Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Quips and Quotations
Boy, Rush Limbaugh said he hopes this administration fails--so you said you hope America fails. To me, that's treason. He's not saying anything differently than what Osama bin Laden is saying. You know, you might want to look into this, sir, 'cause I think maybe Rush Limbaugh was the 20th hijacker, but he was just so strung out on Oxycontin he missed the flight.
Rush Limbaugh--"I hope the country fails." I hope his kidneys fail, how 'bout that. He needs a good waterboarding, that's what he needs.
Dick Cheney scares me to death. I tell my kids, I say, "Look, if two cars pull up and one car has a stranger and the other car has Dick Cheney, you get in the car with the stranger."
--Wanda Sykes, at the White House Correspondents Association dinner.
(It's taken me a couple of weeks to decide whether these comments were in bad taste or not. I've decided they're not--KJ)
Rush Limbaugh--"I hope the country fails." I hope his kidneys fail, how 'bout that. He needs a good waterboarding, that's what he needs.
Dick Cheney scares me to death. I tell my kids, I say, "Look, if two cars pull up and one car has a stranger and the other car has Dick Cheney, you get in the car with the stranger."
--Wanda Sykes, at the White House Correspondents Association dinner.
(It's taken me a couple of weeks to decide whether these comments were in bad taste or not. I've decided they're not--KJ)
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
The Times They Are A-Changin'
Nowadays...
You can't call a black a "nigger"
Or a Jew a "kike"
Or a gay a "fag"
Or a Hispanic a "wetback"
Or an Asian a "gook"
Or an Italian a "dago"
But you can call an Anglo-Saxon who lives in a trailer park,
"trash"
Only in America.
You can't call a black a "nigger"
Or a Jew a "kike"
Or a gay a "fag"
Or a Hispanic a "wetback"
Or an Asian a "gook"
Or an Italian a "dago"
But you can call an Anglo-Saxon who lives in a trailer park,
"trash"
Only in America.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Archival Revival
On May 22, 2009, this blog will be exactly one year old, so let's break out the champagne. That is, if you're willing to pay for it. I certainly can't.
I had first gone on-line--in fact, first used a computer, period--a mere two weeks before starting this blog, as can be attested by my very first post. I tried to write about an old Gunsmoke episode I had seen, but the library computer wouldn't let me finish, as my allotted time was up. All I had to do was sign in again, but I didn't know that (on top of everything else, my library skills were a little rusty.) So I continued my thoughts on the second post a day later.
My third post was my first political one, dealing with a controversy now long forgotten. I also revamped the literary style somewhat. I used paragraphs.
I had first gone on-line--in fact, first used a computer, period--a mere two weeks before starting this blog, as can be attested by my very first post. I tried to write about an old Gunsmoke episode I had seen, but the library computer wouldn't let me finish, as my allotted time was up. All I had to do was sign in again, but I didn't know that (on top of everything else, my library skills were a little rusty.) So I continued my thoughts on the second post a day later.
My third post was my first political one, dealing with a controversy now long forgotten. I also revamped the literary style somewhat. I used paragraphs.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Torched Song
I recently paid a visit to my rock star friend, Spit Blitzkrieg. His butler answered the door, and told me Spit would be right down. As I waited, I could hear laughter and shouting and screams of ecstasy emanating from somewhere in his 96-room mansion. I wondered if maybe I wasn't interrupting something, then I realised there was always laughter and shouting and screams of ecstasy emanating from his mansion, summer cottage, hotel room, limo, tour bus, even his tent on that one camping trip to Yellowstone park. So that made me feel more at ease. At least it did until I saw Spit stagger down a long flight of stairs. I was shocked at his appearance. He looked tired, worn, pale, undernourished, and disheveled. That's not what shocked me. In fact, all that was usually to the good. Especially when immediately preceded by laughter and shouting and screams of ecstasy. No, what shocked me was his expression. He looked sad, heartbroken even.
"Uh, hey, Spit," I said. "Long time no see."
"Hey, Kirk." He replied, glumly.
"Anything wrong?"
"I'm sad, heartbroken even."
"What happened?"
"My girl dumped me"
"Which one?"
"You know. The love of my life."
"Oh," I replied, trying to remember who exactly that was again.
Spit then let out a long sigh.
"Spit," I said, hoping to make him feel better. "Maybe you could channel your heartbreak into your art."
"Oh, I have. In fact, I've written a song. Want to hear it?"
"Sure."
Spit plugged in his Fender Stratocaster, and proceeded to perform his lyrical lament of a love lost.
She was everything to me
She was all that I could see
She was in my every thought
In my every dream
We were such a duo
We were such a team
But when another came along
She decided I'm all wrong
And she cast me right aside
Like a shell left from the tide
Now, I sit in front of my TV
Thinking, woe, woe is me
And guzzle down my booze
As I watch the evening news
Brian William's warning
About the spread of nukes
This country's got 'em
That country's got 'em
And so soon will the Third World kooks
And it was then I had my epiphany
This could be Earth's final symphony
So I'm...
Prayin' for a nuclear war
One with lots of blood and gore
Hopin' for the end of the world
To take my mind off of you, girl
I know it'll mean the deaths
Of a billion innocent souls
But what do I give a damn
When my aching heart is filled with holes?
And with that, Spit Blitzkrieg wiped a tear from his eye, put down his Fender Stratocaster, excused himself, and disappeared to somewhere in his 96-room mansion, where there still could be heard laughter and shouting and screams of ecstasy.
"Uh, hey, Spit," I said. "Long time no see."
"Hey, Kirk." He replied, glumly.
"Anything wrong?"
"I'm sad, heartbroken even."
"What happened?"
"My girl dumped me"
"Which one?"
"You know. The love of my life."
"Oh," I replied, trying to remember who exactly that was again.
Spit then let out a long sigh.
"Spit," I said, hoping to make him feel better. "Maybe you could channel your heartbreak into your art."
"Oh, I have. In fact, I've written a song. Want to hear it?"
"Sure."
Spit plugged in his Fender Stratocaster, and proceeded to perform his lyrical lament of a love lost.
She was everything to me
She was all that I could see
She was in my every thought
In my every dream
We were such a duo
We were such a team
But when another came along
She decided I'm all wrong
And she cast me right aside
Like a shell left from the tide
Now, I sit in front of my TV
Thinking, woe, woe is me
And guzzle down my booze
As I watch the evening news
Brian William's warning
About the spread of nukes
This country's got 'em
That country's got 'em
And so soon will the Third World kooks
And it was then I had my epiphany
This could be Earth's final symphony
So I'm...
Prayin' for a nuclear war
One with lots of blood and gore
Hopin' for the end of the world
To take my mind off of you, girl
I know it'll mean the deaths
Of a billion innocent souls
But what do I give a damn
When my aching heart is filled with holes?
And with that, Spit Blitzkrieg wiped a tear from his eye, put down his Fender Stratocaster, excused himself, and disappeared to somewhere in his 96-room mansion, where there still could be heard laughter and shouting and screams of ecstasy.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Something New, Something Old
(Note: This post is really only meant for 90% of the population. The other 10%, however, are perfectly free to read along if they like.)
Gay marriage is a hot topic again. Not that it has entirely cooled off since 2004 when, according to some, it derailed John Kerry's Presidential hopes. The story goes that people who otherwise might have voted for Kerry didn't because he was in favor of gay marriage. Actually, he was against it. At least, he said he was against it. But the cultural conservatives convinced just enough folks that this was a politically expedient lie. Now, not quite five years later, Carrie Prejean, Miss California, was denied the Miss USA crown because she said she was against gay marriage. At least that's what her cultural conservative defenders claim. They have also pointed out, as a way of boosting their defense of Miss California, that even Barack Obama is against gay marriage (his sincerity, and lack of political expediency, apparently not in doubt.)
Carrie Prejean might be on the wrong side of history, or at least current events. In the last couple of years, six states have legalized same-sex marriages. Of course, that still leaves 44 states against. What's holding those 44 back? James Carville once cited the "ick factor". Possibly, but if ickiness was all there was to it, half the population would be banned from displaying their physiques at our nation's beaches (and I'd be thrown in solitary confinement.) Pat Buchanan thinks it will lead to the breakdown of society. But seeing as marriage, once you get past the rice, cake, and tipsy toasts, is really a legal agreement between two people involving such mundane things as assets, what gays are really trying to do is break INTO society.
Based on what I've heard, and overheard, lot of people feel that if gay marriage is legalized, they'll suddenly be surrounded by...married gay people. While that may seem like an overreaction, consider what happens whenever a state does legalize same-sex marriage. The TV news is immediately filled with images of male couples in tuxedos, and female couples in wedding gowns, and males couples in tuxedos and wedding gowns, and female couples in wedding gowns and tuxedos, bounding up the courthouse steps to the nearest Justice of the Peace. It's no wonder that a Midwestern farm couple watching this on cable might get the impression that heterosexuality is going the way of the daily newspaper.
But if same-sex marriage were legalized, would you, in fact, be surrounded? Would the morning commute to work be made all that more difficult by all the wife-and-wife bikers with JUST MARRIED signs on their hogs? If you were to hit your thumb with a hammer, would there be a longer wait in the emergency ward because of all the men whose disks slipped carrying their husbands over the threshold?
I suspect your exposure to same-sex marriage will all depend on where you live, where you work, and how you spend your free time.
If you live in a neighborhood or town with a lot of openly gay people, or work at a company with a fair share of openly gay people, or you have a lot of openly gay friends, then, yes, you'll run into same-sex married couples every now and then. Maybe every now and then with a lot of immediacies and afterwards in-between.
However, if you live in a neighborhood or town with no openly gay people, or work at a place with no openly gay people, and you don't actually know any openly gay people, then you'll have very few, if any, encounters with same-sex married couples.
So try and keep an open mind.
Especially when others are shut out.
Gay marriage is a hot topic again. Not that it has entirely cooled off since 2004 when, according to some, it derailed John Kerry's Presidential hopes. The story goes that people who otherwise might have voted for Kerry didn't because he was in favor of gay marriage. Actually, he was against it. At least, he said he was against it. But the cultural conservatives convinced just enough folks that this was a politically expedient lie. Now, not quite five years later, Carrie Prejean, Miss California, was denied the Miss USA crown because she said she was against gay marriage. At least that's what her cultural conservative defenders claim. They have also pointed out, as a way of boosting their defense of Miss California, that even Barack Obama is against gay marriage (his sincerity, and lack of political expediency, apparently not in doubt.)
Carrie Prejean might be on the wrong side of history, or at least current events. In the last couple of years, six states have legalized same-sex marriages. Of course, that still leaves 44 states against. What's holding those 44 back? James Carville once cited the "ick factor". Possibly, but if ickiness was all there was to it, half the population would be banned from displaying their physiques at our nation's beaches (and I'd be thrown in solitary confinement.) Pat Buchanan thinks it will lead to the breakdown of society. But seeing as marriage, once you get past the rice, cake, and tipsy toasts, is really a legal agreement between two people involving such mundane things as assets, what gays are really trying to do is break INTO society.
Based on what I've heard, and overheard, lot of people feel that if gay marriage is legalized, they'll suddenly be surrounded by...married gay people. While that may seem like an overreaction, consider what happens whenever a state does legalize same-sex marriage. The TV news is immediately filled with images of male couples in tuxedos, and female couples in wedding gowns, and males couples in tuxedos and wedding gowns, and female couples in wedding gowns and tuxedos, bounding up the courthouse steps to the nearest Justice of the Peace. It's no wonder that a Midwestern farm couple watching this on cable might get the impression that heterosexuality is going the way of the daily newspaper.
But if same-sex marriage were legalized, would you, in fact, be surrounded? Would the morning commute to work be made all that more difficult by all the wife-and-wife bikers with JUST MARRIED signs on their hogs? If you were to hit your thumb with a hammer, would there be a longer wait in the emergency ward because of all the men whose disks slipped carrying their husbands over the threshold?
I suspect your exposure to same-sex marriage will all depend on where you live, where you work, and how you spend your free time.
If you live in a neighborhood or town with a lot of openly gay people, or work at a company with a fair share of openly gay people, or you have a lot of openly gay friends, then, yes, you'll run into same-sex married couples every now and then. Maybe every now and then with a lot of immediacies and afterwards in-between.
However, if you live in a neighborhood or town with no openly gay people, or work at a place with no openly gay people, and you don't actually know any openly gay people, then you'll have very few, if any, encounters with same-sex married couples.
So try and keep an open mind.
Especially when others are shut out.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Oh..Wise Guy, Eh?
All the attention surrounding the new Star Trek movie reminded me of something I have in my possession that any Trekkie or Trekker reading this might find interesting.
About 20 years ago, my cousin, Cecil B. Jusko, went out to Hollywood in the hopes of becoming either an actor, director, producer, screenwriter, cinematographer, film editor, set designer, make-up artist, or stunt man. Alas, two decades later, he's merely a janitor, bouncing around from one studio to the next. However, Cecil's disillusionment is our enlightenment, for one of the studios he worked for is Paramount, where he was charged with straightening up their TV Script Archive Vault. It was here he noticed a box marked ST-1966. Inside were bits and pieces edited out of old Star Trek shooting scripts due to time restrictions. Cecil smuggled one of the pieces of script off the Paramount lot and sent it to me, and I'd like now to share it with you:
MCCOY
(contemptuously)
Well, Spock, I supposed you've never watched the Three Stooges.
SPOCK
On the contrary, Doctor. I did an in-depth study of them at the University of Vulcan.
MCCOY
(surprised)
Really?
SPOCK
Yes. Earth Culture 101.
MCCOY
(pleased)
Well, I'll be!
SPOCK
I'll have you know, Doctor, that my classmates and I agreed that of the thousands of novels, poems, plays, films, operas, ballets, ballads, paintings, sculpture, and television shows produced by your species in the last three millennium, it is the Three Stooges that most aptly, and most profoundly, captures the human condition.
MCCOY
(emotionally)
Why, I oughta...
About 20 years ago, my cousin, Cecil B. Jusko, went out to Hollywood in the hopes of becoming either an actor, director, producer, screenwriter, cinematographer, film editor, set designer, make-up artist, or stunt man. Alas, two decades later, he's merely a janitor, bouncing around from one studio to the next. However, Cecil's disillusionment is our enlightenment, for one of the studios he worked for is Paramount, where he was charged with straightening up their TV Script Archive Vault. It was here he noticed a box marked ST-1966. Inside were bits and pieces edited out of old Star Trek shooting scripts due to time restrictions. Cecil smuggled one of the pieces of script off the Paramount lot and sent it to me, and I'd like now to share it with you:
MCCOY
(contemptuously)
Well, Spock, I supposed you've never watched the Three Stooges.
SPOCK
On the contrary, Doctor. I did an in-depth study of them at the University of Vulcan.
MCCOY
(surprised)
Really?
SPOCK
Yes. Earth Culture 101.
MCCOY
(pleased)
Well, I'll be!
SPOCK
I'll have you know, Doctor, that my classmates and I agreed that of the thousands of novels, poems, plays, films, operas, ballets, ballads, paintings, sculpture, and television shows produced by your species in the last three millennium, it is the Three Stooges that most aptly, and most profoundly, captures the human condition.
MCCOY
(emotionally)
Why, I oughta...
Friday, May 8, 2009
Quips and Quotations
Somebody asked me, "What do you do? How do you write, create?" You don't, I told them. You don't try. That's very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It's like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it. Or if you like its looks you make a pet out of it.
--Charles Bukowski
(Would it be cheating if I lured the bug by dropping a few crumbs on the floor?--KJ)
--Charles Bukowski
(Would it be cheating if I lured the bug by dropping a few crumbs on the floor?--KJ)
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Ad Libs
If you just read the blogs on Blogger but don't blog yourself, you may not be aware that we who do blog on Blogger have a "Dashboard". Just like the dash in your car--well, it's not like the dash in your car at all. There's no P R N D 1 2, and no 10..20..30..40..50..60..70..80 , and no dials that swing from Empty to Full, or Hot to Cold, or Low to High. What we who blog on Blogger see instead is this:
NEW POST - Edit Posts - Settings - Layout - View Blog
At least, that's what used to be there. About two weeks ago, I clicked on to my Dashboard, and THIS was added to the above:
Monetize
Monetize? What's that?, I wondered. I mean, I knew it meant making money off my blog, but how?
So I clicked, and found out. With advertisements.
Now, I was reluctant to accept advertisements at first. I didn't want the two top agencies, McCann Worldgroup and BBDO Worldwide, fighting over my business. Plus, I didn't want to make the people who run the NFL jealous when they saw how much revenue my ads raked in compared to the commercials on their measly Super Bowl.
Then I woke up.
I decided to advertise. As it turns out, I don't come in contact with any ad execs, like the ones you see on cable's Mad Men. No smoking cigarettes, swilling martinis, or making moves on the secretaries for me. That's all right. Whenever I've tried smoking, swilling, or making moves in the past, it's just gotten me a cough, a headache, and "My boyfriend is an IRS agent." No, a computer would do all the work. Well, the computer wouldn't smoke, swill, or make moves, but it would choose what ads go on my blogs. How, exactly? By singling out key words or phrases in my posts, then matching them with the appropriate ads. Well, not always so appropriate. There's an odd result every now and then.
I did a post a while back called "Viral Spiral", detailing a cold I recently caught. This has led to ads from Halls and Vicks. Well, that makes sense, as I had a nasty sore throat at the time. But where's the Smith Brothers or Fisherman's Friend ads? What, my phlegm's not good enough for them?
Then there's "Futures Market", detailing my visit to a fortune teller. In the past week, I've gotten ads for astrology, palm reading, tarot cards, tea leaves, crystal balls, numerology, phrenology, and whatever clicking on "love signs" is called. I also got an ad for the top fortune teller in St. Paul, Minnesota. Maybe Al Franken and Norm Coleman should seek him out.
Speaking of politics, my post "Red State Blues" produced the oddest results, ad-wise. That post, like most of my political posts, tended to be somewhat favorable toward the Left, and somewhat hostile toward the Right. But the computer doesn't care about overall mood. It's only concern is how many times "left" and "right", "liberal" and "conservative", and "Democrat" and "Republican" appear. As all those words appeared quite a bit, the subsequent ads were wholly bipartisan. A few asked me (or anyone viewing my blog) to join this or that progressive cause, but there was also one from Rush Limbaugh, enlisting citizens in his crusade to "save America". I thought that had been accomplished this past November.
"Ad Libs" might become a regular feature, if future posts yield some more interesting ads. And who knows? I might just earn a profit along the way.
In fact, I just checked. This past week I raked in a whole nickel.
39 more of those, and I can buy myself a bag of Halls. Or maybe Vicks.
NEW POST - Edit Posts - Settings - Layout - View Blog
At least, that's what used to be there. About two weeks ago, I clicked on to my Dashboard, and THIS was added to the above:
Monetize
Monetize? What's that?, I wondered. I mean, I knew it meant making money off my blog, but how?
So I clicked, and found out. With advertisements.
Now, I was reluctant to accept advertisements at first. I didn't want the two top agencies, McCann Worldgroup and BBDO Worldwide, fighting over my business. Plus, I didn't want to make the people who run the NFL jealous when they saw how much revenue my ads raked in compared to the commercials on their measly Super Bowl.
Then I woke up.
I decided to advertise. As it turns out, I don't come in contact with any ad execs, like the ones you see on cable's Mad Men. No smoking cigarettes, swilling martinis, or making moves on the secretaries for me. That's all right. Whenever I've tried smoking, swilling, or making moves in the past, it's just gotten me a cough, a headache, and "My boyfriend is an IRS agent." No, a computer would do all the work. Well, the computer wouldn't smoke, swill, or make moves, but it would choose what ads go on my blogs. How, exactly? By singling out key words or phrases in my posts, then matching them with the appropriate ads. Well, not always so appropriate. There's an odd result every now and then.
I did a post a while back called "Viral Spiral", detailing a cold I recently caught. This has led to ads from Halls and Vicks. Well, that makes sense, as I had a nasty sore throat at the time. But where's the Smith Brothers or Fisherman's Friend ads? What, my phlegm's not good enough for them?
Then there's "Futures Market", detailing my visit to a fortune teller. In the past week, I've gotten ads for astrology, palm reading, tarot cards, tea leaves, crystal balls, numerology, phrenology, and whatever clicking on "love signs" is called. I also got an ad for the top fortune teller in St. Paul, Minnesota. Maybe Al Franken and Norm Coleman should seek him out.
Speaking of politics, my post "Red State Blues" produced the oddest results, ad-wise. That post, like most of my political posts, tended to be somewhat favorable toward the Left, and somewhat hostile toward the Right. But the computer doesn't care about overall mood. It's only concern is how many times "left" and "right", "liberal" and "conservative", and "Democrat" and "Republican" appear. As all those words appeared quite a bit, the subsequent ads were wholly bipartisan. A few asked me (or anyone viewing my blog) to join this or that progressive cause, but there was also one from Rush Limbaugh, enlisting citizens in his crusade to "save America". I thought that had been accomplished this past November.
"Ad Libs" might become a regular feature, if future posts yield some more interesting ads. And who knows? I might just earn a profit along the way.
In fact, I just checked. This past week I raked in a whole nickel.
39 more of those, and I can buy myself a bag of Halls. Or maybe Vicks.
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