I wonder if I should drop my land line, and just get a cablemodem and a cell phone. it looks like it might be less than my current setup is now, and much more handy. more research is needed.

I have a bellyache. I blame Fruit₂O. I want my sweetheart to come pick me up from work, drive me home, and stroke my brow as I rest my head in her lap. My tummy doesn’t hurt that bad, really, but I’d still like to have that other stuff. [addendum: I also want a foot massage, which I will gladly reciprocate] I really love her to bits and pieces and fragments and atoms. *sending her a mental squeezie*

Thanks to blue for this linkie –

If you’re looking for something interesting to do, there’s enough detailed information on the life, home and family of the last Tsar of Russia at The Alexander Palace Time Machine to keep you on a history bingefest for the remainder of the year. Knock yourself out.

You know, I think it’s impossible to get television news without some sort of spin on it now… I wish there was a “boring news” channel, with just the facts. “A man breaking into a house was bitten by a dog today, on the corner of fifth and main. The man was taken for emergency treatment before being shuttled to the police department… No word yet if the charges of B&E will stick, but he is considered a suspect in a rash of burglaries. The dog has a clean bill of health from the vet, and is home as of this broadcast” Is that so hard? I know some things are more difficult to remove opinion or speculation for, but I prefer to leave speculation to myself, if I wasn’t there to witness the event. A flip side to this is watching two news channels I don’t really want too much speculation… if I want a left or right wing slant on the news, there’s abc or fox, respectively. spin bugs me.

Missed the transfer to the #60 bus, so I called a cab into work from the other stop. bah. Ah well, it happens. At the walgreens near the stop I got this stuff called fruit₂O, “water with added vitamins and natural fruit flavors”. Nasty! I thought it’d be sparkling water with a hint of kiwi flavor. (the splenda sweetening I noticed afterwards.. yay splenda, booo fruit₂O) NOOoooOOOoo. It was like drinking syrup, sans the thickness. caught totally unaware I realised this about midway through a Scotto power-chug. blergh. I didn’t retreat any of it back, but it was yechy. The sort of thing that you drink and feel more thirsty afterwards for your trouble.

Strange dreams last night… it was raining razor blades… everything that they hit would split and peel into curls like wood being planed. I had a concrete golf umbrella monted on my back and a suit of armor (old style knight manner) that protected me from the weather, but I was feeling sorry for the plants that were being chopped into salad by the downpour. I was shopping for my sweetie, trying to bring her some stuff home. It was vitally important that she get her golden grahams before 5pm… it was some sort of medical supplement. The rain on my armor’s ankles made ricochet noises, like bullets in an old west movie.. lots of *ping-yow* / *ba-voo* sounds.

Italian thieves steal vial full of bull’s sperm, “Police are warning anyone who comes across the vial “not to touch it for any reason” – it has been immersed in liquid nitrogen which causes burns.”

Suuuuure it’s bull sperm, not a vial of some other milky substance that should not be allowed contact with skin…we all know what it really is.

Happy Birfday, dear !!!

a follow up on this entry… watching an expose’ on miss cleo in local news. lots of telephone scripts, and folks get $0.14 to $0.19 a minute. (about $11 an hour) while the folks are charged about $5 a minute for the readings. A transcript and video snip is available here nice to see pictures with the news. also, you can see her house. wsvn is a terribly invasive tabloid network, and I think miss cleo held her own nicely. another earlier report video and transcripts are here. and another about cleo’s harassing phone calls.

the weather is wonderful right now…61F. I guess seeing my shadow was legit! It’s supposed to be cooler tomorrow, too.

the complex is much more quiet now that the folks on both sides of my own apartment have moved out. the nice Irish couple, gone. friendly hippies, with Newt’s outside kitty-buddies, gone. aside from myself there’s a couple with 2 children a 2 bedroom adjoining on the west side, and a solitary man off on the far side of the hipppies’ old place. lots of parking again. strange to not hear faint faint sounds in the courtyard coming from the now empty places… both of the tenants now on exodus had the habit of leaving the door open and windows while they watch tv or listening ot the radio. seeing them closed is sort of disconcerting, even though I’ve only been here since july. (all the folks here moved in at the same time, except for solo-guy. I wonder if these things run in cycles. will I and the family be relocating soon? on a month to month lease, anything’s possible.

back from my first day of work after vacation….

Not too bad, really.

any fires that were lit are out, and things seem to have maintained most of the order that it was left in.

today, I got a lovely 20th anniversary dvd of tron, and a giant box of milk duds to munch on while I watch. what’s with the duds? cool…I had duds yesterday with the Bro, for the first time in an ages.

I’m ready for some feed. Jimmy cracked corn. I care. Gimme corn.

Today’s net radio… good schtuff fer Schkotto.

Hova’s Hit parade.
http://wfmu.org/playlists/HN

lost the entry to an unforseen crash.

WE got attacked…the firewall was down. Feh on the poor solimar machine who died… fortunately it was backed up just last night. a minor hassle to put software back on.

What I was saying was that I’m enjoying taking the bus lately over taxicabs. better for the environment, my billfold, and my writing time. an infinitude of people-watching is available, and the types change according to what time it is.

some observations… on any bus that I ride on with at least five passengers, at least one is bound to be a social misfit with the others. sometimes they’re loud, sometimes they’re drunk, sometimes they smell bad, sometimes they’re just disturbing to the “feng shui” of the rest of the bus. if it was a cartoon, they’d be the ones with the stange eyes darting, perhaps with spirals or a scribble over head, maybe just muttering strings of profanities or unconnected words slightly under their breath. Especially in winter, they come South to where it’s warm. They’re generally safe to be around, except for the sharp social edges grating against the others. When I get on a loaded bus, and there’s no weirdness I begin to wonder if I just missed someone, or if I’m the requesite weirdo scaring the more timid passengers. (I am a freaky giant pod-person yeti-beast, y’know.) I feel a strange drive to protect the others on the bus from folks like that, plus I get a kick out of talking to people I might not normally converse with. A lot of folks really open up to you, and will blather on about the most esoteric topics from the stereotypical government conspiracies and aliens to some really nifty family histories.

Sunday bus – Cleaned up folks going to church, happy people on the day off, more kids with a case of the sillies

Monday bus – angry people going to work, grumpies reading newspaper, sleepy folks waiting to get to a more distant destination. less traffic.

these vibes spin off into the misfits. they’re like sounding boards of the environment. there’s a creature in tibetan mythology called a tulpa. The word Tulpa is from the Tibetan language and refers to any entity that attains reality solely by the act of imagination. The entity is created entirely within the confines of ones own mind, not drawn out, written down or even verbally described. I think a lot of the time, folks that fear or are upset around such folk may make them more dangerous than if they were more at ease.. I sometimes think that if they fear the misfit person being dangerous, that the self-fulfilling prophecy helps it along… showing weakness or fear instead of friendliness or indifference perhaps kicks in the more agressive instincts. anyhow, back to what I was saying, I’ve found that being the one to talk to them with a friendly voice eases my mind, too… I’m more able to see which way the wind is blowing, so to speak. Plus, being the aforementioned pod-yeti, I can converse fairly easily… I don’t look like a cop or a pretty woman… a soothing voice and a large form seems to put those people at ease most of the time, and I’m at little to no risk of robbery or attack. I’ve been viewed as a bird of a feather, and I get rarely hit up for cash… or if they do hit me up, they don’t take it as personally as if they asked the more clean cut or well-off yuppie. (flipside, cops and people in authority assume I’m in the freaky-scary group, too.)

I know a lot of people that fall into the tulpa catagory. they shift… karma-chameleon style into the environment local to them. speech conventions, attitudes and morals, even moods seem to change to a huge degree to meet the atmosphere dujour. I’ve seen a person go from a hard-core conservative to a moderate with deep liberal leanings inside of an hour, and back again just from the people we were hanging out with… what’s stranger still, I don’t think that they noticed the self-change themselves. I know everyone shifts a little here in there, just to get by in different groups, but I’m talking about full-bore personality and appearance shift. It’s kind of disturbing… they don’t seem to have a real sense of self… repeating echoes of what’s nearby to blend in. I don’t wear many masks… or the ones I do wear are images of myself more muted, so I don’t make waves. my opinions don’t change… I just share them more openly with some folks than I do with others. when pressed, I hold the same beliefs regardless. I sometimes think that if you wear a mask long enough, you lose the face beneath. I know someone very well that has an assortment of masks… and I wonder if the person underneath them has a real face at all anymore. I used to be angry with them for being that way.. never being able to know where you really stand or what the opinion they held really was. now, I feel sort of bad for them when I think about it… are they anyone? the most identifiable aspect of what they are is being able to slip into a role really well, depending on where they are. I suspect that the person is more of a piece of the set than a real personality any more.

It’s hard for me to understand, let alone respect a person that doesn’t stand up for what they believe in. What happens if what they believe in changes greatly from moment to moment? They’re still people. What’s the opposite of a pod? Tulpa isn’t quite it… but it’s close. My personal reality shifts and sways a little, as does everyone that interacts with surroundings at all. But we all have a few anchors, here and there. I think we all have beliefs that would require a lot of work to change, if they could be changed at all… except for these unusual folks that shift so fluidly.

WE got attacked…the firewall was down. Feh on the poor solimar machine who died… fortunately it was backed up just last night. a minor hassle to put software back on.

What I was saying was that I’m enjoying taking the bus lately over taxicabs. better for the environment, my billfold, and my writing time. an infinitude of people-watching is available, and the types change according to what time it is.

some observations… on any bus that I ride on with at least five passengers, at least one is bound to be a social misfit with the others. sometimes they’re loud, sometimes they’re drunk, sometimes they smell bad, sometimes they’re just disturbing to the “feng shui” of the rest of the bus. if it was a cartoon, they’d be the ones with the stange eyes darting, perhaps with spirals or a scribble over head, maybe just muttering strings of profanities or unconnected words slightly under their breath. Especially in winter, they come South to where it’s warm. They’re generally safe to be around, except for the sharp social edges grating against the others. When I get on a loaded bus, and there’s no weirdness I begin to wonder if I just missed someone, or if I’m the requesite weirdo scaring the more timid passengers. (I am a freaky giant pod-person yeti-beast, y’know.) I feel a strange drive to protect the others on the bus from folks like that, plus I get a kick out of talking to people I might not normally converse with. A lot of folks really open up to you, and will blather on about the most esoteric topics from the stereotypical government conspiracies and aliens to some really nifty family histories.

Sunday bus – Cleaned up folks going to church, happy people on the day off, more kids with a case of the sillies

Monday bus – angry people going to work, grumpies reading newspaper, sleepy folks waiting to get to a more distant destination. less traffic.

these vibes spin off into the misfits. they’re like sounding boards of the environment. there’s a creature in tibetan mythology called a tulpa. The word Tulpa is from the Tibetan language and refers to any entity that attains reality solely by the act of imagination. The entity is created entirely within the confines of ones own mind, not drawn out, written down or even verbally described. I think a lot of the time, folks that fear or are upset around such folk may make them more dangerous than if they were more at ease.. I sometimes think that if they fear the misfit person being dangerous, that the self-fulfilling prophecy helps it along… showing weakness or fear instead of friendliness or indifference perhaps kicks in the more agressive instincts. anyhow, back to what I was saying, I’ve found that being the one to talk to them with a friendly voice eases my mind, too… I’m more able to see which way the wind is blowing, so to speak. Plus, being the aforementioned pod-yeti, I can converse fairly easily… I don’t look like a cop or a pretty woman… a soothing voice and a large form seems to put those people at ease most of the time, and I’m at little to no risk of robbery or attack. I’ve been viewed as a bird of a feather, and I get rarely hit up for cash… or if they do hit me up, they don’t take it as personally as if they asked the more clean cut or well-off yuppie. (flipside, cops and people in authority assume I’m in the freaky-scary group, too.)

I know a lot of people that fall into the tulpa catagory. they shift… karma-chameleon style into the environment local to them. speech conventions, attitudes and morals, even moods seem to change to a huge degree to meet the atmosphere dujour. I’ve seen a person go from a hard-core conservative to a moderate with deep liberal leanings inside of an hour, and back again just from the people we were hanging out with… what’s stranger still, I don’t think that they noticed the self-change themselves. I know everyone shifts a little here in there, just to get by in different groups, but I’m talking about full-bore personality and appearance shift. It’s kind of disturbing… they don’t seem to have a real sense of self… repeating echoes of what’s nearby to blend in. I don’t wear many masks… or the ones I do wear are images of myself more muted, so I don’t make waves. my opinions don’t change… I just share them more openly with some folks than I do with others. when pressed, I hold the same beliefs regardless. I sometimes think that if you wear a mask long enough, you lose the face beneath. I know someone very well that has an assortment of masks… and I wonder if the person underneath them has a real face at all anymore. I used to be angry with them for being that way.. never being able to know where you really stand or what the opinion they held really was. now, I feel sort of bad for them when I think about it… are they anyone? the most identifiable aspect of what they are is being able to slip into a role really well, depending on where they are. I suspect that the person is more of a piece of the set than a real personality any more.

It’s hard for me to understand, let alone respect a person that doesn’t stand up for what they believe in. What happens if what they believe in changes greatly from moment to moment? They’re still people. What’s the opposite of a pod? Tulpa isn’t quite it… but it’s close. My personal reality shifts and sways a little, as does everyone that interacts with surroundings at all. But we all have a few anchors, here and there. I think we all have beliefs that would require a lot of work to change, if they could be changed at all… except for these unusual folks that shift so fluidly.

All the Superbowl ads, thankfully all the fox trailers are gone.

http://www.ifilm.com/superbowl/0,4806,,00.html

via the new york times.

Sheldon Allman, a songwriter and actor who was the singing voice of Mr. Ed and composed the theme songs to “George of the Jungle” and other television shows, died on Jan. 22 at his home in Culver City, Calif. He was 77.

The cause was heart failure, his family said.

In “Mr. Ed,” the popular sitcom about Wilbur Post’s talking horse, the voice of the title character was provided by Allan Lane. But whenever Mr. Ed sang, it was with the voice of Mr. Allman, who also wrote all of his own songs, like “The Pretty Little Filly With the Pony Tail” and “The Empty Feed Bag Blues.”

Mr. Allman also wrote the theme music for “Let’s Make a Deal” and for the cartoons “George of the Jungle,” “Super Chicken” and “Tom Slick,” which were parts of a half- hour animated series that had its debut in 1967. The program was short lived, with only 17 episodes produced, but it found popularity largely because of the comic theme to “George of the Jungle,” which repeatedly warned the clumsy vine swinger to “watch out for that tree.”

When a live-action film of “George” was made in 1997, starring Brendan Fraser, the one-minute tune was recorded by a trendy rock band, the Presidents of the United States of America, and integrated into the film’s full score.

Mr. Allman wrote the three cartoon themes with Stan Worth in one productive afternoon in 1967.

“Stan came over to my house,” Mr. Allman recalled in 1997. “We started at 1 o’clock, and by 4 o’clock we had three songs.”

In 1960 Mr. Allman made a comedy album, “Sing Along With Drac,” on which he sang monster-theme parodies of popular songs, including “Fangs for the Memory.”

He also collaborated with Bobby Pickett, the singer of “Monster Mash,” on a musical about Frankenstein, Dracula and the Wolfman called “I’m Sorry, the Bridge Is Out, You’ll Have to Spend the Night,” which bears a resemblance to the 1970’s film “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” but was written in 1966.

Mr. Allman, who was born in Chicago, moved to Los Angeles in 1949 and began writing music, singing in nightclubs and acting in film and television. He appeared in the films “In Cold Blood,” “Dirty Harry,” “Hud” and “All the President’s Men,” and in the television shows “Little House on the Prairie,” “The Twilight Zone” and “I Dream of Jeannie.”

He is survived by his wife, Dr. Lorraine Allman; a daughter, Anne Allman Huddleston of Los Angeles; and a brother, Sam Allman of Vancouver, British Columbia.

I had a wonderful day with the bro, a photo album, unsorted available here.

Seriously… we are bluntman and chronic. (though we don’t smoke the pot, these days.)

Time was spent visiting the art museum, the jazz brunch on riverwalk, the science museum for a lovely lunch (veggie subs at subway, his treat. 🙂 yum!) looking around at the library and the local churches, some run down buildings, a really neat underground bookstore (where I saw a RAW bok I’d never seen before…and will be back to get it payday) to get some iced tea and milk-duds, and los olas (which was a huge block party getting ready for the superbowl… people were still jovially buzzing, but there were lots of cops out and about for the dingalings that are bound to arrive with more booze or scoring happening on the wrong sides. dozens of couches and large screen TVs (REALLY LARGE, MOVIE SCREEN LARGE) were placed at the four corners of riverwalk, with plenty of brew, food and good vibes. I twas a little hot, but not too bad. Big laugh of the day, playing secret agent, taking pictures in the art gallery… a big no-no… we didn’t use any flash, so some of the pics are a little muddy, but I didn’t want to hurt any paintings or attract attention. Laughter reighned supreme with thumbprints…. a portrait of a woman, totally made of thumbprints… we created a whole history of a psycho artist kneeling over the canvas, naked except for a leather apron, giggling madly, and sticking his thumb on an inkstamp, and then to the page…. He was half gollum, half hannibal lechter.

At the library a rent-a-cop hassled me about taking pictures…out the window! Fark his noise.

I’m back now, and enjoying some applesauce, looking for non-football on TV. I got some serious sun.

And now, the obligatory Newtie pic of the day.