Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Just happy to note that it seems to have gone well...
Monday, September 28, 2009
I mean, c'mon. The man has "pole" written into his name. And "roman." And "ski."
Between the Italianate leanings, the reference to a recreation reserved almost entirely for the well-to-do, and the plain ol' dick joke wagging proudly out front, how could anyone not expect a rape conviction occurring at some point in Mr. Roamin' Pole-an'-ski's life?
Which is all to say, sometimes a man is named accurately.
Just imagine, though, if the girl in question, thirty years ago, were your daughter, and the devil were upon her. Well, in this case, that would also be accurate.
May they throw away the clef...
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Today, while trying to plug something in to a light socket above my colleague's desk, the wall cabinets immediately to my right came removed from the drywall and fell into me, hitting me in the face, knocking my glasses off, and partially pinning me as I tried to hold them up (seeing as they were full of sensitive electronic equipment that would hardly agree with a sharp drop to the floor). Fmy life.
The staff was wonderful--people dragged the cabinets off; got water; made sure I wasn't concussed; didn't openly root for the cabinet.
But seriously, after the hoopla, my colleague and I examined what had happened, only to discover that, 1) the two fully-weighted cabinets had only been held to the wall with four screws, four!, all on the same plane, 2) these screws hadn't been anchored in any way, 3) they didn't hit any support beams, 4) they only went in an inch (touching nothing but drywall!), and that, 5) professionals can apparently get away with work that I would have been atomic-wedgied for in my high school tech classes 14 years ago.
Given this series of revelations, I am only left to ask: why exactly am I not making $45 an hour? Cause damn it looks less strenuous than how I spend my days....
Friday, September 18, 2009
...it's flyover country.
(Short burst of mic feedback; nervous coughs in the background.)
So, in other news...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
But no, looking deeper I realize it's a bad case of under-appreciated comedic genius:
Rep. Brady has built his epic practical joke like the best roller coasters: just when you've crested one punchline you're faced with an even bigger one:
"Rep. Kevin Brady asked for an explanation of why the government-run subway system didn’t, in his view, adequately prepare for this past weekend’s rally to protest government spending and government services.
The Texas Republican on Wednesday released a letter he sent to Washington’s Metro system complaining that the taxpayer-funded subway system was unable to properly transport protesters to the rally to protest government spending and expansion"
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
And I couldn't have done it without you. All slightly more than ten of you.
Just know that I consider you, my readers, as extended family; I hold you close enough to think of you fondly, but not so close that I have to buy you stuff.
Aw, I'm gettin' all misty...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The type I've been exposed to most (make of it what you will) is the pleasantly vacuous: mostly of the classification Felis LOLus, they're damp-shnozzled places like Cute Overload and Stuff On My Cat, or Haz Cheezburger's Mean Girl relatives: Texts From Last Night, FMyLife, Failblog, Engrish, etc.
And I love them all. I admit it. I love them in a way that would leave me acned and obese, had they any caloric content.
That said, this--though being of the same scavenging genus--is of a different class altogether. It's like I've been amusing myself with scrappy little terriers only to come face to maw with a mastiff.
Can I keep it? Huh? Please, can I?
They are the party of personal responsibility, after all. I'd hate for them to tarnish that sparkling reputation...
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Deep, slow intake of breath, looks to his shoes for help...
Who gives a fuck? When I was without health insurance--and working well over 40 hours a week, thank yew very much--I would have killed to be able to stand in a line, any line. Because at the end of that line would have a been a doctor who could have given me help for something less than the price of a used Volkswagen.
These fucking Republicans (and too many "conservative" Democrats) don't seem to get that the other option for a huge swath of the populace--most of whom work effing hard and pay plenty of fucking taxes--the other option for, well, us, is zero. No doctor. No dentist. Nothing. Nada. Treblinka. Whatever that means.
(Jesus, I just googled Treblinka and it turns out it was a German death camp. I don't remember having ever heard the name before. Not that it's entirely inappropriate in the way I used it, but dude, what the hell is your problem, associative memory? Are you twisted? Or do you just get off on wildly morbid similes?)
I will take long lines and rationing over nothing. Anything is better than nothing. The fact that this seems lost on so many people just tells me how out-of-touch most of the top earners around us are with people who work hard, but work for less.
And god help you if you come back with the argument that we should get better jobs. Just try saying that to every waiter, grocery store employee, and gas station attendant who makes your day actually fucking happen and let's count the hand prints you end up with on your face.
Um....yeah. So there.
And that, Tom, is what really grinds my gears.*
* See here.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
This is a rough draft of a prop drawing a character (an art student, natch) whips up during a scene of Epic Theater Ensemble's production of Mahida's Extra Key To Heaven, opening soon at the Signature Theatre.
I'll know soon if the director goes in for it, but either way I'm rather pleased with this initial attempt.
This ebony bird did beguile my sad fancy into a smile.
Update: Which ended up as this:
Update 2: The second one, based on this description:
"There is a wolf and a little girl with a shadow. This wolf has no shadow on the ground like the girl. They are standing before a high stone wall. At the end of a meadow. I think they have come to a place where they can go no further. Their way is blocked by a locked gate in this wall.I admit to being far less pleased with how this drawing turned out. To be fair, the description's a wreck--exactly the kind of thing a writer would concoct to cram all his pet themes into a single "image," while handily skirting the compositional nightmare the drawing he's describing would be in reality.
See the gate with a lock?
But in the tree over here, above the wolf, is a bird. A friendly white dove who has the shadow of a raven. Right here in the air above the wolf. And in the beak of the dove, she has a key. But in this shadow, the shadow of the raven, there are two more keys. Maybe even more."
But, just for the sake of the record and as evidence that I have the guts to breathe deep and highlight my own mediocrities...breathes deep...here's that nightmare:
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Image Credits: I supplied the moral perversity; these guys facilitated the rending of the social fabric.
Dunno about you, but I feel ready to face the world again...