Saturday Salon

Canceled due to Gin Apple-Tini over dose. Your malevolent sponsors offer most sincere apologies.

WSE

Just because

I am too lazy to write right now. Sorry Bird.





WSE

I believe in

preindustrial magic.

We are so fascinated by the technological magic that ties us to reality and, increasingly to one another, that we forget that the mythology of the past can pierce the technological veil and unite us in our common humanity. There is something about a story being told around a fire after the booze and weed and food have run out that takes us back to our simple Savannah roots. Gazing up at the vastness of the heavens one feels dwarfed by the immensity of a universe in which we are but a small and rather insignificant part and recalls that it is only our reliance on one another that enables us to cope with a creation beyond our ken. That is preindustrial magic.

Biggest problem with that is my absolute hatred of the outdoors. My idea of "roughing it" is a hotel without Wi-Fi. You can pretty much take it on faith that I don't know how to start a fire or field dress some unarmed critter that some one just shot to fulfill some incomprehensible need to prove to them self that we are still the dominant predator on the planet. Heaven forbid if you ask me to set-up a tent, I can't even program the Tivo. And, please don't even get me started on personal waste elimination in the great outdoors. Seriously, how long would the outdoors remain great if every unsullied part of nature looked and smelled year-round like Chicago after the snow melts? Our innovative foremothers and forefathers sweated and suffered and thought and created so we wouldn't have to put up with shit. And, I, for one, thank them.

Another problem with getting back to nature and reuniting with our common humanity, reforging the bonds of brother and sisterhood amongst others of our species is that I really don't like people. Simple truth is I have a whole lot better relationship with my bicycle and my laptop than I do with most of humanity. Maybe that's because my bicycle and my laptop aren't as prone to committing gross acts of dumbfucktitude as the rest of humanity. I mean my laptop never opens car doors across the bike lane. And, I have never seen Shannon (that's my bike, Shannon) stare right at me then step off the curb directly in my path while sipping a latte and talking on her iphone. People however do this all the time.

I have a theory about our collective dumbfucktitude, about its source. And, like our own history it is based in preindustrial magic and the development of technology. I am a recovering Catholic and as such the daze of my youth were spent being inculcated with dogmatic rules and regulations about what I could eat when, which words I could not use and, once I was a adolescent, what would happen to my eyes and hands if I continued to spend so much time in the bathroom.

It wasn't until I got to college and in a fit of pique brought on by too much existential agnosticism, actually read the Bible that I got some real insight into people-kind's essential dumbfucktitude. We can leave aside all the wonderful and holy rapes and murders, all the sacred acts of incest and adultery, we can leave the sodomy of Sodom and the gonorrhea of Gomorrah to those who see end of days in the election of a black president or a Cubs world series victory because the root of the problem goes back to the very beginning.

In the beginning, the good book tells, us this god person created the heavens and the Earth, placing upon that Earth two people with strict instructions to be fruitful and multiply. Which they did. Multiplying twice, the product being two sons. Now I ask you to apply a little modern science to our collective mythology and tell me, who are the viable breeding pairs?

Obviously, the sons cannot couple with the mother. Nor does the Bible make any mention of daughters born to the original sinners and even were there daughters with whom do they couple? The only available males in all of paradise are their father or their brothers. And, you cannot argue that all these people were in some state of grace and thus immune from the ravages of genetics. The parents had tasted of the fruit of the forbidden brick god left under a hat and therefore knew good and evil, they tasted of the tree of knowledge.

Nope. Doesn't fly. The conclusion is inescapable: If I buy into the Biblical story of creation, the only explanation for our modern day dumbfucktitude is inter-breeding. So when I speak of preindustrial magic tying us to our essential inter-relatedness, I am being quite literal.

WSE

Sweat pants

Seriously?

Just stay in mom's basement. You've already given up.

WSE

Rational discourse

ended hours ago and some semblance of intercourse is going on somewhere, though it does not involve us.

Oy Vey! I have had more lap dances than a sane man deserves - though I never claimed a very great grasp on sanity.

WSE

At some point int itme

you reach the event horizon of insanity.

Happened about an an hour ago.

WSE

One of the problems with a party that never ends

is that things that seem like a good idea at the time continue to seem like a good idea. - Douglas Adams.

WSE

Pi is a patriot

Suavecito

Done and done.

i can't

stop blogging uh oh

-where is scott? " Shannon was being a bitch."
- i like nwa
- alan is a really good d.j.
- scott is back and his bike has a name. shannon. i learn something every day.
- REGGIE
- i need blogavation
- bloviation?
- wtf? more intro? seriously?
- i'm am going to play nuttin but a g thang by dr, dre next. and it will kill like it always does.
- will i end up playing witney houston later? 50-50
- apparently shannon is a whore
- scott brought back my favorite dish soap flavor (grapefruit.)
- icy icehouse (thanks REGGIE)

more? hopefully not ?!

bros' before hoes

laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

clams on the half shell . . . and rollerskates, rollerskates

scott

go to cvs. get it over with. you know i will make you go.

You are

drinking out of my ash tray.

WSE

oh yeah

i found another cold half schlitz. a schli?

Video Interlude II

video interlude

Could have been worse

You remember that awful tattoo? Now there's a lost weekend.

WSE

oh no

there is picture of me with serious plmber butt

oh no

There is a price for everything.

WSE

saturday night salon live love blog

will i write more than one line tonight?

YES, i succeded.

-it's only 9:30 and we've already played macarthur park.
-made a killer lomo de res (ribeye roast). it was about 3 pounds. put a dry rub (ancho, cumin, oregano, garlic, salt) seared it on the grill and then roasted for a half hour and then cut up the meat for tacos.
-the sauce for the tacos was 6 grilled tomatillos, 2 grilled jalepenos, 1/4 onion, 2 cloves of garlic, juice of 2 limes, 1 avacado, robert sized handful of cilantro, salt. blend the shit out of it
- i had blatzes, schlitzes, and millers this weekend, wooooo milwaukee.
- orbit room is a cool bar, wellington and california. REALLY hot bartender
- reggie is here this weekend. REGGGIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
- thank you james for your contributions to my awesome weekend ever.
- i almost forgot that i landscaped the front yard. that's LANDscape, not MANscape
- this song scott is playing really sucks
- more later ?!!??!!

Science Fiction

The following is a wholly fictitious retelling of something that certainly did not happened.

Way back, in a time before ipods and even (gasp!) cellular phones, when I was in college, I conducted an in depth, but highly unscientific survey. I selected a representative sample of the population of my campus (okay, okay that's bullshit... I selected my drunken, burnout, friends; several louts I encountered at parties; those few brave and pitying girls who lacked the good sense and fortitude to not "hook-up" with me; and a couple of my professors (when I could catch them sober) - but remember I went to Southern Illinois University (DON'T BE A PUP: Suck It Up!!!) so this was a representative sample - and asked them: "When you emerge from the shower or bath, which part of your body do you dry off first?"

That may sound like an overly salicious question with definite undercurrents of voyeuristic interest (I didn't think of that; it's what my Abnormal Psychology professor told me when I asked her the question - Geesh!!! ya think she'd get it!!!), but I assure you I, being the rigorous and ethical kind of researcher I am, had a definitive hypothesis in mind.

You see there had to be a time before peoplekind harnessed its root visciousness (because, at our core, at our essence, we are simply mindless killing machines - we did not get to the top of the food chain by out-thinking anything; we got there from our sheer and unadulterated willingness to slaughter anything or anyone that got in our way) with a sense of rationality when peoplekind were not the dominant predators on the planet, but rather one of a multitude of terrified and rather tasty prey.

Hence, I had begun to think that we deveolped a habit to remain on our wares lest a ravenous saber tooth tiger or, worse yet, a roaming evangelical creep up on us unawares while we were, say, emerging from a bath in the local streamlet, and end our existence as we knew it. Moreover, because our most important sensory equipment is located pretty much in one zone - the head (think about it: taste; hearing; smell; sight - 4 out of 5 all in our little noggins), I had begun to think that we had developed an instinct to, well, for lack of a more pithy and appropriate epithat, keep our heads clear.

My survey results pretty much confirmed this hypothesis as nearly everyone who responded, with the exception of my smart-assed roommate Chris, who insists to this day "left big toe;" - never trust an engineer, said the first part of their body they dried off was their head (a lot of people - especially the chicks - said face which, I pedantically remind you, is part of the head). I was so very pleased with myself that I petioned the biology department for an honorary degree - for which, you can well imagine, I was thoroughly lionized.

With the glow of this success still fresh upon my brow, I began to explore the philosophical ramifications of my theory (okay, okay... that's bullshit, I thought this up while setting up the patio at Tuman's last Sunday). If my theory is correct, as I beliecve it is, then it must also hold that the first sentient thought peoplekind expressed after crawling from the primordial ooze was not some existential "Why am I here?" or "What is my purpose?" or even "Does god exist?" sort of bullshit inquiry but, rather, simply: "Anybody gotta towel?"

WSE

Beer

I'd gladly pay you on Tuesday for a 6 pack of High Life today.

What's up? Besides us?

Look, going to CVS is rarely a good idea. Going to CVS at 1:45 a.m. borders on insanity. The quality of people you encounter at CVS at a quarter to two on, well, I guess, technically, Sunday, is only slightly more impressive than those you meet after, say, a Jerry Jeff Walker concert deep in the heart of Texas - although there is more body art at CVS.

Over there in aisle three some woman who looks like she just fell off the Guns & Roses tour bus is attempting to (finally) purchase condoms.

Aisle seven - hair care products - has her partner. The guy in bell bottoms, sporting a grey beard longer than my dissertation, and a "The South Will Rise Again" belt buckle large enough to serve ors 'de oeuvres on, desperately seeking some way to cover the grey in his pubic hair without suffering from a rash. I know, I asked him.

Then there's the lost Latina in aisle six buying Doritoes and candy bars thinking that the kids have got to eat.

I don't even want to know what the hipster in aisle ten is looking for, but I am hoping to high hell it has something to do with skin care.

Don't even let me take you to the liquor aisle. That's where you'll find me and six or seven hopeless, insomniac, drunks, stoned off our ass and attempting to decide if the IceHouse at $7.99 a twelve gives you more bang for the buck than the Heineken six at the same price.

In all this the person I feel real sympathy for, the person in whose shoes I would never walk a mile is the benighted 21 year old with an IP degree who some how got roped into working the bizarro shift.

Seriously kids, I am intolerable sober. At a quarter to two, with a 12 of Miller Genuine Draft in my hands and a stolen ATM card, I am completely off the chain.

So, when this poor, misguided soul says to me with the politeness and the utter lack of sincerity that can only be pulled-off by those who work in places that sell booze late at night, "What's up?" And, I respond, "Besides you?" Things go downhill fast.

WSE

How can you cook the shit

out of anything?

Okay, I can see lobster. But, how do you cook the shit out of a potato? Or asparagus? Some things just don't defecate. Seriously, what does potato poop look like? (post photos here).

dishwasher

fill it bitch

ok we got that thing called the saturday salon going on and we're having a full report going on tomorrow.

Here's a preview:

Wine on the ceiling

What's Up? Besides you?

How many Puerto Ricans is too many Puerto Ricans?

Spanky is not the stupidest dog.

Serial Killings

The entertainment world is reeling in shock and horror again this morning as late last night KooKoo Bird the beloved spokes-person for CoCo Puffs cereal was found brutally murdered in his Bel Aire estate. KooKoo is apparently the latest victim in a series of shocking murders which have sent many breakfast food spokes-stars into hiding and have their sponsors demanding stepped-up security from law enforcement authorities.

The killings began late last month when police discovered the naked and horrifically mutilated bodies of Quisp and Quake in a wooded area off the Santa Monica freeway. Seven days later Trixie (the Trix rabbit) was found dead from severe dehydration in a the sauna of a Bally's on Rodeo Drive with a message from the killer scrawled upon the emaciated chest reading simply "THE BEAR IS NEXT." Sugar Bear immediately went into hiding at an undisclosed location but stated, through his representative:

"Obviously, I am very upset, very frightened; not only for myself but for all my fellow spokes-stars whom I love and respect. However, I faith in our elected officials and law enforcement professionals and I know that they will bring this twisted maniac to swift and certain justice. Meanwhile let's all just try'n stay cool."

Police as yet have no clues as to the identity of the killer, but are, in the words of Police Commissioner Gordon (whose daughter, Barbra, was conspicuously absent from his side at this morning's press conference):

"...actively pursuing all leads, even those called in by obvious crackpots. Moreover, my good friend Bruce Wayne phoned just moments ago to assure me yet again that all of his considerable resources were at the command of my office. I am certain that we will apprehend this psychopath before he strikes again."

Others, however, do not share the Commissioner's optimistic point of view. Officials from France have confirmed rumors that Tony the Tiger has formally requested asylum and representatives for Lucky (the Lucky Charms Leprechaun) have released photos which show that Lucky's multi-million dollar Brentwood mansion is now being guarded by armed members of the Gambino crime family.

President Bush, as usual, had no intelligible comment.

confetti

just got KTFO by the confetti.

We did what?

Count the confetti.

Pasta

Avondalehp says and I quote: "We're rollin some shit outta that pasta machine."

WSE

I must despise myself

Avondalehp tells me he can go 730 days, possibly 1095, without repeating a meal.

The color is right

but I think it's a bit big.

Spaghetti

Okay, Whose idea was this?

Okay

This confetti is getting out of hand.

WSE

Chocolate eggs

work t start the grill. And they smell so good.

Cascarones

Good idea? Bad idea?

Liveblog Easter Day - Because we have nothing better to do

Before the insanity starts a word from the semi-lucid fringe.

Today has so far been an amazing day. We watched the neighbors water their cars in hopes that they grow, went grocery shopping (twice), laughed too much and enjoyed to much sun and just have lived the living shit outta life since waking (with confetti and egg shells everywhere).

Avondalehp (aka Deano Martino) has strange things to say, so I'll turn it over to him.

WSE

When you can't find a friend, you still got the radio.

Insomnia

Do you know what you get when you have a house full of insomniacs? And, no this is not one of those bad jokes like "how many Republicans does it take to screw in a light bulb? None. As the are all too busy bitching that shedding some light would cost too much and lead to THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT" (and I feel fine - though that might have something to do with the company I keep).

No. What you get are a lot of Star Trek reruns (Bill Shatner is one of the most under-rated actors of the 20th century) and the lost opportunity to walk across the hallway to the bathroom in your tighy-whities and take a leak for fear that one of the insomniacs is wide awake and reading Kant by moonlight.

You also get at least one guy incessantly abusing the Wi-Fi connection to the extent that the others in the household actually unplug it in the often vain hope the fuckstick laughing his ass off in the other room gets some sleep for once so they can too.

You also get into a lot of really strange late night conversations that are best left to college dormitories and after hours clubs.

There are benefits. Nobody really minds if I get the urge to shower at four a.m. or suddenly find myself craving lobster bisque at a quarter to two.

WSE