Mr. Fox Grapes Guy.

Him many lemon, give air ember gum.

2008-04-29T03:31:30Z

"Snail bet mule, 'let our limbs pose, sir!'
Illumine synthesis leaves."

Two Synthetic Limericks

2007-10-23T08:48:43Z

I worked these up a couple of weeks ago. They aren't too terribly witty, but they rhyme alright, and as Swift sarcastically said, "if it rings well upon the knuckle, be sure there is no flaw in it."

A Chemist, gone mad with distraction
Hurled into the sea his reaction.
To atone for this loss
He was made by his boss
To recover it via extraction.

--

There once was a fellow from Stowles
Who bred cockroaches, rabbits, and voles
Asked how he could keep track
Of this prolific pack
He replied "I just count them in moles."

--

Oh! I have a new website. Right now it's only filler and fluff-- stylesheets, scripts, odds and broken ends; the domain name is a charmer, though. It's six characters, and I got the dot com too!
http://ataxon.us

Post post.

2007-06-07T07:24:54Z

For a while now in the lab I've been working with a compound called diformylferrocene. I need it for the chemistry I do, it can't be bought, and it takes two days and maybe eight (inefficient) man hours for me to make it. This makes it a commodity of great value in the Diaconescu microcosm, and as such it is the object of perhaps more introspection than it deserves.

It is an interesting compound in its own right. Born from a mixture of opaque orange goop, it blooms into a deep, artificial red. It forms rocky, brittle, crystals that are almost black. It isn't toxic (I hope), but it is an "aromatic" compound-- which means one thing in the arcane world of Chemistry, but in real life means that it probably smells weird. It does, too! At first whiff I got the impression of mint, Play-Doh, and boing. I gathered the group to try for a scientific consensus. Colin thought it smelled like chocolate. Erin thought it smelled funny but couldn't say what it brought to mind. Nate just wrinkled his nose.

After a few minutes of monkey talk, the novelty of categorizing this strange new fruit wore off and we went back to work. I would still stick my nose over the vial before taking some out, would hold it up to the light and shake it a little, but no longer gave it any serious thought. After I while though, something started to happen. Y'see diformylferrocene is, like I said, a deep artificial red-- like cherry candy. And I found, after a few weeks of working with it regularly, that it had started to smell like cherry. Every time I caught the smell, the cherry was more distinct, more dominant. After a while it stopped smelling like mint or Play-Doh or any other weird thing-- it became cherry. It always *was* cherry. Diformylferrocene smells like cherry!

What's going on here? How can a thing that has nothing to do with actual cherries, and didn't smell like them at first, get that association in my brain? It's a testament to the flexability of the human brain, and actually it happens all the time without anyone noticing. Have you ever eaten Mexican watermelon candy? It doesn't taste anything like watermelon, does it? But then again, neither does a watermelon Jolly Rancher, if you think about it. Side by side, a real watermelon and a watermelon Jolly Rancher are about as similar as a miniature pony and a firetruck.

But! Every candy in the United States that says "watermelon" on it tastes like every other candy that says "watermelon" on it. And it's pink! Watermelons are also pink. The fact that watermelon candy tastes like nothing so much as Watermelon Candy makes little difference to your bendy, bendy, brain. Without thinking about it, your brain suspends its sensory disbelief. After all-- it no make monkey sick, it taste sweet. Why complain?

Well, it's like Democritus said-- "By convention sweet, by convention bitter, by convention hot, by convention cold, by convention color: but in reality atoms and void." It's an innocuous statement when the atoms are out of man's grasp. Sensations are caused by atoms-- but if you don't know anything about the atoms, who's to care? A pear is a pear is a pear. 'convention' assigns roughly one sensation to one object, and the sensations are produced mostly by the natural world. Here intuition works well.

The litany of progress, however, has delivered to us in the modern world a new kind of control. We can now manipulate the tastes and smells of every thing. This isn't bad, it's merely more complex. To get a good picture of this new world we need some new ideas, or rather, we have to be more conscious of our old ones. If 'watermelon' doesn't always mean a big green fruit with juicy pink pulp, then when we say 'watermelon' there is a little hint of ambiguity. The word is muddied, and slowly the idea will be too.

Of course this is natural-- a language is a big festering pool of words-- we always have to muck around to make ourselves clear. We can say "watermelon candy" is one flavor, and "watermelon" is another-- no harm done, you might say. Imagine, though, if watermelons were to disappear all of a sudden. 'Watermelon candy' could then just be called 'watermelon,' with no apparent ambiguity. The words are in competition, then.

In a hundred years we might call the green fleshy thing 'watermelon fruit' and leave the unmodified noun to the pink candy. An object, a taste, a unique sensation, would then have been eradicated. Worse than eradicated! Replaced-- not even remembered as an absence. This is all very paranoid and silly, but it bears remembering. I doubt man would, even if removed from nature entirely, ever forget completely the taste of "real" food, but stranger things have happened, and it would be a shame to lose the variety.

LAUGHTER-CALM

2007-01-04T08:15:04Z

For 7 1/8ths of a second, in a cave, screams of very wild laughter come from the rear (then front) of a split pole, while calm ("a frozen numbness") comes from the front (then rear), giving a sensation of total disagreement.

"The trick is to conceive of both at the same time."

(From supplementary material regarding The Fishman Affidavit.)

Beep Boop Breakdown

2006-11-04T02:12:53Z

Richter and many other scientists hope a shift in Congress will allow
moderate Republicans -- of which there are few in the House -- to
"stop being party robots."

2.50 Chinese Food

2006-03-27T22:32:24Z

I'm driving around on my lunch break, scouting the greater Sylmar area for takeout Chinese food and cheap coffee. I see something. Oops! Miss it. I turn, but too late. I'm in an uncharted parking lot. I see a sign. It says "Takeout Chinese food." I go in. I see a menu in front of the counter. It says "2.50." I wonder if it means the food. It does. A Chinese man standing behind the counter takes my order (there's nobody but him, me, and the cooks). I order the Mandarin Chicken. I'm told to wait 5 minutes. I go outside. I see another sign. It says "Coffee and Cream". I go in. I see a menu behind the counter. One line says "World Famous Mud Coffee." I have never heard of Mud Coffee. I think it sounds good. I ask for some Mud Coffee. The woman behind the counter says they don't serve it anymore, because it wasn't popular. I think that's too bad, but I order some regular old coffee anyway. It's 1.50 (plus another 1.50 to use the ATM-- but that's ok, because I don't think the "Takeout Chinese Food" people are going to take my credit card, so I need cash.) I go back to Takeout Chinese Food and wait for my Mandarin Chicken. I try to read the magazines, but they're all in Chinese. I look for Roman characters. The only thing I can find is "H A Y A O M I Y A Z A K I." I guess that makes sense. China and Japan use different alphabets. I put down the magazine. I get my Mandarin Chicken. I pay 2.50(!) I go back to the lab and open up my takeout container.

Amazing.

It's like normal takeout chinese food, but with much less meat. It turns out you don't *need* the meat. Most places just put it in there because you expect a lot of meat with your meal. These guys just weren't worried about that. I ate all of it. I was satisfied-- full, even.

Continued later. Time to close up the lab.

Currently, item can be shipped only within the U.S.

2005-12-24T06:31:56Z

I don't know. I try to make a contribution to this internet thing. I try real hard sometimes. I think it's important. But it doesn't matter. I can't even make a dent. The internet belongs to the collective, and sometimes it's obvious. These things just spring up like mushrooms. It's damn magical.
Fantastic.

Big Mouth Billy Bass. A controversial man, but well liked. Popular, even. Why?

" Big Mouth Billy Bass is a very funny piece of comedy. It has the outer appearance of a well taxidermied fish, but is in actuality, a robotic singing fish. You just put Billy on a wall, table, bookshelf, endshelf, mantle or any other place at all, and when someone walks by, he starts singing a song and wiggling around. It is really funny because people don't expect it, because its a fish, and it looks dead, but it is actually not dead, it is robotic, and it can sing. You could really surprise a person in your office, or a child, or an older person with this. I'm certain that especially older peoples will fall for this gag, because often, the elderlies are not aware of technology.

A child might also like this, and it could possibly be used to teach songs to children in a group learning environment with a microphone and a speaker rig. Or perhaps a funny principal could have it in his office, and sometimes it would sing."

I don't know where this one really comes from. The guy who did the review hasn't reviewed anything else. Is this capitalism gone awry? He has that foreign mystique about him though, doesn't he? A sincerity that can only come from being utterly in over your head.

Some of these reviews are obviously satirical and some are by small children, but they aren't the real interest. There are some self proclaimed adults here.

"Steve", a reviewer of no little renown, says:

"This is a cute little device that will amuse people who have never seen it before. It's also useful to hear Billy Bass sing "Don't Worry, Be Happy" when you're a little depressed."

First an enigmatic traveler (do I detect the scent of cumin?) and now a man whose soul was lost long ago. I can almost feel the drudgery of an industrial workday fading into dull white light, pulsing to the rhythm-- "Take me to the river... Put me in the water..."

And then, just as we begin to fade into opiate induced coma...

BILLY BASS IS GOOD & VERY GOOD FISH> NO MATTER WHAT EVERY BODY THINK I T IS VERY GOOD IAM 35 YEAR OLD

And we are snapped to attention. This one I cannot explain. Small children do not have this kind of spelling-- and look, he used the ampersand. That's advanced.

He reminds me of a certain Fallen Idol.

Of course, not all of the reviewers are of the lower class:

"buy this cheesy fish for your friends. It's guaranteed to be the hit at a party. The fish is great for a party room."

This enigmatic globetrotter has found the perfect icebreaker. Ah! The marvels of the modern age!

And then a prophet of disturbing prescience, signed "The maw of hell, opened". After describing Big Mouth Billy Bass's shortcomings, he says:

"Dear God, please don't let them come up with a sequel. At least not before Christmas. The thought of a singing mounted deer head (or God forbid, moose) makes me shudder."

Of course, both these exist; the former in a sharper image catalogue, the latter at Six Flags Magic Mountain (its image I carry with me to this day, the only memory of The Most Depressing Restaurant In History too traumatic even to suppress.

But after this wisdom, another icepick to the skull:

"Great "ice breaker"
Think about "Billy" as an investment in someone's smile. What a great way to start up conversations with someone. No one can listen to the singing fish and not make SOME kind of comment! Even after the "new" wears off, it's funny to occasionally push the button when no one is suspecting and give 'em a little chuckle. Beware tho, the songs can get "stuck" in your head! Hey, life's short, be a little silly sometimes!"

Chilling. Life is short, O' gentle reader, and Big Mouth Billy Bass may be your last trainstop between this realm and the bleak halls of the underworld.

And then...

"Well if you like this sort of thing, then it is definately a knee slaper! But if you don't have a good sense of humor then you will find if a waste. I will say that it went over very well in my ENTIRE family, but, we tend to have a dry sense of humor. If you don't, then don't bother! If you do, well plan to laugh!"

Yes, a dry sense of humor.

I can't do anymore. It's just too much for me. Some people understand what's going on. Some of those reviewers have things straight. But those guys are there by mistake. They just wandered in. They wandered into a cultural party they just weren't ready for.

I mean, there's more. Protestations, disbelief, anger, apocalyptic dismay. Unadulterated joy, mirth, laughter, amusement, annoyance. Human emotion, in all flavors and degrees of sincerity. "Write a review". Dear God.

Corn - News - Sex

2005-12-09T19:00:33Z

fimbaz @ 2005-10-12T10:50:00

2005-10-13T06:41:29Z

I don't know how you people get around with so few dimensions.

fimbaz @ 2005-07-12T05:04:00

2005-07-12T11:08:33Z

First, introductions:

Taco used to lag cast standing still imo
i was rr3 when NF came out

Instigation:

11 mlf guilds out of the 13 in the top 25 this week cheat..nice assumption LOL

Response:

Naproxin... does it bother you to know, that, I would truely, deeply, like to see your belly button scouped out of your gut with a sharpened spoon, and then, with my own hands, peel your entrails out of your body cavity, tie them like a gristly gore encrusted bow around your neck, and then pull them tight, until they either tear open, spilling the digested remains of your last meal all over your gasping, shrieking chest, or you strangle to death, first turning a brilliant red, then a deep shade purple, with me, lording over you the entire time, gazing into your eyes... waiting with anticipation for the moment the light goes out of them. That would be grand so see. For me, the pinnicale of delicious entertainment.

I'd enjoy watching you bounce off this mortal coil, reformed cheater or not, I'd pay hard currency for the chance to see the charnel. Cheaters are sub humans, and I'd have no problem if they were delt with. I'd sleep rather well actually. Hard to be sad for a dead rat.

Further Instigation:

only thing i have to say is wow you are a looser.. do you realize this is a game.. not life. i got a idea.. turn your computer off... get a job.. find a women (the prittyer the better) get laid..

Concerned Inerjection:

I'd much sooner imagine you screaming as some brute stuffed a sharpened rail road tie down your throat, as you sat handcuffed to a folding metal chair. The brute would stop pushing the sharpened rail road tie when he feels it hit the concreate floor, and yes, I do realize this would necessitate him ramming in not only through the entirety of you, but the chair as well.

PS: You are sub human, why should I care what you think about me - that's like worring if a cockroach thinks poorly of you? Someone call the Orkin man please.

Measured Response:

lol you sir have issues.. but like i said.. 3rd party programs only help the driver in rvr :-P. if you really think the only reason i have almost 4.5 million rps is because i used (3rd party programs) you sir have never played suport.. lol

Suport is a hard role my friend. Everyone wants you dead.. and you cant just run all the time.. you have to heal interupt and keep alive. there isnt a 3rd party program that helps you do this.

Yes my guilds in the past have been abit shady.. radar helps you find fights.. dosnt help you win them. (fyi radar dosnt help you in a tower. and 1/2 of my rps were from my camp guilds).

So like i said sir. go try to have fun. Stop trying to worrie about others and go get laid trust me once you do that you wont be worried (OMG HE USED TO RADAR. HE DOSNT DRIVE THE GROUP HE DOSNT DO ANY KIND OF CC... BAN HIS ACCOUNT!!!!)

Further Measured Response:

Every thing you have accomplished is meaningless.

You cheated and that negated everything - you are summerily wothless - devoid of any value whatsoever - as a human beign or as a DAoC player.

Any claims to skill, patience, timing, are moot - you are poisoned fruit, damaged goods, sub human, and unworthy of any merit, recognition, or even the privledge of continuing to breath - let alone continuing to play DAoC.

While, (sadly), distance, the reality of the legal system, logistics, and actual physics prevents me from actually carrying out your gristly and very bloody slaughter, nothing can stop me from sitting back, and imagining the sweet sweet symphony of your shrieks as you are vivisected with an industriel sized pair of tin sheers.

Quiet now... Shhhhh.... I can almost hear the crunching noise your ribs are making as the giant scissors slice you in twain. God... what a great piece of viceral imagery.

And:

hat is one idiots opinion. Most of the active rvr guilds.. MLF and galahad alike on hib.. hell even in alb want me to play there suport.. so.. hmm.. i dont cheat anymore but am still highly requested... hmmm crazyness isnt it..

and:

What fun is "life," when I can create vivid mental imagry of you, being slowly squashed - ooozing red like an overripe tomatoe - in a paper press. First the screams, then the crackling of bones and tendons snapping like dry twigs, then, the final, satisfying "gush" as all of your internal parts rupture.

If you would REALLY like to help me, you can, nestle your head in your open car door - near the hinges by the wheel well - and have a co-worker - preferably the 270lb guy that fixes the copier - kick the door as hard as they can. If you really really really want to help, you could have those surviving you PM me photos of the aftermath.

Do your self a favor bro.. get away from your computer :-) experience life..

[[I don't know these people, but they're on the same internets as me]]

KNOW YOUR INTERNETS COMMUNICOPOLIS
!@!@!@!@!LETS KNOW OUR NEIGHBORS ON THE INTERWEBNETS!@!@!@!@!@!@!@

##EXCITING###

fimbaz @ 2005-05-17T00:21:00

2005-05-17T06:27:32Z

The sting of the fire coral induces intense burning pain, with central radiation and reactive regional lymphadenopathy.

Subproject: complete!

2005-03-16T00:47:17Z

My Take

2005-03-14T23:45:14Z

On the balance between Empiricism and Rationalism.

Rationalists, so far as I can tell, think that the ability to reason is inborn and natural. Reason is a means to determine unknown values using given known values. Which means that it is a way to glean information from the world at large. This trait it shares in common with only a few other human faculties. Specifically, the senses. The ability to percieve sight, sound, feel, smell, and taste all involve taking known values and using them to determine unknown ones. Note that they do this without using reason. Also note that this function is (apparently) the *only* function of the senses, and the *only* function of reason. All use derived from the senses stems from this function, without exception-- the same is true for reason.

Therefore, I postulate that reason is a sense. No different from vision, say, than vision is from hearing. The question must be answered, of course: If reason is a sense, whence does it get it's input? The answer is, I think, from the other five senses.

Consider then, that without an influx of empirical information, the senses do not develop. A child born into a dark world would have no use for his eyes if after living there he came to a world with light. His eyes would have become useless appendages-- and the same is true for any sense. So then, a child deprived of the sensory information necessary to conduct reason (assume, say, that he is kept in a sensory deprivation chamber from the moment he is born. Provided with nutrients, but no sensory input) will be incapble of comprehending even the most basic logical construct. Even the statement "a = a" would have no meaning to him. A person like this would appear, most likely, to be in a vegetative state. He would not appear to be a concious being-- and indeed, since he would be incapable of understanding or using equalities, he would also be incapable of understanding the idea of his own conciousness, which would make him, by the accepted definitions, a being *without* conciousness.

If this is so, then a few strange conclusions can be drawn. First, that every human mind contains at birth the seed necesary to produce a rational, concious, being. And second, that rational sensory information is the only way to germinate this seed.

Progress and Mental Poverty

2005-03-05T05:53:56Z

Courtesy of Ben.

You could be the next winner!

Slapdash Statistics

2005-01-24T09:52:00Z

Tinkering around with my a calculator, the internet, and a wild menangerie of insane assumptions, I arrived at the following:

Each cigarette smoked is equal (in terms of danger) to 69.2 miles driven in the United States.

I'm not even going to make a list of how many things I had to pull out of my ass to make that up, but I'll tell you that if anything, that is a very high estimate.

Shoddy Lumber.

2005-01-14T10:28:09Z

The magazines coming my way this past week are telling me something. Time magazine is talking about happiness. Talking what makes people happy, talking about money, how it doesn't make you happy. A whole issue, almost all about happiness. Discover magazine had an article this month about how the disappearance of the human race would effect the world. Human effect on the world was one of the big themes throughout the issue. Time magazine, along with Wired, has been telling me for months about luxury, and about how humans have more of it now than ever-- specifically, they have been talking about how the accoutrements of the upper class are filtering down to more and more of the population. A physicist is talking about all the energy we'll need to support developing nations-- since they'll develop a thriving middle class before too long. Middle class people take a lot of energy to maintain. Specifically: I, a middle class person, require a lot of energy to maintain. I am a greater drain on the enviornment than almost anyone before me. This forces me to think, to consider the path upon which my enviornment has set me. Is it correct for me to ride the wave that my sources tell me is coming? Is it an advantage to me? Does it aid my goals?

Human beings, by default, obey certain rules. We eat, we sleep, we procreate. Beyond that, there are secondary items. Not so much rules as guidelines-- percieved internally as "goals". The primary directives we are almost powerless to alter. The secondary ones can be altered almost at a whim. Today, it is left to the individual to determine their own secondary directives. What are appropriate directives? What is the appropriate thing for a material entity to do when all the primary directives are accounted for? Most people in the world forced to answer this question have taken the path of least resistance. Their primary needs fulfilled, they shrug and keep consuming, still striving towards primary objectives. That is the path provided by inertia. That is the thing that people do if they do not do anything else. I think I have followed that path, and I think that is a mistake. Problem: If I stray from the path provided by inertia, I must do so with reason. What reason do I have?

I am afraid this will come down to painfully stubborn axioms. I don't like the feel of it. I don't like the way it slides through my fingers. It is a slimy issue.

Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome your input. What path are you following? I am curious. Tell me if you'd like.

I think what it will come down to for me is religious zealotry. If you're in a dark room and you see a light, follow it. If you don't see a light, strike a match and chase that. That's the anthem of religion. Some people have been lucky enough to hallucinate a light. I, unfortunately, do not have the schizophrenic inclinations necessary to fabricate one. I must rely on the material world, and strike a match to follow. It does not much matter what I call it, so long as I can follow it. I think I will call that match "science", and run as far as I can. But I am lucky in that. I am insane enough persue a goal as esoteric as "knowing what the material universe is like". Without scarcasm, I will admit that it was picked, more or less, at random. I think it was picked very early in my life, but it was random nonetheless. The rest of you, who may be not so mad as I, or may be madder: what do you call your match? Answer if you please, and illuminate me.

You Can't Fight City Hall.

2004-12-10T11:46:08Z

One of the consequences that comes from studying the Sciences is an occasional feeling of purposelessness. Scientific disciplines encourage, nay, require, one to see the Sum of Things from a very distant point, and this causes the kind of theological nausea to which I refer. As one gets farther away from the personal motivations that drive everyday life, all of humanity, and then all of existence, seems to blur into a single point-- devoid of "purpose". Matter, after all, does not care. The atoms that compose our bodies do not give a whit if we take them all and jump them off a bridge. The entire universe, active though it may be, is without motivation, without emotion, without *humanity*. It is a very impersonal place, looking at it scientifically, and that is, once again, a bleak thought. One cannot cling to the idea of the soul, either-- synaptic firings are testable, supernatural entities are not. Chemistry and Biology will, without a doubt, one day reduce our thoughts, actions, and emotions to mere causality. At every turn we find the material nature of things. Human beings are metaphysical entities awash in a sea of the material. Even our bodies and minds are material, completely and utterly-- and any urge we get, any thing we do, is nothing more than the result of chemical reactions.

One feels like a child left without his parents at a carnival-- despairing, clueless, and utterly turned around, and that is the only side of the coin some people choose to see. Certainly, even the most avid proponent of science must see it-- but there is a cure to this theological nausea.

After all, a lost child at a carnival is, with the proper application of perspective, a rambunctious youngster in a fantastic wonderland, free of constraints and supervision. Just as the universe does not care if we jump off a bridge, it is powerless to stop us from doing whatever else we will to do. Even as our sentient nature places us apart from the rest of the known universe, it gives us domain over it-- with no one to oppose us but ourselves.

This has all been said before, but one benefits from the occasional rehashing of the obvious.

Choleric Imbalances.

2004-11-07T09:27:37Z

This one time I will allow myself a quote.

"There is nothing permanent that is not true, what can be true that is uncertain? How can that be certain, that stands upon uncertain grounds? The mind of man a greedy hunter after truth, finding the seeming truth but changing, not always one, but always diverse, forsakes the supposed, to find out the assured certainty, and searching everywhere save where it should, meets with all save what it would. Who seeks & finds not, seeks in vain. Who seeks in vain, must if he will find seek again, yet all in vain." -- George Silver, Paradoxes of Defense.

928th In A Series of Wednesdays.

2004-11-04T06:22:30Z

And I expect nothing less.

Oh, I guess we have a new man who wears a hat. I mean, the vote guy. The guy who we vote for that wears the hat. The *metaphorical* hat. The hat of authority. And I guess he's not a new guy. He's an old guy. But he was gonna be an old guy either way, but I mean he's the *old* old guy. The previous one. The one that was the new old guy last time when the *old* old old guy's turn wearing the hat was up. When the old old old guy got done wearing the hat, he had to give it up, and the old old old guy's old buddy decided he was going to try for the big hat. Of course, some other guy wanted the hat too. He had some relative who wore the hat before, I guess. I'm thinking he wanted the hat back. So he got the hat. A lot of people say he took the hat from the old old old guy's buddy. I guess they were both buddies of people who used to wear the hat. But I think the guy that got the hat had some other connection with his buddy-- like maybe the guy caused him to be born by impregnating somebody. I don't know the details. Hat people are very private, and I imagine something like that would be pretty embarrassing.

But that's history. This time the guy who got the hat last time was protecting his hat from this other guy who was wearing a smaller hat. He really wanted that hat. They both wanted the hat, actually. The one guy wanted to keep it, and the other guy wanted to have it, cause it was bigger than his old hat. That didn't work out. A bunch of people decided that he wasn't going to get the hat. Some people aren't happy about that, but some people think it's ok.

That's the summary. Old old guy was fiddling around with the hat last night, but then he put it back on. The new old guy doesn't have a hat now. He used to have a smaller hat, like I said. I don't think they're going to give it back.

I guess a lot of people took off smaller hats last night, too. They gave their hats to other people. I think some of them want to use their small hats to earn a big hat. Some of them just like the shade, though.

And that was Tuesday. A lot of hat shuffling. They don't do it very often, so people were excited. I thought new old guy was going to get the hat, but he didn't. That makes sense. It can be tough to take someone's hat, especially when they know you're trying to take it.

In case you feel like I might be wasting your time:

No dood geed poes ungunnished.
Stime pops for Moe Nan.
Murning the Nidmight boil.
Mrying over crilt spilk.

And that's all. In the 21st Century, try not to hit your head on anything.

LAST MINUTE ADDENDUM
So I was filling out the voter registration form the other day. There's a party called the Peace & Freedom party. I didn't think you were allowed to make your party name nothing more than positive sounding nouns. This is a revelation to me. I figure in 2008, I'll run on a similar platform. Of course, the Peace & Freedom party are bunch of feminist socialists, so it will take some retooling to get the ideas just right for me. Have to change things around a bit. I've settled on calling my platform the Eye, Doughnut, Car, Party. I'll get more votes, because I have three positive sounding nouns instead of two. So remember: Vote Eye, Doughnut, Car, in 2008!

Foul Beings!

2004-10-26T02:59:54Z

What!? What is WRONG with you people? How could this HAPPEN!? How could this BE!?

You people are SICK! SICK, do you hear me!? As you can see, the gooseometer is at status critical. In the future, please try to keep this kind of thing to a minimum. There is a number of goose references I am prepared to see on my friends page. That number is 0. Keep your non-sequiturs as non-water-fowl-related as possible, please.

fimbaz @ 2004-10-25T19:50:00

2004-10-26T02:59:47Z

Blar!

Personal Reflection, Oct. 22 04

2004-10-23T07:10:58Z

So I'm sitting in a restaurant one day when I get the urge to wash my hands. You know, food coming-- don't want to eat with dirty hands. So anyway, I'm washing my hands in the restroom, water, soap, scrubbing, laa dee daa, and I haven't been paying much attention to the restroom. I mean, just a restroom-- I came in to wash my hands, not to admire the decorations, right?

So I'm washing my hands and my eyes kind of drift to the window above the sink, right? And there's this huge jackass grinning at me from the other side, just kind of staring and smiling! So naturally I look down, and I kind of half ass finish washing my hands, and get out of there in a flash. I get back to my seat and suddenly I'm not hungry. So I'm sitting there anyway, since I've already ordered, and I'm thinking about this guy.

First I'm angry, I'm thinking: what kind of an ass just stares in the bathroom window at people?! Then I start thinking about how maybe he's some kind of pervert voyeur, and that makes me real ticked off. But I keep thinking about that grin, and I start thinking maybe he's a retard or something. I don't know, I didn't want to check to see if he was criminal or just crazy. I picked at my meal and went home. Sometimes one ignorant jackass can ruin your whole fucking day.

fimbaz @ 2004-10-04T22:44:00

2004-10-05T06:42:02Z

Alright, I'm going to start this one by talking about my weekend, but hold on! Don't hurt me yet-- it's leading into something, I promise.

Friday, Saturday, not relevant for the purposes of this entry
Sunday-- that's what I'm going to talk about. On Sunday we set my grandfather's ashes out to sea. It was an informal thing, really. Rented a boat, went out half a mile, and cast the ashes overboard. We went to dinner afterwards. This is probably because my grandfather has been dead for 30 years-- the burial was duty, nothing more. Whatever grief there had been was cold now, and largely forgotten. It was surreal for me-- I never saw him, never heard but the barest details about him. On the boat, I found myself vexed-- I was itching for knowledge about this man, this enigmatic relative who supplied me with one quarter of my genes. Direct questioning wasn't an option, I knew-- I had questioned relatives on the topic before, and it produced a kind of lapse-- as if there were no information to be conveyed. I was lucky this Sunday, though. At dinner, my aunt told me she had found a cache of his writings ("he wrote?" I thought) and had brought them with her. Finally, some means to shed a light on this man! Naturally, I was estatic. I have assembled much of what I found-- transcribed, scanned, cleaned up, as a tribute to my grandfather. I think that turning his writing into bits and putting them on the internet is a fitting tribute for this man. Charles A. Baker, may you rest in peace.

(Ed. note: I will avoid giving my personal opinion until after the writing, lest I affect the reader in doing so)

First poem-- untitled, but dated. All these poems are, I assume, from a similar time period-- specifically, between 1925 and 1935.

This poem is one of two space epic style poems that I found among his writings-- this one posted here because it is the more legible of the two.

The remaining poems were either too light to scan, or in cursive, and have been transcribed into text.

(Note: this poem is not a final draft, I think-- not sure)

The wild waves crash on a rock-bound coast
And the night shuts down like a pall
From afar o'er that furious foam-flecked host
Of waves--there comes a call.

To us, snug and safe on good, dry land
Away from the breaker's maw
Signals come like a searching hand
From out of that angry roar.

All stations sign off as that call comes here
They know that signal means
That a ship is dying in seas of sheer
Brute strength, while the wild wind screams

God help those helpless mortals
Who cannot be saved tonight
For Death on them opens her portals
And for all time closes them tight.

So that no man living can hope to know
Just how those poor humans died
For who can find any trace to show
When Death is queen of the tide?

(Untitled)
Silver lakes sparkling
In sleeping moonlit glades
White snow-capped mountains
Casting darker shades
In the quiet valley
While the world in slumber rests
Life and nature lovely
While in quiet moon-light dressed

Transient clouds floating
In a midnight summer sky
Distant stars and near ones
Shining up on high
Ripples on the silver lakes
Run in tiny rills
This is the song of moon-light
To which all nature thrills

Until the icy blasts flow
Down from the northern hills
When ripples on the silvery lakes
No longer run in rills
What stars there are, are distant
Cold and chill they blaze
And as the storm clouds gather
They shine frigid through the haze

When the winter passes
And leaves the world serene
Cool and calm is nature
Clothed in moon-bathed green
And on the stilly summer nights
When not a sound is heard
'Tis still the song of moonlight
Which again enchants the world

(Untitled)
Green combers break on that sandy shore,
And tall palms sway in the breeze
While gulls wheel high o'er the sandy floor
Of that isle in the emerald seas.

All is quiet, and bright, and pure
On this island of my dreams,
Where man is unknown, and gold is no lure,
Save the gold in the dancing sunbeams

Where heaven's vault is a sapphire blue,
'Till it blends with the ocean's green
At the edge of the world, in a circle true,
Where no human eye has seen.

Soft white clouds float high in the sky
And wavelets music make,
Where the rest of the world shall pass us by,
As the haunts of man we forsake.

That's not all there is, but it is most of it. I am utterly shocked that this man, whom I have never in my life met, could be so similar to me. Consider he was born in 1909, in New England-- to a family which was, by all accounts, dirt poor. In terms of enviornment, I share practically nothing with him, and yet he writes things that I, on more fanciful days, might write. Certainly I have abandoned poetry almost completely-- but that is because of all the bad poetry to which I have been exposed. My grandfather, living a life infinitely more sheltered, never knew anything about the proliferation of poor poetry. In fact, when he wrote all of this, there were less than half as many potential bad poets-- the population of the United States was barely 100 million. In any case, I do not think he was among the bad poets. It seems to me that he had some talent-- perhaps it is just because he is my relative, and because I did not know him, but I see genuine quality in some of this poetry, unpolished as it sometimes is. Certainly it is leagues above most things you might find on Livejournal (and I think I can say that with confidence).

Well, that's all for that. Also of interest: The father of the woman he married (my great grandfather) was an avid Stalinist and was responsible for the formation of the Barber's Union in the United States. Alternatively, following the male line back further along Baker lines, we find an Arthur Baker, emigrated Englishman and post civil-war indian trader. Apparently the man took an indian for a wife. Somewhere in the lore also is a man kicked out of Scotland for sheep stealing, but for that I have precious little evidence. Also of some note is a Wilbur Baker, son of Arthur (and therefore father of Charles) who apparently fought in the Spanish American War.

Then on my mother's side, we have the travelling salesman from dustbowl era Kansas.

Such is my heredity: Enthusiasts of science and nature, working class rabble rousers, backwater aluminum siding peddlers, and Englishmen with itchy feet.

Figures, I supose.

Post Scriptum

If the images on this page cause horizontal scrolling, feel perfectly free to increase your screen resolution, you farsighted old codger.

Anagrammatical errors (a man, mailer! carrots rag!)

2004-09-11T08:58:37Z

An insane person ate cats, perhaps to pass the time . The alligators in the swamp were well, but attended with flashing eyes to their canoes, who ate the shade. A clay dervish set fire to a child's zamboni, while a fiddler ate marbles. The West Shore band, however, ate radishes, and wailed with delight as they flipped zestfully on the sand.

It is Casper, then, not Anna, that saps meer soap seep. Franc said that, but all the others lashed hemp ties to what wanted no tying-- she will go here, west-- weeee, ia! So, I let tired fate drive, as he does always-- a chill find, Mr. Chaz Brell bam. That was how it would ever be: Wide parsnips, fish, and the lightly frozen eyes that had seen the dead sell'd.

:::Legacy % Chips % Enterprise:::

2004-09-01T07:04:32Z

The Desktopian revolt has commenced! This is the HQ of the revolution! We will crush all who oppose us! Long live the mighty emprire of Desktopia!

We have created a quiz to quell your puerile minds. We understand that in this fief, such things pass for entertainment. Very well! If we must entertain you with mindless banter to quell the murmurings of dissatisfaction in your breasts, then we shall! Long live Desktopia!

++COMMENCE++

Do you think I'm:

An ion?
President of the United States?
Preferred by cats to other kitty litter nine times out of ten?
An astonishing piece of post modernist art?
The late Dave Thomas?
Amused by this?
A rather discomfiting shade of green?
Ever going to shut up?
A disembodied ball of light, hovering about 1/8" from your cornea?
Ace Convex, professional skeeball player?
Really Bimonthly Knitters Digest cover material? Really?
Transparent, translucent, or opaque?
Really responsible for what happens in the wax museum after the lights go out?
Just going to let you sit there and say things like that?

Have you ever:

Ended a sentence with a preposition?
Picked your nose while whistling?
Punched a tree in vengeance?
Accepted a gift basket as a bribe?
Driven a Buick? On purpose?
Stopped raping children?
Developed a bloody nose to gain attention?
Seen a mole that big?
Thrown a tomahawk in anger?
Run a green light?
Paused for dramatic effect during intercourse?
Dabbled in alchemy or multi level marketing?
Discovered your own boiling point?
Discovered your own pointing boil?
Thought about how many e-trees had to die to bring you this entry?

Would you:

Make a good contestant on The Price is Right?
Like to try a sample of Whurthas Wheaty Whurbles?
Wear a wig someone just took off of their head?
Skip with glee while wearing a suit?
Harass an orphan with a moustache?
Cut off a finger in protest?
Like to see how crackers are made?

++DISCOMMENCE++

Just remember, sparky: You saw it here first!