Category Archives: Uncategorized

Ah! to work, to work.

Got up nice and early this morning, and got out to start my 5 mile walk again. A beautiful morning, on a track populated by pretty girls on rollerblades. Sure, I can get back into the groove! 2 hours later, I was delighted to take a shower, and get all the walkie sweat off. the heat continued to build, during the lap, and I imagine the cleansing sweat was a good thing.

now, clean, fresh, and ready for my day, I’m at work, drinking atasty orange juice chug, and will fill out the day with only water from then on, fluids-wise. Lunch… well, we’ll see where they go for it… I imagine a veggie something with no bread will work. I’m going to try to kill the carbs… the oj was my sugar for the day. 🙂

replying to zebra – the FAQ grows.

**disclaimer, all answers subject to change at my own whim… **

So let’s talk about you.

Who are you? I’m Scotto, pleased to meet you.

Why are you here? A great number of reasons. I love the ability to post my journal online, private stuff to myself, public things for a bunch of nice folks to read. I’ve kept posting publicly, because I lovesome of the kind folks I’ve met.

How did you find this? By way of Ana cam. I’ve been a fan of her site for some years now.

Do you have a favorite color? Yes!

What is it? Green (sometimes Purple)

When’s the last time you brushed your teeth? This morning, after breakfast.

Who do YOU think shot JFK? He wasn’t shot. He was killed on a hunting expedition in Africa by a tiger in 1960. 1963 Dallas was a stand-in, and a poor one.

Do you sing loud when you’re by yourself? If the song requires it.

What’s your weirdest quirk? Collecting “trophies” of folks I care about. (all are given to me freely, not stolen, or garbage.)

If you could ask any one person any question in the world and get an honest answer, what would you ask and to whom? There’s no secret I need to know that badly.

Do people ask you for advice a lot? Yes. Although it’s not often followed.

What would you ask me if you could ask me any question you wanted? What brought this questionnaire on?

Do you think there’s a meaning to life? Growth, improvement, Love (not necessarily in that order)

Do you believe in God? Not as a big man in robes in the sky, no.

Do you want to marry? If I meet the right person, yes.

What’s the last dream you had? living in a hostel with some ex-friends, I was concerned about the conditions for Newton, my cat, as the door wouldn’t close, and he’s an indoor cat. We were undercover, posing as drifters to catch and kill a villain of some sort.

If you could be anyone’s underwear for a day, whose would you be? I don’t have a longing to be anyone’s undergarment.

Do you still talk to your parents? Yes, although I prefer the answers I get from the dead one.

Who’s your favorite character off Sesame Street? Rowlf, in his Cameos, Ernie in his mainstreams.

Do you like The Far Side? Yes! But I’m glad he stopped, as he was burning out.

Are you, too, afraid of the Village People? Not even a little bit. I find them entertaining, and a constant source of amusement.

If you had to sum up your entire life’s experiences in a single song, which song would you pick? These days, I lean to “Yesterday” by the Beatles. Times change, though.

Do you have a picture of yourself you really like? Yes, a few.

Are your elbows resting on anything right now? air

Are you wearing glasses? Nope!

Socks? nope!

Shoes? Nope!

Jewelry? Necklace made of seashells and beads.

Clothes? Yes! Joe-Boxer shorts, plain white t-shirt, ghi pants.

Do you believe in miracles? I believe incredible, unexplained things can happen.

What’s the last nice thing you did for someone, just because? Bought Pixie Dinner, and gave slice & Soda to Joel.

So where is Jimmy Hoffa, anyway? Four words into the question.

Did that make you smile? No, but I was grinning already.

If you suddenly woke up tomorrow with the ability to make anyone vanish from the face of the earth at will, never to return again, would you use it? If provoked enough, yes.

What shampoo do you use to wash your hair? Kangaroo somethingorother. It’s good.

What is your name? “My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.”

When’s the last time you mailed something via post? 3 weeks ago, a letter to a friend in the Utah.

Do you speak any languages besides English? Pig Latin, gibberish, city-speak, gutter talk, a mishmash of Japanese, Spanish, German, what have you.

Are you the only person in America who watches French art films? No, but I am one of some.

When is the last time you couldn’t quit laughing? Talking with my brother in borders last Sunday, telling an off-color joke.

Are you a patient person? With people who deserve it, in my opinion. People who have lost my trust, or are deliberately being stupid get the short end of the stick.

Do you fall in love easily? I get crushes easily. Love, not nearly as often.

What’s the last book you read? From cover to cover? The KJV bible.

What time is it? 11:06pm EDT, Tuesday, October 10, 2000.

What was the last thing you drank? Mountain Dew in a can. 12 oz.

Where are you? In my apartment in Pompano Beach, Florida, USA, Earth, 3 planets out from Sol.

How are you? My mother and father copulated, and 9 months later, here I am. I’m doing ok.

Why are you where you are? Because I’m not anyplace else. Personal Choice.

Why are you how you are? My environment and experiences summed me up to this point.

Be honest this time — how are you? I’m ok. Things have been better, they’ve been worse. I’m on a positive path, if a bit unsteady.

Are you satisfied with that? Yes, as long as long as things keep progressing in a reasonable way.

Have you ever written fan mail? Yes, to Robert Anton Wilson, Timothy Leary, Santa Claus, Sean Young, and Harrison Ford. Got nice replies from them all, too, if a few were form letters.

How about a letter to the president? President Carter was the last President I wrote to.

Do you have a checking account? Nope!

Are you registered to vote? Yup!

Did you bless the last person who sneezed around you? I gave a Gesundheit, if that counts.

Do you prefer white bread or wheat? Wheat

Low or high-octane gasoline? Neither. We have technology to bypass those. If forced, I choose the most efficient.

Do you like spinach? Yes.

Think about this once more, harder this time, and answer it for me again — who are you?
“I am a son,” he answered, “a firstborn.”
“I am your servant, and servant to mankind.”
“I am an alien and a stranger among you. Sell me some property for a burial site here so I can bury my dead.”
“I am nothing but dust and ashes, much as yourself.”

A better question would have been “Who (or what) aren’t I?” To penalize you, I shall give my answer in a multiple-choice format:

Am I:

(A)An ancient and powerful conspiracy that has manipulated humanity since the beginning of time for its own dark purposes?

(B)A hoax that only a raving paranoid would give any credence to?

(C)An interstellar power devoted to the utter destruction of the existing social order?

(D)The ultimate step in human evolution?

(E)A sick, twisted joke that’s gotten *way* out of hand?

or (F)All of the above?

Determining which (if any) of these answers is the correct one is left as an exercise for the reader.

shel.

on a nostalgia kick now.

here’s another.

The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.

– Shel Silverstein

was looking in burgundy’s journal…

and was reminded for shel silverstein…

a poem of his –

Twistable Turnable Man
He’s the Twistable Turnable Squeezable Pullable
Stretchable Foldable Man.
He can crawl in your pocket or fit your locket
Or screw himself into a twenty-volt socket,
Or stretch himself up to the steeple or taller,
Or squeeze himself into a thimble or smaller,
Yes he can, course he can,
He’s the Twistable Turnable Squeezable Pullable
Stretchable Shrinkable Man.
And he lives a passable life
With his Squeezable Lovable Kissable Hugable
Pullable Tugable Wife.
And they have two twistable kids
Who bend up the way that they did.
And they turn and they stretch
Just as much as they can
For this Bendable Foldable
Do-what-you’re-toldable
Easily moldable
Buy-what you’re-soldable
Washable Mendable
Highly Dependable
Buyable Saleable
Always available
Bounceable Shakeable
Almost unbreakable
Twistable Turnable Man.

riding the latest meme wave…. kellie, petfish, latrav and more!

1) What is your greatest extravagance?

Newton, I’ve spent more on him than anything else in recent memory… and worth every penny.

2) What sounds do you love most?

Newtie mewing when I get home, rainy white noise, friends laughing, toe-tappy music.

3) What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Hopelessness, the kind of feeling you can’t get out of.

4) Boxers or briefs?

I wear boxers when with others, either or when alone…whatever’s clean. 🙂

5) If there is a heaven, what do you want to hear God say when you arrive?

Good job, son. See, this isn’t all BS after all.. c’mon in…

6) What is your motto? Pax, Lux, Veritas – Peace, Light, Truth.

7) Do you have a dog?

Nope! Newton is a cat.

8) What is your favorite curse word?

*unpublishable here, due to FCC regulations*

9) If you were a super-hero, which one would you be?

Want to be – Reed Richards, of the fantastic Four
Would probably be – Animal Man (Grant morrison version)

10) How would you like to die?

painlessly, quickly, and after everyone else.

11) If you were a convenience food, which one would you be?

A frosted strawberry pop-tart.

12) What sounds do you hate?

wounded noises, screams, whining.

13) Which talent would you most like to have?

A comforting manner, to be naturally soothing.

14) What is your most treasured possession?

do pets count as possessions? Newton. Otherwise, my home-made necklace from dear friends.

15) If you are not the winner, would you rather be the runner-up or just take your ball and go home?

to paraphrase Ringo… “I’m just happy to be in the game”

argh. yar, matey.

I be havin’ a strong case of buccaneer-speak m’laddo. Yar. Swabs! Ahoy, landlubbers! Keelhaul the salty sot!

::sings::

Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun’s pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey’s throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o’day in a boozing ken
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of the whole ship’s list
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion’s axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes
In murk sunset and foul sunrise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of ’em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ten of the crew had the murder mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers’ glut with a rotting red
And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes
Looking up at paradise
All souls bound just contrawise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of ’em good and true – ‘
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ev’ry man jack could ha’ sailed with Old Pew,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
There was chest on chest of Spanish gold
With a ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot of stuff untold,
And they lay there that took the plum
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

More was seen through a sternlight screen…
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chartings undoubt where a woman had been
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
‘Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot
Oh was she wench or some shudderin’ maid
That dared the knife and took the blade
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
We wrapped ’em all in a mains’l tight
With twice ten turns of a hawser’s bight
And we heaved ’em over and out of sight,
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

time for another great idea.

> Let’s never disregard my favorite law enforcement euphemism,
>”Dynamic Entry.”
> Here in Birmingham, that’s what it’s called when the officers expect
>trouble. It usually works something like this, in the course of
>about, oh, three seconds:
>
> KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. “POLICE OPEN UP!” *CRASH*
> (Once the door has been obliterated, much cussing and confusion and
> handcuffing follows.)
>
>>Or at least that’s what they testify to…
>>instead of *CRASH*…cussing, confusion, handcuffing…”By the way,
>>we have this warrant”…:)

This is why I recommend killing two birds with one stone.

1) Rhinos don’t mate in captivity
2) The whole “warrant” and “probable cause” hassle.

So:
Since rhinos can smell water literally miles away and such, it’s safe to assume they have a great sense of smell. Using confiscated evidence, get them hooked on cocaine. Let them loose.

Soon, we have jittery. ill-tempered rhinos with delusions of bugs under their skins wandering the streets of a modern metropolis.

Inevitably, they smell coke. They charge. No crackhouse can withstand the assault of a crazed rhino who’s jones is comin’ down. And when a rhino smashes through your door, flushing evidence down the toilet is one of the last things on your mind.

The police, who’ve been following the rhino from a safe distance (hey, this is an Animal Control problem), get to enter the scene without a warrant because they were in hot pursuit. Probable cause? “Hey, we were trying to stop a rampaging rhino, the drugs were a bonus.”

As for mating in captivity: Give coke to females. Wait. Suddenly, captivity isn’t such a problem.

Also, a willing female rhino out in the trailer might be the only way to entice a belligerent male out of a wrecked crackhouse.

“Bad boys bad boys
Watcha gonna do
Watcha gonna do when AAAAAAAIIIIII!!!! Holy Crap, it’s a f-ing rhinocerous! RUN!!! (stomp gore impale)”

duck echo- from straight dope.

Dear Cecil:

Recently I read the useless fact that the quack of a duck will not echo. (1) Is this true? (I currently do not have access to either a duck or a canyon, or I would find out myself.) (2) Why not? (Assuming it is true.) (3) Are there other noises that will not echo? (4) Again, why not? –G. J. Thelin, Fresno, Dear California

Dear G.:

This is another example of faxlore–myths and factoids kept in circulation by people who obviously will believe anything. If you’re ever organizing a poker game, you definitely want to invite these guys.

Personally, I recognized this claim immediately for what it was–quackery. Preliminary inquiries confirmed this. Sure, there’s such a thing as destructive interference, in which colliding waveforms cancel each other out. But how this would cause 100 percent attenuation of an echo 100 percent of the time in uncontrolled conditions was beyond even me.

But never mind my opinion. What we need here is science. Knowing the only way to settle the question for good was an experiment, I assigned Jane to assemble the apparatus and conduct a test. Here is her report:

I spoke with several friends about the duck’s quack question, even called the Michigan State University animal science department. No one could confirm or deny the claim, and no one at MSU seemed eager to stage a formal experiment, the wimps. I mentioned my dilemma to a visiting friend, and he said his wife, Shareen, had an in with the director of Mott Hashbarger Children’s Farm and School in Flint. She had, on occasion, borrowed farm animals for events, and she was willing to get a duck and bring it down. After a quick phone call to the farm director, who gave his blessing, she obtained a duck and put it in a pet carrier.

But where to find a good echo? I live in mid-Michigan, after all. I called Glenn Brown, a sound engineer who has done work across the country. As luck would have it, Glenn remembered one place where, as a kid, he would go to produce great echoes. It’s at the back of East Lansing High School–a sort of courtyard between two classroom wings, about 30 feet wide and 170 feet long. The hard surface of the buildings and perhaps a low hill opposite are highly conducive to reflecting sound.

So, with friends, duck, and camera in tow, we drove to ELHS. In the courtyard without the duck we easily produced some impressive echoes. Next we got the bird and sat down in the middle of the courtyard. We thought he would produce a big quack and the experiment would be over. No such luck. He just wouldn’t quack. Probably he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? He was a sitting duck.

The three of us certainly quacked, though, such that we thought we might want to change the name of the experiment from ‘does a duck’s quack echo’ to ‘how to make three humans quack like a duck.’ We tried to be inconspicuous, since school was in session and students could see us. However, a duck and three quacking humans is not the sort of scene that fades readily into the woodwork. The duck quacked in the cage, which was useless for our purposes, but when we took him out he was mute.

Finally Shareen had an inspiration. She held the duck by his body so that he could flap his wings, and ran up and down the length of the courtyard hoping to replicate the experience of flying. So much for being discreet. Incredibly enough, this wacky stratagem worked. The duck loved it and quacked like crazy for a minute. Yes, the quacks echoed. This was heard by the three of us and by an unidentified East Lansing High School teacher who came out to make sure we weren’t engaging in duck torture. I was able to record the event but didn’t get a good sound recording of the echo itself. But I do have a dandy clip of Shareen running up and down with the duck. I call it my ‘duck tape.’

I wanted to reward my friends somehow, and offered to buy them lunch. They asked for roast duck. They’re such comedians. They settled for soup and quackers.

That Jane. What can I tell you? She quacks me up.