Archive for the ‘Unblogging’ Category

Though decidedly ill-considered, the new “concept car” did have a certain appeal.  It’s swept back windshield, resembling nothing so much as a pair of Bolero sunglasses folded in half after being crushed repeatedly beneath the expansive posterior of a Jenny Craig dropout, the rakish cut of the front suspension, all pulleys and gears and animatronic furniture pieces, coupled with the innovative, dare I say cutting edge(?) approach to the passenger compartment, forgoing bucket seats for a loose weave of hemp and lycra hung like a cargo net and worn like a corset, combined to give it a certain distinctive air of quality, as though to suggest, “Try me…you’ll like me.  Or if you don’t, at least the scars will always remind you of me.”

Harrison knew right away that it was the car for him.  No, they insisted, it wasn’t for sale.  It wasn’t quite “ready” yet…they weren’t even sure if it was street legal.  Harrison was undissuaded. Undeterred.  The more he gazed at the gleaming chrome and polyvinyl exterior, the more he drank in the smooth lines and sudden, unexpected angles, the more he pondered the mismatched tires and madman’s pastiche of disharmonic quarterpanels, the more convinced he became that his life would never be complete without it.  They insisted, he persisted.  They demurred, he adjured.  For hours they danced their convoluted, sweaty dance of irritation, enervation, attack, parry, stall, withdrawal, flank, infiltrate, deny, cajole and preen.

At some point, Security was called.  The confrontation was sudden, intense, and incredibly brief.   The tazer and the pepper spray worked their wily magiks, and Harrison soon found himself hogtied face down in the back seat of an aging Chrysler LeBaron, one retooled for Convention center security after having been reclaimed from the auction block where it had languished after being seized in a drug deal gone bad.

He panted breathlessly, snorfling in quick, sharp gasps of fetid, stale upholstery fumes, vapors resplendent with ghostly hints of unwashed mulatto hispanic gang-bangers plying their crystalline trade while eating cheap street-corner chalupas with the resulting aromatic effluvia.

All this was but a shadow, though, a half-remembered reality before which swam visions of the car. His Car.  HIS LIFE!  He would have it, possess it, infuse it and consume its very essence into his own.   The LeBaron’s door slammed shut with a rusty clunk, and the pathologically nonchalant security team began to ply its laconic way towards the nearby police station, accompanied by the ear-splitting shriek of a fan belt slipping across an air-conditioning compressor pulley long-ago seized-up tighter than the rectum of a falsely accused effeminate-yet-heterosexual tax cheat on his first night in prison.

Years later, after three failed attempts to infiltrate the high-security garage facility storing the art-deco tribute to automotive performance art, and two stints in work-release at a halfway house resulting from same, Harrison found himself sitting on a street corner outside the now abandoned convention center, spooning with a half-empty fifth of Early Times, wrapped in castoff bubble wrap he’d found out behind Mailboxes, Etc., rocking gently to that tune from The Shirleys that he’d heard once in the Public Defender’s office and had never quite been able to get out of his head since.

He’d never given up his dream.  Never.  Even though it had cost him everything, he’d never forgotten her.  Never forgotten their one night together, all those years ago.  They’d never actually spoken words, but he knew, yes he KNEW their hearts had spoken, and that somewhere, out there, she was probably thinking about him, too.  That one day they’d find each other, yeah, that’s right, they’d find each other, and it’d be okay, all okay, and they’d laugh about it all, and everything would be all right.  Yeah, everything would be all right.

As he pulled down another mouthful of the burning sweetness still left in his bottle, felt it angrily fight its way down his much abused esophageal tract to splash with corrosive abandon across the frayed remnants of his stomach lining, he nodded to himself.  Yeah, everything would be all right.   Alllllll right.


In lieu of actual blogging…

Posted: December 28, 2007 in Unblogging

I settle for cat blogging. LOLCATs, that is.

funny pictures

You remember the Bloom County cartoons, where Opus would occasionally need to take a break from everything and sit amidst the dandelions for a while?  I feel like a I need one of those.

What with all the shootings and crazy weather and the painful mediocrity of the candidates currently in the race for President, not to mention the ridiculous nonsense invovled in the anti-Christmas hype, it’s hard not to feel a little gray and worn down after a while.

 And reading over my last few posts, I realize that I sound, well, pretty cranky and caustic and just generally unpleasant.  I’m not really that way in person.  I guess what I write here tends to be an outlet of sorts.  Reading over the news and other blogs, and seeing the kind of craziness reflected there, at times it just makes my blood boil.  I tend to seethe out through the keyboard, and over time, it tends to give things a pretty acerbic tone.

The blogs I really enjoy reading are the ones that make me laugh, or think, or smile.  Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to laugh.  I’ve got to be so serious at work, and so responsible at home, and things get so busy that I tend to bury any chance of catching my breath, just sitting around and enjoying things.

With that said, I thought I would take a break from calling people idiots, and just drop in some random stuff I’ve written in the past, stuff with a little lighter tone.  Hope you like:

“It is not the intensity of the effort we apply to the hammer, or the chisel, but rather the marks we leave on the stone that determine how we are to be remembered.”

Don’t let the world bring you to your knees…Get there by yourself!

Love is something you are given, not something you earn.

God doesn’t expect us to be perfect – He wants us to admit that we aren’t.

God doesn’t expect us to have all the answers – He wants us to admit that we need His Truth.

God doesn’t want us to stand on our own  – He wants us to kneel with Him.

The truest measure of one’s faith is his willingness to forgo the comforts of convenience and ease, and stand deeply in the midst of an uncertain situation.  As we stand outside ourselves, outside our carefully constructed comfort zones and safety measures, we must face the inevitability of our own inadequacy.  When faced with circumstances beyond our control, in that moment of doubt, we must turn our face toward God, and ask His intervention.  Indeed, it is not until we realize how fully we our out of our depth, in situations beyond our experience, that we turn toward Him who would preserve us.  Our faith is tested in the crucible of trials that we know we could not face alone.  Our faith becomes tempered and hardened as the finest steel, through victories possible only through His divinity.  Where there is confidence in ourselves, there is little room for faith in Him.  We choose to fill that space where He would stand.  Only when we step aside, and relinquish our own selfish desires for personal glory, will the Lord step in and perform a mighty work through us.

Are you trying to receive the benefits of Christ’s name without the demands of His Kingdom?

True wisdom is an understanding of the total inadequacy of your own knowledge.  Those who think that they are wise and believe that they have nothing left to learn, are the fools they believe others to be.  Knowledge is a thirst that is never quenched, yet still should we drink.  Through our intelligence we gain knowledge, through our knowledge we gain understanding, and through our understanding we slowly gain wisdom.  With wisdom comes the realization of how much we have yet to learn, and joy at the prospect of the search.

The more you know about Quantum Physics, the more sense the Bible makes.

Somewhere along the line I picked up “The Wink.”  You know, that slight twitch of an eye (mine happens to be the left) when you are passing someone you know in the hallway, and on some subconscious level,  a mere “Hey!” doesn’t seem quite sufficient.  So you maybe add in a subtle head nod, and sometimes, even, yes, a wink.  It’s by no means one of those suggestive winks.  And it doesn’t rise to the level of a knowing wink, or anything that needs to be accompanied by a, “How YOUUUU doin’?!”  I don’t really see myself as a quick wink kind of guy, but there it is.  I’ll call it a “qwink.”  As in:

Did you just WINK at me?!

Why, no. Hardly.  It was merely a qwink.”

Oh, well then. Nevermind.”

  A harmless affectation which (one hopes) doesn’t rise to the level of an idiosyncrasy, and, with any luck, isn’t mistaken for a facial twitch or deformity.


What it is it about some human males that they feel the need to draw a penis on the bathroom stall?  For the last weekend I’ve been working in another building, and forced to use the somewhat substandard toilet facilities therein. The graffiti was without exception vulgar and crude.  The “artistry” was profane and not even fit for Hustler magazine.  I know our culture is all about equanimity and breaking down stereotypes, but I am here to tell you, there ARE classes of people.   Whether through culture, breeding, or simple ignorance, there is a class of people whose idea of making their mark on the world is to scribble threadbare poems we might have learned in 4th grade, unimaginative expletives, and the occasion rendering of genitalia, often accompanied by attempts to portray physically improbable sexual positions, across the interior of a water closet.

For my part, I left a moving Haiku suggesting an essense of eternal questioning, followed by a sudden epiphany about the meaning of french toast, and concluded with a paean to the ecstacy to be found in a well turned-out Aston Martin.  I’m sure I left them properly humbled.  The cretins.


This just in:

Transformer blast rattles Manhattan

A transformer explosion Wednesday caused panic in midtown Manhattan. “We saw hundreds and hundreds of people running down Third Avenue. They were screaming, they were crying,” said witness Adaora Udoji. One person died and at least 16 were injured, New York officials said. full story

Witnesses weren’t sure if it was Megatron or Optimus Prime who exploded.  Developing…


From the, “You should REALLY get that checked out” department:

Squirming Fly Larvae Pulled From Man’s Head



And from the “WTF?!?!?!” Department:

‘The Darkness’ has too many demons

“It’s unrepentantly violent, soaked in obscenity, and stitched to its skin with the occult. Blood goes flying as you summon demons to massacre anyone in your way. To gain power, you devour human hearts. Oh, and did I mention that you also play a Mafia hitman?”

We are circling the drain, people.


On a lighter note, one of Jeff Harrell’s funnier ones:

A not-exactly-brief visit from an unnameable horror from beyond time and space.”

Oh sure, go on, laugh.  You know you want to.  {{mutters incoherently under his breath, sticks pins in Jeff Harrell voodoo doll, drinks himself into a stupor on MadDog’s Raspberry-Green Apple Sorbet.}} 

He is the Mozart to my Salieri.  He must be stopped.   ARRRRRGHGHGHGH!


I’m think I’m done now.  Maybe.

One of my in-laws just had a baby.  Poor tyke was a bit premature, born at 32 weeks.  He was 4 lbs, 9 ozs, delivered by Ceasarean section.

Now, having long been an observer and participator in the abortion debate, I have to ponder some questions:

Since the “item” was a good 8 weeks early, that’s two months for the math challenged, I have to ask, does it still qualify as a “baby?”  It didn’t pass through the birth canal, so can it really be said to have been “born?”

4 lbs is pretty dang small…can nearly fit in the palm of your hand.  It’s in neo-natal ICU, so it’s clearly not “viable” as it needs some respirator assistance and constant care.  And yet, its parents went ahead and named it.

Many pro-abortionists maintain that the fetus is not actually a “baby” until it is born.  Is that true even if we yank it out early via an incision?

And yet, a baby born two months early, a mere four pounds of flesh is ALIVE.  It is breathing.  And eating.  It has a name.

I tend to think that it didn’t undergo some radical metamorphisis as it slipped between a few inches of muscle tissue gripped in the gloved hands of the doctor.  No subatomic shifts, no transition between states of matter or inter-dimensional jumps.  The doctor did not pull a “fetus” out of that woman’s uterus.  He pulled out a baby.

I just don’t see it.  Doc’s got his hand down inside a woman’s innards, gripping the “thing”:

 “Okay,” he says, “I’ve got the fetus.”

Don’t you mean baby, Doctor?”

No, not yet.  It’s still inside.”

The legs are out!”

Yes, but most of it’s still inside.  Still a fetus.”

But doctor, look!  The torso and arms, and a shoulder are all out!”

Ah, yes, but conventional wisdom among the pro-abortioners is that while the head is still inside, technically, the fetus isn’t ‘delivered.’  Heck,” he jokes with a chuckle, “I could still penetrate the skull and suck out the brains and it would be called a ‘procedure!’

Doctor! The head has come out. The baby is fully delivered!”

Well, okay, I guess your right. It IS a baby….now.”

Just don’t see the distinction, is all.  Clearly it is one of mere semantics, rather than of objective reality.

An unrelated post, only, it’s not.

Headlyin’ Newz

Posted: August 16, 2006 in Nearly News, Unblogging

From CNN:

“Suicide Bomb” at Iraq party HQ kills 9, injures 36
New specialty drink served at popular Rave hotspot tainted with a bad batch of Mezcal.

Aussies on lookout for ugly sheep
“All the good looking ones are already taken.”

France ‘faces high terror threat’ 
Considers immediate surrender to be the best course of action.

‘Explosion of diversity’ sweeps U.S.
Except of course, where the 10 Commandments are concerned.

Access to new HIV prevention methods lacking
Abstinence now considered “nearly unobtainable.”

Lebanese troops to head south Thursday
Expect to be in Jerusalem by Sunday   

Britney Spears’ second pregnancy unplanned
“Oops! She did it again”


London’s Muslim youth hear many voices
Might explain some things…

Rescuer ‘Green Helmet’ injured in fighting
No. Really. This is legit.  Honest.  He didn’t just lie down and rub dirt on his face.  Promise.

Bush pitches economy from a Harley
“Economy was talking trash, so I gave ‘im the ol’ heave-ho,” says President.  

Europe high-speed train sees passenger jump
Train the only witness so far to apparent suicide.