Look! On the Ground! It's a Hog!

We kind of thought the new neighbor had pulled up stakes and moved on. It had been over a week since a verifiable Kinny Spotting. Plus, the neighbor lady (who's nice, only not to Kinny) was trying to trap him; I had assumed her successful in at least scaring him off.

Not so:



Back for more of that delicious Belmont grass 'n' weeds. And he got really close today. Groundhog blogging: lame? Yes. But you can see more photos here.

Bleg

I need to send a CD and perhaps a T-shirt to Germany. Preferred shipping methods, anyone?

Tardy, Pass

I'm just always late to the party:

The State

[Tumbleweed...]

Yep. Been quiet 'round these parts. Ryan's been busy saving the world in ways that can be explained only by his own blogging. [Preview: it involves Chemistry(!) and honest-to-goodness Mexicans(!)]

I've been under-the-weather and working a weird schedule (Saturday and Sunday?! Gah!). Also: lots of good shows going down.

So, you get random crap:

• My mom got a new job. Bully for her. She's up to the task, and the extra responsibility is well-deserved. I really should call her more often. Thanks, Mom.
• Related: I made this tonight:
  
  
  It's my mom's recipe. Sort of an avacado-tomato thing, heavy on the garlic. Also: fresh cilantro. If you hate fresh cilantro, you're a commie pinko terrorist Bush-voter. Die.
• 0.5 of the band has left town for The Philly. This fact is deeply saddening, but I'm glad to hear the chaps are doing well (notwithstanding bike accidents that were survived by the human, not the bike; lament). I've been approached by a few people who want to play music, which is a bit awkward. I'd love to keep playing music, but building up another band to the Sparks level seems a hefty project. We'll see.
• One of my car's headlights is out. Apparently, it's necessary to remove the entire bumper to change it. Fuck you, Honda. The brakes were so easy, you tease.
• I'm considering studying something about linguistics rather than poli-sci/IR.
• The History Channel tells me we're fucked if a comet shows up. So, that's, um, heartening.
• I just learned of pandora.com, thanks to the magnetic ee. I've so far identified six bands about which I'd like to know more. To hell with all you dissenters.
• I got a free baseball cap today. I don't play baseball anymore, sadly.

There. Chow down.

Down on the Pharm

The waiting room at my doctor's office is painted green, and there are several large windows through which filters sunlight coming through the trees outside. To my left, there's a kid-sized wooden table with kid-sized wooden chairs for kids, along with some generic toys. Today, there are no kids playing with the toys (huzzah! the children are healthy!). All told, it's one of the more pleasant and non-sterile waiting rooms I've been in.

Except, there's this incessant clicking. And the low buzz of two people chatting their heads off. They're well dressed (click!) and impeccably groomed (click! click!), and they have nametags displaying their names (Courtney click! and Kevin click!). Kevin, by the way, is a deft handler of his laptop, minus learning to operate the volume feature that is currently set to HIGH as he clicks through his PowerPoint presentation with Courtney (godfuckingdammitIhatePowerPointevenmorenow. click!).

Cheery, spunky pharmaceutical reps, forced to wait here with the plebes—and not just the normal plebes, no, the sick and weak and otherwise-worried-about-their-health ones. Poor Courtney and Kevin. Would there were a special waiting room for them, with a real live string quartet and none of these mouth breathers.

Alas, there is no such room. So, I look to my left and ponder the little wooden chair. I wonder how heavy it is, and how spectacular it would look crashing through the sunlit glass just to the left of Courtney and Kevin, the opening salvo of my soliloquy on the evils of pharmaceutical marketing and US healthcare in general. And yeah, have some fucking respect, you assholes. These people are sick and miserable, and all you have to offer them is evil and cheerful banter and motherfucking clicks. Motherfuckers.

"Stanley," calls a nurse from the newly opened doorway. And Kevin and Courtney are spared. For now.

Reciprocity

A then-girlfriend once told me that people in relationships tended to act out the roles that their previous exes had acted out. I took this to be complete horseshit, but now I'm wondering if there might be some credence.

In her opinion, it needn't be obvious, but sometimes it was. If one had been cheated on, that person would cheat. If one had been the subordinate partner, that person would have the dominant role. If one had a stand-off-ish partner, that person would later be the stand-off-ish one. Etcetera.

Objectively unproveable, or merit-carrying? I can no longer tell.

Best and Worst

Things I like about this town: See foreground. I'm glad Jerome could come by for a visit:















Things I don't like about this town: See background. Down, collar. DOWN!

Nueva York

A co-worker, whom I've decided to dub "Dom," has requested my presence on a soon-to-be-had weekend journey to Manhattan. This will be an interesting trip, to be sure. He's a pro-Bush, Latino, NRA member, with a more-than-respectable knowledge of jazz and New York.

I can't wait.

Balloons and Confetti and Lights, Oh My, Lights

Last night's Flaming Lips show at the Pavillion was, without a doubt, the single most entertaining concert I've ever attended. They sounded great and were just so incredibly fun.

One of the highlights of the evening was Wayne Coyne's political rant—something about the Bush Administration being incompetent, after which the band launched into a charged political song.

For me, music is supposed to be progressive, and I wish more artists would advocate aggressively their progressive political positions. (Most musicians are lefties, no? This seems self-evidently true.) Equally, I'm annoyed to no end at so-called conservative punk bands. No, it's not punk rock to perpetuate the status quo. No, your band isn't good. No, I won't be your myspace friend. Yes, you're a ninny.

Punk music—and here I lump in indie-rock-ish bands (so does Ian MacKaye, so clearly I'm right to do so)—is always, anywhere, born of subversiveness. Period. Props to the Flaming Lips for getting it right.

Update: Photos!

sSSSsSssSsssSsSSSSssS

Here's the things::::::::::::::
Ryan doesn't have the internet because he fights the man with fists ssflyssing and refuses to pay whatever fee the internet people charge, whichs is surely nominal scomspared to the amount of money Ryan spends on gas and fast food and hydrogenated oils. So when Ryan, your lovely co-blogger (although slet's be honest Stanley doesn't let him get a word in edgewise), decides he has to use the internet,s he goes over to Lady's shouse (lovely, lovely Lady) to use her sweet iBooks thing which has the wireless access that Ryan really really really wishes he had but won't steep to (wireless is for people who like Indie Rock). So Ryan ssgoes to Lasdy's house and checks his email and, you know, does the internet thing: myspace, some ebay, wryandstanley, a little facebook (like you don't), maybe some random wikipedia.
The problem is (as I hope you have noticed) is that whenever Ryan's nimble fingers brush the S button,s or even think about brushsing the S button, sor even, really, get ansywhere near the keyboard or the computer itself or even the ss house the comspuster sits in, waiting, S button ready to fuck around - whenever anys of this happens, the S button takes matters into its own hands and goes ahead and assumes Ryan wanted it pressed, which, more often than not, is not the case (although Ryan is aware that, like R, T, L, N, and E, S is one of the popular letters.).
So everything scomes out all spattered with S's and it makes sme question my styping abilities, which, according to smy 6th grade shome-ec teacher, are "splendid and jovial."

Roamin' Po-Po

Look out students of Virginia Western Community College: your campus police just got chariots:



According to the WVTF report I heard (sorry, no online audio for that story), the police purchased the vehicles using Homeland Security funds. Do you hear that terrorists? We've got motherfucking chariots!

I'm going to go order myself one right now. If this isn't victory in the GWOIckyStuff, I don't know what is.

Big Day in Little C-ville

Go see former Iranian President Mohammad Khatami speak at U.Va.. You can watch the live feed over at Newcom[b] Hall at 11:30 a.m.

Then have a sandwich, take a nap, and go see Dr. Octagon and Q*Black at the Ballroom. (Shameless, yes, I know. Eat it.)

Westward

The indelible Caroline Dandelion hosted us for a lovely going-away dinner last night. Full photo report here.

Good luck. Godspeed. Give 'em hell.

Ready or Not

Ernesto was kind to my garden, offering much-needed rain without ravaging the remaining peppers, tomatoes, and watermelon plants(!). In fact, this one came out just yesterday:



It's my first time growing watermelon, and I've gotten plenty of advice:

• "Lots of water"
• "Don't turn it or move it"
• "Knock on it; when it's hollow, it's done"

I followed this advice closely, though I don't really know where to draw the line between hollow and not-hollow. I decided this watermelon was ready, because the bottom was white and showing some very early signs of rotting. Surely, rotting=past-ripe, yes?

No:

Fucking hell. Not ready (or hollow-sounding, apparently).

The upshot is, I just came across this little guy:

He (or is it a she? I'm no good at sexing melons) will be getting the regimine described on NPR by a record-setting watermelon farmer: lots of water and one quarter-turn daily.

I'll keep you posted on this pressing and most-important matter.

It's like I won the lottery

I got this email yesterday and have been on cloud nine ever since. I've already bought a new bed (awesome soft breathing mattress, a remote control that changes the softness based on the needs of you or your partner) and a nice flat-screen TV. And I took Lady to Applebees, and we got dessert. Bling. Check it out:

ATTN:
Dear Sir/M,
I am Mr. David Mark. an Auditor of a BANK OF THE NORTH INTERNATIONAL, ABUJA (FCT). I have the courage to Crave indulgence for this important business believing that you will never let me down either now or in the future.
[Although I don't quite understand the "courage to crave indulgence" part, I assume it's because David Mark is from Abuja, where I doubt English is the primary language, although I don't know, because I've never heard of Abuja. But I certainly appreciate that he's making an effort to write well in my language. And it goes without saying that I will always try my best to never let anybody down.]
Some years ago, an American Mining consultant/contractor with the Nigeria National Petroleum Corporation made a numbered time (fixed deposit for twelve calendar months, valued $12M.USD (TWELVE MILLION US DOLLARS) in an account. On maturity, the bank sent a routine notification to his forwarding address but got no reply. After a month, The bank sent another reminder and finally his contract employers, the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation, wrote to inform the bank that he died without MAKING A WILL, and all attempts by the American Embassy to trace his next of kin was fruitless.
[That's so sad that this man had no family and nobody to leave his fortune to. I can't imagine.]
I, therefore, made further investigation and discovered that the beneficiary was an immigrant from Jamaica and only recently obtained American citizenship. He did not declare any kin or relations in all his official documents, including his Bank deposit paper work.
[It's uplifting to know that a jamaican immigrant could make it rich like that. That's what this country is all about.]
This money total amount $12M.USD ( TWELVE MILLION US DOLLARS)
[Jesus Christ!]
is still sitting in my bank as dormant Account. No one will ever come forward to claim it, and according to Nigerian Banking policy, after some years, the money will revert to the ownership of the Nigerian Government if the account owner is certified dead.
[That's an interesting policy of the Nigerian Bank.]
This is the situation, and my proposal is that I am looking for a foreigner who will stand in as the next of kin to beneficiary, and OPEN a Bank Account abroad to facilitate the transfer of this money. This is simple, all you have to do is to OPEN an account anywhere in the world and send me its detail for me to arrange the proper money transfer paperwork, and facilitate the transfer.
[I don't know. Can this be legal? I don't want to get in any trouble pretending to be somebody I'm not.]
The money will then be paid into this Account for us to share in the ratio of 60% for me, 35 % for you and 5% for expenses that might come up during transfer process. There is no risk at all, and all the paper work for this transaction will be done by me using my position and connections in the banks in Nigeria.
[David Mark says there's no risk, and I guess I have no reason not to beleive him. I can't find my calculator, but 35% of 12 million has got to be a lot. Plus, I'll give most of it to charity, and I'll bet the Nigerian Government would spend it on guns.]
This business transaction is guaranteed.
[I like guarantees.]
And the first phase of the transfer will be ($4M.USD) FOUR MILLION DOLLARS as advised by our insider in the bank.
[It helps that we have an insider in the bank. That's always key.]
If you are interested, please reply immediately through my personal email sending the following details: (1) Your Full Name/Address (2) Your Private Telephone/fax Number. Please observe the utmost confidentiality,
[I don't think I'm breaking confidentiality by posting this, because David Mark is not his real name, and I'm not posting his email address or anything.]
and be rest assured that this transaction would be most profitable for both of us because I shall require your
assistance to invest some of my share in your country.
[That's great! More money!]
I look forward to your earliest reply.
Yours,
Mr.David Mark.

I replied immediatly and am awaiting David Mark's call. I'm so excited about this. I am so amazingly lucky to have been emailed - and out of the blue! - out of all the people in the world! This is great. Today I'm going to the VW dealership to do some test drives!