Bacon Wallet action shot

Bacon Wallet action shot
Originally uploaded by jaeinsa

Courtesy of my friend, "J" (her real initials, but not *bong bong* her real name!). Just the picture, no reflection on bacon or meat culture. Enjoy!

My inner-baby blanket

My inner-baby blanket
Originally uploaded by textpert

this is my favorite blaanket

Kosher no more

Kosher no more
Originally uploaded by textpert

test post to see how this photo blog thing works

Me gustan luchadores!

I've promised myself I'd do this for years (go see it, that is. not *do* it. but now that I think about it...). So now's getting-off-ass time. Much cooler when the venue was a field near the Pick-n-Pull, but South Presa can represent, too, I suppose. 2nd and 4th Friday of the month at:

Texas Wolverine All-Stars
2000 S. Presa
For more information,
call 531-0201.

Con "gracias" to the Sparks

Sure I know the ins and outs of the American Standard hot and cold shower stems circa 1960 and how to use anchors when some numbnut installed a screw in the paneling instead of through a stud. Nevertheless, I've got angst in my pants. Ladies (you know which one), please call now. Operator is standing by.

I hope it doesn't show
It'll go 'way
It's just a passing phase
It'll go 'way

You can dress nautical
Learn to tie knots
Take lots of Dramamine
Out on your yacht
But when you're all alone
And nothing bites
You'll wish you stayed at home
With someone nice
But when you think you made it disappear
It comes again, "Hello, I'm here", and
I've got angst in my pants

You can be smart as hell
Know how to add
Know how to figure things
On yellow pads
Answer so no one knows
What you just said
But when you're all alone
You and your head
What's the computer say, it's mumbling now
It says "hey Joe"
It's spelled it out and
"You've got angst in your pants"
"You've got angst in your pants"

But when you think you've made it disappear
You're sure you made it disappear
And you've still got angst in your pants

I hope it doesn't show
It'll go 'way
It's just a passing phase
It'll go 'way
I hope it doesn't show
It'll go 'way
Give it a hundred years
It won't go 'way
And I've got angst in my pants
I've got angst in my pants

c'mon, party people

Los Mescaleros at TacoLand @ 10:30. Ay yi yi!

Is a blogsorry worth more or less than a wetsorry? (Or: A 1K Pardons)

C1, sorry I called you a cocksucker.
M/N, sorry you got in the middle of the fight that ensued.
C2, sorry I think I'm your friend.
MJ, sorry I haven't given you a bath in a while.
Self, sorry about that thing I keep picking on your ear.

Will change world soon (but not in an upcoming Sean Penn-film kind of way).

con mucho lurve.

Here Heffalump, Here lumpy lumpy lumpy...

An Aaron Logan image

Unless specifically noted otherwise, all of Aaron Logan's creations found on Loblogomy and LIGHTmatter (including text, photographs, and any other original works) are licensed under this Creative Commons License.

Pretty Please With No-Tariff Sugar on Top????

Bartlebee Links World Terror, George Bush/Neocons/Neoimperials

Reuters: Bush Links Saudi Attack, Iraq Election

Happy Hallowe'enukkah

Jingle bells
Batman smells
From 30 miles away
Batmobile lost a wheel
Robin laid an egg HEY!

The Appropriation of Fear

I don't know where to start. Somewhere in the timeline of the appropriation of fear, you'll find: Vanilla Ice and Eminem, Queer Eyes, glam rock, hair products for men, football quarterbacks, basketball coaches, Jesus. Essentially, fear is reduced if you can appropriate your enemies' values and strength and use them (or mock them) for/to your own benefit. The timeline continues with a Muslim (Mussulman) bent:

He so loved the world, He gave Himself. (Or: I Wish Bruce Tinsley Was a Shmoo)

I vaguely knew (or knew vaguely) the story of the Shmoo. But after reading the dogpatchusa article, I am convinced that Al Capp is our George Orwell. Damn those people who know how to slip social commentary into the Sunday comics with an artful, funful flair. Unlike this batard (there's a circumflex on one of them there ays).

Ah, here it is: â

¨

^-- umlaut in a snowstorm

One Out of Three Ain't Bad (or: Whew! My Middle Name Ain't Wayne)

In a chart of serial killer - childhood development characteristics - created by Ressler, Burgers and Douglas (1990), the three most frequently reported behaviors included day dreaming, compulsive masturbation, and isolation.

Vorpal swords

Oh yeah. I forgot to thank all you fuckers that voted for Bush and supported a foreign policy of death and torture.

"Secret" Army memo about Abu Ghraib

O frabjous day!

Sorry for the down time, faithful readers. Binge drinking, busted ignition amplifier, tooling around in a rented Mustang, geocaching (!) with the nephew, and other stuff I can't remember. What I do remember is this:

1.) Dear Mr. J.G. Ballard, thanks for writing Crash (as well as all the other fine books). After removing and installing a new pickup module in the Volvo, I now understand better the car/body connection. Note to the ladies: find a blind mechanic. (You know what I mean...)

2.) Dear Buttercup, thanks for the music and the politics. Keep on rockin' in the martial-law world.

3.) Dear N****, you are a bastard. I think you are a drug dealer. Don't let me catch you, fatty.

4.) Dear Terry Gilliam, please remind folks that The Adventures of Baron Munchausen is for kids *and* for adults with an Orwellian bent. I don't know what was going on in the world when you made the film, but it resonates strongly today.

lastly...

5.) Dear Spongebob and Patrick, I want to ride the Hasselhoff!!!!! I'm a goofy goober, you're a goofy goober, we're all goofy goobers!!!!!! Goofy goofy goofy goofy gooofy goo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Temporary change of venue

Only because I wanted more than two people reading my rants today (I'm a validation slut, sue me), I planted my soapbox over at Styro's place. She knows how to make and keep friends.

Gay pirate rock music

Tonite. Taco Land. Hallowe'en. 9 p.m. "The Swishbucklers" See you there (in costume!!)

Angels and Insects

(Thanks to Valerie)

Moby Dick, Mon

I was about to obey my brain and start writing a post entitled "Jamaican Cooking Lesson".

In fact, it would have gone a little something like this:

"Today I learned that dry rub is not a masturbation technique, but is instead a way to flavor chicken"

My brain kept running with the idea, though. The synapses had picked up the scent and were bowwowwowing their way to the real fugitive idea. I recalled that what I was making fun of was a way of preparing "jerk chicken". You see where my mind was going with this...

Almost there...

Which reminded me of the greatest innuendo ever written, Melville's "Moby Dick". I could talk your antennae off about the stuff in there. Most people snort at just the fact that (on one of many levels) it's a book about sailors. There's so much more there, though. The cooking of the sperm (with the not-oft-spoken-of-in-these-terms squishing of sperm chunks and finding other sailors' hands), Queequeg and Ishmael in their bunks, etc. In fact, it's like people who don't eat all the chicken off the bone. They just go for the easy stuff. Not my sister, though. She takes it down to the bone.

To

the

bone

.