floorpie

Down goes Frasier! Down goes Frasier!

>I’m not going to say it was a landslide, but it was the first step in the long journey to the presidency for Kerry.

Bush sounded a bit weak with his repititous “mixed-messages” message. It’s honestly specious reasoning to me… because Kerry didn’t support an additional $100B for the war doesn’t mean that he flip-flopped… it means he doesn’t agree with the way Bush was fighting said war and didn’t want to give another $87B to a losing cause. That’s like you and I have this conversation:

Me: Hey, what’s up? So are you against child pornography?
You: Why of course I’m against child pornography!
Me: Oh good, me too. Ummm, give me $20,000.
You: Wait. What? No!
Me: Oh, I see flip-flopper, you just can’t wait to get into child porn, can you?

It makes no sense, and I think most of America is starting to realize it.
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Here’s another thing: Bush didn’t answer many of Kerry’s direct questions or accusations, and instead went back to his mixed-messages message. How that was relevant, I don’t know, and Bush’s camp is now saying that poor Bushy was tired by way of excuse.
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Two words: Vote John Kerry for President!

The thing about The Karate Kid, see, is that it’s the best movie ever made. Casablanca, The Godfather, Gone with the Wind? Please! Kid’s got Mr. Miyagi, bitch! See he’s a maintenance man with a black-belt in compassion and love. Actually, the strangest thing about that whole scenario is how he suddenly seemed to stop working once the “training” began. He’s catching flies with chopsticks, he’s going to the beach, he’s going fishing… he’s doing everything except fixing the leaky faucet in 3B.

The best best part of that movie is that head cheerleader Elisabeth Shue would leave her uber-cool jock boyfriend for a skinny loser with no friends (except a 70 year old janitor), no car, a bad attitude, and an annoying accent. It gave all the rest of us hope.

Surfer catches a whale
SpaceShipOne within one flight of the X-Prize

I am 30 today. Somehow I thought there would be more llamas. I’m not sure why.
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Also, the features of this Roomba vacuum cleaner seem a bit grandiose.

.: Safely and quietly sweeps and vacuums hard wood, carpet, and tile floors
.: Great on pet hair and all kinds of dirt and debris
>.: Automatically cleans your floors while you enjoy life

While I enjoy life? Really? Who knew it was so simple?!

Fry’s strategy for dealing with questions regarding your back-ordered order, your desire to check on said order, and your even more pressing questions about why they would even offer something for sale that would immediately go on back-order once they had your credit card information, is to quietly and efficiently put you on hold for a literal 10 minutes (as oppossed to a perceived 10 minutes as in, “I felt like I was on hold for like 10 minutes!”), riddled capricioulsy with recorded voice-overs about greater than expected call volumes and the importance of my call, then to seque into the reassuring sound of the phone again ringing on the other end for 8 to 10 rings (during which you clear your throat, look over your papers, and adopt an aggressive posture), followed finally by (quietly and efficiently) hanging up on you.

Their strategy works astoundingly well.

Here’s the strategy: Whenever the chips are down scare America.

It’s amazing that the masses of America don’t seem to notice that periodically there’s a “terror alert” or a reminder that “you are all in mortal danger” or “you will likely die of a slow, horrible, death by the hand of a terrorist… unless I’m re-elected.” Nothing ever happens to lend credence to the hysteria, of course; but, by then we’ve all forgotten that we were supposed to be scared in the first place. It’s sad, really.
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To my readers (if any) in Canada, if Bush gets elected, where can I find a product design job up there?

In other news, I’m going to Vegas tomorrow… which means I may not need a job anywhere by Sunday as I expect to turn my $100 into $1M immediately upon arrival.

I had this dream last night where ADG was telling me how desperately necessary it is to wash behind my ears before I go to bed. I wash behind my ears in my morning shower, of course (both inreality and dreamland), but for some reason it was terribly urgent that I also do so at night before bed. I would have no part of it, however, thinking that I really didn’t need to go into a whole production for the space behind my ears before bed.
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Because of my hubris, this virulent fungus started to grow back there, right in the crease where my earlobe meets my head. In dream-vision, I saw it, zoomed in and well-lit, somehow from a perspective right behind my head. It was mostly white, with green in it, like lichen. At any rate, it burrowed into my brain and took away my ability to speak or think.
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Let that be a lesson to you.

Did you know I’m turning 30 next week? I’m turning 30 next week. Even though my real age is a mere 20.3, I’ll be officially crossing the 3-0 barrier.
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Judging from my peers, I assume it’s all down hill from here. (I kid, I kid).

I remember when I was a younger man-boy being really excited about my birthday; not because of the milestone, of course, but because of the presents. I would pore over the toy section of Sears catalog carefully, dog-earing all of the pertinent pages, and making a detailed list of possible gift items, including page numbers and short descriptions. One can never be too careful when it comes to the G.I. Joe Headquarters Command Center. [Note to self: when playing “army”, remember that no store-bought headquarters can be nearly as cool as one built from shoe boxes and/or couch pillows… unless it’s the Death Star Space Station).
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Nowadays, of course, gifts are much less important. At this point, who really cares to get anything? It’s all just silly, really.
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Article detailing Bush's Harvard days
>The creation of 911 (via kottke

Holy… crap. Batman!
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Rick James died of a heart attack... though he did have Xanax, Valium, Wellbutrin, Celexa, Vicodin, Digoxin, Chlorpheniramine, methamphetamine, and cocaine in his system. That's... that's just a lot of drugs.

The trick, you see, is to obstinately believe that you did not, in fact, deserve a parking ticket, and you are therefore not, in fact, paying it. Hold on to this belief when you write the letter to the City of Los Angeles, Parking Violations Bureau stating your innocence, and strictly detailing the ways and means by which you intend not to pay the $45.00 fine.

Continue to hold on to this belief as (despite your obvious lack of guilt) your first Notice of Delinquent Parking Violation comes in the mail; though followed tantalizingly close by another notice from The City of Los Angeles explaining that your inquiry into your citation has been received, is being reviewed, and any subsequent actions will be notified to you by mail.

Continue to continue holding on to the strong and fervent belief in your own overwhelming innocence when your second Notice of Delinquent Status arrives detailing in bold, underlined word how, in addition to your original fine, there is also a penalty and a collection fee accruing against you to the tune of $110.00.

At this point, wait one month. See the countryside. Read a book. Take in a play.

…

Steeled with icy resolve and continuing firm belief in your own innocence, contact the Parking Violations Bureau to complain of a number of wasteful and incorrect notices that have been clogging up your mailbox as of late. Before you can let fly your easily understandable, and logically outlined points, listen happily as the beleaguered and obviously defeated person on the other end of the phone tells you that your citation has, in fact, been suspend, and please have a nice day.
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Which I will, by God, if only just to spite them.
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John Kerry hires woman fired for pro-Kerry bumper sticker
Florida takes Nader off the ballot