Ouch
No time for posting (I have to hang out with my bro' while he's still up), but there is always time for
Penises in the News. The UPI site that this links to has some stringent rules on republishing their stories, but I think I'm allowed (FAIR USE) to post the first sentence, which says it all:
FREMONT, Calif., Nov. 23 (UPI) -- The Grandmaster of Iron Crotch, Tu Jin-Sheng, strapped his penis to a rental truck and twice pulled it across a Fremont, Calif., parking lot.Apparently the man is a follower of Qigong, which is part of Chinese medicine, and focuses on breathing techniques. For a well-written description, see this
Wiki entry. At any rate, I'm off to see the bro'. I may return tonight, but who knows.
Was There Ever Any Doubt?
See this story: http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/11/20/torture/index.html .
Try Not to Look Away
Uh oh, the "T" word is coming. Torture is back in the news, and even CNN, part of the sleeping, lazy corporate media machine, has quite a few stories. See
this link from CNN, and especially the video section "Allegations of Abuse" (also see
previous rants by me).
Humanity can be an ugly word, in certain contexts--simply disgusting.
God bless America, and, while
You're at it, please guide those who use this phrase to justify such treatment of Human Beings. Allah, please forgive--or punish as you see fit--the actions of certain leaders, and blame not an unwilling populace. (Should both God and Allah be dead, please consult
Jehova, Buddha, Vishnu, or
The Deep Dark Nothing.) Mankind wants Peace, Power wants Power. Let's just hope we win, my friends. I haven't lost faith. . .yet.
Day Five
I've managed to remain relatively sane after five days of non-smoking. I'll be on the patch for a few weeks, so I'm not going through the physical withdrawal right now, but the habit is the hardest thing to break. I do feel much healthier though. I had been a non-smoker for three years prior to starting again nine months ago (approx.), so I still have a clear memory of what the life of the non-smoker is. I guess what I'm saying is that the transition isn't as hard for me as it would be for someone who had smoked for many years without trying to quit.
However, I must digress, as this isn't my smoking-recovery web page, so I'll move on to something else. Work has been going well, steadily, for the most part, with moments of utter stress, chaos, and--most of all--stupidity. I love my job, but there are times when I suddenly realize that I'm performing an exercise in futility (just on certain projects, not on a general basis).
I'm really happy with the way things are going with the job at the moment, but I want to be making more money--a lot more money--and sooner rather than later. I've conveyed these feelings to them in the most diplomatic terms I'm capable of, and we've come to a comfortable understanding, provided that I continue to work my ass off.
Around the same time that basically asked for a raise, there was another incident in which I dangerously rocked the boat (not to be written about here), and was ultimately given what I had understood to be mine. At any rate, Danger is my middle name, *heh* (sidenote: I used to work with a guy who was given the option of choosing his son's middle name, as his mother chose his first name, so he picked "Trouble," just so he could tell people that the kid screwed up because his middle name was Trouble).
I said I was going to start blogging more often, and haven't, but apparently I'm still capable of writing a few 'graphs. Work has been oh so draining lately. The days seem so much longer now that I'm not taking any cigarette breaks. I should just get up and go for a walk periodically. I don't think anyone would even say anything if I just walked out. Unless I didn't come back, that is. . .
I think I'll go out at lunch and try to get some pictures to post tomorrow. The republican party is doing a pretty good job falling on its face right now, so I feel okay about taking a break from political rants. People in America are finally coming to see the true nature of the beast we call Policy. Bush is a
snake oil salesman, nothing more, and phony patriotic rhetoric and
jingoism can only get him so far.
Okay, I said I wasn't going to rant. I'm off to bed soon. G'night all.
The Time Has Come
Yes, my friends, today is The Day. I have officially quit smoking (for about the tenth time or so). I made it past the Worst Part of the Worst Day Ever: The First Morning. Why am I capitalizing random words you ask? Good question, but if you'll stop interrupting me I'll actually be able to get to the heart of the matter. Okay, great, thanks. :-P I'm currently listening to a song called "Where is My Mind", by Pixies, which really suits my nicotine deprived state of mind. Work was a nightmare, of course, because nothing is ever easy, but I won't even get into that shit in this here post.
(By the way, for those who don't know, the band is not called "The Pixies", it's just "Pixies", and since the members of the band aren't
fairylike or elfin creatures, calling them the Pixies is wholly inaccurate.)
I happen to be the type of smoker who opens his eyes in the morning and needs to be smoking within thirty seconds or so. Some people who smoke can't imagine having one until at least late morning. I'm not one of those people. When I smoke cigarettes, I smoke a shit-load of cigarettes. As
I've said before, there is no middle ground for me. Either I smoke, or I don't. Henceforth (I hope), I Don't.
I'll probably start writing a lot more, to fill the spaces of time held by enjoying luscious, delicious breaths of smoke, *drool*. . .
I'm just kidding, of course. I'm using the nicotine patch, so it's really just the habit that's driving me to want to smoke. I came home to my apartment and noticed the stench of tobacco smoke for the first time. I have some serious cleaning and deodorizing to do. My roommate has agreed to smoke next to the fan near the window, which should help.
At any rate, this is getting boring. Sorry 'bout that. I'll return later with something much more exciting. Perhaps a good rant, or something involving the penis. Hmmm. . .
Mossy
Misty, Rocky Shores of New Hampshire
