(Yawn) A day in the life... (yawn)... of a raptor

Wow. Tough job.









This Colorado Horned Owl hasn't done a damn thing in the past 24 hours except sleep and stare off into the distance.

See if it's doing anything now, and while your there, check out the exciting lives of other raptors who have made their homes among the smoke stacks of power plants.

Now, the Peregrine Falcon on the other hand -- that's a busy bird.
Just look: He's immersed in his carnivorous schemes.

A moment-by-moment account of a dude with little to do on a Wednesday night

Thoughts on thought:

1 To describe a thought, first consult an online thesaurus for suitable synonyms for the word "thought".

1.1 Upon finding only two, acknowledge that the digital realm lacks everything except zero and one.

2 Locate a printed thesaurus.

2.2 Revel in the possibilities: Faculty of reason, pondering, meditation, deliberation, cogitation, rumination, musing, mulling, reflection, introspection, contemplation, consideration, cerebration, idea, notion, theory, opinion, intention, plan, design, purpose, aim, judgement, conclusion, appraisal, assessment, estimation, opinion, point of view, position, stance, feeling, sentiment, belief, conviction.

2.3 Praise yourself for your adventurous spirit.


Thoughts on reggae:

1 Most "educated" white folks love the stuff, while the uninitiated couldn't care less.

1.1 If you're a white person with a casual appreciation for reggae, all you'll ever need can be found on the Toots and the Maytals anthology. Burn your Bob Marley.

2 If you're an uninitiated white person who could care less about reggae, you should still listen to the Toots and the Maytals anthology, as you'll probably understand what all the fuss is about. If you're already a fan of reggae, you probably have this already, or better yet, you have all the original vinyl albums (lucky you!)

Thoughts on cleanliness:

1 When your keyboard is so dirty that you mistake the "I" key for the "L" key, it's time to do something about it.

Thoughts on analog:

1 Records are pretty freaking cool, but c'mon... As the proprietor of a local independent music store recently told me, "You really have to question why you'd buy a vinyl album that was orignally recorded in digital." (That's a rough paraphrase, but accurate in the sense that it communicates the spirit of his opinion.)

2 Man, I sure wish all those "new" vinyl pressings didn't suck.

It's a worldwide web for two

This blog seems to have degenerated into a two-way conversation between me and the lady. She is the only one who cares, apparently. Thanks for the support, sweetie! Love you!

I for one am morbidly ecstatic to have such immediate and convenient access to the greatest of the world's networks -- the American Internet! Its has improved my life immeasurably. I just don't know what I'd do without it. The "other" networks are so poor, I wouldn't even waste my urine on them.

I want it all to myself. I claim it in the name of Hugo Winterhalter. I am revoking your permission to use it.

SO I ORDER ALL YOU FUCKS TO STAY OFF THE INTERNET!

It's mine and the lady's.

HSW.

It's time... to "Tally the Bullshucks!"

A short list of BS I've heard in the last few days, starting with this weekend's weather forecast:

1. Brrr! Twelve inches of snow coming! Batton down the hatches, Colorado!
Hell hath frozen over. When you awake, don't be surprised to find the roof of your house collapsed, your pets frozen to death, your car crushed, and every roadway littered with scores of weather-induced traffic casualties! You'll be lucky to survive, but stay tuned for minute-by-minute updates detailing yet again how freakin' pointless TV weather forcasters really are!

2. The past three years of the U.S. occupation of Iraq were a smashing success, and the next three years should be even better!
Here's a new tally:
2,313 U.S. soldiers killed in action.
7,912 U.S. soldiers wounded so severely they could not return to Iraq.
9,212 U.S. soldiers wounded in action, but only slightly.
33,000 to 37,000 Iraqis estimated to be killed during the U.S. occupation. (from 158 to 177 deaths per week

God knows how many Iraqis Saddam Hussein killed during his 24-year reign, but some estimates place the numbers in the 300,000 to 1 million range (which equals 240 to 801 per week.)

Well, the good news is we're not as bad as Saddam Hussein.

3. Beth Orton fans should arrive early to see her opening act, the accoustic and vocal stylings of Willie Mason! Of Mason, a London reviewer said this: "Clearly, decades ahead of his time, he mixes the blues, folk and country influences of Hooker, Williams and Cash with hard spoken words of hope, truth and wisdom in a style all of his own, yet kin to a youthful Bob Dylan."

None of that gibberish is true.

Thankfully, Beth Orton's voice is so powerful that she can -- with a single note -- wake the dead, revive limp lettuce, and stop fleeing audience members in their tracks, forcing them to turn around, forcing them to listen. It's as if Orton thanks the audience for its tolerance, begs her fans to stick around, promises them that they won't be disappointed.

And just like that, as her voice hammers off the walls, not a single person in the joint cares that 30 minutes earlier, Mason nearly bored them to death.

Announcing the latest CD release from Jim "Butterfingers" LeSavage: Smooth Roads, Easy Times

It's been a long time coming for Jimmy LeSavage's latest musical triumph, but according to light-rock afficionados, it was worth every minute!

Jimmy spent countless hours on location in Maui as well as in studios in both New York and Los Angeles to create this masterful opus, Smooth Roads, Easy Times.





Jimmy's latest work showcases his fantastic command of his instrument of choice: the acoustic guitar. Using his renown musical punctuality and his lyrical rigor, Jimmy gives us a peek into the startling world of a drug-addled killer running loose on the broken-down streets of America's inner cities. Jimmy's mild fret work, coupled with studio technician Walter Finkle's copious re-engineering will "yank listeners from the comfort of their living rooms and propel them into a terrible waking nightmare they hope never to experience again, but which they will never forget," according to New York Times Critic Benjamin Feist.

"I wanted to bring easy-rock listeners into my world," Jimmy states. "I worked hard in hopes that it would be my greatest work. I think I've achieved that."

Jimmy smashed all boundaries when producing this album, employing revolutionary recording concepts to portray a drug addict's most intimate moments. During the gripping acoustic solo three minutes into the first track, "Needle Fuck," Jimmy musically describes the moment his alter ego, Diego The Druggie, injects mind-altering liquids into his bloodstream. And in the ballad, "Fuck a Dude for Drugs," we can almost hear the woeful voice of another fictional character, Phillip The Druggie, as he wanders the late-night city streets trading demon sex for money.

"It did take a long time to produce this album," Jimmy acknowledges. "For starters, we made many of the recordings on my back porch. I wanted the beach breezes and birdsong of the jungle to mingle with the notes from my guitar. Capturing these sounds took a lot of time. During the recording sessions, there were many distractions, such as the world-class surfing beaches as well as the plentiful Polynesian whores."

Bah! A pox on thee! A fortnight of Fetid Breath!

For thine cruel misbehavances, poor performances and dishonorous utterances; I curse thee thusly:

1. Thine skins shalt chaffe, very near to the balls.
2. Thine hair shalt winde tightly into a large machine.
3. Thine bowels shalt leak in public.
4. Two score and a half sewer rats shalt besiege thine pantaloons.
5. Thine love dreams shalt feature naught but thee, thine mother and thine father.
6. Aye! The work of thine life shalt whither, and thou shalt earn thine wage as a Gong Farmer (emptyin' latrines barehanded), a Barnyard Whore (fellatin' livestock for antibiotics) or a Street Idiot (pronouncin' thine cerebral lackings to the Publick At Large.)
7. Thou shalt lust for hideous animals, and thou shalt abide that lust.
8. Thine perspirances shalt offend thee most of all.
9. During meals, thou shalt mistake thine tongue for a meatball at each and every bite.
10. Finally, thou shalt, night and day, until the end of your days, know the flavor of a hobo's anus on thine lips.

Good luck to you, cursed scab. May your wretched life be long and fruitless.

Woe... What is it good for?

Absolutely nuthin...

Say it again...

There are bad days, and then there are bad weeks. I'm living both simultaneously.

No details because they suck. Just know that I'm not in a good mood at the moment: approximately 7 p.m., March 6, 2006. If you were to see me now, ask me how I'm feeling, I'd say to you, "Not so good." I wouldn't elaborate, and then I'd wander away to be alone with my not-so-good thoughts.

If you were to follow me and pester me with questions like, "Is there anything I can do?" I'd probably say no.

I'd say no because if I did start talking about it, I'd go insane with anger, frustration, disappointment and other such sourpuss emotions. You'd probably leave at that point, feeling like your good-natured ways would better serve someone else -- like maybe a retard or a recent quadriplegic.

At times like these, everything sucks, and everyone sucks... Nothing personal.

Boo. Hoo.