Students of Higher Education vs. Parked Cars & Electronics

There's a saying: the Irish need not apply

Times union article

Just felt like redoing it. AGAIN

1. Put your iTunes (or any other media player you may have) on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
It's all nice on Ice

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
'Taint no Sin

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
I wouldn't change you for the world

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
All my Loving

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Right or Wrong

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Monster

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Goose Pimples

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
You will be Waiting

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Before Departure

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Hurt Feelings

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Lovin' You

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Call Me

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Sweet Darlin'

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Opening Doors

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
A Kiss A Week

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Dinah

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
A Call to Apathy

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Hold On

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
I Have a Dream

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Take Ecstacy with Me

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Roll Jordan Roll

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Love or Confusion

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
International Travel

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Red Haired Woman

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
One Evenin'

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Dont Cry

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
I'm Walkin'

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Josie

San Francisco? Initiative to ban what now?

From the Huffington Post

It's Ok to be Takei

Apparently...

The accusation is that people of the Islamic faith are shorting themselves of the intellectual capacity potential by "inbreeding" with first cousins. Now, if memory serves me right, most of the royal families of the world are all related. From all the sekxsy times with victoria and albert. As Blackadder put it, the bedchambers of buckingham must be copiously supplied with blindfolds for all the children she potters out. Here even in america, those who listen to this, chances are, they may have skipped the first cousin bit. Yeah, went straight for the sister.

Now... in the bible, in genesis in particular, there's no mention of a sister or any other female born with Cain and Able, so that means, either, they would have done it with a bastard sibiling unmentioned in the bible or with their mother. Now, that sounds far worse than first cousins. Especially all the men begatted from their line. Now, explain to me, all the men who are begat from Adam and Eve, and no women to birth them? Eve must have a pretty tired and stretched out vagina by the time you finish reading the bible.

Les décisions de faire

A little smoke curled from a cigarette sitting on a shallow coffee saucer. It burned slowly, recieving no attention from the smoker himself as he sat before the table. His gaunt frame, clothed only in a pair of striped boxers and ragged undershirt seemed to just press into the worn chair. Bare, hairy legs wrapped around the legs of the chair and his arms lay before him on the table top with his palms upwards. The brass clock on the mantle in the room chimed a short song before resuming a monotonous ticking. His body expanded as he took a deep breath into his lungs, nearly swelling to twice his size. It happened suddenly as he sat meditating, dirty tools strewn around on the table, when the windows rattled suddenly. His attention momentarily shaken, his eyes darted towards the french windows. His blue eyes shaking nervously around showing the effects of caffeine. He stood and walked towards the windows, his feet padding and making a dull "thud" sound as he walked. Peering behind the faded damask curtain, he spotted the cause of the trouble, a small rubber ball with a note tied to it. He examined it through the window, before opening it and stepping out onto the small balcony.
The tile floor of the porch was warm, baking in the sun. He grabbed the black twisted metal railing, picked at a rust spot where the paint peeled before turning his full attention to the ball. It was a cracked old ball, split down the seam with a string run through it and a note tied to the half still in good condition. He picked it up tearing the note from it and tossing the ball off into the street below. He watched as it bounced off the hood of a car below before reentering his apartment. He read the note, looked at the clock and reread the note again. Seemingly satisfied, with it, he crumbled it into a ball and pitched it into the fireplace. He strode over to the bookcase on the other side of the room. It was piled with loose papers, tight bundles of documents held together with dirty string. He pulled down a pile it crashed onto the floor before him. Behind it was a small hole in the case, exposing a small knob and dial. He spun it quickly, a calculated careful mind reciting the numbers by heart before hearing it click and he opened it. A couple bundles of cash lay behind the door, a small album and a thin banking envelope. He grabbed the last item and shut the safe.
The envelope lay on the table surrounded by the tools. He paced back and forth on the worn hearth rug eying the envelope like some sort of bomb. He finally sat down and picked up the envelope and tore open the flap. The single leaf of paper was folded into quarters and as he unfolded it, smells of mold and mildew floated upwards. His eyes scanned the words quickly and once he finished the letter, he took it and lit it on fire. Placing it delicately onto the small hearth, he watched it burn and smolder. Once it finished, he poked it with the tip of his oxford scattering the remains across the tile. He pulled from the attache case on the chair an unfiltered cigarette, and lit it.

The bustling market below the apartment had hardly a hint of what was going on, as a thin wisp of smoke curled from the cracked terra-cotta chimney pots. Below, Marie was buying vegetables. Her thin face, accented by large designer sunglasses and dark hair tied up into a bun hidden from view in a sun hat still showed her youthful beauty. As she picked up an Algerian marrow, she looked up perplexed by the smell of smoke. It had a distinctive smell, compared to the charcoal braziers which market stall owners were cooking various food stuffs, or the heavy coke rich smell of the glaziers down the street working on pottery and glass. She looked up towards the apartment seeing the smoke and a man leaning on the balcony railing above with a cigarette sandwiched between his fingers.
She quickly paid for her purchases, and entered the building. The lobby was dirty, a rusting bicycle leaned against a wall opposite a row of broken post boxes. She stepped into the cage elevator pulling each door shut. When she stepped out, she didn't need to get her keys ready as the door opened before her. The man with the cigarette jerked his head back telling her to come in and she followed willingly. She looked around the small garotte, noting the smoke curling out of the fireplace and the papers scattered around the floor. She placed her shopping on the counter in the kitchen and came back into the room. The man had returned to the balcony for a second cigarette and muttered and pointed to a case in the center of the table. She opened the dusty case and inside revealed a enigma teleprinter. He began to mutter a bunch of codes and numbers, connectors and wheels. As she set them into order, he asked her about her day. She only remarked on the heat and the price of vegetables. She uttered "prêt!"
He slowly and clearly spoke, his voice trailing quietly through the air. The market below still provided an ambient background noise as he spoke. He reentered the room and walked past her, through the arch and into the bedroom. He continued to dictate clearly as he dressed into a pair of slacks and a button shirt. He pulled a drawer in the wardrobe and a flurry of multicolored ties flew out onto the bed. He turned to pick one out and began to tie it. He picked a light colored jacket and returned to the room where she remained at the device. He remarked that he finished and she entered the final codes. Looking at the thin ribbon of type that stuck out of the teleprinter, she ripped the ribbon off and rolled it into a film canister. "Il sera pris en charge, ce soir au consulat." He patted her on the shoulder and from the wall safe, this time he pulled out a second envelope. This time, padded thicker than the first. She tore the flap open revealing about 10,000 francs.
Marie picked up her groceries and tossed the film into the shopping bag with eggs and butter pats. She nodded to him expecting some sort of gesture of approval, but he merely picked up another cigarette from the box on the mantle and lit it. Back on the street, she replaced her hat and sunglasses on her head and continued down the narrow corridor with mopeds and market men shouting at passerbys. She reached the entrance of her own building and entering the front doors, she checked her mail and as she walked up, her land lady popped her head out of her door. "Louer! Vous me devez louer!" She stopped for a moment, pulled the envelope out of her purse and placed 150 francs on the bony hand. "Non non non, vous me devez trois mois." She forked over another hundred franc bill. Seemingly satisfied, the landlady retreated her head back into the door and it shut with a click.
Her apartment was decorated comfortably, a small sitting area with a cabinet and black and white television set sat on top. Low slung armchairs with saggy seats faced the little machine. A small scrubbed painted table sat near the windows overlooking a courtyard. The kitchenette was small with a tiny antique paraffin stove to one side and an ancient looking ice box underneath the window. She placed the vegetables on hooks and hangers and placed the meat and eggs into the box. Glancing into the courtyard, she looked down at the the palm fronds and the broken fountain below. She watched as a bicycle messenger screeched to a halt at the entrance and dismounted and entered her building. She continued putting groceries away and a moment later, a soft rapping came at the door. She opened the door poking her face into the crack. Before her, a smartly dressed, but obviously sweaty messenger stood before her. His brown uniform and askew tie hinted that he didn't care much for his job, but did it for the pay. She placed a 50 centime piece in his hand and he handed her the envelope. She opened it as she closed the door behind her, pulling out the papers.
The message was clear, it was printed on official consulate papers. France was giving up Algeria. Her position at the consulate would remain in place if she moved back to France. She placed the letter on the stove and continued to pull out groceries, lost in a haze. As she pulled out a small marrow, the film canister dropped out. She remembered her transaction with the man with the cigarette. It was a code to resistance members in the country to establish a coup to keep France as the parent country. The pieds-noirs would start a revolution to quell the liberation front. Torn between countries, Marie stared at the sinister little canister. Picking up the letter, it also mentioned a comfortable position and promotion in Nice. She looked at the canister, thinking of her country, growing up in Algiers during the war, living in a villa with her mother and father before they had passed away. She thought of the country the was a part of and loved. Her mind then turned to France. Back to Algeria, then back to France again. Frustrated, she set the two things down on the counter, and flopped onto her bed. She could not betray France, not like her older brother who was 10 years her senior. Hugo had joined the Vichy french and was later shot for being a traitor. She remembered him being dragged out of the house in 1946 when she was only 11, her mother and father on their knees begging for mercy from the French officer. She rose from the bed, looking at the walls down in the courtyard. She saw the bullet holes against the wall of the garage next door where her brother was shot. His last words were "Vive Pétain!" before he slumped over onto the ground. Tears began to form in her eyes, thinking of foolishly going against her country as Hugo had.
She set the canister onto the stove and lit it. As it burned, she watched it intently, imagining the difficulty getting forces together to fight. Algeria was no longer her country. She had to leave it, the people she loved and start new. When it finished burning, she tossed the melted lump into the rubbish heap in the courtyard below watching it fall satisfyingly fall into the garbage. She looked around her, grabbing photographs and packing them into a suitcase with several clothes. Everything else, she didn't need. In another suitcase, she packed her parent's wedding blanket and several other articles. She tossed a jewelry box into it, opening its carved wooden lid and removing 3000 francs from inside. She looked around her one last time before locking the door and leaving the key with the land lady.

The man with the cigarette waited outside the consulate, looking for Marie. He began to sweat nervously as she didn't begin to show. He saw the gendarme at the gate shut and lock the front door. Then, he locked the yard gate. The gendarme in his slender blue uniform shooed him away. Marie saw all this happen as she passed in a taxi bound for the Algiers dockyards. She had a ticket ready and had already called to the foreign office accepting the position immediately. Her ticket was for the SS Flandre which was in port, ready to depart for Nice by seven that evening. As she boarded after passing through customs, she looked back at the towers and minarets along the skyline. She muttered "Vive France."

"Stupid Orchestra"

Blödes Orchester from white tube on Vimeo.

Waiting...

I stood nervously waiting on the empty platform, the snow building up by my business shoes. I could feel the cold coming in, it wasn't pleasant and I shook them free of their freezing prison for a moment. My gloved hand wandered into the pocket of the camel hair jacket that kept me from freezing to death. As my fingers wrapped around a familiar shape, I knew my business today. I had to avenge someone, someone who was betrayed too easily, like a crumpled piece of paper, wantonly tossed aside. As my thoughts became more and more intense, the less I realized how hard I was squeezing the object in my hand.

Suddenly, I saw it in the distance. It was more like it had seen me. I quickly walked over to the signal box and pulled a lever back. Above my head, a wig-wag signal began to slowly rock back and forth, monotonously blinking its yellow light, seemingly trying to call for help in the pitch black of the snowy night. The interurban blew its whistle, acknowledging a stop for me. As it hissed to a stop, I saw him, sitting there in the smoking section of the car. A frozen look washed over my face as I imagined the past, the conductor looked at me at the top of the steps. "Come aboard sir." Momentarily, I was caught unaware and I boarded. As the door closed behind me, the heat of the car, my glasses fogged up forcing me to pull them from my face. My vision returned.

I meagerly walked down the aisle of the non smoking compartment, A large mother with her two sleeping children bundled in snow clothes. Their mittens on a long cord still hung over their necks. A navy officer sat behind her, his pristine black uniform highlighted the gold buttons and medal bars on his chest. I came to the frosted glass door, with the word "Smoking" etched into the foggy glass. Pulling it back, the smell of a few camel cigarettes and a pipe lingered. I sat in front of the quarry, a cigarette squeezed between his fingers, a curling wisp rose to the ceiling and the ash hung for dear life. His gaze was fixed on an advertisement screwed into the wall. It was for a new suburban development in Levittown. I pulled the seat in front of him to reverse, and momentarily, he was surprised at the new addition. I sat in front of him, his face screwed up in anguish, accentuating his old features, hardened from years of hard work. He drew his hands up to his overcoat lapels, and pulled them in, making him look almost like a wrapped up pug. He knew why I had come, he knew what I was going to tell him, and he most certainly knew what I was going to do.

Before I said anything, my hand fumbled around in my pocket for the hard object that had been waiting for him. As my fingers wrapped around it, he winced, expecting the worst. I drew it out and slowly cradled it in my hands. It was a small wooden case, about the size of a pencil case, and as I pulled back the catch to open it, I saw him breath a sigh of relief. Or as close as he could get to relief. The little brass hinges squealed a little as the lid opened, and I pulled out a dog tag, a small rosary and a photograph. "Mr. Clemson, I grew up with your son Bill. I knew you, and you knew me. But before you say anything, let me finish first. You wern't around much for Bill growing up. I saw how you hurt Mrs. Clemson that day you disappeared, Bill wasn't any better for it either. But the war rolled around, and he and I served our country, but for him, he served it fully to the end. When I came home, your wife, she's not here anymore. She's gone Frank. So is Bill."

His furrowed brow gave way, that expression of relief had turned upside down, as he realized the gravity of what I had just said to him. He looked at me, almost gasping the word, no. A thin, dirty tear rolled down, following each crease and crack in his face. I handed him the picture, rosary and tag and he couldn't contain himself. His head bowed over the objects now in his hands, a low sob came over him, and his body began to shake as he held the last items of what once was his family. The gnarled hand that held the rosary clenched it tightly and began to thumb each bead, and the sound of prayer began to fill my head. A bell clattered in the other compartment signalling that the train had stopped at a station. I gathered up myself, shut the box and left the old man alone.

Print

Sam nervously looked at herself in the mirror, her silky white shirt hugged against her body around the waist and her eyes darted back down to her left hand where she adjusted her ring. She ran her hands over herself, edging over every single detail in her outfit. She looked around the loft seeing all the things that she and Rafe had put together. The stolen Barcelona chair that Rafe took out of the Yale architecture library for her, the rack of hockey sticks of stolen sticks that she took from various games they would go to when they would chase the Cornell Big Red. They always had to get one hockey stick from the opposing team and get the big red team to sign it. She carefully traced her hand delicately over the things on the dresser. She looked at them longingly and walked to the railing and looked down into the living room below. Rafe had a small little print shop in one corner and she had a small painting studio in the other. A couple of worn out brown leather couches arranged in a small sitting area with a flatscreen tv at the other end. Mugaboo, their wirehair terrier was snoozing on the sheepskin rug in the sunlight. She listened very carefully, she heard a record crackling on the turntable, the gentle breathing of the vacuum tubes as a slow voice slowly began to rise in a low crescendo over the gold wire speakers.

The shuffle of barefeet over wood and the sound of the old coffee boiler percolating in the kitchen area. Sam rested her elbows on the edge, counted under her breath, one... two... three... then from below her the shirtless form of Rafe walked out from the kitchen. A smile curled on her face as she watched his form walk over to the hot table and pick up a copper etching plate. As Rafe began to clean the plate, she carefully watched him dart from machine to machine finally running the plate through the itaglio press. Her hands clenched the rail nervously, anticipating the final result. Rafe pulled back the catch blanket, his face smiled as he pulled back the paper holding it against the light. She walked slowly down the stairs, her bare feet plodding down each step. Her hair, tied back in a little pony tail reflected against the large warehouse windows. She carefully walked down over to him, and she wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her nose into his shoulder. Rafe dropped his arm and the print onto the table and grabbed her. He wheeled around, and looked at her.

You know, I gotta get these done for George.
I know babe, but I just want you.
Sush, you can help me if you want.
Well...

Sam leaned onto the press plate, she slid her bottom onto the platen, still kissing Rafe. His arms, wrapped around her. They kissed for awhile longer on the printing press. Before he stood back and realized what he had done.

Shit sweetie, look at your shirt.

Sam looked down at what once was her crisp, white satin blouse, now was pock marked with blotches of printing ink.

Rafe! I...

She blushed.

Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time - Special Episode & Cookie Cataclysm

Ledsehwer

Senseless
the bitter cold, tumbling
over the rail, cascading
ever gently over.

Covering
the gentle warmth, Protecting
what last is important, wondering
if it was all a dream.

Syntax
in this case, contemplating
how it fits in, observing
that it doesn't.

Reading
silently, rolling
over silent words, adding
their own vibrancy.

Thinking
it could be true, equating
the possibilities, formulating
the answer.

It
is
not.
But
can
be.
To
all
see.

Narrating
an ongoing battle, writing
the story, printing
only the words.

Atheists are Wrong and Evil!

It's like Bobby Franklin wiped the law on his bottom

Bobby Franklin, wtf are you doing? So, just as a quick summary for each one of this house bills he's attempting to pass in the Georgia House. I dont think they get more ridiculous as you go along, but merely, each one is ridiculously weird in its own unique way.

Crimes and Offenses: Prenatal murder: to provide
HB1: abortions and contraceptives are illegal & will undermine authority of the Supreme Court. It is no longer the authority of the state, college heads, and local and city governments to provide safe contraceptives and abortions.

Georgia Right to Grow Act; enact
HB2: Right to grow chickens and goats in the city. Cause you know, the last thing you want to do is to remain subservient to the market providers. Lets just return to the feudal system, raise chickens and trade pigs for female companionship. Or the other way round.

Constitutional Tender Act; enact
HB3: Separation from US Legal tender and shift to using gold and silver as legal tender. The motive? The US dollar is weak and tied to china! China is communist, therefore evil, and to avoid something or other, blah blah blah, I JUST WANT TO PAY MY GROCERIES IN GOOOOLD.

Life Liberty and Property Restoration act; enact
HB4: Defines all our rights are given from god and not the civil government. There are several things that we are given. Life, Liberty, NOT the pursuit of happiness, but! Propertah! Dont own propertah? Go git some propertah!

Freedom of Choice and Security Act
HB5: Guns aren't evil, People are! Let them people have guns! It goes as far as to define: People are evil within. Not because of material objects. Well now. Good to know, that although guns dont cause evil, but people do, people should be given the right to own a material object that doesn't cause evil.

Emergency Defense of the Home Act
HB6: Yeeehaw! Let's drive around with explosives and alcohol, it'll be legal thanks to this little doozie.

Right to Travel Act
HB7: Drivers licenses aren't in the constitution, hell, let's shit all over the Georgia DMV system.
HELLS YES. Woot woot, that means 12 year olds and 14 year olds can drive, to quote him: "What's stopping them?"

Due Process Restoration Act
HB8: Ban Security cameras because their intention to curb crime is an infringement on the privacy of the people who just happen to walk by

Kathryn Johnston's Law
HB9: A right to security from forced entry of the government when conducting a search, sting or raid. So... you mean, I can still keep my basement full of weed?

Child Protection Act
HB10: Fences! Fences! That's what will keep our children safe! FENCES.

Freedom from Compulsory Pandemic Act
HB11: You know, it's really our decision whether or not we wish to be subjugated to a pandemic, and even then, people still object to having needles and godless science injected into them. Vaccinations for all! Against typhus (yay), the flu (hooray), malaria (uhh...), Hungarian Potato fly Innocular dystrophy syndrome (what? Is that even real?). And ALL THE TIME
SHALL YOU BE INJECTED!

Georgia Food Freedom Act
HB12: Your peanuts shall never be mislabeled thanks to this puppy.

If you'd like to read the whole thing in context next time you're on the toilet, bring some of these printed out, read the toilet paper, and wipe your bottom with these bills.

http://www.legis.ga.gov/Legislation/en-US/Search.aspx (search for Franklin, in member name)

Just think of all the people standing up as sections of constitutional law, and the guy flying past is Bobby Franklin.

Trolling IRL

A most extraordinary trial is going on in the High Court at the moment in which a man named Chrysler is accused of stealing more than 40,000 coat hangers from hotels round the world. He admits his guilt, but in his defence he claims that – well, perhaps it would be simpler just to bring you a brief extract from the trial. We join the case at the point where Chrysler has just taken the stand.

Counsel: What is your name?

Chrysler: Chrysler. Arnold Chrysler.

Counsel: Is that your own name?

Chrysler: Whose name do you think it is?

Counsel: I am just asking if it is your name.

Chrysler: And I have just told you it is. Why do you doubt it?

Counsel: It is not unknown for people to give a false name in court.

Chrysler: Which court?

Counsel: This court.

Chrysler: What is the name of this court?

Counsel: This is No 5 Court.

Chrysler: No, that is the number of this court. What is the name of this court?

Counsel: It is quite immaterial what the name of this court is!

Chrysler: Then perhaps it is immaterial if Chrysler is really my name.

Counsel: No, not really, you see because...

Judge: Mr Lovelace?

Counsel: Yes, m'lud?

Judge: I think Mr Chrysler is running rings round you already. I would try a new line of attack if I were you.

Counsel: Thank you, m'lud.

Chrysler: And thank you from ME, m'lud. It's nice to be appreciated.

Judge: Shut up, witness.

Chrysler: Willingly, m'lud. It is a pleasure to be told to shut up by you. For you, I would...

Judge: Shut up, witness. Carry on, Mr Lovelace.

Counsel: Now, Mr Chrysler – for let us assume that that is your name – you are accused of purloining in excess of 40,000 hotel coat hangers.

Chrysler: I am.

Counsel: Can you explain how this came about?

Chrysler: Yes. I had 40,000 coats which I needed to hang up.

Counsel: Is that true?

Chrysler: No.

Counsel: Then why did you say it?

Chrysler: To attempt to throw you off balance.

Counsel: Off balance?

Chrysler: Certainly. As you know, all barristers seek to undermine the confidence of any hostile witness, or defendant. Therefore it must be equally open to the witness, or defendant, to try to shake the confidence of a hostile barrister.

Counsel: On the contrary, you are not here to indulge in cut and thrust with me. You are only here to answer my questions.

Chrysler: Was that a question?

Counsel: No.

Chrysler: Then I can't answer it.

Judge: Come on, Mr Lovelace! I think you are still being given the run-around here. You can do better than that. At least, for the sake of the English bar, I hope you can.

Counsel: Yes, m'lud. Now, Mr Chrysler, perhaps you will describe what reason you had to steal 40,000 coat hangers?

Chrysler: Is that a question?

Counsel: Yes.

Chrysler: It doesn't sound like one. It sounds like a proposition which doesn't believe in itself. You know – "Perhaps I will describe the reason I had to steal 40,000 coat hangers... Perhaps I won't... Perhaps I'll sing a little song instead..."

Judge: In fairness to Mr Lovelace, Mr Chrysler, I should remind you that barristers have an innate reluctance to frame a question as a question. Where you and I would say, "Where were you on Tuesday?", they are more likely to say, "Perhaps you could now inform the court of your precise whereabouts on the day after that Monday?". It isn't, strictly, a question, and it is not graceful English but you must pretend that it is a question and then answer it, otherwise we will be here for ever. Do you understand?

Chrysler: Yes, m'lud.

Judge: Carry on, Mr Lovelace.

Counsel: Mr Chrysler, why did you steal 40,000 hotel coat hangers, knowing as you must have that hotel coat hangers are designed to be useless outside hotel wardrobes?

Chrysler: Because I build and sell wardrobes which are specially designed to take nothing but hotel coat hangers.

Sensation in court. More of this tomorrow, I hope

from: http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/columnists/miles-kington/high-court-hangups-747313.html

Her Relentless Pursuit

In the first 24 hours after someone broke into my car in my own driveway, I was mostly mad at my husband. Who leaves a backpack with a BlackBerry and a wallet full of cash and credit cards in the car overnight, with a GPS visible on the dashboard and the freaking car doors unlocked? We might as well have hung a sign on the door that read: Suckers live here. Welcome!

The day before had been magical -- a beautiful, warm, sunny fall Sunday in San Francisco. We lingered in the city too long but still had to buy groceries on our way home from an exhibit of watercolors and drawings from "Where the Wild Things Are." As we pulled into our driveway, I said to my husband, "I'll run in and start dinner. You bring in the bags." And that's the last thing I remember. The next morning, the glove compartment was open, papers hanging out. The GPS was gone.

I canceled four credit cards and ordered a new BlackBerry before I thought to check Craigslist. I didn't know what I'd find, but it occurred to me that pawn shops were the domain of desperate crackheads and that the savvy modern thief would hock stolen wares online. I did a search in a 40-mile radius of my neighborhood. My GPS was the first thing that popped up.

To be honest, I wasn't certain that Garmin Nuvi 265w was my GPS; I didn't remember the model number. For all I knew this was some poor schmuck who'd fallen on hard times trying to get a little cash. Still, it was awfully suspicious. It was the only Garmin on Craigslist that morning. And the entire ad was written in capital letters, as if that particular seller were jumping up and down, trying to get my attention.

My hands shook as I tapped out what I hoped was a casual e-mail query: "Hi!! I could TOTALLY use a GPS. Is this one still available? Where are you located? Thanks!!! Jasmine."

from Salon.com

Paper

http://vimeo.com/13836240

Tumblingerstraße from yo man on Vimeo.

From the LJ of Rene Engstrom

1. Put your iTunes (or any other media player you may have) on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Stop Crying Your heart Out

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Thank You For the Music

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Elements

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
That Old Black Magic

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Photographs

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Luxury

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
I Jibe and Joke

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Whose Arms are You in Tonight?

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
The Flowers That Bloom in the Springtime

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Comin' and Goin'

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
The Belle of Chicago

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Stella D'Oro

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
When Yuba Plays the Rhuba On the Tuba

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Lovefool

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I'm on a See-Saw

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
I Dont Feel Like Dancing

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Turtle Twist

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
My Best Wishes

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Nice Weather For Ducks

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Special

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
How About Me?

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Touch Me, Touch Me

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Sugalumps

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Oh Yeah

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Pennsylvania 6-5000

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Television Rules the Nation

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Outsiders

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Home in Pasadena

The Aniv

Loosening his tie, he grazed his fingers over the tips of the keys of his keyboard as he entered the record of an order of 3000 test tubes and 200 flasks. He sighed as his eyes darted around the room, looking through the menagerie of glass ware. Everything seemed in right order. Nothing out of place. He spotted his assistant entering the room, cardboard boxes in his arms with more glasses, he thought. Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a small blue racquetball and rolled it towards the unsuspecting lab assistant.
What happened next could only be described in most cartoon comics. The assistant stepped on the ball, realizing that his balance was suddenly compromised fell over sideways, but instead of glass shattering from the box, his box was full of large laboratory weights and heavy stone platforms. He fell throwing the boxes towards the first shelf full of delicate glassware. In turn, that one fell over onto the next, and so on until the University's dispensary was nothing more than a glass shard pile.
Rafe stirred from his nap as he heard the slap of a paper on windowed desk. Breaking as quickly from sleep, he looked at the order form. A magnetic stirring plate, three beakers and the magnet. What a strange order for these kids he thought. He stepped back and produced the desired items without even making eye contact with the requestee. It was easier to deal with undergraduates without having to look at them, explain anything or talk for that matter.
"Here is your equipment, have it back by six pm a month from today. Here is a sheet with the instructions. If you have any questions about equipment, call the office here with the number at the bottom of the sheet." Rafe said blandly. He turned to the calendar and saw the red circle marked around this upcoming saturday. In sharpie it read 'Sam's Aniv' Aniv? Aniversery! Of course, how could Rafe forget. It was six months since they first met, when he had slammed into a car door and she flew down to him in rescue. What to do... What to do... His assistant arrived, enhanded with cases of fresh, sterile glass tubing.
"Mitch, what should... I need your opinion on something."
"Chyeah, get larger volumetric pipets, these things suck in terms of capacity. If you're interested, i've got the number memorized as a mental note."
"No no, it's on something..."
"CHAAA KEEEE VOOOOO FFFFFFFF Eto! Eto! Nung! Kang! Doiiing!"
"What the fuck?"
"Oh, dont worry, it's the way i store all mental notes. It translates to CKVF 11930."
"No, these pipets are fine as is."
"Whatev broski."
"No, I wanted to ask you, what you should think I should do for Sam and my's 6 month anniversery."
"Dude!"
"What?"
"Order her this totally sick ass larger capacity volumetric pipets! Like thirty of them."
Rafe only could turn away and roll his eyes with contempt. 'What a weirdo' he thought.

Since Lucy bike was no more, Rafe had bought a truck off craigslist. It was a beautiful 1956 Chevy pickup with a gigantic back window, that could carry everything he needed at the lab. He sidled himself into the car, slipped the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life with a heavy rumble and kick. A thin smile plastered over his mouth feeling the engine running and throwing the car into gear. The car lurched forward, pulling out of the parking lot and down the street. As he scanned the road, Rafe's eyes slowly rolled back and forth, looking at the shops and stores in the area. "Hm... nothing seems all that good," he thought "There has to be some place I can find something really outstanding to get Sam." As he braked, the little picture tag on his mirror danced back and forth spinning around showing a picture of Kentucky, his old dog and a picture of him and Sam sitting on top of the roof at Georgia Road Fruit Market. His consciousness snapped and an idea materialized in his head.

Sam stared at her reflection in the medicine cabinet. She pulled the sides of her mouth with her fingers, baring a neat row of pearly teeth, her expression went from playful to laughter. She stepped out of the bathroom and looked down at the loft that she and Rafe now shared. Rafe's old roommate finally found a place next door and she moved into Rafe's place. It looked the same with a couple of exceptions of some girly objects, her old furniture arranged neatly around the bed loft. She looked around the comfortably furnished bedroom and saw on the dresser a small, leatherbound black book. She picked it up and realized it was Rafe's planner. He must have forgotten it. She flipped to today and saw that today was their six month anniversary. She'd forgotten! She ran to the bureau and started pulling out dresses and skirts. Rafe must have something planned and she didn't even have anything for him. "Oh shit. Everything here is for summer. I cant go out and buy a new dress, Rafe has the truck and, and, and..." she gasped. Written underneath the red circle was something. It was written in Rafe's cryptic scrawl. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to decipher. All she could make out was the word Diamond. The shocked expression on her face slowly melted away to form a large grin that plastered her face. A diamond!

Rafe had a grin plastered on his face as well. He remembered, there was something he'd ordered for Sam a couple months ago. He needed his diary, it would have it. He reached into his leather sack and the familiar leather book couldn't be found. Shit. It has to be at the loft he thought. Sam would be working from home today. How would he get by her? He pulled the truck outside the door of their building. He gingerly slipped out and walked in to the hallway. He silently opened the door to their loft. His head poked in and he peered around. The kitchen was empty, the living space seemed deserted. Wandering in stealthily, he scanned the room. All clear. All he had to do was go up the stairs to the loft and grab his book. With cat like tread, Rafe stole silently up the stairs and onto his prey. He looked around the seemingly empty loft, his eyes darting around in hopes of finding the journal. He saw it laying on his pillow, its weight pressing down into the down pillow. Grabbing it, it revealed underneath Sam's delicate hand. Rafe's heart stopped for a moment. Sam must have read whatever was in this. Shit shit shit...

Carefully backing away from what seemed like a lion's den, Rafe moved slowly, watching every step he took. One out, he ran to the truck, shutting the door behind him and breathing heavily. His head dropped back against the rear window and blinked several times. He reeled forward again looking at the book in his hands. Opening it almost like a treasure, he looked for the date and in his cryptic scrawl, it read: Be sure to pick up order at Diamond Heights. Bringing the truck to life, he pulled away and to safety. He pulled the truck in front a small narrow alleyway, and left the truck there. Walking gingerly amongst piles of trash bags and cans, Rafe came up to a stoop with a dreary looking painted door at the top. He knocked three times and a small slot opened, a hand reached out grasping a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. The arm handed it to Rafe and in return, Rafe shoved several bills into the extended hand. The little slot shut and the alleyway was as it was again.

Over dinner and cocktails, Rafe thought he was doing well. Sam sat across from him at the small table at the little restaurant where they first went out together. The fairly expensive one mentioned in a previous story but i'm too lazy to look up. The entire evening, Sam seemed to have a twinkle in her eye, every time she laughed, her curls bounced lightly. Rafe looked at her and began to melt in his seat. He felt happy. After dinner and the dessert and coffee was brought over, Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out the little brown package. It was still tied up with waxy twine and he placed it on the small saucer that sat in front of her. She stared at it, not knowing what to think. It certainly was larger than a ring box, but not big enough to be a bracelet or necklace case. She gingerly undid the bow that held everything in place, and with a careful finger, she peeled back the paper revealing a small little silver box. She opened the lid and inside was a beautifully hand crafted silver ring set with several small stones and a diamond right in the center. She was stunned and shocked, her mouth hung open.

"Babe, I know we've been together for six months. I've loved every single minute of it. I would love to spend alot more of it with you later on. Will you marry me?" Sam looked at Rafe, her expression drooped and she nodded, obviously lost for words. She only could make a gutterance of uh-huh as she nodded.

Maori's Morning

http://vimeo.com/12904463

ReSurveyed After 1.6 years

Put an X in what you've done... (12.10.08)
Put a Y in what you've done... (6.26.10)

Info

[ ] I am shorter than 5'4.
[ ] I think I'm ugly sometimes.
[y] have many scars.
[xy] I tan easily.
[ ] I wish my hair was a different color.
[ ] I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.
[ ] I have a tattoo.
[yx] I am self-conscious about my appearance.
[xy] I wear glasses.
[ ] I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.
[y] I've been told I'm attractive by a complete stranger.
[ ] I have more than 2 piercings.
[y] I have piercing in places besides my ears.
[ ] I have freckles.

Family/Home Life

[xy] I've sworn at my parents.
[ ] I've run away from home.
[ ] I've been kicked out of the house.
[xy] My biological parents are together.
[ ] I have a sibling less than one year old.
[xy] I want to have kids someday.
[ ] I've lost a child.

School/Work

[xy] I'm in school.
[y] I have a job.
[xy] I've fallen asleep at work/school.
[ ] I almost always do my homework.
[x] I've missed a week or more of school.
[x] I've been on the Honor Roll within the last 2 years.
[y] I failed more than 1 class last year.
[xy] I've stolen something from my job.
[ ] I've been fired.

Embarrassment

[xy] I've slipped out an "lol" in a spoken conversation.
[ ] Disney movies still make me cry.
[ ] I've peed from laughing.
[xy] I've snorted while laughing.
[xy] I've laughed so hard I've cried.
[xy] I've glued my hand to something. Three words, zap-a-gap
[xy] I've had my pants rip in public.

Health

[ ] I was born with a disease/impairment.
[y] I've gotten stitches/staples.
[ ] I've broken a bone.
[ ] I've had my tonsils removed.
[y] I've sat in a doctor’s office/emergency room with a friend.
[ ] I've had my wisdom teeth removed.
[ ] I had a serious surgery.
[x] I've had chicken pox
[ ] I've had measles.

Traveling

[y] I've driven over 200 miles in one day.
[xy] I've been on a plane.
[xy] I've been to Canada.
[xy] I've been to Mexico
[ ] I've been to Niagara Falls.
[ ] I've been to Japan.
[ ] I've celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
[ ] I've been to Europe.
[ ] I've been to Africa.

Experiences

[y] I've gotten lost in my city.
[xy] I've seen a shooting star.
[x] I've wished on a shooting star.
[xy] I've seen a meteor shower.
[y] I've gone out in public in my pajamas.
[xy] I've pushed all the buttons on an elevator.
[xy] I've kicked a guy where it hurts.
[xy] I've been to a casino.
[ ] I've been skydiving.
[xy] I've gone skinny dipping.
[xy] I've played spin the bottle.
[xy] I've drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour.
[ ] I've crashed a car.
[xy] I've been skiing.
[xy] I've been in a play.
[xy] I've met someone in person from MySpace.
[xy] I've caught a snowflake on my tongue.
[ ] I've seen the Northern lights.
[xy] I've sat on a roof top at night
[y] I've played chicken.
[xy] I've played a prank on someone.
[xy] I've ridden in a taxi.
[ ] I've seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show
[xy] I've eaten sushi.
[ ] I've been snowboarding.

Relationships

[y] I'm single.
[x] I'm in a relationship.
[ ] I'm engaged.
[ ] I'm married.
[ ] I've gone on a blind date.
[ ] I've been the dumped more than the dumper.
[y] I miss someone right now.
[ ] I have a fear of abandonment.
[ ] I've gotten divorced.
[y] I've had feelings for someone who didn't have them back.
[x] I've told someone I loved them when I didn't.
[xy] I've told someone I didn't love them when I did.
[xy] I've kept something from a past relationship.

Sexuality

[xy] I've had a crush on someone of the same sex.
[xy] I've had a crush on a teacher.
[xy] I am a cuddler.
[ ] I've been kissed in the rain.
[xy] I've hugged a stranger.
[y] I have kissed a stranger

Honesty/Crime

[xy] I've done something I promised someone else I wouldn't.
[xy] I've done something I promised myself I wouldn't.
[y] I've snuck out of my house.
[xy] I have lied to my parents about where I am.
[y] I am keeping a secret from the world.
[xy] I've cheated while playing a game.
[y] I've cheated on a test.
[y] I've run a red light.
[ ] I've been suspended from school.
[xy] I've witnessed a crime.
[xy] I've been in a fist fight.
[ ] I've been arrested.

Drugs/Alcohol

[xy] I've consumed alcohol.
[y] I regularly drink.
[xy] I've passed out from drinking.
[xy] I have passed out drunk at least once in the past 6 months.
[xy] I've smoked weed.
[y] I've taken painkillers when I didn't need them.
[ ] I've eaten shrooms.
[ ] I've popped E.
[ ] I've inhaled Nitrous.
[y] I've done hard drugs.
[xy] I have cough drops when I'm not sick.
[ ] I can't swallow pills.
[y] I can swallow about 5 pills at a time no problem.
[ ] I have been diagnosed with clinical depression.
[ ] I have been diagnosed with one or more anxiety disorder.
[ ] I shut others out when I'm depressed.
[ ] I take anti-depressants.
[ ] I'm anorexic or bulimic.
[xy] I've slept an entire day when I didn't need it.
[ ] I've hurt myself on purpose.
[xy] I've woken up crying. Death and Suicide
[ ] I'm afraid of dying.
[ ] I hate funerals.
[xy] I've seen someone dying.
[xy] Someone close to me has attempted suicide.
[xy] Someone close to me has committed suicide.
[xy] I've planned my own suicide.
[y] I've attempted suicide.
[ ] I've written a eulogy for myself.

Materialism

[ ] I own over 5 rap CDs.
[xy] I own an iPod or MP3 player.
[ ] I have an unhealthy obsession with anime/manga.
[ ] I own multiple designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.
[ ] I own something from Hot Topic.
[xy] I own something from Pac Sun.
[y] I collect comic books.
[xy] I own something from The Gap.
[xy] I own something I got on e-bay.
[xy] I own something from Abercrombie
[y] I can sing well.
[y] I've stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.
[xy] I open up to others easily.
[xy] I watch the news.
[ ] I don't kill bugs.
[xy] I hate hearing songs that sacrifice meaning for the sake of being able to rhyme.
[xy] I curse regularly.
[xy] I sing in the shower.
[xy] I am a morning person.
[ ] I paid for my cell phone ring tone.
[ ] I'm a snob about grammar.
[ ] I am a sports fanatic.
[ ] I twirl my hair.
[ ] I have "x"s in my screen name.
[x] I love being neat.
[xy] I love Spam.
[x] I've copied more than 30 CD's in a day
[ ] I bake well.
[xy] My favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red or blue
[y] I've worn pajamas to school.
[ ] I like Martha Stewart.
[xy] I know how to shoot a gun.
[y] I am in love with love.
[ ] I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS.
[x] I laugh at my own jokes.
[x] I eat fast food weekly.
[x] I believe in ghosts.
[ ] I am online 24/7, even as an away message.
[xy] I've not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.
[x] I can't sleep if there is a spider in the room.
[ ] I am really ticklish.
[xy] I love white chocolate.
[ ] I bite my nails.
[xy] I play video games.
[xy] I'm good at remembering faces.
[x] I'm good at remembering names.
[y] I'm good at remembering dates.
[xy] I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.