Another glorious Saturday! I go to work to essentially do NOTHING, at least not compared to my damnably busy weekday schedule.

I do get watch our meager saturday toons. They are pretty messed up:

Kenny the Shark is about a girl who owns a pet shark. She can talk to it but no one else can, because “she speaks shark”

Tutenstien is a cartoon about a mummfied ten year old who lives in an exibit on Egyption history. His best friend is a girl whose mother works at the museam. It seems innocent, but is full of morbid jokes like, “If I wasn’t dead, I’d be scared.” and “Hey, Tut, give me a hand,” <offscreen mummy throws severed hand into the frame>

After that, there’s kids reality shows. Endurance (kind of like a watered blend of survivor and fear factor, but hosted by “How to win at Nintendo Games I-IV” author Jeff Rovin) and Trading Spaces.

These are pretty much worse then their grown up versions, allthough the kids on trading spaces get whatever nutty impractical room they want, and that can lead to some cool stuff. , , ,

Tonight is Poker Night! Who can make it? I invite you all  . . . if you all come, I’ll have to set up another table, but WTF . . . show up at 2:30 pm, start playing at 3:00, BYOB and/or other drinks and snaks, it’s a .5/.10 no limit game so almost anybody can afford to play.

Your wings are DRAGON wings. Massive and
covered in scales, they shimmer with strength
and magic. They are the most obvious display of
your power – though it runs equally throughout
your heart and mind. You are uncompromising and
grave, with a profound sense of justice. You
have firm ideas about what is right and what is
wrong and set out to fix what problems you can.
You realize that you are more capable of
dealing with life and evil than most, and as
such you see it as your responsibility to
protect those who cannot defend themselves. You
have existed since antiquity and as such you
are wise far beyond your years in this
lifetime. While you strive for fairness and
peace, if someone should steal from your cave
of treasure (though not all that glitters is
gold) or compromise the happiness of you or one
who is close to you – they have signed their
death warrant. You have a mighty vengeance and
will unleash it upon such people immediately
and mercilessly. Arguing with you is
useless…you rarely back down and are known
for holding firm in your beliefs. Sometimes you
feel intensely burdened with the troubles of
others…acting as a Guardian can get so
wearisome. But you never give up…you see it
as your life’s mission. Often very introverted,
you can be so smart…it’s scary. Such a
combination of intelligence, creativity, power,
beauty, and magic is often intimidating to
those around you – who are also unlikely to
understand you. Arrogant, proud, overserious,
and sometimes a bit greedy or obsessed with
whatever treasure you choose to pursue…you
have enchanted people for centuries, and will
continue to do so.

*~*~*Claim Your Wings – Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla Stole quiz from Alluveal.

The Ring, Round Nine:

He buys the kick, sends his left arm down to parry the onrushing limb, and it’s good that he buys it, because it isn’t all feint – had he ignored it, the roundhouse kick would have would have crushed his ribs, my left shin landing with a dull thwack. 

He leans forward just a little when he moves to block, and my foot drops to the floor in mid kick. My left hand snaps out like a poolball on a spring, landing once, a firm jolt going up my forearm as his lips flatten against his teeth, and snaps out again. He was ready for the second jab, slapping it away with his right, but I opened my left hand in mid swing, hooked my fingers around his right wrist, and pulled it to my left across his body. An opening was created just long enough for me to step forward and drive an overhand right into the bridge of his nose, a perfect punch that started in my left calf and ran through my body into his like lightning after ground. The sound was like an apple hitting a block of ice.

He went down. The roar in my ears drowned out the roar of the crowd and I closed my eyes, leaning against the ropes. My hands throbbed in time with my chest and my head, breath coming ragged across my lips as the ringside teams brought my opponent back to his feet.

They stand him up, and the ref took us both in hand, made the announcement, raised my arm. I raised the other, hold them both in the air without moving them, and then I lowered them and left the ring.

OMGWTF!

NEW BOX

I got a new computer

It’s not great. It’s an 800mghz

But it’s better then the one I’ve been using the last couple of months. That was pieced together from spares my old boss had lying around the office. This puppy is a coherent piece of hardware. . . anyway, me happy.

You know what I want? A pill that gives worms to ex-girlfriends.

Some thoughts for the day:

What would “Seperate but equal” mean if they were both used in their verb senses?

What’s at the bottom of the ocean?

The opposite sex: Seperate species or subgenus?

EDIT: Blood pressure spike for the week. . . I’m at work (TV Station) where I am a Master Controller (what a great title) which means I patch various feeds and pieces of broadcast equipment to creat a continuous TV broadcast . . . well, for about a minute this morning NBC WENT OFF THE AIR. I mean, something broke at their end and we weren’t getting a signal. I almost passed out, but they fixed it fast. 

‘Nother edit: I saw this and thought it was cool. I checked Hawaii by mistake.

The following is a “long” post. I put long in quotes because it’s actually barely a full page long, but I’ve noticed a tendancy in ‘internet folk’ to carp and bitch about any post that either a)Breaks V-Scroll or b) Isn’t flash enhanced and doesn’t strobe past fast enough to induce a hypnogogic seisure.

I was going to let my “would you kill people” post sit . . . but it’s my day off, and I am filled with thinky-thoughts.

It snowed yesterday, and there is snow all over everything at the moment.

I HATE the weather here. Makes me nuts. There is a cold wind here that cannot be described. It blows out of the mountains, 40, 50 mph or more sometimes, and it just scrapes everything down. A bad wind day here can be like being sandblasted. It’s so lonely and empty here that most of the people are either lonely and toughened themselves, or goofy in the head and unable to function. There are towns in Wyoming you don’t travel too or leave without a full tank of gas, because it’s 200, 300, 400 miles to the next gas station.

Yet . . . the starkness of infects a person. This is not Zen garden emptyness, or National Park nature. This is the real thing. It’s not empty because you made it empty, and it’s not nature because there are trees and green things. It’s empty because it’s always been empty. It’s nature because it is still wild and it has no fear of man, and will hurt you if it can. I an say I’ve been to places no roads lead. I can say I’ve been the only human for miles in any direction. I can say I’ve stood on top of a mountain and looked out, and been unable to see a single building. The miles of visibility, the harshness of the climate, burning summers, freezing winters, that sideways Wyoming snow . . . they infect you, and  change you, and other places seem full of styrofoam when you finally get to visit them.

I sincerely believe that the real reason for the “Wyoming Curse” (the tendancy of wyoming youth to bail at age 18, vowing never to return, only to come back years later with no real explanation) is that once a person lives here for a length of time, they feel crowded and hemmed in anyplace else.

I’ve been thinking about getting out of here, bailing for someplace urban.  I’ve done it before, and I do feel crowded other places . . . but I also feel energized, like the pure entropy of a crowd is the battery I was meant to be powered by.

My father and stepmother live just outside of D.C. They own a business there. They are cosmopolitan, smart, successful people with quite a bit of money. There is a place for me in their business. My dad, who is adopted, wants a legacy, I think, and he harraunges me to come out there and work with him and my stepbrother everytime we talk.  And the thing is, they are really decent people. I would be happy, confortable there. I would reap the benefits of positon, meet a nice girl someplace, probably after meet several that were horrible, and bam, twenty years fly by and I’m a wealthy WASP and, “Hey honey, when the fuck did we buy a boat?” “Dear, did you just say the ‘eff-word? Are you having one of your spells again?”  

I might want that life back when the twenty years have gone by, but right now it doesn’t seem like somethinig I could stand.

I have no less then three friends that I could leave the country with and make scads of money doing things most people consider unconsionable. Making hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe even the vaunted millions, sounds kind of neat . . . but the last time I did things like that, I was lucky to walk away broke and alive. . . and my pistol is in my bottom drawer, where I like it. Not even loaded, at the moment. I don’t think I want to use it to make a living.

Several of my good friends want to leave this town for various other superior locales. Do I belong in any of those places? I don’t have the kind of education that grants instant legitimate employment, and I don’t think I can get that education here… My odds in another place would be about as long as they are here. . .

All I know, is I’m sick of being broke and stuck. When I get sick of being broke and stuck, I think about the old me, the me that existed half a decade ago. He was a mean, cold S.O.B., a friendless paranoid who abused a brilliant mind and a powerful body because he had an unending desire for sensation and material things. He . . .I . . . was a real bastard. A big enough bastard to deserve pretty much whatever I get between now and dying. I’m not like that so much anymore. . . but if I’d have found myself stuck like this back then, I would have went out and got mine. Even if I had to take it from somebody else. . .

Pop quiz: Would you kill people for money? If it were in a context that was neither criminal nor as a policeman or soldier . . . don’t worry about wether such a context exists, it’s not that kind of question. Assume the money is a “german shitload” or some similar large amount. . . .”enough,” so to speak

Heh. Well, as Howard Dean wanes in the polls . . . I’m coming around to like him. He was very impressive on meet the press this morning. He said the thing I’ve been waiting to hear for years. . . Someone asked him about family leave or something, and he said,” I can’t fund that. It’s not a priority. We have to balance the budget and that means everybody doesn’t get everything.”

Quick facts on dean:
11 balanced budgets as governer of vermont

8 NRA endorsments as governer

Strong stance on medical care for the elderly and the expectant

Health care for all Vermonters under 18. . .

That’s his side . . . some of it. . . any new-england Xangans with a first-hand opinion of the guy?

Also, IBM backed Linux ads on TV . . . “The future is open.”

How do all of you feel about Linux?