You birds, always cracking foxy...

Word Association Fun

It's good to see the fine tradition of third-year White House investigations going strong.

Clap along and let's play: President! White House! Leak! Probe! Special counsel! Investigation! Subcommittee! Hearings! Subpoena! Testimony! Plausible deniability! Indictment! Perjury! Obstruction! Impeachment!

Now everyone...

PS,
And how sweet is it that Bush apologist and nosferatu Robert Novak may find himself facing the business end of an Ashcroft subpoena? Man, that feels good goin' down. I hear Gitmo is lovely this time of year, Bob...

The "Random" Tribe

Can I just take a moment to say that the Random tribe on tribe.net just completely rocks? Thank you.

And not just cuz I started it. (Actually, explicitly *not* cuz I started it.) Because the people who joined are having way much fun there, and they keep totally entertaining me and cracking me up.

Online Textfile Historian

Jason Scott is a self-appointed online text historian/archivist (pre-web text, like from BBSes). He has collected — and is continuing to collect — files that existed online in the 80s and 90s. Files from places like SF Net (the BBS that was my virtual home for several years about a decade ago). I'm getting the torent of his files now. Anything good shows up from SF Net, I'll re-post it here.

[P.S. I know everybody already saw this on boingboing, but the SF Net angle is personal.]

Hummer of a Deal

Why do people keep acting as if the world either makes sense or is about to make sense? Faith and denial are, I suppose, two sides of the same coin. It's not like I'm innocent or anything.

So, I like to have little objective tests, like lucid dream experimentation. If you get used to asking "am I dreaming?" eventually, the answer will be "uh, yeah dude, whoa."

Case in point: the world does not make sense, and cannot be said to make sense, until Hummers are no longer tax-deductible.

I don't care what sort of Lester Burnham "a ha" moment you just think you've had. The whole world is working on the Chewbacca principle: it does not...make...sense.

But that's okay. Sense is overrated. On the plus side, not only are both Lindsay and Bobby gone from "The Practice", but they've been replaced by James Spader and English Accent Chick. That's pretty good.

Might As Well Face It

And another moment for the man who was addicted to love.

Bye, George

Moment of silence for George Plimpton, video game salesman extraordinaire.

Turning Japanese?

I really don't think so.

The Kamgod Experiment

Is over.

Please do not adjust your radio dial

We've diverged, here. I'm posting to a diary, and Jason is writing a political/current events blog. Sorry 'bout the cognitive dissonance.

Use The Farce

Okay, the California Recall (tm) has officially gone past surreal, through real and back to surreal again. Darrel Issa is urging voters to vote against the recall out of fear that Arnie and McClintock will split the Republican vote and hand the state over to Cruz Bustamante, Ross Perot style.

I don't see what the problem is. If Bustamante wins, we can just recall him.

Living On The Air In Cincinnati

Moment of silence for the man who thought turkeys could fly.
The man who wore disco-bondage headgear and went to see The Who.
The man who sacrificed rafts on his desk.
The man who overpaid his receptionist.
The man with the monkey on his foot.

Lott Not Bought?

So, why is Trent Lott fighting the White House on FCC deregulation?

Revenge for getting a punk'd after the Strom Thurmond thing? Oh, that might be enough to axe a bit of presidential pork, but to align yourself with the crispy-green anti-corporate left on a major deregulation issue? I didn't think grapes came that sour.

Of course, there are those who say that deregulation is a conservative soup bone because it tends to favor local control. In this case, relaxing FCC regulations will actually hurt local control. So, Trent may just think that deregulation is the wrong hammer for this particular screw.

From the Salon article:
"None of us are able to fathom that anybody would do something based on the merits...But in Lott's case, you cannot discount that angle."

Heh. "Angle." The old "sticking by your principles" gag, eh? We're on to you, "Trent", if that is your real name.

And what kind of name is "Trent" for a southern conservative anyway? What's the matter, "Tyler" and "Justin" were already taken? What are you, 30? "Trent." Your name should be, like, "Orrin". Wait that's taken. How about "Earlis?" "Harlan?" "Enos?" "Cooter?"

Anyway, another possibility is that Trent Lott just doesn't like Michael (son of Colin) Powell, the pro-deregulation chairman of the FCC.

I mean, we all know that Michael Powell would never have become FCC chairman if STROM THURMOND had been president.

Realpolitik

In the lead up to the invasion of Iraq, I heard a lot of chatter about how going it alone wasn't a problem and how Europe would help us in the postwar phase. Yes, we could slap those chocolate-eating dandies around all we wanted because it's not like they want to lose their place at the table when it comes to doling out all that tasty, tasty oil.

That's realpolitik, we were smugly reassured.

Okay, how's this for realpolitik? Domestic support for prolonged US intervention is slipping fast while the European leaders still enjoy overwhelming popularity among their own people for not giving in to the US. We're losing a soldier a day (more or less) and the UN headquarters in Baghdad was hit by a suicide bomber again today. Bush the Younger is going into re-election with less popularity than his dad had and it looks like the Dems have actually managed to find a few liberals who can take a punch.

Seems to me that all Germany and France have to do is wait. Even if Bush gets re-elected, he's going to have to burn more and more of his popularity to keep this ship afloat. When it eventually sinks, all the Europeans have to do is cut a deal with whichever ruthless scumbag rises to the top of the cess pool we leave behind. Giving the choice contracts to the EU would be just the sort of "so long, asshole" parting shot I'd want to give us, if I were Iraq.

Funny how all these sabers we enjoy rattling seem to be double-edged, which sabers never are, but you know what I mean.

Music, Vanity, Worry (yep, it's a Liz entry)

Life is still pretty crappy overall, for the usual boring and complicated reasons, but a couple good things have happened. First, Rob and I went to see Rainer Maria at the Great American Music Hall on Friday. They were waaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than I expected. I'd seen them open for another band once, but it was a short set, and the audience didn't know or care about them, and essentially the whole thing flopped. But this time was great. Loved the vocals, loved the songs, loved watching them on stage. Just a really good show. And lucky for me (and you!) their albums are up on emusic.

Then last night we had girly-hair night. I helped Min do her roots blonder (who knew they still made that sun-in stuff?) and Osita got the back of her head shaved and pretty orange streaks. And I got (drumroll please) this:





Company meeting tomorrow that I'm not looking forward to. Mostly just non-specific worry. But we'll see. At least I have neat hair. And both James and Rob are still talking to me. (And nonono I did not just jinx the meeting by writing that. I refuse.)

Pantsless in San Francisco

So, here's some links on the topic of pantslessness, mostly Star Wars themed but not all:
http://matt.waggoner.com/pants.html
http://www.comediccadavers.com/article.php?sid=610
http://ars.userfriendly.org/cartoons/?id=20030731
http://rab.angrycake.com/mc/mc.php?ruleset=3

Un bueno fin de semana a todos. Hasta luego...

The Horror, The Horror

See, cuz, horror films are really important to me. I'm not talking about the piss-poor ultra-hip star vehicle mealy-mouthed crap that passes for horror today.

I'm talking "Saw", "Evil Dead", "Dawn of the Dead", "The Exorcist", "The Shining", "Duel", "Jaws" (yes, Virginia, "Jaws" was a horror film and Mr. Spielberg is not a nice man), "A Nightmare on Elm Street" (but none of its sequels), "Halloween" (ditto), "The Thing" (Carpenter's), "The Fly" (Cronenberg's), and so on.

I can go into the whys and the wherefores and the psychobabble, but basically I appreciate having my existential anxieties made flesh and ripped apart on screen. "Dehumanized consumer zombie must EAT YOUR BRAINS!" Love that shit.

I thought the Age of Quality Horror had come and gone, but now there's a new hope. First off, Peter Jackson has just moved into the "richer than God" tax bracket and if you think he's all about the hobbits, you're sadly mistaken. Mr. Jackson: help...george...romero...

Secondly, we're finally getting some directors with at least the right attitude, if not the talent to back it up. Eli Roth sounds like he's on the right track.


Here we are now, entertain us.

mas media

Movie alert: Here's a particularly nice review of Gigantic, that film about those two musicians named John that I like so much.

Book alert: Gun, with Occasional Music by Jonathan Lethem is really really good. Near-future noir, or maybe an homage to noir with a side of cyberpunk and slice of parody for dessert. Or something. It comes off kind of like the nitrous oxide daydreams Raymond Chander might have had during a particularly painful root canal.

But, you know, in a good way.

Paging Rosa Parks

So, here we are, test case numero uno for gay marriage.

Of course, the US doesn't have a full faith and credit clause for foreign countries, so there's probably nothing unconstitutional here. However, there just may be one or two words in our diplomatic treaties with Canada about, oh, say, treating their citizens with basic human respect and dignity.

Next move: Canada refuses to acknowledge *any* marriage performed in the US on the grounds that exclusion of gays delegitimizes the entire institution and henceforth forces all married people travelling to Canada to register as "unmarried cohabitants".

Won't happen here, I guess. But it does in *some* universe.

Well Enough Alone

So, Apple Records is releasing a new version of Let It Be.

That's right, let the rich ironic aroma fill your senses...

3000 Miles to Graceland

Surely anybody who knows me knows that Bubba-Ho-Tep is the movie I came to Earth to see.

So, imagine my surprise when I stumbled across this in the BBSPOT trailer review:

"It's great to see a movie taking a chance with a plot that isn't formulaic, or catering to a certain demographic (unless there's a growing zombie-fighting Elvis impersonator demographic)."

Unless? UNLESS? People, "Best Zombie-Fighting Elvis Impersonator Film" should be an Academy Award category.

Work with me here. It can happen.

No Dog In This Race III: The Final Chapter

So, which is the worst?:

1) Expecting that changing 'freedom fries' back to 'french fries' will have any impact whatsoever on French decision making vis-a-vis (excuse me, with regard to) jumping into Ye Olde Ameriqan Quagmire

2) Obstinantly refusing to change the name and expecting the help anyway

or

3) Being French

Dad Update

Taking the reins to mention that Liz's dad passed his various tests and is out of the hospital. He was probably diagnosed with something like "idiopathic cardiac arrhythmia", which is medical for "we have no idea what happened."

I guess not dying is better than dying, but I think knowing is better than not knowing. I mean, is it better to know if you're sick or to not know if you're healthy?

Anyway...

A little rest, relaxation and "me" time is due to father and daughter.

Those Damn Kids

The Whiz Kids save the day again.

Okay, so read it then come back. Go ahead. I'll give you time. Ready? Good. Now, for this next bit, you have to imagine that Detective Shaw is played by Christopher Walken. "Deer Hunter" Christopher Walken. Try to do the voice in your head. Okay, if we're set, then surf's up on PREMISE BEACH.

FADE IN

DET. SHAW and ALEC sit facing each other across a school table. ALEC is HANDCUFFED to his chair and DET. SHAW is holding a REVOLVER

DET. SHAW
See, Alec, drugs kill. You and your little playmates may not know that, innocents that you are, but it's true (opens revolver, begins dumping shells) I...I...I...don't know WHY people throw their lives away on that shit. You put a needle in you ahm, may as well be pointing a gun at your head (drops one bullet, spins chamber, locks it in place and points gun at Alec's head).

Not so fun is it now, shmaht guy? What, d'joo think you and your little friends could just get HIGH and download internet porn all day? Wake up, Alec! This is the 80s. There's no porn on the internet yet (pulls trigger, *click*, Alec flinches, terrified).

You wanna play again? (winks) What'd'ya say? C'mon, let's play again (spins chamber, locks into place, points at own head).

My partner, God rest his soul....started...using smack about a year ago (leans in, menacing Alec). In less than a month he was addicted. An animal. You know what I did, Alec? (pulls trigger, *click*). I put him out of his misery (spins chamber, points gun at Alec).

He was like a brother to me. Like my own blood. And I put him down, like a dog. What makes you THINK I'd hesitate to do the same to you? (glares for several seconds, returns gun to holster, composes self and smiles a broad smile).

Now, let's see if we can't get that acoustically-coupled telephone modulator/demodulator working with your Tandy Radio Shack computer's RS-232 port!

FADE OUT

Aaaaaaand, scene.

If you really did read the Whiz Kids thing, what was up with those drug dealers? It's like fifty pounds of smack is being delivered into Capitol City by the 'Queer Eye' Fab Five. And a pearl choker with jungle fatigues? What were you thinking, "Joe", if that is your real name?

Dad

My dad's in the hospital, under observation. He woke up early this morning with a massive heart arrhythmia. It wasn't a heart attack proper, and it could just be a stress response (guess where I got my work ethic?). It could also be a blockage of some kind. We should hopefully get more news tomorrow.

I don't believe in any higher power, but if you happen to have an in with yours, can you ask it a favor from me? My dad is so close to retirement — the kind he deserves, with love (Dad and Mom were actual high-school sweethearts, still marrried, still in love) and plenty of money, and finally time to go sail around the coast of Italy if he wants to. He so deserves more time to do those things. He's also a tough mofo, so I'm hopeful. But still. Not really great news.

If-not-good-at-least-cute news: doctors and nurses keep walking into his room looking for "63-year-old-male, history of minor heart trouble" and saying "oh, sorry, wrong room" and trying to leave. Until the robust handsome 50-ish-looking guy convinces them that no, really, there's no mistake. He's having a lot of fun with that, at least. Plus enforced rest and reading. That can't be all bad, right?

Dear Future Me

(Warning, this is another Liz-emotional entry, so if you want Jason-rants or hey-check-out-this-link, move along.)

Dear Future Me,

Did I live through this Fall? (Pun only kind of intentional.) Did everyone else? Do I have any real friends left, or only the social/party kind? Did life ever even approach normal, with exercise and sleep and books and movies and only some work? Or did I stay as stupid and fucked-up as I feel now? I know what the odds were, thank you, but part of my particular stupidity is that hope thing.

Other stuff that's happening... Eddie Izzard was indeed perfect. Saw Down with Love. Got Team Boo and love it. Hair is still blue. Minmai is coming over this week to help even out the ends and put some stripey bits in so it looks less like I tried to cover a bad blonding job (the real story) and more like I planned it.

People showed up for drinks on my birthday Wednesday, although without RSVP-ing (even Jason was supposed to be in Spanish class) so there were elements of gratitude, relief, and Rob-torture involved. (Rob came out to be a good friend, after I expressed fear of sitting by myself all alone at a bar on my bday, but I think he actually wanted to be several light-years away from anything social. Rob gets the biggest slice of the gratitude pie for that night, and it's a pretty big pie.)

So. Birthday. With Presents!! A new iPod that is already 13 GB full, and a Chianna doll to confirm that I indeed AM a big giant geek in every way and I don't even care, and nail polish that changes color. And pens and stickers and toys because I am also eight years old.

And through everything there's the continuing of the folding-of-the-company (well, I'm folding anyhow) which means continuing to do things hour-by-hour that I do not want to do now, because I want to be happy with how I dealt with everything later. "Later" is a big big theme right now, in case that is not anvil-obvious. Not sleeping enough. Made it to the gym two out of three times this week and took disproportionate joy in that. Forward. I go forward now.

The Best Therapist in San Francisco™ will be back in town again soon. I should go.

You are now invited to return to the Jason entries.

Love,

Liz

Off To See The Izzard

Liz sometimes calls me 'Silver Lining Guy'. It's a fair cop.

Last night we saw Eddie Izzard who is, of course, *the* all-purpose, action-transvestite, multi-purpose, reusable silver lining complete with money back guarantee and a side of crisps.

"George Bush...what comes out of his mouth...in Europe, we're hoping it's some sort of translation problem. Like the back of his head is thinking 'E=MC^2' and 'the square of the hypotenuse' and the front can only say 'uh, cheeseburger?' Basically, we're hoping that things aren't as they, uh, seem."

No Dog In This Race II

Apple v. Apple?

How about "Overrated Bastard v. Overrated Bastard"?

No Dog In This Race

Saudi Arabia vs. Barbie?

Call me when it's over.

Serious Strife

Okay, you're a talented singer-songwriter who made major contributions to the world of rock, but you're thought of as a "one hit wonder" because of the whole "Werewolves of London" thing.

There are worse fates. Beats being a "no hit wonder", for example.

You survive years of hardcore substance abuse and a friendship with Hunter S. Thompson only to be diagnosed with cancer in late mid-life.

Sucks, but beats being conscripted into a child army in Africa and dying at age fifteen with nothing but bullet wounds and a smack habit the size of Kilimanjaro to show for it. Think positive.

Okay, but to be stuck on the Bus to the Great Whatever sitting next to Leni Riefenstahl?

Tough break, Warren.

Come to think of it, she was something of a one hit wonder herself.

And His Hair Was Perfect

Moment of silence for the man with the Chinese menu in his hand,
Walking down the streets of SoHo in the rain

The strangest places

So who'd have thought Salon.com customer service (or anybody's customer service) would peek out from behind the curtains of corporate service-bot etiquette and come up with this reply?

(I was trying to resolve an overbilling caused by over-clicking caused by my dying DSL router and my own stupidity...)

Liz:

Thanks for writing. I see the three charges of $30.00 each. Each charge resulted in a valid renewal to your subscription. So now you are paid up through September 29th, 2006, by which time of course we should all be spacefaring robots.

[...various courteous offers follow...]



I am delighted.

I am fucked up

Killing the company is hitting me harder than I thought it would. I still think I did right, but ow.

I should probably stay off tribe.net for a little while. Or at least lay low with the strangers. I can see myself starting to scare people.

San Diego could be good. I could go walk on the beach in the hippie neighborhood and talk to myself and nobody would even notice me. Not even with blue hair.

The happy side of life == birthday meal with family (well, you know, the family kind of happy) and many many many oh so many new books to read now.

Here.

Less scary, dorkchop? It's temporary, and you can't see the purple streaks (no, I'm not kidding), but it's not blonde.



-Liz S. (for Self-indulgent birthday weekend) Ard

Oh, I forgot to mention

I'm blonde this week:

Reason 5231 why Jason is good to me

He reads Mark Morford's column and tells me when it's worth reading. Cuz when it is, it really is. But there's a lot of wading about in ranty bile to be done in between the little just-right columns.

The Dutch Have All The Fun

Honey? Have you seen my baboon noses?

Did you leave them at the airport?

No I didn't fucking leave them at the airport.

Don't get snippy with me.

I may have to if I don't find those noses.

It's done

I killed the company today. My company. That I co-built. Rob's taking it over as a solo thing, after some transition period.

I chose to do it, and I know relief and even happiness may be on their way.

Still, for now, I mourn.

Not Getting It

So, we finally executed the guy who killed the doctor for performing abortions.

Kinda makes you wish Imaginary Friend existed. I think even He would be astounded by the multiple levels of not getting it involved in this one.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

For my money, there's just not enough probing going on in the armed services.

Mates of State!

Have a new-album, called "Team Boo" and you, my friend, if you have the sense god gave serial ports, will pre-order it right here.

Although so far their albums don't match the experience of seeing them live in a small club. So lucky for us they're on tour soon. matesofstate.com

Yay!

(P.S. Is it very obvious that I finally slept? At least for six hours or so?)

nailing "keep out" sign to door

September 2nd, 2003.

Dear Diary,

Today Jason was mean and scared me with a loadie and made me cry.

Email:

I do recognize your new best friend XXXXX on tribe.net. Let’s see, last time I saw him he was sitting in a fur-lined geodesic dome in the desert wearing a strap-on Theremin dildo that made oooo-eeeee-aaaaah noises when people came near it.

You Are Please To Excuse Liz

She is having difficulties as well.

Need to update this headline

The "angry" post below does NOT refer to anything on kamgod. It's a personal/work thing. Nobody gets to click through and get an ego-boost by seeing me mad and thinking their trolls worked.

So. Very. Angry.

I am so pissed at Rob right now.

...

[Rest of message deleted by cooler headed Liz later. Sorry. Gone now. Anger gets to fade.]