Monday, February 21, 2005
Goodbye HST
Goodbye, Hunter S. Thompson. Don't know why you had to leave so early; must have been incurable brain damage. When I heard the news I remembered a piece you wrote about Ernest Hemmingway, and his suicide in Idaho. You noted that Hemmingway had told friends that if he'd known he was going to live so long, he'd have taken better damn care of his body. Sounds kind of apropos to you. Oh well, on the other side you'll once more be able to talk, the drugs will no longer have had a terminal effect, and you'll never have trouble with a deadline again. God bless, and off you go now. Humphrey and Tricky Dick are waiting. Muskie's got an alligator bag ful of Ibogaine to share with you...
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Argh!
Argh. With one dumb keystroke I just lost today's entry, and I haven't been able to retrieve it. Alas it would have been another Nietchean masterpiece of exageration and self important pontificating, but now it's lost to the ether. But rather than kill myself, I'll go guzzle some medication and cough my evening prayers.
G'nite & sleep tight.
G'nite & sleep tight.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Things you should not write on the WEB!!!!!!!!
At the risk of calling down the wrath of Homeland Security upon my person, or Israeli bulldozers upon the homes of my surviving family members, I've decided to become a terrorist.
Oops, that's not how you say it.
I've decided to become a trrrrrrr-rrrrr-ist (mispronounce it like you mean it, with a Texas accent).
It's hard when you become a terrorist, because there is just so much to do. First you have to download the Anarchist's Cookbook off of the web. Then you are have to come up with a good excuse for when the FBI kicks in your door and asks why you downloaded the Anarchist's Cookbook. I've got my explanation ready: "Me just want to help mien kids mit dere homework." If they can cut through the accent, that'll sick the FBI on my kid's teachers, who have it coming.
Then you have to put together a target list. These should be your enemies. Eisenhower had an enemies list and threw it in the waste basket. Nixon had an enemies list and threw it in his desk (along with his "memo to self: call plumbers"). Osama had an enemies list and threw airplanes at it. Then the President borrowed an enemies list from Rummy, and we know what he's doing with it. This is, historians will note, how terrorism evolved from the 20th to the 21st century in America. Ofcourse, you might ask, this leaves out the perpetrators of the OKC bombing. But you are so naive. After the triumph of the right in the coming race and culture war, these brave and gallant martyrs will go by their real name: "freedom fighters."
It's easy to list your enemies. The president, Osama, Wal-Mart, the NHL. But not every enemy can be a target. Can't shoot the President, for instance. Wouldn't be prudent. Also, you'd end up with Cheney officially in charge, without the current buffer of stupidity. Can't bomb Osama, cause you can't find him. Wal-Marts you can find, but they've got security cameras in the parking lot and you'll end up on America's Most Wanted. NHL? Too late....
After somehow figuring out some targets, then you have to come up with a plan. This should not be a problem for me: I am an American, and we are a can-do people. However, this is not something you should just knock off. You have to do it with style and originality. In addition to horrific casualties, you really must bowl over your target audience with something that is aesthetically audacious. And don't forget, you have to act early, so you can dominate the news cycle on FOX for the whole day.
Finally, either before or immediately after execution of your operation, you have to list your grievances in a public forum. This can be done by sending notice to a newspaper or other print outlets (but avoid letters to the editor, which are subject to editing). You can also deliver video to sympathetic media; that's what Osama and the White House does. Or you can just scrawl a manifesto on the wall in blood: Kilroy was here, Juden Nien, Helter Skelter, etc...
Ofcourse, if you really want to make it big, you need a sponsor. The bigger the sponsor, the bigger the bomb. If you get a really big sponsor, you'll get a really big bomb, which will help you when it comes to getting on FOX. State sponsors are the best. It really doesn't matter which state; they can be red or blue. But the main thing is, they have to have deep pockets because things that blow up are pretty expensive. It's also good if you pick a state sponsor who has some expertise in these matters. That way they can advise you in the best way to blow up people and things, which shortens your learning curve. Don't be afraid to ask for help: There are professionals out there with years of experience who are only too willing to share their knowledge with like minded youngsters who are just starting out.
Naturally, a sponsor is likely to want something in return. Sometimes you have to put their name on your shirt. Other times you have to wear their shoes. Sometimes they cut a deal where you wear all their apparel from head to toe. These of course are the best sponsors of all, because their uniforms lend you legitimacy and legal status. Army, Navy, Air Force, Mareeeeens, Mujahadeen, Red Army, Weremacht. Yes, these are the creme de la creme. And the choice of the most discriminating terrorist nowadays is Civilian Contractor, who wear faux names on their shirts like Smith or Doe, names which never manage to get put down on personnel manifests, and which the Abu Graib security cameras can never quite make out.
The drawback to sponsorship deals like this is that you lose some autonomy, and you have to blow up the targets that states, not you, choose. Still it can be a lot of fun, especially if you are bad enough. And after 20 years, if you don't get killed or locked up, you'll have a shirt full of medals, and maybe even retire with the pension of a senior officer - ready for a career in radio, Corporate America, or it's subsidiary the U.S. government.
****
Ugh, the time. Gotta shave, go to work. Must remember - spellcheck. Bye!
Oops, that's not how you say it.
I've decided to become a trrrrrrr-rrrrr-ist (mispronounce it like you mean it, with a Texas accent).
It's hard when you become a terrorist, because there is just so much to do. First you have to download the Anarchist's Cookbook off of the web. Then you are have to come up with a good excuse for when the FBI kicks in your door and asks why you downloaded the Anarchist's Cookbook. I've got my explanation ready: "Me just want to help mien kids mit dere homework." If they can cut through the accent, that'll sick the FBI on my kid's teachers, who have it coming.
Then you have to put together a target list. These should be your enemies. Eisenhower had an enemies list and threw it in the waste basket. Nixon had an enemies list and threw it in his desk (along with his "memo to self: call plumbers"). Osama had an enemies list and threw airplanes at it. Then the President borrowed an enemies list from Rummy, and we know what he's doing with it. This is, historians will note, how terrorism evolved from the 20th to the 21st century in America. Ofcourse, you might ask, this leaves out the perpetrators of the OKC bombing. But you are so naive. After the triumph of the right in the coming race and culture war, these brave and gallant martyrs will go by their real name: "freedom fighters."
It's easy to list your enemies. The president, Osama, Wal-Mart, the NHL. But not every enemy can be a target. Can't shoot the President, for instance. Wouldn't be prudent. Also, you'd end up with Cheney officially in charge, without the current buffer of stupidity. Can't bomb Osama, cause you can't find him. Wal-Marts you can find, but they've got security cameras in the parking lot and you'll end up on America's Most Wanted. NHL? Too late....
After somehow figuring out some targets, then you have to come up with a plan. This should not be a problem for me: I am an American, and we are a can-do people. However, this is not something you should just knock off. You have to do it with style and originality. In addition to horrific casualties, you really must bowl over your target audience with something that is aesthetically audacious. And don't forget, you have to act early, so you can dominate the news cycle on FOX for the whole day.
Finally, either before or immediately after execution of your operation, you have to list your grievances in a public forum. This can be done by sending notice to a newspaper or other print outlets (but avoid letters to the editor, which are subject to editing). You can also deliver video to sympathetic media; that's what Osama and the White House does. Or you can just scrawl a manifesto on the wall in blood: Kilroy was here, Juden Nien, Helter Skelter, etc...
Ofcourse, if you really want to make it big, you need a sponsor. The bigger the sponsor, the bigger the bomb. If you get a really big sponsor, you'll get a really big bomb, which will help you when it comes to getting on FOX. State sponsors are the best. It really doesn't matter which state; they can be red or blue. But the main thing is, they have to have deep pockets because things that blow up are pretty expensive. It's also good if you pick a state sponsor who has some expertise in these matters. That way they can advise you in the best way to blow up people and things, which shortens your learning curve. Don't be afraid to ask for help: There are professionals out there with years of experience who are only too willing to share their knowledge with like minded youngsters who are just starting out.
Naturally, a sponsor is likely to want something in return. Sometimes you have to put their name on your shirt. Other times you have to wear their shoes. Sometimes they cut a deal where you wear all their apparel from head to toe. These of course are the best sponsors of all, because their uniforms lend you legitimacy and legal status. Army, Navy, Air Force, Mareeeeens, Mujahadeen, Red Army, Weremacht. Yes, these are the creme de la creme. And the choice of the most discriminating terrorist nowadays is Civilian Contractor, who wear faux names on their shirts like Smith or Doe, names which never manage to get put down on personnel manifests, and which the Abu Graib security cameras can never quite make out.
The drawback to sponsorship deals like this is that you lose some autonomy, and you have to blow up the targets that states, not you, choose. Still it can be a lot of fun, especially if you are bad enough. And after 20 years, if you don't get killed or locked up, you'll have a shirt full of medals, and maybe even retire with the pension of a senior officer - ready for a career in radio, Corporate America, or it's subsidiary the U.S. government.
****
Ugh, the time. Gotta shave, go to work. Must remember - spellcheck. Bye!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Hey, I used to have a blog.
Sorry I haven't written. Since November I have been a sick man.
No I'm not talking about that tiresome affliction of malaise and depression or the impulse to some destructive nihilistic act inevitable with the triumph of W and the rest of the Evil-Doers in November's election... although it goes without saying, I've got that too. No, I'm sick, man, really sick.
Since November I've had a cold. A cold? Calling it a cold is like calling Genghis Khan's Hordes a mere army. This is das super-cold, an antibiotic eating cousin of the latest variant of the AIDS virus, both of which were probably developed in some black budget lab in Virginia for deployment in Africa and the blue states.
At night I, like Jimmy Carter, declare the moral equivalent of war on the symptoms. I've taken my 2 TBSP of Niquil two hours before bed-time with the hopes of sleeping sweetly and deeply. Such however is never my fate. I know I shall be up tonight, gagging until several small yellow balls of stuff that belong in a Kleenex are expectorated into the yawning porcelain god.
I'm sick. Really sick. So sick that even I went to the doctor's office. After an hour in the waiting room I was informed that my copayment had gone up, paid it, and was admitted to a level 2 waiting room. I couldn't find a key or a mushroom or a cheat code, so I had to wait longer. Finally the doctor came in, asked me what seems to be the problem, and coughed.
He prescribed the same thing he's taking, and it's working as well for me as for him.
*****
Interesting items in the news today: Jack Kerouac's original teletype scroll of "On the Road" is being displayed at a museum. Don't know which museum, alas.
Also, Princess Di's wedding dress, along with some other "important" gowns, will be displayed at the St. Petersburg (Florida) Museum of Art. Admission is $20, proceeds going to Princess Di's brother, who can't seem to get a contract selling weight loss products like the other royals. I'm not going, but my wife wants to. So I'll wait outside, or maybe drink across the street.
Now if the museum can get Monica's blue dress, I'll pay to see that! The stain that brought our democracy to it's knees. Ick.
****
Tune in tomorrow, anarchist & mousekateers, and be ready to take notes. Our special guest will be Ambassador Negroponti, newly nominated U.S. Intelligence Tsar, who will tell us all how to make money and wield power in the exciting and expanding business of Transnational Terrorism.
See you then!
No I'm not talking about that tiresome affliction of malaise and depression or the impulse to some destructive nihilistic act inevitable with the triumph of W and the rest of the Evil-Doers in November's election... although it goes without saying, I've got that too. No, I'm sick, man, really sick.
Since November I've had a cold. A cold? Calling it a cold is like calling Genghis Khan's Hordes a mere army. This is das super-cold, an antibiotic eating cousin of the latest variant of the AIDS virus, both of which were probably developed in some black budget lab in Virginia for deployment in Africa and the blue states.
At night I, like Jimmy Carter, declare the moral equivalent of war on the symptoms. I've taken my 2 TBSP of Niquil two hours before bed-time with the hopes of sleeping sweetly and deeply. Such however is never my fate. I know I shall be up tonight, gagging until several small yellow balls of stuff that belong in a Kleenex are expectorated into the yawning porcelain god.
I'm sick. Really sick. So sick that even I went to the doctor's office. After an hour in the waiting room I was informed that my copayment had gone up, paid it, and was admitted to a level 2 waiting room. I couldn't find a key or a mushroom or a cheat code, so I had to wait longer. Finally the doctor came in, asked me what seems to be the problem, and coughed.
He prescribed the same thing he's taking, and it's working as well for me as for him.
*****
Interesting items in the news today: Jack Kerouac's original teletype scroll of "On the Road" is being displayed at a museum. Don't know which museum, alas.
Also, Princess Di's wedding dress, along with some other "important" gowns, will be displayed at the St. Petersburg (Florida) Museum of Art. Admission is $20, proceeds going to Princess Di's brother, who can't seem to get a contract selling weight loss products like the other royals. I'm not going, but my wife wants to. So I'll wait outside, or maybe drink across the street.
Now if the museum can get Monica's blue dress, I'll pay to see that! The stain that brought our democracy to it's knees. Ick.
****
Tune in tomorrow, anarchist & mousekateers, and be ready to take notes. Our special guest will be Ambassador Negroponti, newly nominated U.S. Intelligence Tsar, who will tell us all how to make money and wield power in the exciting and expanding business of Transnational Terrorism.
See you then!
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