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What can I say? The fates did not deliver me into the hands of a former female bodybuilder in Albuquerque, and instead I wound up spending the night at the airport. Believe it or not, it wasn't that bad.
In fact, it's almost 5 am right now, and I'm typing this blog over a free internet connection offered by the city of Albequerque. Homeless and still got my wireless - BK can't compare on that kind of tech geek ish.
Surprisingly enough, airport security hasn't stung me yet. I don't know if it is the quickness in which I whip off my belt, the ease in which my shoes slide off my feet, or the humble-as-pie handing over of my hat, but they ain't trippin, while that college girl got the 3rd degree by some woman that looked like she ate a forty of fear for breakfast.
Maybe I'm just reading too much into this situation. Too hard to tell what's really going on, when you're tired and just woke up from a night of wandering around the SE portion of Albuquerque with nothing to do.
Had dinner at the Waffle House. Interesting pricing scheme - it was cheaper to order sides than main dishes comprised of the same sides. This is not something I can easily understand, but something that I easily adapt to - I ordered the damn sides.
Now, now it's back to Cali, courtesy of Abuse, err.. US Airways. Can't seem to fly me direct to Sacramento, so instead I have a forty minute scramble in Phoenix, home of the worst dressed folx on the planet - or at least they were about six years ago, when I came through on Con Air. I wonder if this will still hold true, and promise to keep all three of you posted on that tip.
For those that don't know: I'm in New Mexico because work had me at a staff retreat. Little did they know what they were getting into by having yours truly participate. Their technological needs were met, and the partygoers were informed of what a real soldier looks like. Rumor has it there are pictures showing the damage, but you won't find any of me looking bad, I was born with a smirk/grin/smile, and no amount of the death and destruction of downtown Santa Fe could put a dent into it.
Despite the partygoing, I had much more fun chillin' with the folx that my brother introduced me to there - aside from a couple of DPA'ers that proved their meddle (no names, I protect the guilty and innocent alike). No matter how much fun, though, I can't wait to be back to the valley, Northern California is my true home.
Perhaps I should have called this post "I'm going, going, again, again, back to Cali." but instead I wanted to give a heads up for all the homeless out there in California - it's a lot nicer here in terms of weather, and hell, the airport ain't kicking anyone out - ya'all should move here.
In the meantime, I'm getting the fuck outta dodge.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
No Such Thing as a Free Concert
Anyways, the Cold War Kids were playing in Prospect Park, for free, last Friday.
Of course I went! Goddamn you three, what do you take me for? Some kind of sucker? Well, turns out, I really was a sucker for thinking there was such a thing as a free concert. I should qualify: getting in was free, but you couldn't take any food or drink with you.
Yeah, that scam. $2 for soda, $3 for water, $6 for 12 oz's of Budweiser. Yeah, you read that right. They're trying to get paid, suckah! Naturally, my brother and I couldn't manage to swallow that. Of course, we did manage to choke down two Negro Modelo's that were left by a trash can (no, not in the fucker, but it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference if they were, we'd still take them and drink them) by some person who obviously treasured close seating more than their beer. I suppose I understand, in a weird sorta-love-music-more-than-beer way. Or something.
So my brother and I sat outside the fenced-in area, and watched all the cops that swarmed the place like flies on you-know-what. Not that it stopped anyone from drinking outside the fence, or smoking pot. Here's an interesting observation: in New York, middle-classed white people can do pretty much whatever the hell they want, and the cops ain't tripping. I mean, the trees were burning, and the smell was everywhere, and the cops were chillin' on the main drag through the park (nevermind why there is a main drag through a park, it's beyond me) like nothing was happening.
Despite being white, I don't feel quite that secure. Long prison terms do that to a person.
After the concert was mostly over, brother and I went for a ride, I had to go to Staten Island, he was going home to sleep. Of course, he's more native to NYC than myself, so I let him shout out the directions.
Side note: we were on bikes, of course. And my chupecabra, the rat bastard goat-suck that he is, hadn't ate that night. This is important to help understand the next part... the part where I got directed by my brother right into a flight of stairs.
Maybe ten of them... I couldn't see them because it was nighttime, until it was too late to brake for the edge. So instead I jumped, and landed awkwardly. Actually with enough awkwardness that Chupecabra decided he was being abused, and to bite back. Now my shin has about seven holes in it, but at the time I was too busy cursing out my brother to notice it...
...or the smaller flight of steps that I came crashing down upon. This time, however, it was only five steps, so I managed to hop them all... and landed with a small bit of surety (if not pride).. and zoomed off to Staten.
So what I'm saying is that I went to a free concert, and all I got was these lousy holes in my shin. Que sera, sera, right?
Of course I went! Goddamn you three, what do you take me for? Some kind of sucker? Well, turns out, I really was a sucker for thinking there was such a thing as a free concert. I should qualify: getting in was free, but you couldn't take any food or drink with you.
Yeah, that scam. $2 for soda, $3 for water, $6 for 12 oz's of Budweiser. Yeah, you read that right. They're trying to get paid, suckah! Naturally, my brother and I couldn't manage to swallow that. Of course, we did manage to choke down two Negro Modelo's that were left by a trash can (no, not in the fucker, but it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference if they were, we'd still take them and drink them) by some person who obviously treasured close seating more than their beer. I suppose I understand, in a weird sorta-love-music-more-than-beer way. Or something.
So my brother and I sat outside the fenced-in area, and watched all the cops that swarmed the place like flies on you-know-what. Not that it stopped anyone from drinking outside the fence, or smoking pot. Here's an interesting observation: in New York, middle-classed white people can do pretty much whatever the hell they want, and the cops ain't tripping. I mean, the trees were burning, and the smell was everywhere, and the cops were chillin' on the main drag through the park (nevermind why there is a main drag through a park, it's beyond me) like nothing was happening.
Despite being white, I don't feel quite that secure. Long prison terms do that to a person.
After the concert was mostly over, brother and I went for a ride, I had to go to Staten Island, he was going home to sleep. Of course, he's more native to NYC than myself, so I let him shout out the directions.
Side note: we were on bikes, of course. And my chupecabra, the rat bastard goat-suck that he is, hadn't ate that night. This is important to help understand the next part... the part where I got directed by my brother right into a flight of stairs.
Maybe ten of them... I couldn't see them because it was nighttime, until it was too late to brake for the edge. So instead I jumped, and landed awkwardly. Actually with enough awkwardness that Chupecabra decided he was being abused, and to bite back. Now my shin has about seven holes in it, but at the time I was too busy cursing out my brother to notice it...
...or the smaller flight of steps that I came crashing down upon. This time, however, it was only five steps, so I managed to hop them all... and landed with a small bit of surety (if not pride).. and zoomed off to Staten.
So what I'm saying is that I went to a free concert, and all I got was these lousy holes in my shin. Que sera, sera, right?
Thursday, June 12, 2008
So I Went Back To Cali...
Lo and behold, the damn state was still there.
Can I talk about the Chipolte Burrito I had in NYC Today, without bringing up the Mission Burrito I had May 30th? I think not. There's something about a Mission Burrito, even though I was in reality at Pancho Villa Taqueria, which is on Valencia, but that's just the fucking details.
Where was I? Yeah, Chipolte. Edible. Not a Mission Burrito though. Gotta love interns, they always bring in new information, even though they reveal my relative ignorance of the world since I've been gone, and my continued ignorance of recent trends because TV isn't in my queue.
Speaking of interns, somehow we managed to hire a 13-year old one. She's actually 18, but damn if I didn't think she was 13, and asked a coworker, "what the fuck is this kid doing here?" I'm a little cruel like that, and obviously a poor judge of age, which is especially embarrassing because I have a little sister, so I should know better. Then again, my little sister is 20, and I still think she looks like she's 15, so I guess the math does work out.
And when it comes to the math, it doesn't make sense that I didn't break down ChupeCabra, load him into a box, and bring him with me to California. He made protest today, my second day back of riding, with three separate accidents. None of which resulted in injury, but I'll be damned if his hunger for side rear-view mirrors hasn't increased since I left.
So California. What is there to say, other than I ought to be there right now? So many people were chilled with, and for a moment, I almost felt like I wasn't a ghost in the minds of many, but an actual person, living, breathing, and doing the unmentionables in mixed company. Yeah, that's right - the three of you reading this are mixed. Get over it.
I also came across the great secret of why our roads are filled with idiot drivers: I got my license back by taking an 18 question exam, paying $28 to the DMV, and showing proof of my legal name change. I read the handbook on the way to the DMV (well, scanned it). I'm probably the worst driver you'll ever meet: I've got the reflexes necessary to be a race car driver, and the careless attitude of the fool that feels invincible. Except when driving in reverse, which makes me nervous. Nonetheless, the license is in the mail. Yes, I did get perfect on the exam, but let's be honest: that just means I can read. Not that I can drive. I used to get into a lot of accidents, though truth be told, only one involved going faster than 15 miles per hour (the rabbit I dodged on a wet road while driving a former friend's Prelude, the dodge leading to a crash into the shoulder ditch of the road).
My cousin had a great theory on this: go faster. That way, you never have to worry about what's behind you, cutting out 180 degrees of concerns. I don't just support this theory to justify my leadfoot, I think there's some real substance there. I don't think the pigs will agree though, since it's a game that only works for the person driving the fastest. I'm sure that's where the Germans came up with the autobahn concept though. Incidentally, talked to a German guy on a beach outside of Malibu, and the autobahn isn't quite the raceway it used to be: gas is too expensive. Funny that. Somehow, I don't think it would have mattered in terms of the rabbit, I was only going 60 mph on that one. When I think about how many rabbits I've ate since then, I wonder why I bothered to save one that was silly enough to wind up in the middle of a county road.
What does any of this have to do with going back to Cali? Damned if I know, but it was good to go home.
Can I talk about the Chipolte Burrito I had in NYC Today, without bringing up the Mission Burrito I had May 30th? I think not. There's something about a Mission Burrito, even though I was in reality at Pancho Villa Taqueria, which is on Valencia, but that's just the fucking details.
Where was I? Yeah, Chipolte. Edible. Not a Mission Burrito though. Gotta love interns, they always bring in new information, even though they reveal my relative ignorance of the world since I've been gone, and my continued ignorance of recent trends because TV isn't in my queue.
Speaking of interns, somehow we managed to hire a 13-year old one. She's actually 18, but damn if I didn't think she was 13, and asked a coworker, "what the fuck is this kid doing here?" I'm a little cruel like that, and obviously a poor judge of age, which is especially embarrassing because I have a little sister, so I should know better. Then again, my little sister is 20, and I still think she looks like she's 15, so I guess the math does work out.
And when it comes to the math, it doesn't make sense that I didn't break down ChupeCabra, load him into a box, and bring him with me to California. He made protest today, my second day back of riding, with three separate accidents. None of which resulted in injury, but I'll be damned if his hunger for side rear-view mirrors hasn't increased since I left.
So California. What is there to say, other than I ought to be there right now? So many people were chilled with, and for a moment, I almost felt like I wasn't a ghost in the minds of many, but an actual person, living, breathing, and doing the unmentionables in mixed company. Yeah, that's right - the three of you reading this are mixed. Get over it.
I also came across the great secret of why our roads are filled with idiot drivers: I got my license back by taking an 18 question exam, paying $28 to the DMV, and showing proof of my legal name change. I read the handbook on the way to the DMV (well, scanned it). I'm probably the worst driver you'll ever meet: I've got the reflexes necessary to be a race car driver, and the careless attitude of the fool that feels invincible. Except when driving in reverse, which makes me nervous. Nonetheless, the license is in the mail. Yes, I did get perfect on the exam, but let's be honest: that just means I can read. Not that I can drive. I used to get into a lot of accidents, though truth be told, only one involved going faster than 15 miles per hour (the rabbit I dodged on a wet road while driving a former friend's Prelude, the dodge leading to a crash into the shoulder ditch of the road).
My cousin had a great theory on this: go faster. That way, you never have to worry about what's behind you, cutting out 180 degrees of concerns. I don't just support this theory to justify my leadfoot, I think there's some real substance there. I don't think the pigs will agree though, since it's a game that only works for the person driving the fastest. I'm sure that's where the Germans came up with the autobahn concept though. Incidentally, talked to a German guy on a beach outside of Malibu, and the autobahn isn't quite the raceway it used to be: gas is too expensive. Funny that. Somehow, I don't think it would have mattered in terms of the rabbit, I was only going 60 mph on that one. When I think about how many rabbits I've ate since then, I wonder why I bothered to save one that was silly enough to wind up in the middle of a county road.
What does any of this have to do with going back to Cali? Damned if I know, but it was good to go home.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
I Generally Don't Go Political...
But I've had it up to "here" with the goddamn Reverend Wright "controversy."
Look, I'm not here to defend religious figures, since I think religion is a scam. A bad one at that. I'm also not here to be partisan about this shit, I don't really see too much of a difference between Demopublicans or Republicrats. If the big O- really does get the troops out of Iraq, I'll change my mind, but currently I think of politics as the second scam next to religion.
However, the nonstop deluge of descriptions of Reverend Wright's "hate speech," had me piqued: what the fuck was this nutcase talking about?
Reading the entire text of his speech, he's talking the same-ole, same-ole that radicals have been for the past few decades in the United States: that we are not fit to morally judge anyone, based upon our own atrocities. We do fucked up and insane shit without even realizing it. Clinton's camp stated it would use the "nuclear" option against Obama in the primaries.
Nuclear Option? Let's take a peek at what the nuclear option looks like. The fact that anyone would use this fucking comparison sickens me. And I don't sicken easily, I used to work at a dairy farm.
The twisting of Reverend Wright's words, and the taking out of context is incredible. The main stream media has alleged that he stated that the U.S. government invented AIDS. He doesn't actually say that. In the text, he states that the U.S. government has done things that are comparable, like the Tuskagee Experiments.
He's certainly a fiery pastor, but fiery criticism and hate are two separate things. Not once does the Reverend suggest that we do any harm to anyone. Not once. Not once does he suggest that what has happened to the U.S. is morally right - he states that it is a consequence of our actions, which is certainly a better analysis then: "Terrorists wish to attack us and exploit our vulnerabilities because of
the freedoms we hold dear." (Official Statement from the President in our National Strategy for Homeland Security, pg. 3)
Instead, the Reverend does suggest that we examine how we are acting in the world, and towards other countries, and to change our behavior to more closely match the Christian ethic: be good to one another. I'm not really into religion, but damn, at the root of Christianity, the words of Jesus (whether or not he actually existed aside) were pretty plain: let's be nice to each other. Judge not lest ye be judged. Stuff like that. Hard to argue with the golden rule, even though we hardly ever practice it internationally. Further, we ignore the basic Hippocratic Oath: if you must do something, be sure to first do no harm. Iraq anyone?
Next week, the comedy should return. I'm out.
Look, I'm not here to defend religious figures, since I think religion is a scam. A bad one at that. I'm also not here to be partisan about this shit, I don't really see too much of a difference between Demopublicans or Republicrats. If the big O- really does get the troops out of Iraq, I'll change my mind, but currently I think of politics as the second scam next to religion.
However, the nonstop deluge of descriptions of Reverend Wright's "hate speech," had me piqued: what the fuck was this nutcase talking about?
Reading the entire text of his speech, he's talking the same-ole, same-ole that radicals have been for the past few decades in the United States: that we are not fit to morally judge anyone, based upon our own atrocities. We do fucked up and insane shit without even realizing it. Clinton's camp stated it would use the "nuclear" option against Obama in the primaries.
Nuclear Option? Let's take a peek at what the nuclear option looks like. The fact that anyone would use this fucking comparison sickens me. And I don't sicken easily, I used to work at a dairy farm.
The twisting of Reverend Wright's words, and the taking out of context is incredible. The main stream media has alleged that he stated that the U.S. government invented AIDS. He doesn't actually say that. In the text, he states that the U.S. government has done things that are comparable, like the Tuskagee Experiments.
He's certainly a fiery pastor, but fiery criticism and hate are two separate things. Not once does the Reverend suggest that we do any harm to anyone. Not once. Not once does he suggest that what has happened to the U.S. is morally right - he states that it is a consequence of our actions, which is certainly a better analysis then: "Terrorists wish to attack us and exploit our vulnerabilities because of
the freedoms we hold dear." (Official Statement from the President in our National Strategy for Homeland Security, pg. 3)
Instead, the Reverend does suggest that we examine how we are acting in the world, and towards other countries, and to change our behavior to more closely match the Christian ethic: be good to one another. I'm not really into religion, but damn, at the root of Christianity, the words of Jesus (whether or not he actually existed aside) were pretty plain: let's be nice to each other. Judge not lest ye be judged. Stuff like that. Hard to argue with the golden rule, even though we hardly ever practice it internationally. Further, we ignore the basic Hippocratic Oath: if you must do something, be sure to first do no harm. Iraq anyone?
Next week, the comedy should return. I'm out.
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