwdriver set that our foster puppy Noelle chewed up. They still work well enough. My Armani prescription glasses that my puppy made into a mangled pile of wire. My souvenirs.
The only smudge on the entire day was a phone call from the vet's office. I'd made an appointment for the 4 guys to have a heart worm blood test, prior to getting them their heart worm medicine. They had told me it would be $32.50 per dog when I made the appointment, which is cool and reasonable. They called to say that price was a mistake and it would be nearly 90 bucks a dog instead!
One of my chores today is to find a saner vet.
My other chore is to put the finishing touches on the little sun garden. I feel good about this. It was mainly destruction and breaking stuff so its nice to see it completed and ready to be used.
I also have grandiose plans to help my puppy prepare her description of her birthday party. Too many emails demanding it!
As to me. I'm happy. I've settled into that weird crabbiness I'm prone to. I'm tired and a I have a horrid phobia about fatigue. I keep fearing that its the end of the remission. I have plenty of tests I run to remind me of the fine line between being tired, exhausted and fatigued. I'm fine.
I'm uncomfortable. I still have those times when I find anything touching painful and loathsome. They don't last long. Its just the general feeling of being uncomfortable physically. of feeling that itch in my bones makes me shorter than I'd like to be.

Posted by David at 9:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "Circles" by Aleksander Makimow Today is an international holiday!
Isn't it?
It's my puppy's birthday. She has a full itinerary lined up.
I'm not kidding. I'm expected to participate and to enjoy myself fully. It all culminates with a big surprise party with a new taste treat promised. French fries ala mode with beef gravy . . . Its a surprise party because my puppy seldom listens to much I talk about.

Yesterday I cleaned my keyboard. It had gotten beyond gross.
The last time I cleaned my keyboard I killed it. Totally and irrevocably killed it. So I was, understandably reticent to try it again.
I used the utmost care, swabbing each key gently with pure alcohol and a Q-Tip. And needless to say I killed it again.
Since a new keyboard is at least 50 bucks I thought a lot about the prudence of Mac clones and how Ubuntu really looks like a decent alternative.
This time it appears that the keyboard had gotten so gunky that the residue from my swabbing had caused some of the gunk to shift under the board to the contacts so it was working as if I was constantly pressing the command (Mac only) control -alt-shift key. Which made for some interesting results.
I pried all the keys off and re-swabbed. Then re-integrated. I then took my puppy and my little blind dog for a quick walk and came back to find out that it had dried out and started working again.
I am a genius at breaking stuff. Fortunately I am still half a genius at fixing stuff.
If only I could get my ebike running . . .

During all this my mind drifted, as it generally does. I was thinking about a mediocre science fiction book I'd read years ago. I got it from the Charing Cross library in London. I've never seen it any where else or heard it talked about. I don't remember the author or the title of the book. They only had volume one of a series. I don't know how many books in the series, but it was called "The Amtrak Wars".
Click images for desktop size: "Pinup" by Unknown I originally thought it was about our decrepit train system but it was about an intergalactic war!
It was pretty tedious stuff but it had one wonderful conceit. It predicted that human beings were the most dangerous and aggressive warriors in the galaxy. That even a middling small nerd type had twice as much endurance, strength, speed and blood lust than the previous galactic champions.
That was very appealing to me. I figure if you added a Belgian Sheepdog to the mix you'd have a serious combat team (who would also have a few laughs.)
Like I said, I never was able to find any other books in the series. Its one of those things a dispassionately look for in used book stores.
David Drake is an odd writer. He has his own science fiction trips. But he also touched on a similar theme. He had some guy conquer the universe by capturing an ancient Roman Legion and forcing them to fight for him.
Ray guns are no match for iron, steel and precision it seems.
Cool stuff.
For some reason day dreaming about the destructive capabilities of our race makes a lot of insanity more sensible.

Now the rest of the day will be spent rejoicing in my puppy and the joy she brings into my life and the life of others. Three years old today. Three years and we're still inseparable. Still bicker all the time. Still need each other.
There's not much better than that. Not much better than a good dog. Together we are perfect, for each other and for others.

Posted by David at 10:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Click images for desktop size: "The Astonishing X-Men" by Marvel Comics I went for a long walk on Monday with my puppy. When I'm feeling badly she sticks very close to me, herds me. Its mildly annoying. She doesn't seem to get as much pleasure from it as she would usually.
I must be feeling better. On Monday she was jumping all over the place, pulling me here and there, racing hard at the end of her leash.
Clearly if I'm feeling well enough its the best option to try and kill me.
She was good enough and we laughed a lot.
My puppy wasn't enough to detract from my anger over the new bill passed in the House. The one where they've said that the cops now have the right to confiscate and keep any computer suspected of being used to download "pirated" content . . .
This is why people view me as a right winger. I believe in liberty and think that justice is a vague ephemeral term that shifts to often to be reliable.
In a just world every member of the House who voted for this law would be held up to immediate scrutiny. There's no sense to it. Except to appease the greedy MPAA and RIAA, two groups who produce nothing but naked greed.
If we forced each member of Congress to justify voting for legislation that does not benefit or protect their constituents or face impeachment we'd be moving towards justice for the people.
I mean guys like Henry Waxman (who rally embarrassed himself and the nation with the baseball steroids inanity) serves the members of the MPAA and the RIAA. They reside in his district.
Some representatives could show that they were hoping to lure some movie productions to their district creating an influx of money and jobs that would benefit their constituents.
Other than that I don't see where laws like this do much of anything except to attempt to criminalize children for listening to their computer instead of being dictated to by the mega corps who've destroyed radio.
If they can't justify their interest its time to audit them.
Click images for desktop size: "Aladdin" by Maxfield Parrish If they've gotten any donations or gifts from the MPAA or the RIAA or from any of their members that implies that the members of the House are corrupt and they should be put on trial and then thrown into jail for abusing their position of public trust.
It won't happen. They'll just keep passing laws that condone their corruption and abuses. The same way will never get to find out if any or how much money changed hands to get the RIAA attorney made into a JUDGE!
I keep waiting for Obama or Clinton to say they're going to repeal some of the sick laws that have been passed in the last 8 years, laws that are crippling and destroying the meaning and beauty of this country while bankrupting it.
Neither has. McCain seems to just want more of the same. He and his buddies are rich so why worry about people like you and me.
(I also think about the cops trying to enforce this byzantine mess, especially after Microsoft just screwed over a million or so of their customers by taking their music away from them. I mean, can you see a cop trying to understand the difference between "Fairplay", "PlaysForSure", self ripped, tracks swapped within the legal definition of fair use, and pirated materiel? Any bets on just stealing your computer to get their arrest records up? And telling us, "That's what you get for listening to this junk!")
The MPAA and the RIAA keep pointing to falling revenues. Which really aren't falling, just not growing to their projections. At the same time they sure haven't come forward and taken responsibility for churning out worthless product. They sure haven't offered refunds for making you watch duff movies or listen to garbage tunes.
For me, its becoming less of a deal. I've gotten to listen to a lot of music with all the yard work, lawn mowing and walking. I'd guess that less than 1% of the stuff that I listen to that gets me cranked comes from the ogres at the RIAA.
Bands like The Ribeye Brothers want to make a living for sure but they seem more involved in making you dance than trying to shake the money out of your pockets.
Even bands that I'm not to keen on like GO, with their psychedelic throwback lushness in tunes like "Help You Out" are trying to make music, trying to push you someplace that the musicians who support the RIAA have forgotten even exists. (Only the ultra rich musicians seem to support the RIAA and very few of them.)
There are bands out there like The Neanderthals. This is another new surf band. They're unique in that they also do a lot f vocal surf! Not the easy stuff like The Beach Boys, but the raw surf vocals from bands like The Trashmen, The Astronaughts and the Legendary Bobby Fuller. Their track "Go Little Camaro" reminds me of spring all over again. Its funny, it rocks and for 2 and 1/2 minutes the world seems like a brighter place where its fun to be alive.
Other than that I'm still locked into the old stuff. Even a semi-obscure group like The Martinets offers more than a lot of the pre=fab RIAA pop that WalMart keeps telling us is cutting edge.
Of course there's always the punk standby's. Me First & The Gimmee Gimmees still rock hard and make me laugh. Like when they destroy and recreate that boring Steve Goodman track "City Of New Orleans". It feels like the New Orleans you want to ride.

Click images for desktop size: "Big In Japan" by Michael Kutsche Another non-RIAA album I find astonishing I've told you about before, The "Do The Pop" compilation. I've yet to hear a totally duff track on it. Chris Bailey's Saints don't even have the best track on the set!
I don't think I could actually pull a best track off the album. Even bands I'm not that fond of like The Hard Ons turn out a sparkling number like "Girl In The Sweater".
The only new musical thing that surprises me is that thus far my favorite album of 2008 is The Hives, "Black And White". They've kept their guitar heavy sound and moved forward and back to make a sound that moves me. They've used and transmuted old R&B rhythms to keep you dancing. Even the front man seems somehow less annoying!

Posted by David at 10:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Click images for desktop size: "Abseits der Wege" by Michael Kutsche Gardening is just one of the many things I know nothing about.
Mindless destruction, on that, I'm pretty good and knowledgeable.
Kind of cool to combine ignorance and experience into making something that, well, works.
I've nearly finished clearing and making the sunning garden, and within my self imposed deadline. All that's left to do is destroy the huge pile of detritus and Virginia Creeper. I'm still figuring over that one. I did use some of the Creeper to add a small moat around one of the fences. There's a section that's been damaged by kids and less savory types hopping it. I'm pretty sure a four foot tangle of that nasty stuff will deter all except the determined. You can't stop them except with a baseball bat . . .
By rounded sweaty estimation I've pulled about 2.5 miles of Virginia Creeper from the ground and out of the trees and shrubs. If there were a professional tug of war league I think I'm in shape for a tryout.
(That reminds me. Once, years ago, I was in the mid-west, for reasons I don't remember.
A high school had decided to go for a world's record by having the longest ever tug of war. They were going to string a rope 3 miles over a river! It might have been the Mississippi but I think it was the Wabash.
The idea was that the losers would get tugged off the bank and tumble through 10 feet of briars and roots to land in the water. Then, I guess, we would laugh uproariously as we looked at the wet and muddy bleeding jocks.
I watched them use an old tug to drag the rope from one bank to the other. It was the first sign of trouble when a second tug had to come in and assist the hauling. It took them nearly an hour. It was a massive hunk of hemp, a good three inches thick. I pulled it and shredded my hands on it.
Soon they had two hundred kids on each bank and the contest began. The only problem was the rope
Click images for desktop size: "Synthetic Storm" by Alex Isuss was so heavy that they couldn't move it. They couldn't even stir it to raise out of the water.
I watched two hundred kids sweating and slipping while the rope barely created a ripple. The rope wasn't taught across the river it hung down in the water completely submerged.
After about 15 minutes the kids all collapsed exhausted. he rope never moving.
They bought in tractors. {Where was I that a couple of huge John Deere tractors were that handy?}
Then I discovered something interesting about hemp. When you let it soak in river water it not only gets heavier but it stretches. The tractors went about 100 yards but the rope remained resolutely submerged.
One of the reasons that playing those "farm boy" football teams was always worrisome is that those guys never knew when they were beat. For some reason the kids decided to give it another try . . . The now stretched rope still didn't move. At least this time there were some ripples. I almost cheered when I saw the rope move but stopped because I thought it would probably be misinterpreted and get me punched out. (there was a crowd of a few thousand present and people were making money selling food and drinks.)
The kids, at least on my side were really killing it. Faces were purple with exertion, veins were popping out of arms and temples. They dug in hard. It was pretty entertaining . . . except the rope refused to move. It was like watching a condemned prisoner try to dig an escape tunnel through a concrete wall with a plastic spork. I admire determination and fear the mindset that refuses to accept the impossible.
They gutted it out for a good twenty minutes as the crowd thinned out till it was just girl friends and parents. Dejected the kids gave up. I drifted away too.
I hope they just left that massive rope at the river bottom. It clearly wanted to stay there but I figure it was too expensive to just forget about. I never found out. I should have stuck around.)
It rainy today, or at least still wet, the perfect excuse for no yard work today. Its worth mentioning I didn't blind myself.
I watched a few movies this weekend. The most notable was Roman Polanski's "The Ninth Gate".
It was awful. Boring and dull.
I have certain issues with an admitted child molester who flees the country to avoid prosecution being allowed to make movies. And I have a silent boycott of the American distributers who allow Polanski
Click images for desktop size: "Virtual Anime" by Unknown to make money, the same silent boycott I give to the politico's who fight for the extradition of draft dodgers but are cool with multi-millionaire child molesters making a living by thumbing their noses at us all.
I can understand how messed up Polanski had to have been having his wife and unborn son murdered so violently by whacky Charles Manson and followers. I can see how that got him involved with Houston and the Nicholson crowd (not a group known for curbing its excesses) but it doesn't excuse harming a child. And all the defenses Polanski through up (She was asking for it. Her mother set up the date. etc) just made his lack of control all the more heinous to my eyes. Then to flee . . . that's not an artist that's just scum who deserves old fashioned rusty scalpel castration. Anyway this rather boring tale of Satanism was interesting only in proving the resilience of Johnny Depp.
It made me realize Depp has only made a few good and/or profitable movies. Watching "The Ninth Gate" it was hard to remember if the guy has any talent at all.

Posted by David at 10:31 AM | Permalink

Click images for desktop size: "Sunday" by Edward Hopper I got my IRS rebate check. Direct deposited.
It doesn't seem too big just looking at the numbers.
My fantasy was to use it to buy a new 5.1 sound system and a new Roomba. A frill and a necessity. But I don't think the money is enough for four dogs heart worm tests, and flea stuff. That's where it will have to go. That's what's most important. I've no problem with that.
If its not enough I'll sort something out. I've had to make a lot of deals with vets in the past. Once I even traded labor. I was a vet assistant for a few weekends. It was interesting. Her practice was mainly large animals so I got to pen cows in chutes and give injections to horses. Sort of a great bonus for doing me a huge favor. I mean, I got the bonus . . .
I'm not sure if vets are more responsive if you're flat broke or pay the lion's share of the bill.
In London there is a great group, The Blue Cross, (which proudly has no affiliation with the American insurance company). They provide free emergency health care for animals. I worked with them, as a volunteer. We went out at night in a fully equipped van and offered shots and health care to the dogs owned by the homeless.
Its a big scene in London (and a lot of cities in America) for the homeless to keep a dog. Some of them love and cherish the animals and the dogs give them a real point of contact with the world outside their dilemma.
They use the dogs for protection for their meager goods and so they can sleep unmolested at night. There are a lot of young women homeless who depend on their dogs to have some vague feeling of security.
The vet I worked with was a young attractive girl, fresh out of school. She was keen on what she was doing. We never had any hassles with pet owners but there were a few interactions where she was glad I was fit and mean. The men who surrounded many of them homeless, preying on their weakness to prove to themselves, I guess, that they still had some control and power in their lives couldn't resist approaching a
Click images for desktop size: "Summer" by Michael Parkes young woman with a posh accent who didn't look like she belonged in the "lower depths".
Since we kept a fairly set schedule of rounds, passing out dog food, we were often met by people with their dogs and their complaints. Some of the most out there people, the kind who carry on violent arguments with the air, still reacted to an illness in their pets and had enough where with all to know where and when to meet us.
Most of the time we spent crawling through unlit squats and abandoned buildings at 3 am, looking and listening for a dog who wasn't on the vets meticulous list.
I like vets. I like dogs. I wish there was a Blue Cross in America. Who'd fund it?
For me the puppies and I continue our unstinting war against the terror that is known as Virginia Creeper. Sweat, aches and music.
Yesterday my friend surprised me with a gift of some much needed clothes, including a robe! No more running out chasing my little blind dog as he tries to escape wearing my boxers and Carhartt hoodie . . . yes, I still wear it . . .
It feels right that I should take a tiny piece of my new found tiny wealth and take us to dinner. Or at least go to the store and get the fixings for her fave dish, Spring Rolls. Curse my bike for not working! Its too long a walk in the time I have.
I've been using her Entymotic Pro ear buds on my iPod while I work. I use Ultimate Ears (a gift from my friend).
When I was about 7 I had a $1.98 straight up record player. It was a self contained box made of cardboard. The speaker facing upward next to the turntable. I used to put on a record and close the lid, then lie with my ear pressed against the box. Inadvertently creating a bass baffle which couldn't help improve the sound.
(Hey, I know a lot of famous musicians and its pretty typical that they'll have about half a million tied up in instruments, 2 million in amps and sound processors but listen to others music through a fifty buck boom box, so . . . )
My memory of the sound of that $1.98 record player is that the sound was better than the tiny undefined sound from the ear buds they include with iPods and other mp3 players. I don't think anyone has not been pleasantly stunned, no matter how much they protest prior, to the sound of decent ear buds or a decent hi fi rig.
I thought the Ultimate Ear's were the finest I'd heard and compared well to my reference (Stax Lambda Pro's). Well, I've discovered I prefer the sound of the Entymotic 4's . . .
The sound from the Entymotic's is shockingly
Click images for desktop size: "Summer Fun In Fall" by Anonymous clear and defined. It is articulate and gives th