Sideshow Mel
I've been biting my tongue for a while about an incident that occurred several years ago, but with recent events I figure that the time has come to share them. As you may or may not know, I live in a resort town surrounded by lakes, mountains, ski areas and golf courses. A lot of famous people have vacation homes in this area. Ellen Travolta often appears in community theater plays, Tom Cruise's Gulfstream jet always flies low over town and pisses people off, John Elway barrels around town in his tinted Hummer, and The Wife once realized she was standing in line behind Dennis Franz at Safeway.Anyway, one day several years ago, I was hiking with my dogs up on Canfield Mountain on the northeast edge of town, and who should I run into but Mel Gibson who happened to be in town for a celebrity golf benefit at the Resort. He was wearing sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat so I didn't recognize him at first. Just as I started to walk past him, my older dog Saffy decided to greet him by sticking her nose right in his crotch. She's usually well behaved, but sometimes she just can't help being a dog. I apologized and told her to heel, but Mel just laughed and said that he likes dogs. He then said that she had a very nice coat and asked what her breed was. I get that question all the time since she really is a pretty dog. I told him that she's a border collie / blue heeler cross. She has the thick glossy coat of a border collie, but the ubiquitous markings of a heeler. He said that she reminded him of some of the herd dogs back in Australia. At this point it dawned on me who he was.
Let me interrupt here and note that this was before he went all woo-woo all over the media. Since I've never been a big follower of celebrity gossip, all I knew was his body of work up through his then recent appearance on the Simpsons. I admit it, I was a bit star struck and told him that Mad Max was one of my favorite movies of all time. I'm not proud. He said that he gets that a lot, and said that he really gives credit to George Miller, and said that he was really impressed with the recent success of Babe (hey, I really liked that movie too).
About this time I realized that I'd probably never have a chance to talk movies with someone in his position again so I figured I'd make a pitch that I'd been kicking around in my head for a while. I asked him "I know this is really corny, so feel free to say no because I'm sure you get this all the time, but can I tell you about about an idea I have for a movie?" To my surprise he said that he had nothing better to do, and that he'd rather listen to me than listen to John Travolta's boring airplane stories while trying to hit the floating green.
Given the green light, I started in on my story, "It was a Thursday night." Giving a nod to Douglas Adams, "Nobody ever gets the hang of Thursdays. On this night, three guys are hanging out in a garden. They're all feeling very tired after a big meal of hot buttered corn, but one of them can't sleep. He stays up into the early hours of of the morning with an impending sense of doom. It turns out his fears are well founded as one of his other friends who'd been at the dinner shows up before dawn with a bunch of soldiers to bust him. The other two wake up. They argue and fight, and one pulls a knife. He cuts off one soldier's ear, but backs off when the first guy tells him to stop because he doesn't dig on violence."
"Long story short, he gets hauled off to court while his friends scatter. But," I tell him, "that's just the opening sequence. The next two hours is basically the guy getting stripped naked and beaten to a horrible bloody pulp by the soldiers while a crowd of the ugliest hooked-nosed caricatures ever assembled jeers and eggs his tormentors on. Seriously, Mel," I continue, " picture the most violent scenes of gore in Braveheart. Now multiply that times fifty, and you'll start to get a glimpse of the sick twisted shit I'm talking about. Then to top it all off, after all the whipping and torture, they drag him though the streets and pound nails through his hands and feet, and hang him up to die."
Gibson stood there for a while looking stunned. Finally he waggled his jaw for a little bit before stammering "Th-th-that's seriously fucked up, Mate. What do you call it?"
I answered, "The Aristocrats."
Monday, August 28, 2006
Family
I took The Boy and the dogs up Mineral Ridge on the east side of the lake Saturday morning. The view was great, but I forgot the camara. I'll bring it next time. Anyway, in the past his is usually a very peaceful hike with the exception of the occasional sound of Jake Brakes coming from the freeway coming down from Fourth of July Pass. However, this time I had a small man on by back kicking me in the ribs shouting "ICE CREAM CONE! ICE CREAM CONE!" Suffice it to say, bottled water was a poor substitute.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Appreciation
No this isn't about the fact that house prices in my neighborhood have gone from mid 5 figures to mid 6 figures in the past few years. That's all a crock of shit anyway based on the Fed's funny money policies. Nothing's selling anymore, and the banks are throwing their ARMs in the air, waving them around like they just don't care. I don't care about that shit at all, I locked in a fixed 15 year rate. Instead, what's really important is that somebody appreciates my new minimalist layout.
Hooray for me!
Hooray for me!
Declaration
Election season is upon us. Do you know who is running in your congressional district? Well, good for you, you smug bastard, I don't. Nor do I care. And to show how much I don't care I am going on an unprecedented four month news fast starting September first through the end of the year. It shouldn't be too hard. Aside from some early withdrawl symptoms, my month-long personal boycott of the news went pretty well last spring. To counter the jonesing effects, I plan to increase my usual quota of smoking, drinking, paint huffing and seducing nubile young FBI agents on-line.
Wake me up when the new batch of pigfuckers (or more likely, the same old pigfuckers) are sworn in. We'll count up all the wars, terrorism, disasters & JonBenet Ramseys that have happened in the meantime, and I'll let you know if a damn thing has changed (hint: it won't have).
Until then, enjoy my occasional rants with the understanding that they are going to be constructed in a relative vacuum from current events.
Wake me up when the new batch of pigfuckers (or more likely, the same old pigfuckers) are sworn in. We'll count up all the wars, terrorism, disasters & JonBenet Ramseys that have happened in the meantime, and I'll let you know if a damn thing has changed (hint: it won't have).
Until then, enjoy my occasional rants with the understanding that they are going to be constructed in a relative vacuum from current events.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Humor
How am I supposed to take shit seriously - work, philosophy, politics - when it's all so fucking absurd? Lately I just can't build up a head of steam on any of that shit. All I want to do is go home and play in the sandbox or ride bike with The Boy. The rest of the world can go fuck itself for all I care. I'm managing about 15 million dollars' worth of contracts right now, people are slaughtering eachother by the thousands 'cause God gave them deeds to the same peice of land, the whole economy is based on borrowed paper money, and I couldn't give a yellow dog's shit about any of it.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what is meant by enlightenment. Have I embraced existential anarchism to the point where I've reached my own personal nirvana? Or maybe I'm just disaffected and apathetic. Either way, while it feels a little strange, I don't really miss my usual sense of righteous indignation at a world gone wrong. Now when I picture myself in the future I no longer envision becoming an avant-garde designer molding young minds, but a guy drinking a beer while watching the tropical sun set over the Pacific Ocean, who happens to draw buildings when he feels like it. Maybe I could occasionally issue a profanity filled rant for old time's sake. Life could be a whole lot worse.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what is meant by enlightenment. Have I embraced existential anarchism to the point where I've reached my own personal nirvana? Or maybe I'm just disaffected and apathetic. Either way, while it feels a little strange, I don't really miss my usual sense of righteous indignation at a world gone wrong. Now when I picture myself in the future I no longer envision becoming an avant-garde designer molding young minds, but a guy drinking a beer while watching the tropical sun set over the Pacific Ocean, who happens to draw buildings when he feels like it. Maybe I could occasionally issue a profanity filled rant for old time's sake. Life could be a whole lot worse.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Explosives
Maybe I'm slow on the uptake here, but if the TSA is worried about liquid explosives smuggled in soda or shampoo bottles why did they just throw them all into containers conveniently placed next to large queues of passengers? Let alone giving potentially deadly explosives to the homeless?
Surely our masters are smarter than that.
Surely our masters are smarter than that.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Pandering
Due to popular demand - okay, just Jake - I'm reinstating titles, but one word only, And I had to get rid of the ugly serif font. Fuck serifs. Trying to keep it simple here.
Keep in mind that I'm drunk and probably won't remember all of this.
Keep in mind that I'm drunk and probably won't remember all of this.
Friday, August 18, 2006
I just realized that as of last weekend I've been blogging for one year. In celebration of that fact I'm making some changes around here. I'm stripping this thing down to the most minimal template I can find. No more pandering to the little man in my head. In fact no more titles at all. No sidebars or other shit either. Maybe I'll add the blogroll back, but only if I get around to it.
If... you... cut every corner
You'll have more time for play
It's the American way
With apologies to Jake, here's an AWPC with my Electrical Engineer:
X: Looks like they're finally getting these electrical panels made up.
EE: Yeah, I can't believe how much progress they've made since yesterday. They may actually pull this job off yet.
(At this point the electrical contractor rushes toward us frantically)
Contractor: Have you guys seen my tool belt?
EE: Nope, I haven't seen it.
(As the EF runs off down the hall, I turn to the EE)
X: Well, that explains why the rest of his employees are getting so much work done.
EE: I was just thinking that, but I'm too nice to say it.
One nice thing about being a total fucking tool is that I can be a raging asshole, and nobody stops me because I have to sign their pay invoices.
X: Looks like they're finally getting these electrical panels made up.
EE: Yeah, I can't believe how much progress they've made since yesterday. They may actually pull this job off yet.
(At this point the electrical contractor rushes toward us frantically)
Contractor: Have you guys seen my tool belt?
EE: Nope, I haven't seen it.
(As the EF runs off down the hall, I turn to the EE)
X: Well, that explains why the rest of his employees are getting so much work done.
EE: I was just thinking that, but I'm too nice to say it.
One nice thing about being a total fucking tool is that I can be a raging asshole, and nobody stops me because I have to sign their pay invoices.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
What flows from the nose
Does not go on my clothes
Scotland is set to ban swords. First highland dress and more recently whiskey glasses. What are they going to ban next, unintelligible cussing? Soon there'll be no point in being Scottish anymore.
Memo to myself
Do the dumb things I gotta do
Note to self: Never again buy tobacco in The Valley. Nobody there smokes the good shit so they let it sit on the shelf for months. As it is I go through a pack so slowly that it dries out anyway. I might as well be able to enjoy the first half before I throw it away. That's right, I'm the kind of smoker that everyone hates because I actually enjoy the taste and sensation but never get addicted.
Goddam white trash GPC smokin' pigfuckers...
Goddam white trash GPC smokin' pigfuckers...
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Damn it feels good to be a gangster
Stupid Boston stapler....
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
...And when I pee
I use the kitchen sink
I managed to shoot some photos down at the lake with The Boy in between the moter seizing up on the dishwasher and the thermostat faulting out on the water heater.
For those of you who are not familiar with my town, there is a large undeveloped peninsula called Tubbs hill between downtown and the main body of the lake. Here you can see one of the condo towers that are sprouting up like weeds through the trees.
The trail was surprisingly free of tourists for a Saturday morning, although they increased as the day grew on.
I hiked to the top of the hill hoping to get some more shots of town to the north, but I wasn't very satisfied with them. However, On the way down the south slope I caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees.
This is the view from a rock out-cropping where I once had a fascinating conversation with a Garbage Eater about politics and economics.
The shore of Tubbs Hill has dozens of little beaches nestled between the rocks. This point has three alone, the largest and most popular is seen behind the clump of trees on the right. There's another once spanning the tip of the point by the light.
The smaller beach on the far side of the point is nice and shady with a view back toward town. A good place to rest.
And explore.
For those of you who are not familiar with my town, there is a large undeveloped peninsula called Tubbs hill between downtown and the main body of the lake. Here you can see one of the condo towers that are sprouting up like weeds through the trees.
The trail was surprisingly free of tourists for a Saturday morning, although they increased as the day grew on.
I hiked to the top of the hill hoping to get some more shots of town to the north, but I wasn't very satisfied with them. However, On the way down the south slope I caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees.
This is the view from a rock out-cropping where I once had a fascinating conversation with a Garbage Eater about politics and economics.
The shore of Tubbs Hill has dozens of little beaches nestled between the rocks. This point has three alone, the largest and most popular is seen behind the clump of trees on the right. There's another once spanning the tip of the point by the light.
The smaller beach on the far side of the point is nice and shady with a view back toward town. A good place to rest.
And explore.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
I'd rather be a free man in the grave
Than livin' as a puppet or a slave
Joe Strummer, bright morning sunshine and an unfiltered nicotine buzz. Can life get any better? I submit that it can not.
So smoke 'em if you got 'em Britt. Nobody likes a quitter.
So smoke 'em if you got 'em Britt. Nobody likes a quitter.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
I was defeated, You won the war
I think that in one of my posts I mentioned that I couldn't get worked up about mid-east politics. I don't remember exactly what I said, because I was probably drunk when I said it, or because I'm drunk right now. Either way I don't recall when, how, why or what I said or didn't say. So here's my observation: Hizbullah intentionally targets civilians, and as a result has killed 35 non-military Israelis. Israel on the other does not intentionally target civilians, but has killed 998 Lebanese civilians.
So my question is, whose aim is worse?
Dark humor aside, I think that terrorist organizations (for lack of a better term) have found a chink in the armor of the nation-state model. It's mosquito versus sledge hammer. Killing a few dozen Israelis, a few hundred Brits or a few thousand Americans is not the goal of a terrorist act. The goal is to goad the nation-state into responding in the only way they know how: overwhelming force, upping the ante ten-fold. It's not that the state wants to respond so asymmetrically, it's that their hand is forced; do too much or nothing at all. Not responding makes the state look weak while responding makes the state look like a bully.
Not that either typification is necessarily accurate. I've met many dedicated pacifists and none of them would I call "weak", but they also don't get elected to public office very often. The flip side is that I truly doubt that most people in favor of military response actually want to kill civilians, but the end result is the same. Dead is dead, maimed is maimed, intentionally or not.
The point that both the "hawks" and "doves" seem to miss whilst shouting past each other is that there is no solution. Neither approach solves the problem. Terrorism exposes a fatal flaw in the nation-state model.
In order to exist, all governments must live by use of force, both to take and hold land and to raise funds from their own subjects. In the end this fact causes every state to eventually collapse. Some succumb more quickly than others, but none thus far have avoided this fate. America and Israel are not exceptions to this rule. Maybe one day humankind will learn that it does not need the state, just as humankind (with some exceptions) has realized that it did not need hereditary monarchs chosen by the gods (whether this has provided any noticeable improvement is open for debate). But in the mean time if we want to keep our governments, we must be prepared to accept the consequences.
DISCLAIMER: Don't bother posting a comment regarding the politics of this clusterfuck. I don't care about politics, and will only respond with derision and mockery of your opinion.
So my question is, whose aim is worse?
Dark humor aside, I think that terrorist organizations (for lack of a better term) have found a chink in the armor of the nation-state model. It's mosquito versus sledge hammer. Killing a few dozen Israelis, a few hundred Brits or a few thousand Americans is not the goal of a terrorist act. The goal is to goad the nation-state into responding in the only way they know how: overwhelming force, upping the ante ten-fold. It's not that the state wants to respond so asymmetrically, it's that their hand is forced; do too much or nothing at all. Not responding makes the state look weak while responding makes the state look like a bully.
Not that either typification is necessarily accurate. I've met many dedicated pacifists and none of them would I call "weak", but they also don't get elected to public office very often. The flip side is that I truly doubt that most people in favor of military response actually want to kill civilians, but the end result is the same. Dead is dead, maimed is maimed, intentionally or not.
The point that both the "hawks" and "doves" seem to miss whilst shouting past each other is that there is no solution. Neither approach solves the problem. Terrorism exposes a fatal flaw in the nation-state model.
In order to exist, all governments must live by use of force, both to take and hold land and to raise funds from their own subjects. In the end this fact causes every state to eventually collapse. Some succumb more quickly than others, but none thus far have avoided this fate. America and Israel are not exceptions to this rule. Maybe one day humankind will learn that it does not need the state, just as humankind (with some exceptions) has realized that it did not need hereditary monarchs chosen by the gods (whether this has provided any noticeable improvement is open for debate). But in the mean time if we want to keep our governments, we must be prepared to accept the consequences.
DISCLAIMER: Don't bother posting a comment regarding the politics of this clusterfuck. I don't care about politics, and will only respond with derision and mockery of your opinion.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
To be 33 forever
If the me of half a lifetime ago met me today he'd kick my ass for being a fucking sell-out whore. Then I'd kick his ass for being such a dumbass. After that I'd drive home in my reliable paid-for car to my nice house and loving wife, and he'd thumb a ride back to beat off in my parent's basement.
Don't get me wrong. I still beat off in the basement, but only between changing the furnace filter and checking for sediment in the water heater.
Fortunately, I'm not one of those people whose life peaked during their senior year of high school. Hell, at the time I'd only recently risen from my life's nadir. I think it may have peaked tonight while chasing The Boy through the sprinkler in the back yard to the sounds of punk rock music blaring from the pirate radio station, but I could be wrong; something better could happen tomorrow.
It would be an interesting meeting though, even if I did have to deal with the whole new set of grammar rules pertaining to time travel. I could use some of my youthful passion and idealism, and he could have used a fucking clue.
Don't get me wrong. I still beat off in the basement, but only between changing the furnace filter and checking for sediment in the water heater.
Fortunately, I'm not one of those people whose life peaked during their senior year of high school. Hell, at the time I'd only recently risen from my life's nadir. I think it may have peaked tonight while chasing The Boy through the sprinkler in the back yard to the sounds of punk rock music blaring from the pirate radio station, but I could be wrong; something better could happen tomorrow.
It would be an interesting meeting though, even if I did have to deal with the whole new set of grammar rules pertaining to time travel. I could use some of my youthful passion and idealism, and he could have used a fucking clue.
I'll live the High Life because I drink the right beer
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Ain't it sad?
No fucking shit! Seriously, are they retarded?
I work all night I work all day I pay the bills I have to pay
Most obese Americans claim to eat healthy.
Yeah, and most broke poeple with car payments and credit cards and ARMs up their asses think they are "middle class" when in fact they are one extra flight of stairs away from a coronary and one missed paycheck away from being pushing a shopping cart down the Hobo Highway. Wake up America! You're fat, broke and completely clueless.
Yeah, and most broke poeple with car payments and credit cards and ARMs up their asses think they are "middle class" when in fact they are one extra flight of stairs away from a coronary and one missed paycheck away from being pushing a shopping cart down the Hobo Highway. Wake up America! You're fat, broke and completely clueless.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end
Masters of the scene
You gotta love web advertising. Here's one worthy of a BBlooper.
Thanks Jon for making my day, however inadvertantly, since I spent most it in four different meetings, two of them whilst standing on sun baked SBS rubber.
