Thursday, February 26, 2009

That Voodoo that You do so Well

A voodoo doll I created from my own mucus to exorcise his brothers in my lungs and sinuses.


Tuesday, February 24, 2009

To Chimp or not to Chimp?

Ok, let's start out with a few opinions:

1) I like President Obama, and I wish him the best of luck.
2) The New York Post is a worthless rag.
3) No way in hell should Sean Delonas or Rupert Murdoch have apologized for the infamous "Chimp Cartoon" of Febuary 18, 2009.

(New York Post/AP)

Ok, first of all, the cartoon isn't funny. It is also in extremely bad taste for making light of the maiming of Charla Nash and the necessary killing of the chimp in question, but that's besides the point.

It's not supposed to be Obama, people. It doesn't mean the police should assassinate Obama, it has nothing to do with Obama, other than he's a democrat and democrats wrote the stimulus bill. It's just implying that the proponenets of the stimulus bill, (and probably all democrats, knowing the Post's sentiments,) have the minds of monkeys.

Not true, cry the masses. Apparently, any images of simians are by default slurs against African Americans. Never mind that for eight years, liberal cartoonists regularly portrayed W. as a chimp - that's beside the point. This is the facet of political correctness called "sensitivity." Offense is in the mind of the beholder, and in our society, that perceived offense carries ten times the weight of the actual intent of the creator. Therefore, whether there is intent or not, it is the responsibility of the creators to ensure that they do not offend. Bullshit. I'm sure that many honestly do see racism here, but I can't help thinking that the organized "outrage" over this cartoon is a fear tactic in disguise: do not question the new president, or a political shit-storm might explode in your face. Whether you agree with me or not, you can bet your sweet bippy that every anti-Obama cartoon in the works is now being sifted through by an army of lawyers and watered down until it's toothless.

So, in the name of a free press, I feel it's very important that we establish which animal may be used to portray President Obama in the future. A fish? A cow? How about a butterfly? Keep in mind that the chimp here wasn't even meant to be Obama, (if anyone it would be Nancy Pelosi, who actually wrote the stimulus bill,) but that's besides the point. Any ideas?


Dreaming Along

I'm sorry I haven't been on in a while- I'll try to post more often. It's the question of quality vs. quantity. When I have nothing new to say, is it better just to shoot the shit? Let me know.

Anyway, this morning's dream, for those who enjoy analysis:

I was back in High School, but married to Jen, even though we were living in separate rooms in my parents' house. It was prom night, and I surprised Jen with tickets. No one at school, (we didn't attend the same one in real life,) knew we were married, and I thought we'd surprise them by being announced with the same last name. Instead of a tux, I had a suit and three shirts: white, black, and brown. The prom started at six, and it was five thirty. No time for a shower, although close inspection in the mirror showed my face was slightly dirty. No problem, I'd just wipe it off.

I got dressed with the white shirt. After putting on my bow-tie, I realized my neck was filthy - actually mud-caked. I went in my bathroom. My late maternal grandfather was visiting, and he and an uncle had done some electrical work in the bathroom, specifically, installing a light in the floor. There was a hole drilled down to the (non-existent) basement, and the bare wires stuck out. I wondered if someone would get hurt. I was able to clean off my jacket, but the grimy white shirt was a gonner. I stripped down to my underwear and scrubbed my face and my neck. I had a light-blue bow-tie somewhere, and I thought the black shirt would look cool.

I went back to my bedroom in my underwear. The den outside was full of people - my late maternal grandparents, Jen's late grandmother, and a few other relatives. My bedroom door wouldn't close. I asked my father what was going on, and he said my mother was having a party. Fine, I said, but would everyone go upstairs, please, and stop hovering around my room? They did. Every room in the house was about three times bigger than normal, and my room had four dressers in it. I searched through all the drawers frantically, but couldn't find the blue bow-tie. To hell with it, I decided, I'll wear all black. I looked in my closet, but couldn't find my black shirt. It was now six pm, and we were officially late. I looked out the window, and there were two mountain lions under the pine tree, frantically having sex. Huh, I thought, look at that.

I went upstairs, not giving a crap about the fact that I was in my underwear. The doorbell rang. I opened it. It was Uncle Floyd and Soupy Sales. I asked Uncle Floyd if he remembered meeting me some twenty-two years ago. He said no, and why didn't I put on some pants? I was a little annoyed now - this party seemed interesting, why couldn't it had been another night? I confronted my mother in the kitchen and asked where my black shirt was. She said that she had sent all unfolded laundry to her friend's house when cleaning up for the party. Now I was pissed, and she was embarrassed because it was obviously a stupid idea. I went back downstairs and looked in the laundry room. There were five tiny driers in there, all full. I searched each one, but my black shirt wasn't there. My friend Kirsten (nee Kunna) was there, and I explained the situation. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to wear the ugly brown shirt.

Walking back to my room, it did occur to me that this was just like one of my typical frustration dreams, where I have some goal to reach and no matter what, things keep popping up in my way. My bedroom was filled with folding tables. Jen was sitting there, in her gown, along with Kirsten who was now holding a baby. Jen was annoyed because it was now 6:30 and the prom was underway. I said that I had to wear the brown shirt instead of the black, and she said good, she didn't like the black one, and get a move on.

At this point I woke up.

OK, any takers?


Thursday, February 12, 2009

Ticking Away the Moments that Make Up a Dull Day...

Illustration Friday: Time

Click image for higher resolution.

I can't tell you how much of a ball-buster this picture was. First of all, 10k blades of grass make the computer cry. Forget even thinking about shadows and reflections. Ah well, it's done. Enjoy.


Tuesday, February 10, 2009


For those who are interested in such things, this week I've had two really bizarre dreams:

I was living in the house I grew up in. The elderly couple who were my next door neighbors in SC lived in the house next door. The old man was walking around our house in his underwear at 3am. His wife came over and collected him. She saw a box of bear claws (a type of pastry, for those who don't know) on top of the fridge and asked for one. I said sure, but the box was full of popcorn and de-frosting frozen chicken legs.

I was driving a truck for a contractor, but it's breaks went out. It hit the back of another truck, which sped off. I got out and took a bicycle out of the back. I tried riding it, but after a while, it became very difficult. I tried changing gears and I realized that the switch was missing. I got off to check the tires. Not only were they flat, they had holes in them. Why am I putting up with this, I asked myself. I came across a construction site and asked if they'd mind if I dumped the bike in a dumpster. One worker said he wanted the bike for parts and I gave it to him. I walked home.

Any ideas?