Blog number 482******** 31 January 2011
We were driving north on Pinal Avenue here in the beautiful city of Casa Grande, Arizona, my wife and I, when I noticed red and blue lights flashing on top of a police car in the opposite side of the road in their left turn lane at a stop sign.
As I got closer, I noticed that the cop wasn't chasing the car stopped just ahead of it, but was instead parked behind it. The cop was warning traffic that the car which was first to turn in the turning lane, couldn't because it was missing a right front wheel.
Coming out of Walgreen's on the corner, a car pulled out and got behind the cop car into their left turn lane. Seconds later, another car followed him.I had to keep driving on, so I didn't get to see how long those two cars waited there before they noticed that they weren't gonna move any time soon and had better move into the straight ahead lane and make a U-turn somewhere.
Both of the drivers of these two cars had a perfect opportunity to notice what the problem was before they even moved out of Walgreen's parking lot. The flashing lights should have tipped them off that maybe they should look around and see what was happening - but noooooooo.
******************
This that follows has nothing to do with that which is above, but I just want to mention it somewhere, and since you won't allow me to accost you on the street, I'll have to settle for saying it here.
I watch The Daily Show religiously and I watch Bill Maher religiously. Both Bill Maher and Jon Stewart mention fairly frequently to Republican guests, their puzzlement with the Republican acceptance as beneficial to the country, tax cuts for the rich. Both Jon and Bill give as the downside, the fact that the cuts increase the national debt.
Every time I hear Stewart and Maher say this, I ardently wish they would instead, ask the Republican they are talking to, "Why DO the wealthy need more money? What are they going to do with it?"
THAT to me seems to be the most ridiculous part of giving the wealthy a tax break the rest of us ain't gonna get. What ARE they going to do with a few more millions added to their billions?
Buy a new car and thus do their part in getting the economy going?
Keep America strong, guys. Way to go.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
HAH?
Blog number 481******** 29 January 2011
About a week ago I started to notice small drops of oil on my driveway. The next time I parked my ' 99 Dodge Caravan, I observed that the engine was over a clear spot and an hour later when I again looked, two drops of oil about a foot apart lay on the cement.
I decided to have it looked at and repaired if it wasn't gonna cost all that much. At the same time, I decided to get a quote on a paint job, since the paint has severely corroded and there is even a two square inch space of bare metal showing.
I got the oil leak fixed, thank you, and the guy that ran the auto paint portion of the dealership told me he couldn't paint my van, but he gave me a page he got off the Internet showing the addresses of several MAACO Auto Painting shops in Phoenix, along with a small section for "reviews from around the web."
I was shocked to find that there is only one review, and that lone review says, "Do yourself a favor and don't use MAACO. The price is right, but you will hate the results."
Evidently they painted over his brand new rims and it took them three days to "clean up the mess."
Why would a company print something like this? They didn't have to. Why didn't they just leave it off? Who's gonna know? On the other hand, it is refreshing to see a corporation be so honest as to post the only review even though it is a bad one.
So what I think is happening in my head is that I am so impressed that they would print this bad review on the Internet for all to see, that I can forego the fact that it is a bad review. Kudos to MAACO! I love you, Man! Way to go!
Somebody just told me that MAACO has nothing to do with this site's content. So if that is true, and they had nothing to do with any decision to keep a bad review, then they go back in my estimation to being just another capitalistic corporation keeping America strong!
Probably owned by Pepsi Cola anyhow. Mumble mumble grsss grine...murmbal...
About a week ago I started to notice small drops of oil on my driveway. The next time I parked my ' 99 Dodge Caravan, I observed that the engine was over a clear spot and an hour later when I again looked, two drops of oil about a foot apart lay on the cement.
I decided to have it looked at and repaired if it wasn't gonna cost all that much. At the same time, I decided to get a quote on a paint job, since the paint has severely corroded and there is even a two square inch space of bare metal showing.
I got the oil leak fixed, thank you, and the guy that ran the auto paint portion of the dealership told me he couldn't paint my van, but he gave me a page he got off the Internet showing the addresses of several MAACO Auto Painting shops in Phoenix, along with a small section for "reviews from around the web."
I was shocked to find that there is only one review, and that lone review says, "Do yourself a favor and don't use MAACO. The price is right, but you will hate the results."
Evidently they painted over his brand new rims and it took them three days to "clean up the mess."
Why would a company print something like this? They didn't have to. Why didn't they just leave it off? Who's gonna know? On the other hand, it is refreshing to see a corporation be so honest as to post the only review even though it is a bad one.
So what I think is happening in my head is that I am so impressed that they would print this bad review on the Internet for all to see, that I can forego the fact that it is a bad review. Kudos to MAACO! I love you, Man! Way to go!
Somebody just told me that MAACO has nothing to do with this site's content. So if that is true, and they had nothing to do with any decision to keep a bad review, then they go back in my estimation to being just another capitalistic corporation keeping America strong!
Probably owned by Pepsi Cola anyhow. Mumble mumble grsss grine...murmbal...
Sunday, January 23, 2011
WOULDN'T YOU KNOW.
Blog number 481******** 23 January 2011
I read in the paper just this morning that a woman in Nambia was executed for the crime of putting her index finger to her ear while the "president" was speaking. She was probably just scratching her ear or something - whatever, even if it was a sign of disrespect, I don't think that warrents an execution.
But whadda I know, right?
Nah. That wasn't true. I didn't read that anywhere. I just made that up. I'm messin' wit ya.
Go about your business and think no more on this. That's what I'm gonna do.
I read in the paper just this morning that a woman in Nambia was executed for the crime of putting her index finger to her ear while the "president" was speaking. She was probably just scratching her ear or something - whatever, even if it was a sign of disrespect, I don't think that warrents an execution.
But whadda I know, right?
Nah. That wasn't true. I didn't read that anywhere. I just made that up. I'm messin' wit ya.
Go about your business and think no more on this. That's what I'm gonna do.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
THIS IS A KARTR STORY
Blog number 480******** 18 January 2011
Ok so this attractive woman sat next to me. Because I was ignoring her? Possibly. So my friend Tim walks in. I'm drawing, he's standing. He stands there for awhile and finally says, "Hi Kartr."
I know damn well that the main reason he wants to talk to me is to get to the woman sitting next to me. He sits down next to us and says, "I'm on vacation. Now I have to find something to do with myself."
When he says things like this, what he means is that he has plenty of free time. What he expects the woman to hear is, "you can have me at any time."
Then Tim asks me something but I can't hear him. He's on the other side of the woman and the place is loud. I say, "what?"
He repeats, but I still can't hear what he's saying. I tell him I can't hear him, so finally he leans forward and speaks much louder. "Sophia is going to Europe." Sophia is his daughter.
I tell him, "Yeah. You already told me this."
He brings this up whenever there's a woman around - sort of bragging, even though Sophia's step dad pays for it. He starts talking about she's been to China, Australia, other exotic places.
He's staring at the woman as she is eating. This goes on for a long time. I finally get back to my drawing and I know what's gonna happen next. The woman drops some food 'cause Tim is staring at her while she is eating, so Tim says, "Whoops! Ha ha." Polite chuckle, then, "do you need a bib? Ha ha."
I get up to leave. This is just too embarrassing.
I see Tim as an inconsiderate bully with women. He knows what he is doing, he just doesn't care. He has one thing on his mind and assumes that the woman has the same thoughts, and if she doesn't, it's not his problem.
I am pretty sure that on one level he is aware that women want him to leave them alone. He's had enough of them telling him to leave them alone. Some of that must get through, you would think. He's not a bad looking guy and I am sure that if he would make unto himself a more pleasant, considerate person he could have what he so obviously desires. He's his own rottweiler guarding the door.
I like this guy. I really do. I've tried to tell him what he is doing and what effect it has on women, but he knows best. What he needs is an experience that brings reality to his vision.
Ok so this attractive woman sat next to me. Because I was ignoring her? Possibly. So my friend Tim walks in. I'm drawing, he's standing. He stands there for awhile and finally says, "Hi Kartr."
I know damn well that the main reason he wants to talk to me is to get to the woman sitting next to me. He sits down next to us and says, "I'm on vacation. Now I have to find something to do with myself."
When he says things like this, what he means is that he has plenty of free time. What he expects the woman to hear is, "you can have me at any time."
Then Tim asks me something but I can't hear him. He's on the other side of the woman and the place is loud. I say, "what?"
He repeats, but I still can't hear what he's saying. I tell him I can't hear him, so finally he leans forward and speaks much louder. "Sophia is going to Europe." Sophia is his daughter.
I tell him, "Yeah. You already told me this."
He brings this up whenever there's a woman around - sort of bragging, even though Sophia's step dad pays for it. He starts talking about she's been to China, Australia, other exotic places.
He's staring at the woman as she is eating. This goes on for a long time. I finally get back to my drawing and I know what's gonna happen next. The woman drops some food 'cause Tim is staring at her while she is eating, so Tim says, "Whoops! Ha ha." Polite chuckle, then, "do you need a bib? Ha ha."
I get up to leave. This is just too embarrassing.
I see Tim as an inconsiderate bully with women. He knows what he is doing, he just doesn't care. He has one thing on his mind and assumes that the woman has the same thoughts, and if she doesn't, it's not his problem.
I am pretty sure that on one level he is aware that women want him to leave them alone. He's had enough of them telling him to leave them alone. Some of that must get through, you would think. He's not a bad looking guy and I am sure that if he would make unto himself a more pleasant, considerate person he could have what he so obviously desires. He's his own rottweiler guarding the door.
I like this guy. I really do. I've tried to tell him what he is doing and what effect it has on women, but he knows best. What he needs is an experience that brings reality to his vision.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
NOW HIRING
Blog number 479******** 15 January 2011
I'm eighty years old and my memory keeps slip sliding away. I am supposed to take my old timer pills at the same time every night. Sometimes it is past the time I was going to take them - because I forgot. And I can't remember whether or not I have taken them. I've tried leaving out the dose in a small dish, counting the pills left, using a pill box for measuring. None of that works often enough.
The one that seems to work the best is that when I take the pills, I tell my wife right then that I have taken them. So if I wonder whether I have taken them or not, I ask her. That makes two of us on the job at the same time. I did this last night and her response was, "I think so." Hah! Big help.
Thanks for nothing.
You're fired.
I'm eighty years old and my memory keeps slip sliding away. I am supposed to take my old timer pills at the same time every night. Sometimes it is past the time I was going to take them - because I forgot. And I can't remember whether or not I have taken them. I've tried leaving out the dose in a small dish, counting the pills left, using a pill box for measuring. None of that works often enough.
The one that seems to work the best is that when I take the pills, I tell my wife right then that I have taken them. So if I wonder whether I have taken them or not, I ask her. That makes two of us on the job at the same time. I did this last night and her response was, "I think so." Hah! Big help.
Thanks for nothing.
You're fired.
THEY BROUGHT IN THE HEAVY HITTERS (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 478******** 15 January 2011
Some lady was asking me what I was drawing. I told her it was private. She kept asking, so I gave her a green card. She read it and said, "wow" and handed it back.
I went back to drawing. Five minutes later she came back and said, "You know, we could have been friends. I'm an artist too. I waited until you were done before I asked you and you hand me this card that asks for $50 bucks."
I said, "Well, I always get interrupted and that breaks my concentration."
She said yeah, but you are in a public place, drawing, and she said some other stuff that I can't remember.
Finally I got a chance to speak and I said, "Can I tell my side of the story?"
She thought about it then said, "sure."
I told her about getting interrupted constantly when I draw, mostly by gay men using it as an excuse to hit on me. That's why I made the cards. (Two gay men sitting nearby heard this comment. I hope they pass it around.)
She said, "Well I'm not a gay man and I'm not hitting on you."
I said, "OK. Thanks for scolding me. I deserved it."
The reason I didn't wanna talk just then was that my drawing wasn't going so well and this makes me surly.
Hah! Right now I am surrounded by three women.
Some lady was asking me what I was drawing. I told her it was private. She kept asking, so I gave her a green card. She read it and said, "wow" and handed it back.
I went back to drawing. Five minutes later she came back and said, "You know, we could have been friends. I'm an artist too. I waited until you were done before I asked you and you hand me this card that asks for $50 bucks."
I said, "Well, I always get interrupted and that breaks my concentration."
She said yeah, but you are in a public place, drawing, and she said some other stuff that I can't remember.
Finally I got a chance to speak and I said, "Can I tell my side of the story?"
She thought about it then said, "sure."
I told her about getting interrupted constantly when I draw, mostly by gay men using it as an excuse to hit on me. That's why I made the cards. (Two gay men sitting nearby heard this comment. I hope they pass it around.)
She said, "Well I'm not a gay man and I'm not hitting on you."
I said, "OK. Thanks for scolding me. I deserved it."
The reason I didn't wanna talk just then was that my drawing wasn't going so well and this makes me surly.
Hah! Right now I am surrounded by three women.
Friday, January 14, 2011
CONFESSIONS
Blog number 477******** 14 January 2011
I feel like writing, so here is I. My joy, your cross. I don't have a theme in mind, so we will both discover what theme is going to emerge as I pass through time on my way to whatever.
When I first felt this urge to write this morning, I was reading Dear Abby like I do every day. As I sat down at my computer, ready to write about Dear Abby's letters, I realized I was going to make digs at the letters "she" gets as if they were real while at the same time showing that the letters were most obviously fake.
I quickly realized, sharp as I am, that it would be kinda nutty of me to treat something I was showing to be fake as something real in order to show that they were fake.
I am sure that mental lapse was caused by my desire to write. Thus I sit here writing about not writing about Dear Abby. Circles in the sky.
Which brings to mind another quirk of writers - faux plagiarism, usually in movies. You know, one movie shows an exciting theme of a car chasing a running girl (usually) down the middle of a street and from then on in all movies, this is where a protagonist will run while being chased by any vehicle that has to stay on a road.
The scene that brought me here to be writing about this stealing from other movies due to a lack of creativity came from a movie called, "The Lodger." A very good movie, by the way. Tricky ending.
Which reminds me of an HBO special on Bette Midler where the beginning before we get to see Bette is the most entertaining and unusual beginning I have ever seen. No lie.
In The Lodger, these two detectives are going into this house where they expect to find a Jack the Ripper imitator. The house belongs to the two who are renting to the lodger. They live there. There is nothing wrong with the electricity.
The detectives go through the huge dark house looking for the murderer, guns drawn, searching with flashlights in order to see into dark corners and rooms.
"Turn on the damn lights!" I kept wanting to yell, along with "I want a new director!"
I have seen this same scenario countless times and it always bothers me. Why it doesn't bother anyone connected with the making of the movie, I have no idea. One powerful arbitrator maybe? The guy who makes THE decision?
But that was a good movie, plagiarism of an unrealistic scene notwithstanding.
You might be pleased to learn, depending upon whether or not you were entertained or put upon, that my writing urge has ended and I go in peace now into my future. May it bring untold wealth and power.
You might also think that the above paragraph doesn't quite fit here, since this entry isn't really long enough to have bothered anyone who didn't appreciate the writing. What happened was that I couldn't remember Bette's name - whether it was Beth or Bette, so I had a long digression and a long explanation of why that digression occurred which has now all been deleted.
I wrote that mentioned paragraph before I spell checked and found Bette's real name and decided to leave it. This is a confession after all.
Bye.
I feel like writing, so here is I. My joy, your cross. I don't have a theme in mind, so we will both discover what theme is going to emerge as I pass through time on my way to whatever.
When I first felt this urge to write this morning, I was reading Dear Abby like I do every day. As I sat down at my computer, ready to write about Dear Abby's letters, I realized I was going to make digs at the letters "she" gets as if they were real while at the same time showing that the letters were most obviously fake.
I quickly realized, sharp as I am, that it would be kinda nutty of me to treat something I was showing to be fake as something real in order to show that they were fake.
I am sure that mental lapse was caused by my desire to write. Thus I sit here writing about not writing about Dear Abby. Circles in the sky.
Which brings to mind another quirk of writers - faux plagiarism, usually in movies. You know, one movie shows an exciting theme of a car chasing a running girl (usually) down the middle of a street and from then on in all movies, this is where a protagonist will run while being chased by any vehicle that has to stay on a road.
The scene that brought me here to be writing about this stealing from other movies due to a lack of creativity came from a movie called, "The Lodger." A very good movie, by the way. Tricky ending.
Which reminds me of an HBO special on Bette Midler where the beginning before we get to see Bette is the most entertaining and unusual beginning I have ever seen. No lie.
In The Lodger, these two detectives are going into this house where they expect to find a Jack the Ripper imitator. The house belongs to the two who are renting to the lodger. They live there. There is nothing wrong with the electricity.
The detectives go through the huge dark house looking for the murderer, guns drawn, searching with flashlights in order to see into dark corners and rooms.
"Turn on the damn lights!" I kept wanting to yell, along with "I want a new director!"
I have seen this same scenario countless times and it always bothers me. Why it doesn't bother anyone connected with the making of the movie, I have no idea. One powerful arbitrator maybe? The guy who makes THE decision?
But that was a good movie, plagiarism of an unrealistic scene notwithstanding.
You might be pleased to learn, depending upon whether or not you were entertained or put upon, that my writing urge has ended and I go in peace now into my future. May it bring untold wealth and power.
You might also think that the above paragraph doesn't quite fit here, since this entry isn't really long enough to have bothered anyone who didn't appreciate the writing. What happened was that I couldn't remember Bette's name - whether it was Beth or Bette, so I had a long digression and a long explanation of why that digression occurred which has now all been deleted.
I wrote that mentioned paragraph before I spell checked and found Bette's real name and decided to leave it. This is a confession after all.
Bye.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
THIS IS A GOOD ADULT COMIC - NO NUDITY, JUST KILLING AND BEATING UP.
Blog number 476******** 13 January 2011
Here's a cool webcomic i've been following on the internet.
http://www.championcitycomics.com/2010/10/end-of-paradise-pages-1-to-108-adult.html
Here's a cool webcomic i've been following on the internet.
http://www.championcitycomics.com/2010/10/end-of-paradise-pages-1-to-108-adult.html
THIS PLACE IS JUMPING TONIGHT (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 477******** 13 January 2011
OK. Tim really needs to get a life. Or a hobby. Or hibernating abilities. He was bugging this woman and then he came over to sit by me because she told him to leave her alone.
Damn. I was drawing and doing computer stuff, being very focused and now he starts doing dumb things like jiggling my drawing and asking dumb questions. I "Mmmm Mmmm" him, but that seemed to go over his head.
Now this lady I was interested in twenty years ago and she blew me off came in with her eight year old daughter. The mom keeps trying to talk to me or ask her kid to watch me draw. I ignore. Sorry.
Then Tim keeps saying, "you should show that little girl what you're doing."
I ignore him, but he keeps it up. Finally I say, "There's more going on here than just that of which you are aware." Well, I don't say it exactly like that. My Dad is editing this piece.
The little girl came to sit by me and the mom takes it upon herself to tell her daughter to trade places with her, that she (the mom) would feel more comfortable.
Now, either the Mom is insinuating that I might be a pedophile or she used that excuse to get close to me so she can cuddle up and find a new daddy for her little girl, or maybe she was even thinking of my welfare, thinking that since I am not talking to the little girl, that she might be bothering me. It would have sounded better to me if she had not used that excuse. Or any excuse. An excuse was totally unnecessary.
Then as I start to write this e-mail to the author of the blog entries in Bodhi's Harangeout (that's me), Tim leans over and watches me type! Good Brubaker, this guy is oblivious!
So I put my computer away, stand up, say, "I can't concentrate," and move. Tim later leaves and I say to the woman he was bothering earlier, "that guy has absolutely no body language reading ability whatsoever!" She agrees.
OK. Tim really needs to get a life. Or a hobby. Or hibernating abilities. He was bugging this woman and then he came over to sit by me because she told him to leave her alone.
Damn. I was drawing and doing computer stuff, being very focused and now he starts doing dumb things like jiggling my drawing and asking dumb questions. I "Mmmm Mmmm" him, but that seemed to go over his head.
Now this lady I was interested in twenty years ago and she blew me off came in with her eight year old daughter. The mom keeps trying to talk to me or ask her kid to watch me draw. I ignore. Sorry.
Then Tim keeps saying, "you should show that little girl what you're doing."
I ignore him, but he keeps it up. Finally I say, "There's more going on here than just that of which you are aware." Well, I don't say it exactly like that. My Dad is editing this piece.
The little girl came to sit by me and the mom takes it upon herself to tell her daughter to trade places with her, that she (the mom) would feel more comfortable.
Now, either the Mom is insinuating that I might be a pedophile or she used that excuse to get close to me so she can cuddle up and find a new daddy for her little girl, or maybe she was even thinking of my welfare, thinking that since I am not talking to the little girl, that she might be bothering me. It would have sounded better to me if she had not used that excuse. Or any excuse. An excuse was totally unnecessary.
Then as I start to write this e-mail to the author of the blog entries in Bodhi's Harangeout (that's me), Tim leans over and watches me type! Good Brubaker, this guy is oblivious!
So I put my computer away, stand up, say, "I can't concentrate," and move. Tim later leaves and I say to the woman he was bothering earlier, "that guy has absolutely no body language reading ability whatsoever!" She agrees.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
MORE NEWS FROM IN FRONT OF THE FRONT (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 475******** 12 January 2011
My coffeeshop buddy is a bit of a know-it all and anarchist. He claims that if someone was attacking him or breaking into his home he would call his neighbor, not the police.
I didn't even go into what if his neighbor wasn't home, or was an old lady, or a coward, or a Hell's Angel and he or she showed up then got shot, etc.
But today I was complaining how the coffee is never hot here. He started droning that the coffee was exactly 170 degrees which was the exact temperature according to the rules of brewing coffee.
I replied that I was an anarchist, and I want coffee the way I want it, not how the rules tell me I should want it.
I think that kind of stumped him.
My coffeeshop buddy is a bit of a know-it all and anarchist. He claims that if someone was attacking him or breaking into his home he would call his neighbor, not the police.
I didn't even go into what if his neighbor wasn't home, or was an old lady, or a coward, or a Hell's Angel and he or she showed up then got shot, etc.
But today I was complaining how the coffee is never hot here. He started droning that the coffee was exactly 170 degrees which was the exact temperature according to the rules of brewing coffee.
I replied that I was an anarchist, and I want coffee the way I want it, not how the rules tell me I should want it.
I think that kind of stumped him.
MORE NEWS FROM THE FRONT(KARTR STORY)
Blog number 474******** 12 January 2011
OK. Here goes.
This twenty-three year old hottie was talking to me the other day. It was the second time she had approached me. Then Tim showed up and she said something about her boyfriend, then moved over to sit by Tim.
Strike one, the mention of her boyfriend. Strike two, preferring to talk to Tim instead of to me. Two strikes.
In my ball park, you only get two strikes, so I immediately put her in my discard bin. Then today I was trying to figure out my scanner and she came up and sat by me and started talking. I mmmm... ...mmmed her and then she asked me what was that comic I recommended last time? I didn't remember but she was sure I would, because to her I am an inhabiter of her reality and have none of my own and therefore I am conscious of everything that happens in her world.
She finally got the hint and left me alone. Then Kenny's girlfriend and her friend came. She asked me something about what was going on (Kenny and I had a falling out due to his treatment of me) and I just told her I don't hang around negative people.
She said, "you're the negative one."
I replied, "OK then. He shouldn't hang around me."
Then this chick who works at the black belt chick coffeeshop came by. She wondered why I hadn't been in. I told her I got the vibes last time that I wasn't welcome.
She said "no, that can't be true." With this statement, I knew that she must know all about the mom thinking I was after her daughter, 'cause a normal person would have been curious and asked something like, "'not welcome? By whom? What happened? When?"
So she blew her cover and confirmed my suspicions.
Interesting experiences for me today. What more could I ask for?
OK. Here goes.
This twenty-three year old hottie was talking to me the other day. It was the second time she had approached me. Then Tim showed up and she said something about her boyfriend, then moved over to sit by Tim.
Strike one, the mention of her boyfriend. Strike two, preferring to talk to Tim instead of to me. Two strikes.
In my ball park, you only get two strikes, so I immediately put her in my discard bin. Then today I was trying to figure out my scanner and she came up and sat by me and started talking. I mmmm... ...mmmed her and then she asked me what was that comic I recommended last time? I didn't remember but she was sure I would, because to her I am an inhabiter of her reality and have none of my own and therefore I am conscious of everything that happens in her world.
She finally got the hint and left me alone. Then Kenny's girlfriend and her friend came. She asked me something about what was going on (Kenny and I had a falling out due to his treatment of me) and I just told her I don't hang around negative people.
She said, "you're the negative one."
I replied, "OK then. He shouldn't hang around me."
Then this chick who works at the black belt chick coffeeshop came by. She wondered why I hadn't been in. I told her I got the vibes last time that I wasn't welcome.
She said "no, that can't be true." With this statement, I knew that she must know all about the mom thinking I was after her daughter, 'cause a normal person would have been curious and asked something like, "'not welcome? By whom? What happened? When?"
So she blew her cover and confirmed my suspicions.
Interesting experiences for me today. What more could I ask for?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
REPORT FROM THE FRONT (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 473******** 11 January 2011
OK. I'm here. At the coffeeshop. It's quiet. Too quiet.
I-Thought-He-Gave-Up homosexual and psycho homosexual whom I have told on four separate occasions to leave me alone are here, but they are not bugging me. Maybe they're having a bad day and their confidence is low.
OK. ITHGU homosexual just couldn't resist. He looked over at me. He keeps finding excuses to look my way. Check phone, take a drink - but always towards me when any direction or no direction at all should be equally likely, given known laws of probability.
P. S. Psycho homosexual is actually psycho bisexual. He seeks people with jobs to support him for short periods for sex. I'm not making this up. A friend of mine who knows him told me. He's getting pretty scraggly-looking though. This type of lifestyle where you just don't want to join the work force has its toll...will keep posted....OK I seem to have picked up a bogie....cloaking...
Brubaker darn it! That fast, I am already completely surrounded by men! I can't draw as I am surrounded on all sides. Brubaker! Four peeks in a row, rapid fire, just by raising my head. I'm not the prom queen guys! No need to rivet your attention on me. I'm no one, doing nothing. Leave it be man.
OK. I'm here. At the coffeeshop. It's quiet. Too quiet.
I-Thought-He-Gave-Up homosexual and psycho homosexual whom I have told on four separate occasions to leave me alone are here, but they are not bugging me. Maybe they're having a bad day and their confidence is low.
OK. ITHGU homosexual just couldn't resist. He looked over at me. He keeps finding excuses to look my way. Check phone, take a drink - but always towards me when any direction or no direction at all should be equally likely, given known laws of probability.
P. S. Psycho homosexual is actually psycho bisexual. He seeks people with jobs to support him for short periods for sex. I'm not making this up. A friend of mine who knows him told me. He's getting pretty scraggly-looking though. This type of lifestyle where you just don't want to join the work force has its toll...will keep posted....OK I seem to have picked up a bogie....cloaking...
Brubaker darn it! That fast, I am already completely surrounded by men! I can't draw as I am surrounded on all sides. Brubaker! Four peeks in a row, rapid fire, just by raising my head. I'm not the prom queen guys! No need to rivet your attention on me. I'm no one, doing nothing. Leave it be man.
WELL, AT LEAST WE'VE GOT THAT ONE
Blog number 472******** 11 January 2011
A few years back most of my time on the Internet was spent on message boards. I loved them. Then they started to change. I think it was because the message boards began to get inundated with younger people. Youngsters who seemed to believe that they had just discovered something brand new, unaware that the rest of us had already discovered that when we were that age.
Especially troublesome were those who had just discovered philosophy and immediately believed they now knew all the answers to everything. I just could not talk to these people.
One of the things I began to do, was whenever one of them gave as fact, his opinion -such as declaring that after we died, our conscious and our identity was gone forever, I would answer, "And we know that how?
One lad posted after a few weeks of my saying that almost every day with, "I wish you would stop saying that."
I answered that with, "I will stop saying that as soon as you stop stating your opinion as fact. You go first."
One of the most ironic and common statements was that the Theory of Evolution was proven fact. Even though it is stated as a theory in its very name! Good Brubaker!
And isn't every theory really an opinion with a fancier name?
I consider unconscious cultural conditioning as one of, if not the most, corrosive aspect of any civilization. Witches were burned because of it. Any wars started because of it? Oh yeah - every one.
And cultural conditioning starts by believing information that comes our way without our thinking very deeply, "And this person knows that how?"
What seems to stop this deep thinking from happening is laziness and bowing to authority.
So! I was very surprised and pleased to read in an article in this weeks The New Yorker in "The Talk of the Town" section, about a young woolly mammoth found in Russia.
The writer made the comment, "In fact, small mammoths were much desired by certain predators, such as the scimitar-toothed cat; in Texas (a display said), there is a cave in which thirty-two scimitar-toothed cat skulls have been found..."
Normally, the phrase "a display said" would not have been written. It would have been left out, giving the impression that a fact was being written instead of something that may or may not be true. The writer was saying in effect, "I don't know if this is true or not."
I just love the phrase, "I don't know" amongst authorities especially, but this is the first time I have ever ran across it with them. As far as I can remember.
A few years back most of my time on the Internet was spent on message boards. I loved them. Then they started to change. I think it was because the message boards began to get inundated with younger people. Youngsters who seemed to believe that they had just discovered something brand new, unaware that the rest of us had already discovered that when we were that age.
Especially troublesome were those who had just discovered philosophy and immediately believed they now knew all the answers to everything. I just could not talk to these people.
One of the things I began to do, was whenever one of them gave as fact, his opinion -such as declaring that after we died, our conscious and our identity was gone forever, I would answer, "And we know that how?
One lad posted after a few weeks of my saying that almost every day with, "I wish you would stop saying that."
I answered that with, "I will stop saying that as soon as you stop stating your opinion as fact. You go first."
One of the most ironic and common statements was that the Theory of Evolution was proven fact. Even though it is stated as a theory in its very name! Good Brubaker!
And isn't every theory really an opinion with a fancier name?
I consider unconscious cultural conditioning as one of, if not the most, corrosive aspect of any civilization. Witches were burned because of it. Any wars started because of it? Oh yeah - every one.
And cultural conditioning starts by believing information that comes our way without our thinking very deeply, "And this person knows that how?"
What seems to stop this deep thinking from happening is laziness and bowing to authority.
So! I was very surprised and pleased to read in an article in this weeks The New Yorker in "The Talk of the Town" section, about a young woolly mammoth found in Russia.
The writer made the comment, "In fact, small mammoths were much desired by certain predators, such as the scimitar-toothed cat; in Texas (a display said), there is a cave in which thirty-two scimitar-toothed cat skulls have been found..."
Normally, the phrase "a display said" would not have been written. It would have been left out, giving the impression that a fact was being written instead of something that may or may not be true. The writer was saying in effect, "I don't know if this is true or not."
I just love the phrase, "I don't know" amongst authorities especially, but this is the first time I have ever ran across it with them. As far as I can remember.
I LOVE A MYSTERY
Blog number 471******** 11 January 2011
The title of this blog entry is also the title of one of my very favorite radio programs back when I was a kid. The story in that series contained flying human-bats in a huge old dark building. As the program came on this kinda eerie organ music played this beautiful tune that used to drive me frantic. It felt like I "fell" into the story when I heard that. I just loved that program. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I just got carried away with the title I put down. Not my fault at all. Glitch in my emotional makeup is what it was.
This entry was initiated by the talk on the news about snow in Phoenix and Arkansas, et all, bringing up this mystery that has always bothered me. Let me explain - OK? Thank you.
Back in 1955, I planed on hitchhiking from Iowa to California. I knew I would be crossing the desert, and since the only knowledge I had of the desert was what I saw in the movies, I had a vision of no water, just sand and cactus and Gila monsters. I asked my brother Bill, who had crossed it several times when he was stationed in San Diego, what it was like - how many miles across, would I have to carry water, things like that. Not much help.
Expecting the deserts I had seen in the movies, I was extremely surprised early one morning when my ride and I came into Phoenix and there was six inches of snow on the ground. The most impressive sight to me was a six inch cap of snow on top of the saguaros. Here I had been expecting dry heat and no water, and here was all this snow where it had no business being.
Now the mystery part of this entry is, why is this never mentioned on the news or anywhere else when they are talking about the unusualness of snow in Phoenix? Normally, news-people love to compare things. This date with that date, this happening with that happening. But they never mention that heavy snowfall in the desert in 1955. It is never mentioned - anywhere.
It's like that snowstorm happened in an alternate reality, unknown in this one. Or maybe this one is the alternate one? How could we tell? Another mystery. They just keep piling up, don't they Yes they do.
The title of this blog entry is also the title of one of my very favorite radio programs back when I was a kid. The story in that series contained flying human-bats in a huge old dark building. As the program came on this kinda eerie organ music played this beautiful tune that used to drive me frantic. It felt like I "fell" into the story when I heard that. I just loved that program. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I just got carried away with the title I put down. Not my fault at all. Glitch in my emotional makeup is what it was.
This entry was initiated by the talk on the news about snow in Phoenix and Arkansas, et all, bringing up this mystery that has always bothered me. Let me explain - OK? Thank you.
Back in 1955, I planed on hitchhiking from Iowa to California. I knew I would be crossing the desert, and since the only knowledge I had of the desert was what I saw in the movies, I had a vision of no water, just sand and cactus and Gila monsters. I asked my brother Bill, who had crossed it several times when he was stationed in San Diego, what it was like - how many miles across, would I have to carry water, things like that. Not much help.
Expecting the deserts I had seen in the movies, I was extremely surprised early one morning when my ride and I came into Phoenix and there was six inches of snow on the ground. The most impressive sight to me was a six inch cap of snow on top of the saguaros. Here I had been expecting dry heat and no water, and here was all this snow where it had no business being.
Now the mystery part of this entry is, why is this never mentioned on the news or anywhere else when they are talking about the unusualness of snow in Phoenix? Normally, news-people love to compare things. This date with that date, this happening with that happening. But they never mention that heavy snowfall in the desert in 1955. It is never mentioned - anywhere.
It's like that snowstorm happened in an alternate reality, unknown in this one. Or maybe this one is the alternate one? How could we tell? Another mystery. They just keep piling up, don't they Yes they do.
Monday, January 10, 2011
IS THAT IRONY YOU'RE SHOVING AT ME? HUH?
Blog number 470******** 19 January 2011
Kartr told me that this lady has a cute daughter about seven years old. He was helping her on the shop computer, then later drew her a picture of Spongebob.
She brought the drawing back to Kartr and told him, "excuse me, but my mom says I can't watch Spongebob until I'm old enough to understand irony." Hah!
Kartr told me that this lady has a cute daughter about seven years old. He was helping her on the shop computer, then later drew her a picture of Spongebob.
She brought the drawing back to Kartr and told him, "excuse me, but my mom says I can't watch Spongebob until I'm old enough to understand irony." Hah!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
UPDATE (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 469******** 09 January 2011
There was only one seat at the coffee shop so I was forced to sit there. The dark complexioned gentleman who was sitting at the other seat absolutely bored his eyes into the right side of my face for twelve minutes straight with no flinching.
This other gay with a white dog saw me and got a look of intense satisfaction on his face.
Please Mommy. Tell me he wasn't thinking, "Oh goody! He's here! "
There was only one seat at the coffee shop so I was forced to sit there. The dark complexioned gentleman who was sitting at the other seat absolutely bored his eyes into the right side of my face for twelve minutes straight with no flinching.
This other gay with a white dog saw me and got a look of intense satisfaction on his face.
Please Mommy. Tell me he wasn't thinking, "Oh goody! He's here! "
Saturday, January 8, 2011
THEY JUST KEEP ON ACOMIN' (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 468******** 08 January 2011
A gay just sat by a female friend he was meeting - directly across from me. I didn't look up so his hyena-like laugh (I'm not kidding) is getting louder. I do believe that he is experiencing the "he must be gay - he just hasn't noticed me yet" syndrome.
I don't know how long I can hang on. It's a waiting game, really. Does he give up cackling before his annoyance drives me to leave or does he stop and I can relax and stay?
I'm kinda like a sniper. 99.9999% of my time is waiting out a cunning yet stupid foe.
His body language - his leaning back, arms crossed, means he is confident, expectant according the book, "Signals".
We'll see what 20 minutes of ignoring do to his body lang...wait...wait...now we have signs signaling prediction of defeat - hopefully. Head on hands, face looking downward. Will keep posted....say rosary for me.
Aha! A spot opened up behind him! I am now sitting happily at that table as his cackling was getting really loud. His girl friend kept looking from him to me expectantly. He put his hands behind his head at first when I moved - body language for reaching towards me. But the cackling has stopped. Thank you, Buddha.
Now another one just sat down across from me. He bumped the table while I was drawing. He said, "excuse me," I ignored him then he bumped the table twice more. I'm sure he was hoping for a Hollywood style cute meeting where he messes up my drawing then we get to chatting then we get to whatever he's got on his mind. That's not gonna happen buddy.
A gay just sat by a female friend he was meeting - directly across from me. I didn't look up so his hyena-like laugh (I'm not kidding) is getting louder. I do believe that he is experiencing the "he must be gay - he just hasn't noticed me yet" syndrome.
I don't know how long I can hang on. It's a waiting game, really. Does he give up cackling before his annoyance drives me to leave or does he stop and I can relax and stay?
I'm kinda like a sniper. 99.9999% of my time is waiting out a cunning yet stupid foe.
His body language - his leaning back, arms crossed, means he is confident, expectant according the book, "Signals".
We'll see what 20 minutes of ignoring do to his body lang...wait...wait...now we have signs signaling prediction of defeat - hopefully. Head on hands, face looking downward. Will keep posted....say rosary for me.
Aha! A spot opened up behind him! I am now sitting happily at that table as his cackling was getting really loud. His girl friend kept looking from him to me expectantly. He put his hands behind his head at first when I moved - body language for reaching towards me. But the cackling has stopped. Thank you, Buddha.
Now another one just sat down across from me. He bumped the table while I was drawing. He said, "excuse me," I ignored him then he bumped the table twice more. I'm sure he was hoping for a Hollywood style cute meeting where he messes up my drawing then we get to chatting then we get to whatever he's got on his mind. That's not gonna happen buddy.
Friday, January 7, 2011
WHAT'S A "MOTHER" TO DO?
Blog number 466 ******** 07 January 2011
I told "Kartr" in an e-mail that I thought that idea of staring like a crazy person would work because people are afraid of crazy people.
Kartr wrote back, "OK. But I have done this in the past and it just seems to really excite them!
One guy I actually told him to stop staring and threatened to kick his ass and boy, did he stare after that!
Nothing works, Dad. Nothing. They are in their own heads and there's no way I can get a message through. Think of Tim's behavior when women tell him to leave them alone."
I told "Kartr" in an e-mail that I thought that idea of staring like a crazy person would work because people are afraid of crazy people.
Kartr wrote back, "OK. But I have done this in the past and it just seems to really excite them!
One guy I actually told him to stop staring and threatened to kick his ass and boy, did he stare after that!
Nothing works, Dad. Nothing. They are in their own heads and there's no way I can get a message through. Think of Tim's behavior when women tell him to leave them alone."
SO I PLAGERIZED THREE WORDS. SO SUE ME. (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 465 ******** 07 January 2011
The desperation is sad. "Winter of discontent," maybe?
They stare - the three new ones now, over to my left. And if I don't look, they start gesticulating. "Maybe he hasn't noticed me yet."
I glance. They desperately catch my eye. I give a blank look.
"OK. He noticed me but gave me a blank look. Maybe he doesn't know I'm gay."
So they start talking like their limp wrists have completely taken them over to let me know that they are chartered members. Then I still don't respond and they just feel deflated because, "this isn't working."
Now the one I thought had given up on me has absolutely refocused on me. He used to stare and I ignored, moved away, etc and he stopped. I thought that meant he had given up. Since I said that, the staring is off the charts.
He seems to have hacked my wireless and is excited because I am discussing him. He has been staring for a 30 sec burst. What if I just stared straight at him like a convict then when he came to say, "hi," and I just keep staring? And staring, And staring, And staring. Make myself look like I'm crazy and about to go off? Good idea? Who knows?
The desperation is sad. "Winter of discontent," maybe?
They stare - the three new ones now, over to my left. And if I don't look, they start gesticulating. "Maybe he hasn't noticed me yet."
I glance. They desperately catch my eye. I give a blank look.
"OK. He noticed me but gave me a blank look. Maybe he doesn't know I'm gay."
So they start talking like their limp wrists have completely taken them over to let me know that they are chartered members. Then I still don't respond and they just feel deflated because, "this isn't working."
Now the one I thought had given up on me has absolutely refocused on me. He used to stare and I ignored, moved away, etc and he stopped. I thought that meant he had given up. Since I said that, the staring is off the charts.
He seems to have hacked my wireless and is excited because I am discussing him. He has been staring for a 30 sec burst. What if I just stared straight at him like a convict then when he came to say, "hi," and I just keep staring? And staring, And staring, And staring. Make myself look like I'm crazy and about to go off? Good idea? Who knows?
E-MAIL FROM KARTR
Blog number 464 ******** 07 January 2011
Another dude just sat across from me and...yup, he just peeked. I'm going to turn around in order to keep my back to him. I will update later.
OK. I left and went to Naked Lounge Coffee House. Sad to say, I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, as it is full of gay men. One is them is the homosexual that I absolutely hate the most. I think that statement speaks for itself. I can't even go into it. Ask me about him - code name, "Putty Face" next time we are chit-chatting on the phone.
I will tell you this. I have flipped him off in the past to no avail. He's a peek and texter homosexual. He always sits next to or across from me. Never behind or to the side. What a jinx I placed upon myself yesterday trying to give a homosexual the benefit of the doubt! The I-thought-he-gave-up homosexual just sat right next to me! The lack of body language awareness of these humans - its astonishing. Aliens would just not believe this (redacted).
I just moved away from that one but now I am seated next to older homosexuals talking about loving men! I'm out of here!
I know that not all homosexuals are like these guys, but for some reason these over-the-top ones seem to hang out in coffee houses. If only they could hold their passions at bay long enough to try to see themselves as others see them. Unfortunately, the gays they hang out with are of the same ilk, so all they do is encourage each other that what they are doing is proper behavior in a civilized world.
Another dude just sat across from me and...yup, he just peeked. I'm going to turn around in order to keep my back to him. I will update later.
OK. I left and went to Naked Lounge Coffee House. Sad to say, I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, as it is full of gay men. One is them is the homosexual that I absolutely hate the most. I think that statement speaks for itself. I can't even go into it. Ask me about him - code name, "Putty Face" next time we are chit-chatting on the phone.
I will tell you this. I have flipped him off in the past to no avail. He's a peek and texter homosexual. He always sits next to or across from me. Never behind or to the side. What a jinx I placed upon myself yesterday trying to give a homosexual the benefit of the doubt! The I-thought-he-gave-up homosexual just sat right next to me! The lack of body language awareness of these humans - its astonishing. Aliens would just not believe this (redacted).
I just moved away from that one but now I am seated next to older homosexuals talking about loving men! I'm out of here!
I know that not all homosexuals are like these guys, but for some reason these over-the-top ones seem to hang out in coffee houses. If only they could hold their passions at bay long enough to try to see themselves as others see them. Unfortunately, the gays they hang out with are of the same ilk, so all they do is encourage each other that what they are doing is proper behavior in a civilized world.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
CONTINUING SAGA OF KARTR'S LIFE
Blog number 463 ******** 06 January 2011
Now the nimrod in front of me is tapping out a paradiddle* on his book to show how cool and "with it" he is.
Please, mothers - give your male children lots of attention so that they won't develop a lifelong disease of attention starvation that I then have to deal with. OK?
Due to the lack of females in my immediate vicinity, the tapping of dipwad, the sneaky glances and peeks, I am out of here.
*Definitions of paradiddle on the Web:
The sound of a drum (especially a snare drum) beaten rapidly and continuouslywordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
Now the nimrod in front of me is tapping out a paradiddle* on his book to show how cool and "with it" he is.
Please, mothers - give your male children lots of attention so that they won't develop a lifelong disease of attention starvation that I then have to deal with. OK?
Due to the lack of females in my immediate vicinity, the tapping of dipwad, the sneaky glances and peeks, I am out of here.
*Definitions of paradiddle on the Web:
The sound of a drum (especially a snare drum) beaten rapidly and continuouslywordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
KORY'S TRAVELOG (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 462 **** 06 January 2011
Prolog; Kartr is my son. Kory is Kartr's long time friend. Kory took a trip to France, sending e-mails back to Kartr now and then. What follows is the exchange of e-mails between them that were sent to me by Kartr.
KORY; I made it to France. Wow that flight sucked bad. I had my knees in the back of the seat in front of me for 10 hours. I used my trench coat as a stench filter. I draped the coat completely over my head. It worked for the most part but I still almost gagged a couple times.
You wouldn't believe how bad some of the people smelled. How can anyone be that offensive? The smell was burning my nose.
I made my connecting flight in Amsterdam. The food was pretty good on both flights. After I landed someone at the airport here in France asked me if I needed help and I told him that I wanted to go to the Best Western Hotel. The guy explained how to use the courtesy phones. The shuttle was there within five minutes.
I had dinner in the hotel restaurant and I must admit the people here have been very friendly so far. Other than the stink feast on the planes, this has been a pretty good trip.
KARTR; Are you telling me that (1) the French only smelled on the plane or (2) they all smell but as long as you're not closed up with them you don't suffer so much?
This is astonishing - the fact that you were moved to comment vocally tells me the seriousness of the stench. It must have felt almost life threatening in its nastosity. Why can't people just wash up?
KORY: I don't think they were French, I think the couple were German. They were also extremely overweight. I think I was smelling fold funk - that funk that hides under folds of fat when you don't wash under there for a long time.
It was on the first flight from Dallas to Amsterdam but strangely enough I smelled the same funk on the flight from Amsterdam to France but on a much smaller scale. It must be a European thing. I have not smelled that smell here in France yet.
You would not believe how pretty the girls are here. I mean there are almost no ugly girls at all.
I went to a church that was probably built in the 1600's, I gave 5 Euros to an old gypsy woman on the steps to the Catholic Church. She started to cry and kissed my hand. I thought that pretty intense for about $7.50 US.
When you walk down the street you have to look out for dog poop. It is everywhere. I had read that but forgot until I stepped in some.
Back to the stench, yes it was horrible. My first thought was WTF, am I the only one that has a problem with this? How does someone get to a point that this is acceptable? I remember loading a fat German woman into a helicopter in Hawaii years ago and she smelled the same way. I felt so sorry for the other people on the flight. I had to hold my breath the whole time I was helping her with her seat belt.
Prolog; Kartr is my son. Kory is Kartr's long time friend. Kory took a trip to France, sending e-mails back to Kartr now and then. What follows is the exchange of e-mails between them that were sent to me by Kartr.
KORY; I made it to France. Wow that flight sucked bad. I had my knees in the back of the seat in front of me for 10 hours. I used my trench coat as a stench filter. I draped the coat completely over my head. It worked for the most part but I still almost gagged a couple times.
You wouldn't believe how bad some of the people smelled. How can anyone be that offensive? The smell was burning my nose.
I made my connecting flight in Amsterdam. The food was pretty good on both flights. After I landed someone at the airport here in France asked me if I needed help and I told him that I wanted to go to the Best Western Hotel. The guy explained how to use the courtesy phones. The shuttle was there within five minutes.
I had dinner in the hotel restaurant and I must admit the people here have been very friendly so far. Other than the stink feast on the planes, this has been a pretty good trip.
KARTR; Are you telling me that (1) the French only smelled on the plane or (2) they all smell but as long as you're not closed up with them you don't suffer so much?
This is astonishing - the fact that you were moved to comment vocally tells me the seriousness of the stench. It must have felt almost life threatening in its nastosity. Why can't people just wash up?
KORY: I don't think they were French, I think the couple were German. They were also extremely overweight. I think I was smelling fold funk - that funk that hides under folds of fat when you don't wash under there for a long time.
It was on the first flight from Dallas to Amsterdam but strangely enough I smelled the same funk on the flight from Amsterdam to France but on a much smaller scale. It must be a European thing. I have not smelled that smell here in France yet.
You would not believe how pretty the girls are here. I mean there are almost no ugly girls at all.
I went to a church that was probably built in the 1600's, I gave 5 Euros to an old gypsy woman on the steps to the Catholic Church. She started to cry and kissed my hand. I thought that pretty intense for about $7.50 US.
When you walk down the street you have to look out for dog poop. It is everywhere. I had read that but forgot until I stepped in some.
Back to the stench, yes it was horrible. My first thought was WTF, am I the only one that has a problem with this? How does someone get to a point that this is acceptable? I remember loading a fat German woman into a helicopter in Hawaii years ago and she smelled the same way. I felt so sorry for the other people on the flight. I had to hold my breath the whole time I was helping her with her seat belt.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
KIDS! (KARTR STORY)
Blog number 461 ******** 05 January 2011
I was talking about hygiene today in forth grade. One boy said it'd be great to not take a shower for two weeks.
I said, "but you're gonna stink to the women when you go clubbin' "
He said, "I'm only ten. I don't go to clubs"
I was talking about hygiene today in forth grade. One boy said it'd be great to not take a shower for two weeks.
I said, "but you're gonna stink to the women when you go clubbin' "
He said, "I'm only ten. I don't go to clubs"
OH HUM. JUST ANOTHER DAY WITH KARTR
Blog number 460 ******** 05 January 2011
This hippie couple that likes to sit by me, cuddle, and stare at me is here. They have a boring life, and see another person (me) doing something (drawing) so they figger I'm here to populate their reality - either to watch them smooch and witness how in love they are, or to strike up a conversation which will inevitably roll back to them and their lives.
Now the dude is singing, They think I just haven't noticed them yet. If they can just get my attention, their life will be complete. I'll see how cool they are and will agree to be a pawn to their reality. But it's a shame. I have to go to work in 15 minutes. Too bad for them.
Oh well.
This hippie couple that likes to sit by me, cuddle, and stare at me is here. They have a boring life, and see another person (me) doing something (drawing) so they figger I'm here to populate their reality - either to watch them smooch and witness how in love they are, or to strike up a conversation which will inevitably roll back to them and their lives.
Now the dude is singing, They think I just haven't noticed them yet. If they can just get my attention, their life will be complete. I'll see how cool they are and will agree to be a pawn to their reality. But it's a shame. I have to go to work in 15 minutes. Too bad for them.
Oh well.
EXPERTS. WHAT WOULD WE DO WITHOUT THEM?
Blog number 460 **** 08 September, 2010
First we have a video of what was obviously a missile launch from the Pacific Ocean explained away by the Pentagon as a jet plane. A jet plane taking off from the surface of the Pacific Ocean - again obviously. And that's the end of that. All we need is an explanation, we don't really care if it makes any sense or not. We don't really need to know what is going on, we just need some "expert" to tell us what is going on.
And this morning I read in the paper that the 5000 blackbirds that dropped dead in Arkansas likely died as a result of fireworks display. WHAT!? That's the first time Blackbirds have ever experienced fireworks? The explanation is that they became so disoriented that they flew into houses, cars, and EACH OTHER! That's not even a good guess, let alone a reasonable explanation.
Then 300 miles to the south, in Louisiana, "power lines likely killed about 450 birds..."Quoting another "expert" - Louisiana's state wildlife veterinarian Jim LaCour, "It's almost certainly a coincidence that the events happened within days of each other."
Is it also a coincidence that the events happened in the same small location of the United States and nowhere else in the whole country? Or as far as I can tell, in the whole world? Some coincidence, but once again, thank Buddha we have an explanation.
And the thousands of drum fish that turned up dead one morning shortly after all the birds died. Were they also the victims of seeing fireworks for the first time and becoming so scared and/or disoriented that they ran into rocks and each other and bellied up? Was this also part of Jim LaCour's "coincidence"?
I Just read that one explanation is that the deaths are a result of government testing. Now THAT, I'll buy. At least it is sensible and has historical backgound on its side.
First we have a video of what was obviously a missile launch from the Pacific Ocean explained away by the Pentagon as a jet plane. A jet plane taking off from the surface of the Pacific Ocean - again obviously. And that's the end of that. All we need is an explanation, we don't really care if it makes any sense or not. We don't really need to know what is going on, we just need some "expert" to tell us what is going on.
And this morning I read in the paper that the 5000 blackbirds that dropped dead in Arkansas likely died as a result of fireworks display. WHAT!? That's the first time Blackbirds have ever experienced fireworks? The explanation is that they became so disoriented that they flew into houses, cars, and EACH OTHER! That's not even a good guess, let alone a reasonable explanation.
Then 300 miles to the south, in Louisiana, "power lines likely killed about 450 birds..."Quoting another "expert" - Louisiana's state wildlife veterinarian Jim LaCour, "It's almost certainly a coincidence that the events happened within days of each other."
Is it also a coincidence that the events happened in the same small location of the United States and nowhere else in the whole country? Or as far as I can tell, in the whole world? Some coincidence, but once again, thank Buddha we have an explanation.
And the thousands of drum fish that turned up dead one morning shortly after all the birds died. Were they also the victims of seeing fireworks for the first time and becoming so scared and/or disoriented that they ran into rocks and each other and bellied up? Was this also part of Jim LaCour's "coincidence"?
I Just read that one explanation is that the deaths are a result of government testing. Now THAT, I'll buy. At least it is sensible and has historical backgound on its side.
Monday, January 3, 2011
THIRTY MINUTES WITH KARTR AT A COFFEE HOUSE.
Blog number 459 ******** 01 January 2011
Ok this one dude is talking to this girl and he seems to be trying very hard to sound cute. I've got my suspicions. Straight men don't strive to be cute. Tough, yes. Macho, yes. Insensitive narcissistic selfish louts, yes. But cute? No.
Plus he's doing lots of gesticulations. And he's doing all the talking and I mean all the talking. He keeps interrupting the Sheila he's with but thankfully for her, she's enraptured. She's so happy she could dance to bagpipe music. This guy is talking about relationships and family, and could it get any better? I think not.
Now he's talking in a squeaky voice and talking about his mother's mother and his great aunt and various members of his family tree. Chicks just love family trees 'n' stuff.
Now he's talking about how crazy he and his friends are and how they were embarrassing his mom at Walmart with his antics and she was saying "We don't know him." OK, the gesticulations are increasing as he's not getting MY attention and his stories are getting just so darned hysterical.
Buddha! What a wild and crazy guy this is. I'm outta here.
Ok this one dude is talking to this girl and he seems to be trying very hard to sound cute. I've got my suspicions. Straight men don't strive to be cute. Tough, yes. Macho, yes. Insensitive narcissistic selfish louts, yes. But cute? No.
Plus he's doing lots of gesticulations. And he's doing all the talking and I mean all the talking. He keeps interrupting the Sheila he's with but thankfully for her, she's enraptured. She's so happy she could dance to bagpipe music. This guy is talking about relationships and family, and could it get any better? I think not.
Now he's talking in a squeaky voice and talking about his mother's mother and his great aunt and various members of his family tree. Chicks just love family trees 'n' stuff.
Now he's talking about how crazy he and his friends are and how they were embarrassing his mom at Walmart with his antics and she was saying "We don't know him." OK, the gesticulations are increasing as he's not getting MY attention and his stories are getting just so darned hysterical.
Buddha! What a wild and crazy guy this is. I'm outta here.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
PLAGERIZED FROM THE FILES OF KARTR THE PUT UPON
Blog number 458 ******** 01 January 2011
As this scene opens, Kartr is sitting in his favorite coffee house, drawing contentedly.
Kartr speaks.
"This bald headed dude who has been checking me out for nine (count 'em, 9) YEARS just sat by me. I moved, he moved. I moved again. He moved again.
He absolutely HAS to stare at me. Poor thing. He has no choice, being completely under the control of his sexual drive and I hate to torture a poor dumb animal, so I am out of here.
May Buddha have mercy on his soul, 'cause I sure don't."
As this scene opens, Kartr is sitting in his favorite coffee house, drawing contentedly.
Kartr speaks.
"This bald headed dude who has been checking me out for nine (count 'em, 9) YEARS just sat by me. I moved, he moved. I moved again. He moved again.
He absolutely HAS to stare at me. Poor thing. He has no choice, being completely under the control of his sexual drive and I hate to torture a poor dumb animal, so I am out of here.
May Buddha have mercy on his soul, 'cause I sure don't."
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