Wednesday, September 27, 2006


No, not the Van Morrison version. I was dicking around on my guitar a couple of days ago, playing A and E chords, and I found myself suddenly playing "Gloria" by Laura Branigan. And I really enjoyed it. It's terribly catchy, even twenty-four years later.

Today, some dickwad decided it was in the public interest to place a sticker on one of my fixtures at work. This is bad enough, in and of itself. However, the sticker read, "AMERICA IS NOT A NATION OF MASS IMMIGRATION," and when I read that, I just about hit the roof. I was seriously about five seconds from walking into the security office to look at the tapes and see who put that sticker there, so I could kick the guy in the head a few times while he was, no doubt, on his way to a Ku Klux Klan rally. I mean, I'm all for free speech in the home and in public, and I have no problem with the notion that this guy might be putting placards on his front lawn, come election season, advertising his intention to vote for Strom Thurmond on the segregation ticket. What I do have a problem with is the fact that this xenophobic suburban honky decided that he was going to spread the word of whatever misguided political sect he happens to by defacing things where I work.

Fucker, you live in an area where the median income is $68,656, and the racial makeup of the city is ninety-three percent white. I don't think the Mexicans are jumping the border to take your job, so fuck you, you socially retarded, very likely inbred, Oberweis-voting, closed-minded motherfucker, and don't ever let me catch you putting that sticker anywhere near me, because, unless you're a Native American, you're a goddamn hypocrite, because somewhere back in time, your ancestors came over on a boat, and I will kick you in the fucking head.

AIM: therbmcc71

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Human Touch

So I haven't posted anything in a while. I still really don't have anything to say, since I haven't seen any good movies, played any new games, or done much of anything with the sort of entertainment mumbo-jumbo that I tend to talk about here. As such, I'm going to entertain you with a relatively lengthy bit of prose from Neal Stephenson's book Cryptonomicon, which I found fairly entertaining today, for reasons that I won't go into.

DMS evinced skepticism as to moral fiber of Yours Truly, commenced with a series of probing questions aimed at establishing my commitment to Mission, fiduciary resp. to Epiphyte shareholders, level of physical & mental vigor, and overall level of "serious"-ness (being "serious" is some kind of umbrella concept strongly correlated with my fitness to live, to have the privilege of knowing DMS, and to go on dates with his daughter. This gives me an opening to mention what would normally be no one's business but my own but which in these circumstances it is ethically mandated that I disclose, namely, that i am infatuated with daughter of DMS and that while not exactly reciprocating these feelings at full strength she finds me sufficiently non-loathsome to have dinner with me from time to time. It has only occurred to me at this very moment that my pursuit of rel'nship w/the female in question, one America (sic) by name, would in context of modern U.S. society be classified as SEXUAL HARASSMENT and that if desired culmination is achieved it might be classified as SEXUAL ABUSE or RAPE owing to "power imbalance" existing between me and her. viz., Yours Truly is on Management Team of Corp that has retained Semper Marine for large job & provided them with majority of their revenue during last fiscal year. Anyone with thoughts of summoning federal authorities to apprehend me upon arrival at SFO & expose my misdeeds & subject me to public disgrace & compulsory consciousness-raising workshops is advised to acquaint himself with the Shaftoes first & to at least remain open to possibility that Dad's martial prowess in combination with traditional feelings of psychotic protectiveness toward his female offspring, combined with Daughter's habit of carrying large Palawan stabbing weapon known as a kris, and Daughter's overall psychic fierceness & physical fitness & courage exceeding that of Yours Truly, mitigate any perceived power imbalance particularly given that most of our interactions take place in settings which lend themselves admirably to discreet homicide & corpse-disposal.

I'm not sure if it's irony, per se, that's been bothering me all day, with the fact that I read that particular passage today, but I find it strangely comical, given the situation, which, again, I will not be informing you of. The fact that I've bothered to speak of it at all should make you feel particularly good, that you've been let into my little covenant of personal privacy, despite the fact that you'd have to know personal details about people and events that, statistically speaking, you're simply clueless about, because the chances that you know these particulars and have read this book, thereby understanding the significance of these particular characters with regard to real-life counterparts, either real or perceived, and then, by following my own particular twisted logical path, upon which I have left you these breadcrumbs, are quite slim. If you're reading this, you either know certain particulars, but don't follow the literary significance, of which there is a great deal, or you've read the book, but simply can't figure out why the hell I would quote precisely this section.

That's just how I work.

AIM: therbmcc71