Blastoff Especial

The modern, upper-class post-graduate type is given to hyperbole when discussing his/her interests. Members of this demographic have been lavished with attention by caretakers with psychological issues of their own. They're pitted against each other in all phases of childhood. Extremes are enticing because they distinguish a single superlative, like one's position in the upper strata. Surely, predatory corporations, predatory entrepreneurs, and predatory top advertisers have capitalized and refueled this phenomenon, aided immeasurably by the emergence of the Internet as a cheap, massive distribution platform. These types are surely not boomerangs.

Below, please find a list of events that occurred in 1973. As you can see, this is the single most significant calendar year ever:

September 11, 1973 - The Wild, The Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle, Bruce Springsteen's second album, released.

October 2, 1973 - Mean Streets, director Martin Scorsese's first feature film entirely of his own design, released.

March 24, 1973 - The Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd's landmark, 15x platinum, eighth album, released.

January 27, 1973 - Paris Peace Accords signed - ended direct US military involvement in Vietnam. (Burst of Joy).

June 9, 1973 - Secretariat wins Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths, completing triple crown.

Cart Ere Horse Especial

Illegal aliens have always been a problem in the United States. Ask any [Native American] - Robert Orben - don't be afraid to care. I need me. We need us. Stars and monuments. Dig that hole, get the sun. Paralysis girder metronome, legato. Backdrift girder metronome, largo. Simpleton feather metronome, impossible!

Run run run run through the halls. Greasewise headspin. Dynasty karaoke fire soldiers run through no man's land screaming, "I wanna be Bob Dylan!" V. et. nam. Backdrifting, sideshifting, the fire soldiers have reached the barracks of the enemy. They tug and pull, singe and burn, run and sweat - for the foe's gates are mighty tall, mighty strong. Turn to the right! Speaking of the promenade, let's arrange something for you to eat: I took three green onions of various species and chopped them to allow for a sauté procession. You missed the starting gun!

Lint Linea Especial

Adam's apple skybound, I waited for the crossing the guard to say something funny with her hands. Ha, she did. Let's check the sleepcam for more conclusive evidence. Yep, there he is, ok, notice he's got the mouth completely shut, breathing through the nose. Ok, we have some strained neck muscles, ok, good. Let's have a look inside:

Visiting hours have commenced. It's visiting time. If you preface a conversation with "I may be reading too much into this, but...," is the conversation really worth having? I mean, then again...oooh, that reminds me mind of a song I learned while buffin' me shamrock!...Oh, we ole hacks, have donned the caps, spun sticks in mugs, and with shovels plugged, forging songs of our father's cries. Fat man's fabled cane, to the grave he limps, rolls o'er the pitch, slows down to catch, and sings songs of his lonely nights. In the blacklit hall, his soul leaps out, yes it kneels then crawls, to the room of gold, recalling songs o' the ancient band. Just. Like. Matterhorn high, where lightning hides, a summit's sigh! The blare of man's deep chords! The heartbeat's song of pride!

Meaningful interaction with humankind still pending...progress, Congress - pros and cons, are you seeing what I'm seeing? Agape! I'll have a run then smoke, it's a twisted crime. Surrender, surrender, you're in a tunnel now, there's no way out we've got both exits covered, you have nowhere to go, give yourself up. Never! Lo, a moist puddle at his feet. Dopa. Po' Mitah Rajah Clemens. Meina.

Someone once taught me that the phrase, "To be honest," is an empty and borderline subversive preface. When we say it, it's like, at its most benign (even, productive), "Listen, I'm about to take my pants off in the cold and let you aim darts at my crotch." To the extremely cynical, paranoid listener, however, "To be honest" signals some kind of cue that previous statements did not fall under the honest umbrella. We can disguise this problem by using phrases like, "frankly" or "candidly" or "with all due respect."

Reina, reina de los niños. Cielo, arriba de mi vida. Cuerpo, sin fuerza y sin razon. El 'bullet' tren, de Francia al San Sebastian. I saw something funny earlier but it's kind of mean-spirited and the wrong person could take it the wrong way, but uh...maybe I read too much into it. I saw a young man, a colleague of mine in information technology, a South Asian with scraggly black hair, wearing a white shirt and a red tie, stirring some sugar into a cup of Dunkin' Donuts brand coffee in the cafeteria. With all due respect, there's nothing humorous about that scene at all. You can eat anything you want! You can eat anything you want!

What they told me I could keep...puh...I thought it meant I could actually keep those things, you know? But no, they came in and took everything, they broke all my statues, they tore down my drapery, they broke my glass cabinets...puh...I'm just beside myself on this one...uh huh huh huh. Hush little Lacey don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a pit bull, and if that pit bull's mind doesn't work, Papa's gonna buy you a gated community with 24 hour surveillance, and if that gated community has a narcoleptic security guard, Papa's gonna buy you a sharp chef's knife, and if you can't get to the knife in time, Papa's gonna read his monthly, $119/yr, business school magazine.

I've got it, we'll do a pilot - ouch is that a spear in my neck? What do you mean "Get over here?" Stop bugging me. Ouch, I think you've speared my neck with your harpoon throw. Ouch, oh, are you dragging me towards you? Uh, you're an animal, and that javelin thing is vaguely evocative of, of...(galactic tone) - pretty pictures of pretty people on the mantle of my home, in the great room, with the molding so gaudy and dust-prone, my little kiddies play with CAD software and say, "Daddy daddy, 'look what we built!'" A giant fortress, with great stone walls, and a moat strong 'neath the tower, they have instincts...that they've adapted, and I'm proud to be their, ahem...a partner!

[censored anecdote]

A small desert fox approached the lip of the canyon, the little fellow looked towards the sky and placed himself among the stars. "I need to fasten my little safety belt while I'm up here taking in the river fumes." When the little guy jumped he instinctively curled into a foxball (ball 'o fox). The higher he jumped the more forward flips he performed. There was a specific formula for this animation, and I'm sure the developers at Sega could fill you in. When he jumped into the canyon, however, the foxball did not touch the river at the bottom for a good seven minutes, you see, the foxball is quite light.

Rhon Dar Especial

"Mmm, doesn't that look good? Gimme some of that..." So he ladled some broccoli florets into the frying pan and the creamy yellow shit started to simmer. Nestled in the village of butryic acid and its northwest environs, I noticed that Felippa hadn't greased her hair up today, I think I'll tell her to "have a good day" on the days where she doesn't slick that shit. "Hi, buttered bagel, thanks, have a nice day." Shit, "nice?" That's what I come up with, argh, I planned it. Smiling fine, suddenly, I feel your oily skin, oh holy uprights, maxillary performance to a leather cushion near you.

Sadly, we awoke in a communal sit-up across the city. In other cities, people slept in their DeMarcus Ware jerseys thinking, "we were a very vanilla team out there, if he runs through the ball, we win." Here's who comes out the best for the boys: Jason Witten, flak-free, got to hang with Jessica. Legendary quote from a literate fan: "Who's Jessica Simpson? Is that the bitch O.J. killed?"

"I've been looking for women at the grocery stores, but I never expected to meet one at the polls." Riveting. "Tom Brady and Giselle, locking lips at Nobu, the new Morimoto joint" "Hey didn't he have a game that weekend?" Actually Morimoto has nothing to do with Nobu Next Door, and Giselle has a last name, Cart. You are despicable and your partner is a choke artist. "And now the Cowboys are headed for vacation, even though their quarterback got a head start."

Gallop, whoo ha look at all this sawgrass, how much you think there is? The tall (6'4") Cowboy took off his hat and said, "39% switchgrass, 28% sawgrass, 23% bahiagrass, 10% ryegrass, with a 5% margin of error." I mean, "hats off to us, ya know?" I know Randy, I know. Oh Nick in Huntington, what are you talking about man, Terry Glenn? "It's simply not my style" - interrupt, here's how Chris would've played it: "Listen, Jessica, we'll go down there February 4, T.O.'s treat." T.O. can't be into that kinna girl can he? Yes.

Left hand to the doorhandle, rotate wrist clockwise, the latch retreats, pull the handle towards yourself to open the door. Darkness floods the hall, except for a strip of light under the curtained doorway. Poor soul, burning the midnight oil again. Maybe I'll learn all about grass, and switchgrass, and wonton soup. It would be useful to commemorate this nondescript Monday in a way that is both dignified and entertaining. But let's shoot straight, cowboy. Utilitarian writings, not my style (whimper whimper tear tear).

Maybe I'll look up corn starch. Oh one more thing to add about the whole doorknob issue: I have pretty dexterous hands for a non-amylophagic technician. Maybe I'll look up corn starch, see what it's all about: apparently it can also be used for making highly flammable and explosive jellies. All the food of the day has been devastating for my tired soul. I need to start eating healthy, no more pasta. As soon as you use a word like pasta no one takes you seriously. It comes off like a lamely-contrived colloquialism. You know, this dude's tryin' it. He throws in the ethnic word, look his writing is so grassroots, I can get behind that. I can stand tall behind that. We're solid sometimes but liquid other times. We thrive on an underabundance of heat.

All day, without her, my beautiful Maria. Wise man in the alley says real raspy: "Ohhh, son, focus focus, retrain your brain like Chris Kaman." So I say, "this morning I started getting bored with the New York Times columnists soI tried out some other ones, stumbling finally upon Cynthia Tucker, who writes clearly. Why do shitty writers get shitty copy editors? We'll come gunnin' down the sidestreets when we come, we'll be gunnin' down the sidestreets, we'll be gunnin' down the sidestreets, we'll be gunnin' down the sidestreets when. We. Come."

The wise man in the alley stoped paying attention when I repeated the same thing over and over again and he knew how it would end. I understand where he's coming from, it's difficult to stay focused on something that is really repetitive for the sake of getting to a long foreseen conclusion. It's like being a landscaper, you mow the lawn you trim the hedges, and what's on your mind? Nothing, or at least, nothing for long. The repetition consumes everything and you can't think of an escape plan. That's insensitive. You're insensitive, always pickin' apart my shit. You try it, you try trance jobs and then you try getting out.

"Wow..." What is going through these people's heads? A reply-to-all, ferociously lame comment. Do you have any idea the last time calling out your own indifference to bureaucratic correspondence got a laugh, a smile, or anything but unmitigated disdain? The pain! Maybe this is how Willy works the ladies. Maybe he leans his meaninglessly-toned frame back against some midtown booth and has the world he covets wrapped around his dork-ass fingers. He goes home and subconsciously reinforces his behavior because of the rabid self-assurance that some petty courtesy smiles have earned him. He might even do a few pushups, maybe take his shirt off and do something faux-gangster with his hands in the mirror. Maybe he'll cross the line and realize to himself that he should tone it down, and even in that moment of retreat, a tool survives, multiplies and thrives.

I am suggesting it's genetic. Yes, like an affinity for sesame oil or something. If I were Wikipedia, and I'm not, I would throw together a GUI team and work on something portable, extremely user-friendly, and highly derivative of the primary-colored bullshit that sells today, and sell it. Imagine Wikipedia in ten years, it's borderline scary, you know? If we don't equip humans with the ability to easily access Wikipedia at any moment, some hacker-type will develop a robot armed with the knowledge of Wikipedia, and deploy it in the American midwest. I thought a lot about children this weekend, it's going to be essential to have some kind of portable Wikipedia access. I won't have kids without it.

Oh here we have it, after seven and a half hours - an insider look. I've been flooded with clarity and the desire to perform at a high level. Cha cha cha. Maybe I should learn this stupid stuff, after all, it's the biggest market on earth, and assuming we make contact with intelligent life outside Earth, what do you think, don't be a jerk, will be the first thing we'll set up? Obviously, some kind of marketplace. Now, what could be more useful when talking to actual aliens, besides some kind of proper indentification system, than knowledge of Earth's largest marketplace, one that requires knowledge of ancient bartering systems and the Bretton-Woods agreement.

"If Tom Brady's the Golden Boy, Antonio, what's Brett Favre?" Without skipping a beat, "GOAT." "Oh well, that's right, he is a bit of a goat..." "No, no, man don't be confusing what I said, GOAT like, 'Greatest of All Time' not like on the farm." Gotta be up on that boys, that's been around the block.

Cynthia...no one knows your number, no one knows where you live. You walk down to the grocery store where none of the attendants cares about what you're purchasing, they just care about extraoccupational activities. See, that must have been beautiful, even "unremarkable" jobs were at least dignified. You had your little shop going, you know the customers, you say nasty stuff under your breath about new customers, and as difficult as it was to get up in the morning, there's a life, there's life-based interaction with people. You know their names they knows yours. Now everything is just a "Careers" link or a hookup. You know what? Metricize that, lifecycle that, stage that, test it throughout each lifecycle stage, tabulate the data and report it.

I really lost touch with my mathematical side once all those stupid Greek symbols got into the mix. Especially the capital E, you know, the sum sign. See other symbols just represent something, but the sum sign is a function with an exact prescription for variable inputs. What's most frustrating, of course, is the tendency to deviate from the conventions outlined in textbooks. So what happens? You try to figure out what the E thing means, you get the definition somewhere, and then no one does it like that. So you bootstrap, but you don't really get it. "It's a unique, Monique." Yeah and it cost me $850 so why don't you keep your dumb little jokes to yourself.

Small Cap Vacation

The mailman came down the faux-marble stairs into the basement and said, well I'm not sure what he said because I don't understand Mandarin. But whatever he said, it must've been funny, or maybe the person he said it to was just being friendly. I thought for a second maybe they were making fun of me, but that's pretty typical, you know. I remember lots of scenes from back then, from back when the legend settled in to plastic jungle and went down on some pork and seafood like the world stopped to cheer him on.

Shit. I wish I hadn't been such a little bitch back then. I wish I could've given him a high five, nah that wasn't his style, put an arm around him, yeah. Loss comes from your heart, it's weird ya know how the heart has nothing to do with emotions but it's associated most closely with them. Fuck man I miss that guy, I really do.

They sell all these ripoffs down there, ya know, "no, uh, refahnd." yeah i know no refund. believe me, i'm not comin' back here anytime soon. all the knockoffs. all the cheap plastic stuff they make down south east. everything's a trading company, we trade fake shit and then sell it. but some of it's good ya know? some of that shit ain't bad. Here's a knock-off that's just so fuckin' good:

"I'll be proud, ooooooooh, i want ah ah, to run away! Street tonight baby where there's the sound, take me in my arms. tonight on the street tonight, on the street bring the sound, and it's hey little stranger, lookin' like your lost, you're just some crazy, runnin' crazy in the streets, i know a place maybe we could go, nobody knows it, and it's hey little stranger what ya doin' tonight, you just some crazy, runnin crazy through the streets, baby i know a place where we can go, it's warm and dry, it's safe there, nobody ever goes there, nobody ever goes there, nobody ever goes there, nobody'd know us there, i just got this new stereo, i painted the place, i mean hey little stranger what ya doin' tonight lookin like you lost, and uh standin in the rain in the street, and that joker's standin on the corner sellin dreams that can't come true, i laughed at you baby, i laughed, but at night i bought 'em too, i bought em too, down and down and down we gooo crawlin' down the street, pushin buttons in the alley, I laughed at you baby. Down, down and down, down down and down and down. Round and round down and down and down we go. TV, tv's the one with the sound turned on, tv's tv's on with the sound turned on, Johnny Carson, down and down down and down we go sittin' on the couch and the couch, down and down oh inside down and down we go, hey little stranger, what'chya doin' tonight? down and down, such a good girl tonight, Honey, outside the cops sittin' on the corner drinkin' coffee in the squad car, down and down, on the corner sittin' on the corner, honey outside the girls on the street comin' up to you, hey mister, you got a girlfriend, hey mister, wanna go out tonight? down and down and down, inside down and down, down, down and down, mmmmm, baby, baby we could slip away. we could slip away, we could steal away, we could slip away, oh that's the thing i'll take all my money outta the bank, and uh, baby we could slip away, baby we could slip away, hey little stranger what'chya doin' tonight, wanna steal away, baby we could steal away, baby we could steal away, don't tell your mom your pop, baby we could slip away, oh baby, baby we could slip away, we could slip away, baby we could slip away, baby we could steal away, we could steal away, oh baby we could slip away, i got my car parked outside, pack your bags baby, oh, baby we could, we could shake this city life, we could - quit your job, baby i can make it, tonight, baby we could slip away, baby we could, shhhhhhh, shhhhhhhh, down and down, shhhhh, ha! slip away! slip away! SLIP AWAY! SLIP AWAY!! whoooooaaaaaooohhhoooohh! whoooooaaaaaooohhhoooohh!"

So they sent some clown around to the back and I said "leave me here." Then I left the bar, drove through town in the wrong lane caught the cops sped through Harvard square. In the sun, that's where the fun, oh, that's where the fun is. That's where the fun is. Ooooooh, tiny pieces of growin' up.

My Pins

There are five pins on my desk. I keep them in this little black plastic tray underneath my monitor array. They are white, yellow, green, blue, and red. For about three months I only had the red, yellow, and blue ones. One day I turned around and realized that there was a green pin in the wall behind me. I took it out of the wall but something about the even number of pins upset me. I stood up and noticed a white pin in the synthetic cubicle cloth behind my monitor array. I took it out. That’s how I acquired the fifth pin and restored harmony.

Sometimes I pick them all up and turn the yellow and blue ones on their heads and then stick the green one in the space between them, resting its shoulders on the upside down shoulders of the two upside down pins. I like this configuration because of the color combination it implies. The bottom of the pin resting on the shoulders of the upside down pins does not touch the desk.

Sometimes I line up the blue, yellow, and red pins on their heads, and stick the green and white pins on top of them. This configuration is not as perfect, because yellow and red don’t make white, they make orange. I wish I had an orange pin.

Still, I’m happy now that I have five pins, you know? They’re my little buddies. They hang out in the little tray right in front of me, next to the book of stamps that only has two stamps left on it. If someone ever took my pins I’d be pretty upset, because some days, the only emotional interaction I engage in is between me and my pins.

I also have this little black clip thing. It came with my IP phone headset. It’s serial number is LR66181, but to be honest I didn’t even know it had a serial number until I started writing this. It has moderate-to-aggressive spring action and is about an inch long with the spring in the middle. There are three circular grooves in the clip part of the little black clip thing.

Sometimes I put the pins inside the little grooves on both sides and spin it around, holding one pin steady and rotating with the other. One day I put a pin into the top groove on one side of the clip and another pin on the other side of the same groove. You have to press a little harder but they actually both fit in the groove tunnel. The clip thing opens up a little in this case and you can’t really spin it.

I’m not really attached to the little black clip thing as much as I am to my five pins. They are my dudes, the little black clip thing is like an acquaintance. If someone walked by and said, “Hey do you have one of those little black clip things?” I’d probably get really excited and say, “Yeah, actually I do, here you go,” and hand them the little black clip thing. Then they’d probably just walk away with my the clip.

I’d turn around and wipe the fake smile off my face and grab my five pins and line up the yellow and blue ones upside down. I’d clear a little space for the green one and stick it between, “I can’t believe I gave that asshole my little black clip. I miss it.” I bet the person will never stick pins on both sides and spin it around. They’ll probably just use it to hold the wire of their headset and talk about servers and helping traders with their stupid spreadsheets.

Still Missing

"You can use periods of dismay to collect data - about yourself...about others." ~ [32]

That is a response you're familiar with, right?

"Pull the carpet out," said He.

And in the heat of the night, errr....the moment, the carpet slid briskly out from under the entire fucking table. The order flew lengthwise, but it hit the perpetrator flushly. Inside my helmet I see calm seas. The rage and pain administration comes later. The king doesn't come out for long. In my life I'll try to live this out the way He'd have it. The only way the skyway. Fishin' marlin boat just missed him in a slo-mo fish hook submarine panorama. From all angles, from all sides, we caught it, we got the shot.

Jaw clench tackle lean-back, muscles to the brink, flush-faced even for such a dark-skinned man. The release. Exhales the stories and memories of that bullshit life sentenced hellboat. He advocates the underbite in these times, and he told my dad so much. He smiled politely - and thought of it in terms of himself. WCBS FM 101.1. Gidiyap! Let's go and never stop. On the corner flower store my uncle pulled away when he saw the black plastic artillery armor, but the legend - he approached with a double-barrel.

Root out the evil man, the big man! The big man! The pride of Kings County, the victor of all that is holy and sacred on the boulevard. See it in the window and the lights...they fall into my eyes. Into the fire. Into the copper-rimmed pots and pans of the bright-brick pastels in the Cuban kitchen in my Dream Bubble ®.