Saturday, February 01, 2003

My theory was always that pot was a drug that was forbidden because (unlike caffeine and alcohol) it didn't go well with capitalism. But I guess I was wrong!

Wow...I hope this information becomes widespread. Being stoned makes you a better, more pliant and willing consumer! Legalization here we come....
Read: Notes of an Iranian Girl...see what SHE has to say about Bush's speech. She is an amazing girl--only a teenager but smarter and more interesting than most adults.
In March or April--after the war starts--compare the reaction when a bomb goes awry and kills hundreds or thousands including the reaction to the Space Shuttle explosion

"The faces tell you the time in which you're living. The government is talking about a war with Iraq as if discussing a commuter train home."

Space Shuttle disintergrates

It is heartbreaking to think of the people on the shuttle and to think of their families...who will miss them, who need them. To think of the plans they made they can't now fulfill, the promises they can't keep, the hopes they won't realize, the things they won't see. Taken from those who love them.

Please try to do the same for the people who die from the bombs the U.S. sends. They don't have to die. They shouldn't die.

(These links are borrowed from everything is wrong.)


We'll liberate you...whether you want it or not...Don't forget to say thanks! Because it sure did cost us a LOT of money!

Carve up of oil riches begins

More money to be made...

Friday, January 31, 2003

The Iraq war the President himself.

I wish I'd made this one up...I'd be almost as good as Adam Felber

Thursday, January 30, 2003

And one more reason I can't be a genius...

I totally love the guy in the story below. And I just made him grist for my mill. Feeling guilty's not genius behavior. A genius has to be cruel to those who surround him/her....Think Picasso...think Robert Lowell, think Pollack. Other people have to be 'the material'--if you are a genius, you just use them up and spit them out without remorse.
Living up to one's own personal standards...

For me, this is pretty easy. Frankly, I have very few standards. I did want to prove to myself what a genius I am...And I suppose I thought I could prove this if every day I managed to write something earth shattering and profound...something that never stooped to convey the minutiae of everyday life.

Yet, I discovered by this very process that I am not a genius. By never trying to be a genius I could always imagine that I was one, were I to try. Alas, I did try a teeny-tiny bit and the results were not as I'd hoped..

I thought at the very least...if no essays of great profundity were forthcoming I would at least hit upon some amazing aphorisms that would boggle the mind...

Like: 'The furniture of the mind is not for sitting on."

For some reason I assumed my mind had an inexhaustible store of aphorisms just waiting to rise to the surface.

It doesn't.

Trying. Trying is bad. It's so much better just to have potential.

I won't ridicule those who concern themselves with minutiae. I now see why they might.

Humiliating yourself can be good to the extent it can make you humble. And/or bitter.

I don't know where these delusions of grandeur came from: I suppose it is obvious that I am not that bright. I set things on fire often, I fall down for no apparent reason, I cannot find my keys most days. I had hopes though.

My topic for today therefore I went to the movies. I movie-hopped. First I saw 'Catch Me If You Can.' Then I snuck into 'Adaptation.' It was one of those lucky moments when the theaters are right next to each other. That rarely happens. Usually there has to be a secret bathroom sneak in type deal or some skulking in the theater hallways. When I was a child, it was so easy--the whole 'one kid pays, all the other kids sneak in through the exit.' Sometimes we wouldn't bother with the 'one kid pays' and simply wait for people to leave and grab the door before it closed. They've made it all so much more difficult now. At the very least, you have to pay...I feel sorry for kids now.

When I was a kid we could shoplift like nobody's business. It was before the days of electronic sensors. I am so sad for the kids who can only snag a candy bar here and there. I used to take bathing suits, whole wardrobes full of clothing, necklaces, makeup, toys, you name it.

(Oh wait--that reminds me...I shoplifted a lipgloss yesterday. By accident...really. But it brought back memories.)

I was 'caught' going from one movie to the other but only by this old lady who was also theater hopping. She said 'you too, huh?' I said...'Are we the only ones in here?' and shamefully ran to the front.' She looked familiar actually. I hope I don't know her from somewhere.

Although they are few and far between, I still have personal standards. I realized today I have one rule which I almost never break. As might or might not be obvious from what I write here, I am highly secretive. In a rather peculiar way. I appear to tell everyone everything but in fact this is all a front for hiding most things. (El chico still hasn't caught on to the whole 'secretive' way of life but he is slowly learning.) Because of this perhaps I have this one rule which I rarely if ever violate: I never 'ask questions.'

Do you know what I mean? There is this whole form of conversation that involves 'asking questions.' So if someone is having relationship trouble and you know then you do that stupid thing of saying 'So how's it going with X?' If they are in school you say "So, what are you going to do when you graduate?" I despise this conversational form. Today, I got to put my principles into practice. I have a co-worker who seemed like a sort of shy guy who never had a girlfriend but not only does he have a very cute girlfriend but he also has an ex-wife. Clearly, there's an interesting to tale to tell which I could easily elicit with the right sort of interrogation. But that is beneath me. He might even want me to do it--He threw me a few suggestions...little things about the ex-wife. I admit I have been curious but I refrained from the 'follow up.'

The 'follow up.' That I also hate. If you say "Then I dropped out of school because I had a nervous breakdown" they want to know "What did you do after that?" If you say "My husband cheated on me" they say things like "How did you work it out?"

Yech. Terry Gross. Yech.

So I did no follow up. E.g., he says "I had enough money to finish school because when my wife and I divorced she bought out my half of the condo..." I say--"hey, that's great." Then he says "Yeah, she was very shrewd and now it is worth 3 times what we paid for it..." Then he goes on to tell me all about how she always said she never wanted a rich guy but in fact that was exactly what she probably wanted all along.

He even said: "She used to say she didn't want a many who ran around but wanted a man who was loyal but I think that it was just those type of men she liked. You know, there are some women who really go for those caddish men. Who sleep with lots of women. They seem powerful to them."

All I said was: "I know, isn't that weird?" I admit, not finding out who did what to whom when he drops these little hints takes a bit of willpower.

Of course, perhaps it is easy to follow this rule....I'm sure I will find out the whole story eventually.
Penis Enlargement

Can someone explain this to me? How in God's name is this possible?

I suppose...with medical was inevitable that penis enlargement would be next on the list of available body-modifications.

Body modification sounds so great. I think of 'Logan's Run' where they could just point a laser at you and you could look completely different--you could look like Farrah Fawcett if you wanted. Or Ozma of Oz--where the Princess something had a collection of heads she could put on daily.

However, in our current world body modification involves people taking sharp objects to your body and cutting you in soft and tender places. Occasionally, they do this when you are unconscious. I don't know what most people's view on the matter is but I have to say: People in general are dumb and inept quite often. How is it possible for so many people in our fair nation to allow such fallible beings as humans near them with a sharp pointy thing for the purpose of cutting some of one's flesh? It seems reasonable to suppose that you would submit to this only under very dire circumstances. Life or death situations--OK, I can see that (sort of).

a 'humorous' informational site

ethical doctor refuses to enlarge anything but the most messed up penises

would you trust your penis to a group of people who call themselves 'penis pros'?

I did read one explanation of penis enlargement: Apparently, some ligament is cut which causes your penis to hang slightly lower and thus it appears 'larger.' However, it is not larger when it counts.

In other words, it's for other men. It's for the locker room? Why not just refuse to be naked in the locker room if that is your deal?

Of course, I'm being heterosexist--If it is for other men and you are gay I guess it makes sense in a certain way since visuals do matter.

I'm not sure if this explanation is correct. However, may I just say one thing? Don't do it. I hope everyone out there is smart enough to realize this is best but you never know.

Wednesday, January 29, 2003


At last count, I had 13 clocks in my house...not including watches. There might be more hidden in drawers and places.

When I was a child we had one clock but my mother had this theory that if she set it in advance we would never be late. (We were always late. I almost got thrown out of Catholic school for being tardy so many times.) Obviously, if you set the clock at the same time you will just subtract the minutes. So she tried to trick herself and would set it irregularly in advance so she would never be sure what time it was exactly.

We also had some clocks that didn't work right. In other words, I never knew exactly what time it was.

Very early in life I learned the phone number to the 'exact time' recording. (I don't think they have this anymore! Why?!?) I used to call it frequently. Sometimes I would call it if I was lonely or bored.

Now the clocks in my house are all set at different times. Only slightly early...a few a bit more than slightly. I also have problems waking up in the morning. There was a period where I decided to defy daylight savings time--which I regard as absurd--and refused to change the clocks. Of course, I did subtract an hour as one can't operate entirely in one's own time zone. Sometimes when people came over for parties or dinner they would become alarmed that it was later than they expected it to be. They didn't always get it--they seemed to think clocks should be set at the correct, official time. I like my clocks to challenge me a bit.

A walk through time...sponsored by the U.S. government

I have 5 alarm clocks (actually I have 6 but I rely only on 3 major ones). My former housemate used to wake me up every morning. (Sometimes she even made me fruit salad.) When she moved out, she called me in the morning for a whole year. What a pal! For some reason, the phone's ringing works when an alarm clock doesn't. However, it has to be an actual person on the other end. If I know that it is a wake up call, I will sleep through it. Responsibility to an actual human being is perhaps the only thing that can rouse me to consciousness.

My husband has taken over the calling-me in the morning and waking me up duties. He even makes me coffee most days. Now it's obvious why I will love this man until the day I die.

In any case, I got a cel phone recently. It disturbed me for some reason to have the cel phone time set at the wrong time. I don't know why. I guess it felt like the cel phone should 'know' what time it is. Then...gradually...I started setting my watch at the right time. I even became somewhat obsessive...Checking the U.S. government time and trying to set my Timex so that it was correct to the second.

It was sad...because when I was in Europe I was falling asleep at 9 p.m. and waking up at 5 a.m. It was very exciting! I finally had a normal biological clock thing going on. I vowed to continue it but I'm sad to say I'm off again and fell asleep in my office at the end of the work day. I woke up at 8:30 tonight with my head on my desk. My hand fell asleep. Shucks.

Tuesday, January 28, 2003

Do you ever have a really stupid thought?

A thought so stupid and uncharacteristic of you that it is almost as if someone has taken over your brain. Or if you are channelling some other stupid person's thoughts? I'm not saying I don't have stupid thoughts...It's just that they have a certain character, a form, a content. I think things like: Would sweet almond oil make a good nighttime moisturizer? How many calories does 15 cups of popcorn covered in 8 Tablespoons of butter have?

OK but today I had a thought that could not have been mine...It was stupid but not stupid in the way that I am stupid. I went to the movies to avoid life, the state of the union address, what have you...And I saw on the slides they put up before the movie: Kevin Costner joined the Sioux Nation while filming dancing with wolves in 1989.

And I thought: Wait...1989. That was not so long ago. There's still hope for Kevin Costner. Kevin Costner can rest on his laurels, really. Although he made a hideous and ridiculous movie, people did admire him for it. Oh, why has Kevin Costner fallen so low?

And then I proceeded to think of a strategy whereby Kevin Costner could revive his career. See, what he needs to do is start playing crazed, evil villians. Very far out movies--Quentin Tarantino type movies. He also needs to parody himself and be in a movie where he plays a has-been obnoxious and horrible celebrity.

That's right...I thought about Kevin Costner. Not only did I think about Kevin Costner, I thought about how I could help Kevin Costner.

I don't even despise him. He is too dumb and annoying to despise. But still.

Oh God, what a trash heap the modern world has made of my mind. Is there any hope? Is there any way to scrape this garbage dump clean? No, no it's too late. For the rest of my life I'm going to know things like "What you talkin' 'bout Willis?' I'll remember the theme song to "H.R. Puffenstuff" (even though I never saw the show kids at my school sang it incessantly). I even recall the song from the Dole 'Tiki Room' at Disneyland (it's very catchy).

I've often desired complete amnesia--mostly so that I could get out of doing things I'm supposed to do. And again is another reason to want the synapses cleansed, the background knowledge erased for good. I'd even go so far as to forget all language if I never, ever have to think about Kevin Costner again for as long as I live.

Monday, January 27, 2003

I like to think about the future

Sometimes I used to write little messages to my future self...

Like: Hey Future-Miel--Are you wearing all-metallic fabrics? Are they scratchy? Do you sleep without covers and pillows like they did in Star Trek?

Hey Future Miel--Did you fly to work today?

Ah, the 2000's...I know this has been said before but...what a disappointment!

Where are the jet packs? Where are the buttons you push to make your food come out of a little hole in the wall? Where are the crazy 3 foot high hairdos?

What I realized today on the way to mini-market in 2 degree weather was: This is it. This is the best it's ever going to be. This is the time when technology improved our lives right before it destroyed the earth and the water shortages and catastrophic climatic events began.

Maybe I have a future as a science fiction writer? No, actually what I really wish is to write some kind of fake-history/academic treatise in the year 2200 of the current era...

But it would be boring. It would be as boring as current academic treatises are. Of course, no one bothers with the sweeping historical work these days. It's all micro-history...such as Salt or Cod or The Street: Hell's Kitchen from 1894-1896.

Here's what the future historian would say (or rather what he/she will be thinking as she writes the history from her 5 foot by 5 foot allotted space on her special non-polluting ecological pad and pencil in the daylight hours because of the lack of fossil fuel while the water riot rages outside her window):

Those denizens of the first world (as it was called back then)...They had it SO good...They had it so good...Technology lengthened their lives, they lived in abundance, they thought about nothing but NOW.

But were they happy? No...They just complained and complained...

They saw it all coming--They knew they were headed for disaster. But did they do anything? No...What did they do as the disaster slowly descended around them? They shopped, drank from disposable cups, grew green lawns in the desert, left the lights on and drove giant polluting vehicles...

But she will love us. Historians always love their subjects. We will seem like children--lost children...This time will seem like a magical time, a time of innocence, of frivolity...where we lived in the present, dancing in the flames. She will both envy and pity us.

As far as complaining goes...Yes, of course we complain...People say: You shouldn't complain...What about the other people who have it much worse. What fools they are...Haven't they ever been to a place where everyone is poor and suffering. Have they never seen the beaten down peasant? They are resigned, they don't complain.

Complaining is for the privileged. Complaining takes expectations. Those who have it truly bad don't complain. It's the ultimate luxury.

Sunday, January 26, 2003

This woman Riverkitty also has good links...

Here are some of her stripper links...

I like this one: Feminist Stripper
OK, here's a blog that's going to be big: This is the blog of a stripper...
Can you believe I didn't know what the word 'blogrolling' means? I thought it meant jumping around randomly and mindlessly but at least according to a recent context I believe it means inducing others to jump around randomly and mindlessly...

Actually, I don't know what it means really...Do I care?


Advertising Slogan Generator

We tend to assume when we riot that we are covered by our anonymity...Alas, not in Vancouver...or not at a Guns 'N Roses concert in Vancouver

I also took this from Scribbler...Although 'the imp of the peverse' is something I've been in the grip of for many, many years I know have the text to refer back to...

(from Brian at Scribbler

Weblog for Men to Complain...while also defining themselves as 'husbands' and 'boyfriends'

Pong comes to life

Which Sesame Street Muppets Dark Secret Are You?

Start saving your money for cryogenics now: brain re-animation may be possible

The Official Paul Todd Worldwide Website

The Balloon Hat Experience those who could never hurt a real hamster

I fell in love with Ann Coulter and she ruined my life