Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Losing Control
(5)
I could not allow this day to pass without contacting Lucifer on the Brown Telephone, of course. 'Health Care' was a singular objective of the late Senator Kennedy from Massachuttets. He died and went to hell recently. My readers might recall that he created something of a scandal recently as he participated in Hell's weekly propaganda video which is periodically (every Sunday morning) uploaded to Heaven: Kennedy was participating in the sham video wherein his role was to pretend that he was immersed in red hot lava with hundreds of other poor souls. The idea was to pleasurize the poor souls in Heaven who were freezing their collective asses off sitting near to God.
But Kennedy was unable to contain his 'actor's composure,' with the result that he began laughing and frolicking in the warm red muddy waters.
(Much later): I lost control of the blog about two hours ago. It was 'published' without my 'permission.' Meanwhile I have been eating after having abandoned booze for the evening. Three beers left for next week. I plan to continue with the Kennedy Health Care Theme next week. I can assure you all that Kennedy will totally applaud the recent political happenings!
(Speaking of 'loosing control,' my bladder spincter isn't what it used to be: as I stood at the kitchen sink just now I leaked a few drops down both legs. I secretly loved it.)
See you next week.
I could not allow this day to pass without contacting Lucifer on the Brown Telephone, of course. 'Health Care' was a singular objective of the late Senator Kennedy from Massachuttets. He died and went to hell recently. My readers might recall that he created something of a scandal recently as he participated in Hell's weekly propaganda video which is periodically (every Sunday morning) uploaded to Heaven: Kennedy was participating in the sham video wherein his role was to pretend that he was immersed in red hot lava with hundreds of other poor souls. The idea was to pleasurize the poor souls in Heaven who were freezing their collective asses off sitting near to God.
But Kennedy was unable to contain his 'actor's composure,' with the result that he began laughing and frolicking in the warm red muddy waters.
(Much later): I lost control of the blog about two hours ago. It was 'published' without my 'permission.' Meanwhile I have been eating after having abandoned booze for the evening. Three beers left for next week. I plan to continue with the Kennedy Health Care Theme next week. I can assure you all that Kennedy will totally applaud the recent political happenings!
(Speaking of 'loosing control,' my bladder spincter isn't what it used to be: as I stood at the kitchen sink just now I leaked a few drops down both legs. I secretly loved it.)
See you next week.
Category Exchanges
(4)
Alas Poor Eric! I knew him Well! I write this out of guilt, of course, paraphrasing The Bard. Will Eric actually read my blog? And if he does, how will that affect that young man's life, if at all? He offered me 'kindness' and I offered him 'truth' in exchange. Was that appropriate? Are the concepts equivalent? The problem is that 'kindness' is obvious to all concerned, whereas 'truth' is not so obvious. We recognize 'kindness' when we see it. 'Truth,' on the other hand, often revulses us when we are first confronted with it. The reason is that 'kindness' is a 'right brain' thing, whereas 'truth' is a 'left brain' thing. (The right brain is such a pussy!) And furthermore, those ideas fall into different categories: Comparing 'kindness' with 'truth' is what we call a 'category mistake.'
(Kootch just walked by, heading to the bathroom to pee. I love that woman for her pleasant Japanese personality. She has been the light of my life. (She also cooks very healthy food).)
My justification for the exchange was that I was rewarding 'kindness' with 'kindness in the form of Truth.'
Alas Poor Eric! I knew him Well! I write this out of guilt, of course, paraphrasing The Bard. Will Eric actually read my blog? And if he does, how will that affect that young man's life, if at all? He offered me 'kindness' and I offered him 'truth' in exchange. Was that appropriate? Are the concepts equivalent? The problem is that 'kindness' is obvious to all concerned, whereas 'truth' is not so obvious. We recognize 'kindness' when we see it. 'Truth,' on the other hand, often revulses us when we are first confronted with it. The reason is that 'kindness' is a 'right brain' thing, whereas 'truth' is a 'left brain' thing. (The right brain is such a pussy!) And furthermore, those ideas fall into different categories: Comparing 'kindness' with 'truth' is what we call a 'category mistake.'
(Kootch just walked by, heading to the bathroom to pee. I love that woman for her pleasant Japanese personality. She has been the light of my life. (She also cooks very healthy food).)
My justification for the exchange was that I was rewarding 'kindness' with 'kindness in the form of Truth.'
Ending The Experiment
(3)
The blizzard outside has dumped about 4-5 inches of snow so far but seems to have abated for the moment. Still snowing, however. I am recording MSNBC on video disk, and CNN on TiVo. I am missing it all as I blog! Argh! My need to blow my nose frequently tells me that 'they' are zapping me with 'face rad' as I have been writing this. Time to get back to 'The Experiment:'
----------
me: Right. Now listen with your other ear: Vagina. (I 'crooked' the antenna finger as I said, 'vagina.')
gd: Static.
me: Static?
gd: Static.
me: Vagina. (after I 'uncrooked' the antenna finger.)
gd: How dare you! I sentence you to Hell!
me: Right! You are such a lovely partner. No static?
gd: No static. I'm gonna love watching you burn, you SOB.
me: You are a liar.
gd: (hangs up)
----------
The experiment suggests that god is a liar, and that the short antenna is ineffective as the transmitting component for the Brown Telephone. What lesson can we draw from this? I will leave that for you to decide.
The blizzard outside has dumped about 4-5 inches of snow so far but seems to have abated for the moment. Still snowing, however. I am recording MSNBC on video disk, and CNN on TiVo. I am missing it all as I blog! Argh! My need to blow my nose frequently tells me that 'they' are zapping me with 'face rad' as I have been writing this. Time to get back to 'The Experiment:'
----------
me: Right. Now listen with your other ear: Vagina. (I 'crooked' the antenna finger as I said, 'vagina.')
gd: Static.
me: Static?
gd: Static.
me: Vagina. (after I 'uncrooked' the antenna finger.)
gd: How dare you! I sentence you to Hell!
me: Right! You are such a lovely partner. No static?
gd: No static. I'm gonna love watching you burn, you SOB.
me: You are a liar.
gd: (hangs up)
----------
The experiment suggests that god is a liar, and that the short antenna is ineffective as the transmitting component for the Brown Telephone. What lesson can we draw from this? I will leave that for you to decide.
Experimenting With God
(2)
It's a blizzard outside as I write this now (1900L). Kootch is already asleep. I have missed the national news broadcasts, but in the LR a few minutes ago I saw (on MSNBC) that 25% of Americans now think that Obama is the Anti-Christ! Rachael Maddow is reporting (at 1910) that the loonies are 'cleaning their rifles.' What does this tell you about the Republican Party? I have known for quite some time that 'I live in a world full of idiots...'
My faith was also restored in President O'Bama! Alright! And by the way, it was also restored in his Chief of Staff, a Jewish fella name of Rahm Emanuel. (And Nancy Pelosi! What a woman!) Sixty Minutes had an interesting piece recently on Rahm Emanuel. Seems that the middle finger of his right hand was injured in a meat slicing accident, with the result that it was considerably shortened. Hmm. My knowlege of RF propagation tells me that a shorter antenna emits higher frequencies better. Would Rahm's shortened middle finger affect his ability to use The Brown Telephone? Would the shorter antenna provide enough effective power to reach into The Netherworld? I decided to test the hypothesis. I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone. I then extended the antenna (middle finger) on my right hand. The Jewish god WHTZSNM answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me: This is a test. This is only a test.
gd: What?!
me: I am conducting an experiment. Please repeat after me: one, two, three, four...
(after 'two' I crooked the antenna finger, then re-extended it.)
gd. One, two... and there is static on the line.
me: Very good! You are an excellent pardner in this experiment!
gd: I am not your 'pardner.' I am your GOD!
me: Right. Now listen with your left ear only: You are the most high.
gd: 'You Are The Most High.' About time you realized that.
----------
It's a blizzard outside as I write this now (1900L). Kootch is already asleep. I have missed the national news broadcasts, but in the LR a few minutes ago I saw (on MSNBC) that 25% of Americans now think that Obama is the Anti-Christ! Rachael Maddow is reporting (at 1910) that the loonies are 'cleaning their rifles.' What does this tell you about the Republican Party? I have known for quite some time that 'I live in a world full of idiots...'
My faith was also restored in President O'Bama! Alright! And by the way, it was also restored in his Chief of Staff, a Jewish fella name of Rahm Emanuel. (And Nancy Pelosi! What a woman!) Sixty Minutes had an interesting piece recently on Rahm Emanuel. Seems that the middle finger of his right hand was injured in a meat slicing accident, with the result that it was considerably shortened. Hmm. My knowlege of RF propagation tells me that a shorter antenna emits higher frequencies better. Would Rahm's shortened middle finger affect his ability to use The Brown Telephone? Would the shorter antenna provide enough effective power to reach into The Netherworld? I decided to test the hypothesis. I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone. I then extended the antenna (middle finger) on my right hand. The Jewish god WHTZSNM answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me: This is a test. This is only a test.
gd: What?!
me: I am conducting an experiment. Please repeat after me: one, two, three, four...
(after 'two' I crooked the antenna finger, then re-extended it.)
gd. One, two... and there is static on the line.
me: Very good! You are an excellent pardner in this experiment!
gd: I am not your 'pardner.' I am your GOD!
me: Right. Now listen with your left ear only: You are the most high.
gd: 'You Are The Most High.' About time you realized that.
----------
Eric Was His Name And Kindness Was His Game
(1)
I'm back waaay early tonight for several reasons including weather: a) Mucho snow tonight; b) The Dems got 'health care' passed and signed; and c) I got 'surprised.' First, 'The Surprise.'
----------
I needed to go to Kaiser for a blood test that was overdue, plus I need another supply of Warfarin. So around 1330 or so I got into Kootch's Toyota and turned the key to 'start.' The engine did not start as usual; instead there was that dreaded clicking noise: the battery was almost dead. (tap) Since the battery had given no 'warning' that it was dying, and since I had faced this same problem at least twice previously with this car and battery over several years, I concluded that the stalkers (who have the keys to our car and also the keys to our apartment) had done their thing again. 'Surprise, surprise. You asked for it; you got it.' Did they leave the lights on for several hours late the preceeding night? Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. After several failed attempts to call for an emergency 'jump start,' I took control the situation and jumped on my bike, headed for the nearest auto repair facility. 'Cold! I shoulda brought my jacket!' Inside the facility, I was exploring the various options with the desk personnel when another custumer who had overheard our conversation volunteered to jump-start our car for free! Awesome!
When he had finished his business the desk personnel, we stowed the bike in the back of his pick-up and he drove us to the parking lot and we jump-started Kootch's Toyota. What a gentleman! My faith in 'my fellow man' was restored! Again! I told him, 'I'm gonna mention you very favorably in my blog. First name only.' We exchanged first names. He gave me a pen and slip of paper on which to write the blog address. Pen didn't work. He produced another pen which did work. I wrote down 'rbdsnotes.blogspot.com.' I advised him that the blog was 'Controversial. Use caution.'
Kootch was unable to say how old the battery was - several years at least - so we decided to replace the battery. I drove back to the repair facility. There I turned off the engine. I then restarted it. No problem. I had them replace the battery anyway. Since the booze shop was close to the auto repair facility I bought a new bottle of Canadian Mist. I then headed to Kaiser and 'donated blood to a good cause' (eheh), picked up a new supply of blood-thinner, and headed to King Soopers. The weather was still mild. I picked up a new twelve-pack of Natural Light (sip). Once home again, I thought, 'I gotta blog this.'
So I poured a double shot of CM with a DP and ice mix and downed it at the computer while playing Drench. Once I was properly 'fortified' by the booze I signed on to blogger and read last week's blog posts, most of which had failed to stick in memory (as usual), but were recalled as I reread them. All except the last. Huh? I only remembered the 'huh?.'
I'm back waaay early tonight for several reasons including weather: a) Mucho snow tonight; b) The Dems got 'health care' passed and signed; and c) I got 'surprised.' First, 'The Surprise.'
----------
I needed to go to Kaiser for a blood test that was overdue, plus I need another supply of Warfarin. So around 1330 or so I got into Kootch's Toyota and turned the key to 'start.' The engine did not start as usual; instead there was that dreaded clicking noise: the battery was almost dead. (tap) Since the battery had given no 'warning' that it was dying, and since I had faced this same problem at least twice previously with this car and battery over several years, I concluded that the stalkers (who have the keys to our car and also the keys to our apartment) had done their thing again. 'Surprise, surprise. You asked for it; you got it.' Did they leave the lights on for several hours late the preceeding night? Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. After several failed attempts to call for an emergency 'jump start,' I took control the situation and jumped on my bike, headed for the nearest auto repair facility. 'Cold! I shoulda brought my jacket!' Inside the facility, I was exploring the various options with the desk personnel when another custumer who had overheard our conversation volunteered to jump-start our car for free! Awesome!
When he had finished his business the desk personnel, we stowed the bike in the back of his pick-up and he drove us to the parking lot and we jump-started Kootch's Toyota. What a gentleman! My faith in 'my fellow man' was restored! Again! I told him, 'I'm gonna mention you very favorably in my blog. First name only.' We exchanged first names. He gave me a pen and slip of paper on which to write the blog address. Pen didn't work. He produced another pen which did work. I wrote down 'rbdsnotes.blogspot.com.' I advised him that the blog was 'Controversial. Use caution.'
Kootch was unable to say how old the battery was - several years at least - so we decided to replace the battery. I drove back to the repair facility. There I turned off the engine. I then restarted it. No problem. I had them replace the battery anyway. Since the booze shop was close to the auto repair facility I bought a new bottle of Canadian Mist. I then headed to Kaiser and 'donated blood to a good cause' (eheh), picked up a new supply of blood-thinner, and headed to King Soopers. The weather was still mild. I picked up a new twelve-pack of Natural Light (sip). Once home again, I thought, 'I gotta blog this.'
So I poured a double shot of CM with a DP and ice mix and downed it at the computer while playing Drench. Once I was properly 'fortified' by the booze I signed on to blogger and read last week's blog posts, most of which had failed to stick in memory (as usual), but were recalled as I reread them. All except the last. Huh? I only remembered the 'huh?.'
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Huh?
(7)
Good golly Mrs Molly! 2045L and I am sipping my last beer. Ratnessoffuckness. Bafrolitonicus. I just swallowed the last gulp of my last beer. Yum. Beer gone now. Only whisky left. Sip. Sip: Canadian Mist (eheh). We all love Canada.
Clearly, this is my last post (huge nose rad, at that point, many sneezes.)
Ok. I am recovering now at 2124L.
Which brings us to the idea that after we have ceased to exist, we will nevertheless still impose ourselves on The Universe such that The Universe cannot ignore us.
Huh?
If you think in that way, then you think in vain. You need to understand that The Universe is a construct.
Good golly Mrs Molly! 2045L and I am sipping my last beer. Ratnessoffuckness. Bafrolitonicus. I just swallowed the last gulp of my last beer. Yum. Beer gone now. Only whisky left. Sip. Sip: Canadian Mist (eheh). We all love Canada.
Clearly, this is my last post (huge nose rad, at that point, many sneezes.)
Ok. I am recovering now at 2124L.
Which brings us to the idea that after we have ceased to exist, we will nevertheless still impose ourselves on The Universe such that The Universe cannot ignore us.
Huh?
If you think in that way, then you think in vain. You need to understand that The Universe is a construct.
Underpants.
(7)
Last post, I presume, at 2016L. Hmm. Another visit to the LR revealed KO doing his previous stuff at 2021L. I love Keith. Sip. DVD is recording it.
The subject is the death of his father, a traumatic experience. We understand, and furthermore we love and applaud Kieth's experience in that regard. Life. Death. Ultimate questions.
Am I drunk enough to address these questions?
(WTF... Is The Pope fucking Catholic?)
Yes I am. Listen up and listen good:
----------
You will die forever, soon.
Worry not about small things.
There is no Heaven, no Hell.
Enjoy.
Masturbate.
Orgasm.
Wear female underpants.
----------
Last post, I presume, at 2016L. Hmm. Another visit to the LR revealed KO doing his previous stuff at 2021L. I love Keith. Sip. DVD is recording it.
The subject is the death of his father, a traumatic experience. We understand, and furthermore we love and applaud Kieth's experience in that regard. Life. Death. Ultimate questions.
Am I drunk enough to address these questions?
(WTF... Is The Pope fucking Catholic?)
Yes I am. Listen up and listen good:
----------
You will die forever, soon.
Worry not about small things.
There is no Heaven, no Hell.
Enjoy.
Masturbate.
Orgasm.
Wear female underpants.
----------
Threesome.
(6)
Beer #11 @1939L. (New font?)
Kootch is asleep. I carefully opened her bedroom door and observed her just now, sleeping.
'We' are alone again. Fuck you.
Working on beer #11 @1946L. One beer left after this. Canadian Mist (eheh) is backup.
I love Canada.
Time to abandon the usual 'logic' for tonight. Or is it?! Here is my problem: I am about to run out of booze. One beer left after this and it is only 1955L! Early!
(But I know you and you know me.)
Woodpecker: A huge (relatively speaking) bird with a black shield on it's breast flapped down on the balcony railing as Kootch and I did M recently. We agreed it was a woodpecker.
That bird has visited many times. That bird is huge compared to the sparrows that usually frequent our patio environment.
Beer #11 @1939L. (New font?)
Kootch is asleep. I carefully opened her bedroom door and observed her just now, sleeping.
'We' are alone again. Fuck you.
Working on beer #11 @1946L. One beer left after this. Canadian Mist (eheh) is backup.
I love Canada.
Time to abandon the usual 'logic' for tonight. Or is it?! Here is my problem: I am about to run out of booze. One beer left after this and it is only 1955L! Early!
(But I know you and you know me.)
Woodpecker: A huge (relatively speaking) bird with a black shield on it's breast flapped down on the balcony railing as Kootch and I did M recently. We agreed it was a woodpecker.
That bird has visited many times. That bird is huge compared to the sparrows that usually frequent our patio environment.
Good Enough?
(5)
Just checked up on Kootch at 1823L. She is still working on her yellow sweater. Keith Olberman is back on MSNBC, talking about his father's death. I hit 'record' on the DVD recorder. I love Keith Olberman. Sip.
'Health Care!' I have watched this bizarre unfolding over recent months with amazement. The Dems think they have the votes. We shall see. The consensus seems to be, 'Not perfect, but good enough.'
Graco Harmony high chair recall. 1.2 million. 24 injured babies. How many babies were injured during that period by 'The Jewish Knife?' When will we recall 'The Jewish Knife?'
1845L. Finished beer #10. America needs to come to the realization that male infant sexual mutilation is a grotesque Jewish Tribal Ritual, not at all appropriate in a modern society.
Two beers left. Sipping on a glass of Canadian Mist (aha!) and Diet Pepsi.
One million? Lemme check... Awesome data!
Working on a glass of Diet Pepsi and Canadian Mist. Sippywippy! Yum!
Finished at 1927L.
Bafrolitonicus.
two beers left plus Canadian Mist (eheh).
Just checked up on Kootch at 1823L. She is still working on her yellow sweater. Keith Olberman is back on MSNBC, talking about his father's death. I hit 'record' on the DVD recorder. I love Keith Olberman. Sip.
'Health Care!' I have watched this bizarre unfolding over recent months with amazement. The Dems think they have the votes. We shall see. The consensus seems to be, 'Not perfect, but good enough.'
Graco Harmony high chair recall. 1.2 million. 24 injured babies. How many babies were injured during that period by 'The Jewish Knife?' When will we recall 'The Jewish Knife?'
1845L. Finished beer #10. America needs to come to the realization that male infant sexual mutilation is a grotesque Jewish Tribal Ritual, not at all appropriate in a modern society.
Two beers left. Sipping on a glass of Canadian Mist (aha!) and Diet Pepsi.
One million? Lemme check... Awesome data!
Working on a glass of Diet Pepsi and Canadian Mist. Sippywippy! Yum!
Finished at 1927L.
Bafrolitonicus.
two beers left plus Canadian Mist (eheh).
You Are a Disaster.
(4)
Enter 'Doctor Scotty, OD.' Young handsome fella like Kobe. But Scotty never smiled. Scotty was very serious. Angry, even.
It became clear immediately that Scotty had some sort of an 'agenda.' He 'pontificated.' Scotty was clearly not ready to be surprised. Scotty was intent on controlling the situation. Scotty had obviously constructed a scenerio in which Scotty would dominate the encounter with me. The result was that Scotty and I 'talked past' each other. We were totally unable to communicate! It was one of the most bizarre interactions I have ever had with another person! Kristine was an Angel From Heaven compared to Scotty.
I slowly became very, very irritated. I had paid good money for this. The US Government had also paid good money for this. Scotty was wasting my time and our money.
I asked Scotty whether he was Jewish. 'Are you Jewish?'
The question brought Scotty abruptly 'into the moment.'
'No. But I am curious why you asked.'
I declined to answer (tap) and the interview was clearly over, soon thereafter.
Scotty then got up and walked out, heading to the exit with me in tow. He said something like, 'We need to make a new appointment for you.'
As we left the Optical Offices I said to Scotty, 'I can make my own appointments. You are a Disaster.'
There was no reply.
Enter 'Doctor Scotty, OD.' Young handsome fella like Kobe. But Scotty never smiled. Scotty was very serious. Angry, even.
It became clear immediately that Scotty had some sort of an 'agenda.' He 'pontificated.' Scotty was clearly not ready to be surprised. Scotty was intent on controlling the situation. Scotty had obviously constructed a scenerio in which Scotty would dominate the encounter with me. The result was that Scotty and I 'talked past' each other. We were totally unable to communicate! It was one of the most bizarre interactions I have ever had with another person! Kristine was an Angel From Heaven compared to Scotty.
I slowly became very, very irritated. I had paid good money for this. The US Government had also paid good money for this. Scotty was wasting my time and our money.
I asked Scotty whether he was Jewish. 'Are you Jewish?'
The question brought Scotty abruptly 'into the moment.'
'No. But I am curious why you asked.'
I declined to answer (tap) and the interview was clearly over, soon thereafter.
Scotty then got up and walked out, heading to the exit with me in tow. He said something like, 'We need to make a new appointment for you.'
As we left the Optical Offices I said to Scotty, 'I can make my own appointments. You are a Disaster.'
There was no reply.
Surprise, Surprise!
(3)
I need some sad music for this. Lessee... this!
I went to Kaiser Optical because of a severe decline in my eyesight quality over the last three months or so. The deterioration was so sudden and severe (tap) that I became very much concerned. (Example: my 'computer glasses' changed focus from about 'arm's (tap) length' to about 8 inches less than arm's length over those three months. Furthermore, changes in focus could be detected from day to day. Focus sometimes varied one or two inches (tap) from day to day as I played Drench. Bizarre. I formulated a theory: microwave heating affected the lenses of both eyes, causing temporary (not to mention permanent) distortions. Was the theory plausible given my (Kootch is ready to eat... we did our usual Millionaire) 'microwave cannon' theory?
I made an appointment at Kaiser Optical. (Not Kristine! I 'dissed' her, as I recall.) Murphy? Uhuh. My experience with Kaiser is that Irish Dogshit is just as bad as Jewish Dogshit. Who?! I decided on an unknown. 'Surprise me!' was my attitude. I selected a total unknown (to me) based only on a last name. I didn't even know the sex of the individual. I was ready to be surprised. And was I ever, two weeks or so later!
(Are you always ready to be surprised? No? You need to work on that...)
My initial contact was an optical technician name of 'Kobe.' Nice guy. Young African-American. Very competent. Handsome. Friendly. I was shocked by the initial tests, which confirmed my worst fears. My right eye had virtually no ability to see detail. (thump.) I could barely read the charts beyond E. My left eye was better, and I got down to about the fourth level. Both eyes did much better when viewing the charts through 'pinholes,' which indicated to me that the lenses were the problem, not the retinas. I explained to Kobe that I did not want to be 'diallated' because it had been less than a year since my last 'diallation' (by Kristine et al.)
I need some sad music for this. Lessee... this!
I went to Kaiser Optical because of a severe decline in my eyesight quality over the last three months or so. The deterioration was so sudden and severe (tap) that I became very much concerned. (Example: my 'computer glasses' changed focus from about 'arm's (tap) length' to about 8 inches less than arm's length over those three months. Furthermore, changes in focus could be detected from day to day. Focus sometimes varied one or two inches (tap) from day to day as I played Drench. Bizarre. I formulated a theory: microwave heating affected the lenses of both eyes, causing temporary (not to mention permanent) distortions. Was the theory plausible given my (Kootch is ready to eat... we did our usual Millionaire) 'microwave cannon' theory?
I made an appointment at Kaiser Optical. (Not Kristine! I 'dissed' her, as I recall.) Murphy? Uhuh. My experience with Kaiser is that Irish Dogshit is just as bad as Jewish Dogshit. Who?! I decided on an unknown. 'Surprise me!' was my attitude. I selected a total unknown (to me) based only on a last name. I didn't even know the sex of the individual. I was ready to be surprised. And was I ever, two weeks or so later!
(Are you always ready to be surprised? No? You need to work on that...)
My initial contact was an optical technician name of 'Kobe.' Nice guy. Young African-American. Very competent. Handsome. Friendly. I was shocked by the initial tests, which confirmed my worst fears. My right eye had virtually no ability to see detail. (thump.) I could barely read the charts beyond E. My left eye was better, and I got down to about the fourth level. Both eyes did much better when viewing the charts through 'pinholes,' which indicated to me that the lenses were the problem, not the retinas. I explained to Kobe that I did not want to be 'diallated' because it had been less than a year since my last 'diallation' (by Kristine et al.)
Tonight's Underpants
(2)
Yesterday was Saint Patrick's day. Fun day! I wore green panties, of course: size 13 JMS cotton panties made in El Salvador. Hi-cuts. Viva El Salvador!
Checked in with Kootch just now. She is working on crocheting a yellow sweater (for her sister in Japan?) She's been working on it since yesterday, and showed me her results this morning: just a bit less than one square yard. Now it's all unraveled! 'Too small,' she said. She now has about 9 square inches of new product. She also showed me a bag of white crocheted product: 'Too big.' Most of the time Kootch plays video games on her raptop, a present from her sister.
Yesterday was Saint Patrick's day. Fun day! I wore green panties, of course: size 13 JMS cotton panties made in El Salvador. Hi-cuts. Viva El Salvador!
Checked in with Kootch just now. She is working on crocheting a yellow sweater (for her sister in Japan?) She's been working on it since yesterday, and showed me her results this morning: just a bit less than one square yard. Now it's all unraveled! 'Too small,' she said. She now has about 9 square inches of new product. She also showed me a bag of white crocheted product: 'Too big.' Most of the time Kootch plays video games on her raptop, a present from her sister.
New Neighbors Above and Below
(1)
Finished beer #1 at 1330L. Starting beer #2. Feeling pleasantly relaxed. Sip. I'm back a day early due to the weather forecast: rotsa snow tomorrow. Sip. Ok, time to face the music: what did I write last week as I finished a 12-pack? I have only vague memories...
Alright! Whew. Fun reading as usual, and I went through another beer rereading last week and the preceeding several weeks. About halfway through beer #4 at 1418L. I can hear Kootch in the kitchen doing her cooking thing.
This will probably be 'short and sweet' as I am unprepared, with only a few notes on my nexblog pad. Lessee...
No more 'For Rent' sign outside 104. I presume that new renters moved in recently under cover of darkness (faint boom) (thump) and/or hangover. This means that the folks who operate the 'microwave cannons' downstairs no longer have to enter 104 periodically during the night to 'adjust' their artillery. So... nowwaddatheydo? (I just interacted with Kootch in her room as I brought back beer #5. She is watching Sumo Wrestling on her Japan TV. I said, 'That guy needs a bra... and he's obviously pregnant.' She laughed.)
Speaking of 'the neighbors,' there have been a lot of 'children running around above' incidents, during which huge stomps above me were mixed in. The children seem to have been (tap) 'imported' from a neighbor to the east (I saw them leaving one day last week). My guess is that the children are supposed to 'irritate me' (tap). Eheh. But I chuckle instead: the hardwood floor which was (I think) installed to take some of the force out of a possible 357 (tap) slug, also serves to insulate me from the noise. I conjecture furthermore that those kids irritate the inhabitants above much more than they irritate me! I can't imagine Gerash being able to tolerate two women (at least) and four children (at least) in the same room with him for more than about 5 minutes. He would go even more insane than he already is!
Hmm... Maybe he's sleeping in a nearby apartment during those demonstrations...
Finished beer #1 at 1330L. Starting beer #2. Feeling pleasantly relaxed. Sip. I'm back a day early due to the weather forecast: rotsa snow tomorrow. Sip. Ok, time to face the music: what did I write last week as I finished a 12-pack? I have only vague memories...
Alright! Whew. Fun reading as usual, and I went through another beer rereading last week and the preceeding several weeks. About halfway through beer #4 at 1418L. I can hear Kootch in the kitchen doing her cooking thing.
This will probably be 'short and sweet' as I am unprepared, with only a few notes on my nexblog pad. Lessee...
No more 'For Rent' sign outside 104. I presume that new renters moved in recently under cover of darkness (faint boom) (thump) and/or hangover. This means that the folks who operate the 'microwave cannons' downstairs no longer have to enter 104 periodically during the night to 'adjust' their artillery. So... nowwaddatheydo? (I just interacted with Kootch in her room as I brought back beer #5. She is watching Sumo Wrestling on her Japan TV. I said, 'That guy needs a bra... and he's obviously pregnant.' She laughed.)
Speaking of 'the neighbors,' there have been a lot of 'children running around above' incidents, during which huge stomps above me were mixed in. The children seem to have been (tap) 'imported' from a neighbor to the east (I saw them leaving one day last week). My guess is that the children are supposed to 'irritate me' (tap). Eheh. But I chuckle instead: the hardwood floor which was (I think) installed to take some of the force out of a possible 357 (tap) slug, also serves to insulate me from the noise. I conjecture furthermore that those kids irritate the inhabitants above much more than they irritate me! I can't imagine Gerash being able to tolerate two women (at least) and four children (at least) in the same room with him for more than about 5 minutes. He would go even more insane than he already is!
Hmm... Maybe he's sleeping in a nearby apartment during those demonstrations...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Three... Five... Seven
(4)
1013L and I am on my last beer. Sip. Saturday night we set the clocks forward. Spring approaches. We love it. Kootch is getting ready to visit her family in Japan. She does it every year. I will be left alone, as usual, with my 'locks.' I also have my .357 - I don't need God. I don't need The Police - I don't need neighbors, friends. I have my gun, my ultimate companion. We snuggle up together every night. She is a cold, hard bitch.
1013L and I am on my last beer. Sip. Saturday night we set the clocks forward. Spring approaches. We love it. Kootch is getting ready to visit her family in Japan. She does it every year. I will be left alone, as usual, with my 'locks.' I also have my .357 - I don't need God. I don't need The Police - I don't need neighbors, friends. I have my gun, my ultimate companion. We snuggle up together every night. She is a cold, hard bitch.
Swinburne.
(3)
See? I toldja. Shall we move on now?
Absolutely fucking not! We shall not!
Yes we shall... move on... now.
----------
Totally Addictive Game. Set your timer for 15 minutes: avoid a DVT.
----------
Which brings us back to the idea of substance vs style in written language. You have seen (in 'Omar-Fitzgerald') that substance and style can be compelling. You have seen, furthermore, that 'style alone' is Jewish religious crap. Old Testament crap. Style alone sucks.
Now consider Swinburne: Here is Substance mixed with style in a most satisfying recipe.
I think you will agree with me that the poetry of Swinburne is far superior to all that ancient Jewish bullshit in the Old Testament. I offer The Garden of Proserpine as example.
See? I toldja. Shall we move on now?
Absolutely fucking not! We shall not!
Yes we shall... move on... now.
----------
Totally Addictive Game. Set your timer for 15 minutes: avoid a DVT.
----------
Which brings us back to the idea of substance vs style in written language. You have seen (in 'Omar-Fitzgerald') that substance and style can be compelling. You have seen, furthermore, that 'style alone' is Jewish religious crap. Old Testament crap. Style alone sucks.
Now consider Swinburne: Here is Substance mixed with style in a most satisfying recipe.
I think you will agree with me that the poetry of Swinburne is far superior to all that ancient Jewish bullshit in the Old Testament. I offer The Garden of Proserpine as example.
God is a Metaphor
(2)
Seems that the Supreme Court has decided an important question concerning the use of the word, 'God.' The court (in effect) decided that 'God' was a metaphor. Did I get that right? Standby while I check this out... nothing on MSNBC. Ok, I'll wing it:
'God is a codeword,' says The US Supreme Court. 'God' means, ... uh... well... you know... check your bible, dumbass.'
On second thought I went to the LR and fast forwarded CBS and NBC (I watch ABC live). No mention of the ruling, but I was treated to huge amounts of 'face rad' which caused much sneezing and tearing of the eyes. Given that experience I'll put off commenting on the topic, 'In God We Trust.' Maybe next week.
Speaking of Bible stuff, the Alaskan Comedien Sarah Palin seems to have found her natural niche as a comedy star. Alright!
Which brings us to the idea of writing stuff on the palms of our hands. Even God does it, according to Isaiah 49:16. This is what I call, 'Sacred Writing.'
----------
Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.
----------
What the fuck does that mean?
----------
Thy children shall make haste; thy destroyers and they that made thee waste shall go forth of thee.
----------
Huh?
I could go on and on, of course, but it seems to be very clear at this point that Isaiah is basically bullshit. Sacred Writing sucks because it is actually meaningless crap.
Seems that the Supreme Court has decided an important question concerning the use of the word, 'God.' The court (in effect) decided that 'God' was a metaphor. Did I get that right? Standby while I check this out... nothing on MSNBC. Ok, I'll wing it:
'God is a codeword,' says The US Supreme Court. 'God' means, ... uh... well... you know... check your bible, dumbass.'
On second thought I went to the LR and fast forwarded CBS and NBC (I watch ABC live). No mention of the ruling, but I was treated to huge amounts of 'face rad' which caused much sneezing and tearing of the eyes. Given that experience I'll put off commenting on the topic, 'In God We Trust.' Maybe next week.
Speaking of Bible stuff, the Alaskan Comedien Sarah Palin seems to have found her natural niche as a comedy star. Alright!
Which brings us to the idea of writing stuff on the palms of our hands. Even God does it, according to Isaiah 49:16. This is what I call, 'Sacred Writing.'
----------
Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.
----------
What the fuck does that mean?
----------
Thy children shall make haste; thy destroyers and they that made thee waste shall go forth of thee.
----------
Huh?
I could go on and on, of course, but it seems to be very clear at this point that Isaiah is basically bullshit. Sacred Writing sucks because it is actually meaningless crap.
Slap!
(1)
Hmm. Rereading that just now was interesting and slightly appalling, but exactly as I remember it. The paraphilic glitz (bling?) is a bit tacky - and sorry if I embarrased you - but the intent can be found in the links. Most of you will be pleased to know that that is about as risque as it will ever get.
I almost didn't do this blog today due to heavy night time radiation last night (and most of this week). Four hours of sleep last night (plus a one-and-a-half hour nap) is what I am operating on at the moment. (Oh, and two and a half beers. Can't leave out the beer!)
Let's do a link dump:
----------
Queen's Gambit Accepted. Elementary chess opening.
Stars. Interesting site which describes the innermost secrets of your favorite stars.
The Slap Heard Round The World. VP Biden is blindsided by Israel. Interestingly, the sound of the slap never reached CBS Evening News, but NBC was all over it, as were the other news sources.
Ramat Shlomo residents don't understand what the fuss is all about. 'Even dogs don't go down there.'
How to play with your dog's schmeckle. The EHOW video has apparently been deleted.
Senate Bill 1777. Massachusetts ponders the question of male genital mutilation. Bad news for the Jews.
----------
The last four links are somewhat related to male doggie genitalia. And as I pondered the possible unifying principle(s) at work in the above link dump I came to the conclusion that both the Jews and the Muslims share a mutual antipathy, dogwise, and that the common element was penis-related: Dogs are uncircumcised, whereas both Jews and Muslims are circumcised. The common element was, therefore, penis envy.
But this raised a fascinating question: Is VP Biden intact? Did he escape the Jewish knife? Is an Uncircumcised Irishman attempting to conciliate a dispute between two of the world's most sexually mutilated tribes? If so, that might be a factor in that 'slap in the face' incident.
Hmm. Rereading that just now was interesting and slightly appalling, but exactly as I remember it. The paraphilic glitz (bling?) is a bit tacky - and sorry if I embarrased you - but the intent can be found in the links. Most of you will be pleased to know that that is about as risque as it will ever get.
I almost didn't do this blog today due to heavy night time radiation last night (and most of this week). Four hours of sleep last night (plus a one-and-a-half hour nap) is what I am operating on at the moment. (Oh, and two and a half beers. Can't leave out the beer!)
Let's do a link dump:
----------
Queen's Gambit Accepted. Elementary chess opening.
Stars. Interesting site which describes the innermost secrets of your favorite stars.
The Slap Heard Round The World. VP Biden is blindsided by Israel. Interestingly, the sound of the slap never reached CBS Evening News, but NBC was all over it, as were the other news sources.
Ramat Shlomo residents don't understand what the fuss is all about. 'Even dogs don't go down there.'
How to play with your dog's schmeckle. The EHOW video has apparently been deleted.
Senate Bill 1777. Massachusetts ponders the question of male genital mutilation. Bad news for the Jews.
----------
The last four links are somewhat related to male doggie genitalia. And as I pondered the possible unifying principle(s) at work in the above link dump I came to the conclusion that both the Jews and the Muslims share a mutual antipathy, dogwise, and that the common element was penis-related: Dogs are uncircumcised, whereas both Jews and Muslims are circumcised. The common element was, therefore, penis envy.
But this raised a fascinating question: Is VP Biden intact? Did he escape the Jewish knife? Is an Uncircumcised Irishman attempting to conciliate a dispute between two of the world's most sexually mutilated tribes? If so, that might be a factor in that 'slap in the face' incident.
Friday, March 05, 2010
Muslim Underpants
(9)
BTW, my recent characterization of my most recent purchase of white cotten briefs as 'size 13' was in error. Size 14, actually. And today's panties are size 12 very warm pink cotton/spandex Fruit of the Loom hi-cuts. Exactly my size. 'Made in Pakistan.' Whoa! Are those Muslims over there aware of the huge sins being exported to The Great Satan in the form of underpants? Let us hope not.
Nighty-night!
BTW, my recent characterization of my most recent purchase of white cotten briefs as 'size 13' was in error. Size 14, actually. And today's panties are size 12 very warm pink cotton/spandex Fruit of the Loom hi-cuts. Exactly my size. 'Made in Pakistan.' Whoa! Are those Muslims over there aware of the huge sins being exported to The Great Satan in the form of underpants? Let us hope not.
Nighty-night!
Most Beloved
(8)
I've loved doing this blog tonight. And as I wrap this up I've been researching Omar Khayyahm's poetry. As I did this (peeing, butt warming up again) I stumbled upon this stunning version. Omar was obviously a giant in the realm of philosophy/poetry/substance/style. One of my favorite verses reads,
----------
Ah love! Could you and I with fate conspire
To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire
Would we not shatter it to bits and then
Remold it nearer to the heart's desire?
----------
I know you. Yes you would. Here is my best effort to acquaint you with the most beloved poem in all of Human History. Enjoy forever.
I've loved doing this blog tonight. And as I wrap this up I've been researching Omar Khayyahm's poetry. As I did this (peeing, butt warming up again) I stumbled upon this stunning version. Omar was obviously a giant in the realm of philosophy/poetry/substance/style. One of my favorite verses reads,
----------
Ah love! Could you and I with fate conspire
To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire
Would we not shatter it to bits and then
Remold it nearer to the heart's desire?
----------
I know you. Yes you would. Here is my best effort to acquaint you with the most beloved poem in all of Human History. Enjoy forever.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Enjoy
(7)
I am still resisting at 2331L. As I retract my abdominal musculature I am rewarded by the feeling that I have to pee. I am such a pervert! I'm waiting at 2334, butt-soaked (tap). I am determined to wait here until my bladder control - uhoh - I lost bladder control - warm butt now. Very warm. I still have the (must pee) feeling. I am totally soaked!
Time to wrap this up.
My advice as I sign off? Enjoy.
Enjoyment is the secret of life.
Enjoy if you can.
Oyasuminasia.
I am still resisting at 2331L. As I retract my abdominal musculature I am rewarded by the feeling that I have to pee. I am such a pervert! I'm waiting at 2334, butt-soaked (tap). I am determined to wait here until my bladder control - uhoh - I lost bladder control - warm butt now. Very warm. I still have the (must pee) feeling. I am totally soaked!
Time to wrap this up.
My advice as I sign off? Enjoy.
Enjoyment is the secret of life.
Enjoy if you can.
Oyasuminasia.
Peeing.
(6)
My butt is warming up as I write this at 2245L. Coincidentally my bladder feelings are being satisfied. All is well: I am peeing in my pants. I love it. I am amazed, as I feel my rear clothing. Already?!
I am so horney tonight!
Standby while I do my last alcohol intake at 2250L. Canadian Mist and Diet Pepsi...
My butt felt totally cold as I got up to pour my last drink of Canadian Mist and Diet Pepsi. I love that feeling of a cold wet butt!
I am so perverted!
Sitting here in my wet clothing at 2303L, I am enjoying The Moment.
Uh-oh. As I retracted my abdomenal musculature just now I felt my bladder signals advising me that, 'things are filling up.' Get ready to 'do it again.'
I will resist that for the time being.
My butt is warming up as I write this at 2245L. Coincidentally my bladder feelings are being satisfied. All is well: I am peeing in my pants. I love it. I am amazed, as I feel my rear clothing. Already?!
I am so horney tonight!
Standby while I do my last alcohol intake at 2250L. Canadian Mist and Diet Pepsi...
My butt felt totally cold as I got up to pour my last drink of Canadian Mist and Diet Pepsi. I love that feeling of a cold wet butt!
I am so perverted!
Sitting here in my wet clothing at 2303L, I am enjoying The Moment.
Uh-oh. As I retracted my abdomenal musculature just now I felt my bladder signals advising me that, 'things are filling up.' Get ready to 'do it again.'
I will resist that for the time being.
Modus Operandi Congressiones
(5)
I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone. God answered imediately.
me: Extention 19 please.
gd: Done.
----------
ah: Hello?
me: As much as wine has played the infidel
ah: Wine?
me: And robbed me of my robe of honor, well
ah: Honor?
me: I often wonder what the vinters buy
ah: Buy?
me: One half so precious as the stuff they sell.
ah: (click)
----------
I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone. God answered imediately.
me: Extention 19 please.
gd: Done.
----------
ah: Hello?
me: As much as wine has played the infidel
ah: Wine?
me: And robbed me of my robe of honor, well
ah: Honor?
me: I often wonder what the vinters buy
ah: Buy?
me: One half so precious as the stuff they sell.
ah: (click)
----------
Contacting God
(3)
It will never come again.
Really.
Beer #11 at 2030L. Been reading previous links. Wittengenstein was a Jew. I love it that Witty totally demolished the jewish historical context in his philosophy. My take is that he came to understand that he had been deprived of life's sexual pleasures by circumcision. But that is only a guess.
On a totally different note, I've been thinking, recently, about 'the gods.' I can contact the Jewish god WHTZSNM on the Brown Telephone by dialing 666 (beer 12 at 2050L). But what about the other gods? For example, what is Allah's number? What is Apollo's number? I checked this link.
Rotsa gods! Muthafuck!
Greek gods? I am interested in Greek Gods. Telephone number?
Roman gods? Huh?
My investigations revealed that there are many, many, gods.
I decided to use my unique brown instrument to investigate the question. I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Allah, please.
gd: Extension?
me: I don't know.
gd: standby while I dial information.
gd: Information?
me: Allah.
gd: Allah or Allat.
me: Allah.
gd: Extention 19.
me. Thank you.
gd: Anything else?
----------
It will never come again.
Really.
Beer #11 at 2030L. Been reading previous links. Wittengenstein was a Jew. I love it that Witty totally demolished the jewish historical context in his philosophy. My take is that he came to understand that he had been deprived of life's sexual pleasures by circumcision. But that is only a guess.
On a totally different note, I've been thinking, recently, about 'the gods.' I can contact the Jewish god WHTZSNM on the Brown Telephone by dialing 666 (beer 12 at 2050L). But what about the other gods? For example, what is Allah's number? What is Apollo's number? I checked this link.
Rotsa gods! Muthafuck!
Greek gods? I am interested in Greek Gods. Telephone number?
Roman gods? Huh?
My investigations revealed that there are many, many, gods.
I decided to use my unique brown instrument to investigate the question. I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Allah, please.
gd: Extension?
me: I don't know.
gd: standby while I dial information.
gd: Information?
me: Allah.
gd: Allah or Allat.
me: Allah.
gd: Extention 19.
me. Thank you.
gd: Anything else?
----------
Revelation!
(2) Beginning beer #7 at 1854L. During my 're-read' I checked out the link on 'Epistemology' in Wikipedia. 'What crap!' (I thought.) But as I reread (skimmed) the piece again I spotted the subtitle, 'Specific theories of knowlege acquisition.' Ahah! Now we're gettin' somewhere! Empericism. Yes! I am an 'Empericist.' Locke, Berkeley, and Hume! Familiar names! Yum, yum, yum. (This week's blog will obviously be short and sweet as I begin beer #9.)
Phenomenalism. OMG! John Stuart Mill! I love JSM! Uh-oh... Kant! Russell! OMG!
Wittgenstein? Where is Whitty? There he is! Right there.
I should admit at this point that I stopped reading philosophy after Russell referred me to Wittgenstein. I understood Russell (more or less) but I could not understand Wittgenstein. My next philosophy lesson waited in the wings, so to say, until 1977 (or so) when I did my first Acid Trip: 'Theory' converted itself into 'practice.' Revelation!
The average dumbasses (you) have no clue. You perform your glorious lives mechanically, unaware. Then you die forever. As time goes by and modern science extends human life you will live longer. And then you will die forever. 'Forever' is a long time. It took 'forever' for you to be born. It will take 'forever' for you to be born again.
Not gonna happen.
Lesson? Love. Enjoy. Do not waste this.
Phenomenalism. OMG! John Stuart Mill! I love JSM! Uh-oh... Kant! Russell! OMG!
Wittgenstein? Where is Whitty? There he is! Right there.
I should admit at this point that I stopped reading philosophy after Russell referred me to Wittgenstein. I understood Russell (more or less) but I could not understand Wittgenstein. My next philosophy lesson waited in the wings, so to say, until 1977 (or so) when I did my first Acid Trip: 'Theory' converted itself into 'practice.' Revelation!
The average dumbasses (you) have no clue. You perform your glorious lives mechanically, unaware. Then you die forever. As time goes by and modern science extends human life you will live longer. And then you will die forever. 'Forever' is a long time. It took 'forever' for you to be born. It will take 'forever' for you to be born again.
Not gonna happen.
Lesson? Love. Enjoy. Do not waste this.
Enjoying
(1)
Barf. 'Cannot contact Blogger.' I'm beginning to think that message means that someone is 'signed on' with me and can 'occupy' the post page when I leave it for another page. Just a guess. After receiving that message I went to the LR where Kootch and I did our usual Millionaire. This week is 'movie week.' Already on my third beer.
I listened to this amazing music last night while playing Drench. I listened over and over as I played Drench over and over. Eventually the piece refused to play again, so I hit the sack. Surprise, surprise! Not much radiation! My log reads,
'Bed at 0030. Not much Rad.'
'Up at 1200 - plenty of sleep'
So here I am again a day early. Reading last week's posts I get the impression that I was very angry. Did you also get that impression?
Wow. Beginning beer #7 at 1823L. I've been reading the previous posts and some of the links. Time flies when you're having fun, but I anticipated a blogging session which would be quite productive given my quantity and quality of sleep. Not so, apparently. Halfway through my stash of beer I am half drunk and not finished with my first blog post. Ok. I'm finished reading 'history.' Do I have anything left?
Barf. 'Cannot contact Blogger.' I'm beginning to think that message means that someone is 'signed on' with me and can 'occupy' the post page when I leave it for another page. Just a guess. After receiving that message I went to the LR where Kootch and I did our usual Millionaire. This week is 'movie week.' Already on my third beer.
I listened to this amazing music last night while playing Drench. I listened over and over as I played Drench over and over. Eventually the piece refused to play again, so I hit the sack. Surprise, surprise! Not much radiation! My log reads,
'Bed at 0030. Not much Rad.'
'Up at 1200 - plenty of sleep'
So here I am again a day early. Reading last week's posts I get the impression that I was very angry. Did you also get that impression?
Wow. Beginning beer #7 at 1823L. I've been reading the previous posts and some of the links. Time flies when you're having fun, but I anticipated a blogging session which would be quite productive given my quantity and quality of sleep. Not so, apparently. Halfway through my stash of beer I am half drunk and not finished with my first blog post. Ok. I'm finished reading 'history.' Do I have anything left?
