"A sort of two-handed, Euro-type thing"

Inspired by this comment, and under the advisement of Ace Mith (who hasn't a blog, alas has a brand-new-ish blog right over here), I recommend this video on the practice of beat juggling. Stick with it through the demo at the three-minute mark:

Let go

Down in Roanoke:

Police found Sharif Almalik (also spelled Amalik), aka Samuel Johnson, 43, holding the woman hostage with a knife to her throat. When Almalik attempted to pull the woman upstairs, an officer shot him. Almalik was pronounced dead at Carilion Roanoke Memorial shortly afterward.

...

The Roanoke City Sheriff's Office said that Amalik had been released by mistake on December 1.

Now that's fucking up.

Things and the working thereof

Hey, Lou Bloomfield has a show on the Discovery Channel?! He does!

During each one-hour episode, Bloomfield and Unger visit three manufacturing operations around the country, including the factories where workers make Gibson guitars, Jelly Belly jelly beans, New Balance sneakers, Steinway pianos, coffins, sushi knives, bowling balls and more.

"They get in there and build things and dissect things and explain the scientific process behind everyday things," said Jeanine Butler, a Charlottesville resident and the series' producer. "That’s what this show is all about."

I loved Bloomfield's How Things Work class, the staple of science requirements for athletes and liberal arts nerds. Everyone thought it was a gut, but I learned lots of practical Physics. Good on him for getting a show.

Now, who's got cable? I'll bring snacks.

I have been gone for too long

Dad: Ryan, do you want a martini?
Ryan: Sure.
Dad: What about you, [Ryan's sister]? You want one?
Sister: No, thank you.
Dad [to Sister]: I got the recipe out of your Mixology book.
Ryan: Is that like a bartender's book?
Sister: Yeah. Just tells you how to make all kinds of drinks. It's pretty nice. Has sections for all kinds of different liqours, what you can make with them. Sometimes the drinks have stories.
[long pause]
Sister: But what I really want is for someone to teach me how to make crack.
[longer pause]

Holy Crap

By quite a long shot, the single most Republican thing I've seen this Christmas was on the lawn of a church in Richmond, where a large, lighted cross emblazoned the night sky, framed by the words "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED".

They call him "Flipper"

Via the mineshaft, an astoundingly addicting game. Ace Mith and I geeked out on this for like an hour straight.



I later got 5.5 million.

Posted as evidence that all I want for Xmas is a dolphin. IN SPACE.

***

UPDATE: I topped six million. Oh, internet gaming addiction. Your evil grip is mighty.

A Story

Two ear mites found themselves in a football helmet. As chance befell them, the helmet belonged to the quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys, who had a game that very same day.

Soon the quarterback suited up for the game, donning his helmet as he jogged out to the field. The mites, meanwhile, as mites are wont to do, made their way into his ear canal to take up residence and engage in their standard mitish practices.

As the mites ventured through the canal, they were met by a third mite, who emerged from a burrow, quite startling the newly arrived mites. However, the three mites were soon laughing together as they exchanged tales and jokes about the vicissitudes of life as an ear mite.

Eventually, the new arrivals were overtaken by curiosity, for, as everyone knows, it is highly unusual for an ear mite to burrow, preferring, as they do, to live in the canal without burrowing. Asking the third mite about the burrowing practice, the mite explained that she had never done so before coming to this host and that, having done so, she found the experience quite pleasant.

As the day wore on, the newly arrived mites parted ways with the mite already-in-residence. They walked for awhile longer before the first mite paused and asked, "So, do we burrow or what?"

Shrugging and diving in to the tissue of the ear canal, the second mite exclaimed, "When in Romo..."

Words are silly

It has come to my attention that it is very difficult to say the words "toy boat" repeatedly and very fast (in that order, I mean, of course). I know there are lots of word combinations like this, but this particular one cracks me up to no end every time I try.

Oh, simple-minded me.

And God spake all these words, saying,

Ryan sits at a cubicle in the Charlottesville library, typing on a computer. Across from Ryan sits a Stereotypical Homeless Man, reading a magazine. Up walks a Library Worker. Action.

Library Worker, to Stereotypical Homeless Man: If I see you doing it again, you're going to have to leave.
Stereotypical Homeless Man: Doing it?
Library Worker: This is a no cell phone area. If I see you on your cell phone again, you're going to have to leave.
Homeless Man: But B.B. King, he stole it all from Ledbelly. [to Ryan] You know it's true. I can tell you know. You got that look.
Library Worker: Those are the rules.
Homeless Man: Can I get a copy of the rules?
Library Worker: Certainly.
Homeless Man, to Ryan: It was his tone, really, that B.B. King stole. You know it's true. And you know what else you know? You know I used to work in this very building, when it used to be a bank. Then it was a Wendy's. But it wasn't here, it was on Hydraulic. And at Wendy's - shit - I could make all the calls I wanted. No limit, man. No limit.
Library Worker hands Homeless Man a copy of the rules.
Homeless Man: What's this?
Library Worker: The rules. You asked for them.
Homeless Man: I don't need this. [to Ryan] You know who needs the rules? B.B. King. [to Library Worker] And your daughter. She needs the rules.
Library Worker: If I see you on your phone again, you're out.
Homeless Man, to Ryan: I'ma get the Bible out on her ass. I'ma get all Exodus 20 on her. Them's the rules.

Togetherness

Assuming that we can pull together two forty-five-minute sets of schmaltzy holiday tunes, I'm happy to announce:

The Ryan Stanley Duo, featuring Thom Sebastian on the upright bass, presents: The Jingle Boys: A Yuletide of Dangling Dog Dicks*

Coming this Wednesday, December 19th, to a Corner bistro near you.


*A working title, to be sure.

UPDATE! Gig will also include special guest Gammo on the electrical keyboard. Huzzah.

So Much To Say

Los Lunas, NM ->
a ranch near Cloudcroft, NM ->
Ft. Worth, TX ->
Houston, TX ->
Bessum, AL ->
Asheville, NC ->
Charlottesville, VA ->
Richmond, VA.

Minus the Little Green Men

Just when you think you've seen everything on the internets, you stumble upon something new:


Click through to see the full gallery of lenticular clouds. Just lovely.

El bingo!

¡Estupendo! This weekend has been that. With a dollop of whiskey on top. Actually, it was a bucket of whiskey.

* * *

Right before our set, I announced to the band my intention to micturate; however, my wording was not ideal. I said, "I'm gonna go take a leaky-poo."

Do not say this phrase. It leads to confusion and, perhaps, rumors about your fiber intake.

* * *

I was informed, by a man in a tuxedo, that Mike Huckabee is basically a Democrat. Um, no, actually.

* * *

We stopped at Sheetz on the way to DC. Did you know that Sheetz now has a breakfast burrito? Well, they do, and they want to tell you all about it. Via signage that says "El breakfast-o".

¡El breakfast-o! Just like they have in ¡el México!

I hope Tom Tancredo hears about it. He's gonna be pissed. Which might be the one redeeming quality of Sheetz' current ad campaign.

* * *

The advertising prompted Boobers to remind me of the story of his grandma, who would often exclaim, "El bingo!" Man, I love that story.

* * *

Chico? You know, the bassist dude. He's good people. Trustworthy.

When I drunkenly insisted on ordering a cheese-and-mushroom pizza at 2:30 in the morning, he wholeheartedly endorsed the decision. And chowing down on a slice, he declared, "I don't trust people who don't like mushrooms."

Indeed.

* * *

When I got home, I decided, like a good Catholic, that today would be my day of rest. Which means beer and football, of course.

As I walked back from the beer store, a minivan pulled over and hailed me. Lifting a videocamera, the passenger informed me— between the giggles of the kids in the back—that they were on a sort of Christmas scavenger hunt, and one of the items on the list was to hand a stranger an envelope full of money.

Score! Six bucks!

I support this behavior and encourage more people to pay me for being a dude walking down the street with a armful of beer.

* * *

Oh yeah! I forgot: in the hotel rooms this weekend, we were flipping through the standard-issue Gideon Bible, and I wondered: what if a prominent and well-respected Muslim organization put copies of the Qur'an in every hotel room in the country? Or the Bhagavad Gita or any other holy book? I think it would be like the uber-troll of the wacky religious right. Probably not gonna happen though.

Martin Murphy, Chick Raines, and Don Cook

Dundee, OR - >
Eureka, CA - >
somewhere near Needles, CA - >
Los Lunas, NM.

Of note:::::
- much the like start of this trip in August, my first day and a half were all rainy and foggy and some part of the nation near me and my car was flooding and out of power and in a state of emergency.
- the entire Pacific Northwest coast is amazing
- FYI: If you attempt to cross the Klamath Mountains where the Redwoods coincide, it will take you exactly 12340i9u5432 hours.
- California = people who think they have better cars than mine + fruit
- driving through the desert at night is like driving over the ocean on a bridge. at night. with an occasional Yucca flower.

Do you remember the time?*

We've been so forgetful. Full of forgets, we.

Band B, that is.

Last Friday we played at a college about an hour from here. Our first gig since being in the studio. Back on the road! Yippie-ki-yi-yay!** But our triumphant return to the road soon screeched to a halt when I realized I had forgotten my hi-hat stand. Moments later, we discovered we had also forgotten all the mic stands. And the speaker stands. Because we're professional forgetters, apparently.

Our friend Tallboy saved the day, driving down in an improbably short amount of time and arriving right before showtime. (Thanks, Tallboy!).

Last night we were back at it. After a snowy drive across Afton Mountain, we arrived at the club in Harrisonburg only to realize we'd left the keys to the trailer at home. Without Tallboy to rescue us, we found a new friend. His name is Bolt Cutters. He's very quiet but boasts a mean bite.

So the gig went off fine (despite meager attendance; I blame the weather), and afterward we got packed up and ready to go. Pulling out of the club's icy parking lot, it dawned on us that no one had closed up the trailer , so we're dragging the door across the ice, with all our gear poised to fall out.

Man, we suck at life.

Two chances to redeem ourselves this weekend. I'm hoping things go a bit more smoothly.



____
*when we first met, girl
**like the cowboys say; get along little doggie

La palabra del día

Today I spoke to a fine gentleman from Puerto Rico, who, upon my impartment of good news, exclaimed "¡formidable!"

I deem this a most excellent ejaculation and shall deploy it with cautious abandon.

Best Sentence I've Read In Awhile

"All of a sudden, when I was sixteen, everything changed."
- Thirteen Moons, Charles Frazier