Were Thursday to change abruptly into Monday, my garbage would never get picked up, and I—along with millions of others—would likely die of plague. Eventually.
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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
- In The Mailbox: 12.23.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll truly IS a sad, embittered psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- In The Mailbox: 07.18.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
And it would really stink, too.
No Saturday morning cartoons? No Friday night Beer? What’s left to live for anyway?
And of course, systems that demonstrate mathematical chaos are deterministic, and therefore ordered.
I think.
Wait, if Thursday changes to Monday, what happens to Monday? Do we have two Mondays? Or does it go Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… Monday?
Turing: for. As in “What the hell did I post this nonsense for?” Oh, right, we’re here to entertain Jeff.
This may be why polls indicate that, if the 2006 midterm elections were held tomorrow, 98.44% of registered voters would be taken completely by surprise.
Holy shit. Just noticed the Say Anything and Dusty girls. Hot!
Why didn’t you people alert me sooner?
“Were Thursday to change abruptly into Monday…”
Undoubtably as a result of the wanton folly of the Bushitler coup.
No shit Jeff. What you thought I come here for the humor? :o)
Sorry about the babes, boss. “We people” should bring to your attention those whacky Turing words next.
“Turing words”?
Those Information is Power eyes are FREEKIN’ ME OUT. MAN.
Is this a mixed episode?
Yes, Turing words. As in “weddingvows”.
Don’t you compost and recycle and buy low packaging products in order to minimize waste in the event of such an eventuality? (huh?)
I think this is the episode where a coconut falls on Jeff’s head and he loses his memory . . .
Did you say you would die of plaque? Because I don’t think that’s actually possible. Although, I suppose if you were to not brush your teeth for years and years…no, wait, that would just make you British.
Was that witty, Diana?
Ha. Spamword, “woman,” as in, that woman loves me.
Oh shit. CraigC’s about to launch on us again. INCOMING!
Go Craig. Go! I’ve got your back!
(I love it when it busts loose.)
I think he prefers you have his front. If you know what I mean.
I don’t like this post. I get paid on Thursdays.
Responding to JW: I refuse to dignify that with a response.
What’s the matter, J-Dubs, do you feel an AC/DC concert coming on?
Spamword “five,” as in, maybe I’ll post five AC/DC songs.
And how do you know I wouldn’t like the back?
(Sorry, Ana)
My apologies, Patricia.
So which is it ??! Is this Thursday or is this Monday or is this some other day ? Dont fuck with like this Jeff. You know I cant remember my kids names from day to day.. or where I live… much less what day of the week it is.. If this is Monday I gotta know cuz I forgot to do laundry and have nothing to wear to work and I’m broke cuz I dont get paid til next Friday.. or else I got paid last Friday and I’ve put it all up my nose.. and dont respond with any of that Quantum Mechanics “Many Worlds Theory” “Is all days and no day in some world someplace “ crap.. I need hard answers now!!! Dont make me go Rainman on your ass….This sooo sucks!!
Ghost in the Machine says: wall
Thats right! Thats right! An eff’in mental wall.
I’m hot, and when I’m not
I’m cold as ice
When you see me comin’
Just step aside
Or pay the price
What I want I take
What I don’t I break
And I don’t want you
Flick of my knife
And I can change your life
There’s nothing you can do
I’m a problem child, problem child
I’m a problem child, runnin’ wild
Oh, and I like ‘em hot, yeah
Late night
City light
I drink my booze
Some run
And some fight
But I win they lose
What I need I stash
What I don’t I smash
And I don’t need you
Say bye bye
While you’re still alive, ah
Your time is through
I’m a problem child, problem child
I’m a problem child, and I’m runnin’ wild, aaaah
Make my stand
No man’s land
On my own
Man in blue
It’s up to you
Oh the seed is sown
What I like I lick
What I don’t I kick
And you’re on my list
Dead or alive
I got a .45
You know I never miss
I’m a problem child, problem child
I’m a problem child, problem child
I’m a problem child, you know I am,
Problem child, I’m a back door man
Problem child, do your homework
Problem child, you know
Problem child, I’m a problem child
Problem child, I’m a problem child
Craig? Aren’t you going to talk about how you miss Bon?
I don’t like having my routines disrupted. It makes me irregular.
YAHHHHH ROCK AND ROLL !!!! AC/DC WWWOOOOOOOOO!!!
:: making devil horn handsign::
:: headbangin in the front row::
Fuckin A man… Angus just totally flung his sweat all over us !! WOOOOooooooo!! You ROCK DUDE !!
Miss you, Bon.
Spamword, “before,” as in, AC/DC only counts before Brian Johnson. Actually, for the most part I like “Back In Black.”
You guys realize that I actually have this shit powered up at top volume when I post, right?
No wonder I go off on “manic rants.”
And, who is this Jake/H person?
Spamword, “music.” Doo do doo do doo do doo doo doo
Respect integrity in all of its forms.
You know, Perry Como-played backwards and at a very high volume can have the same impact.
If Thursday suddenly turned into Monday, then I probably wouldn’t get corned beef and cabbage for dinner.
And no green beer. That might be a good thing, though.
“Respect integrity in all of its forms.”
Hmmm?
You’re commenting on ACDC and listening to ACDC. Integrity.
Sucks when I have to actually explain my stupid comments.
I’m sorry, you wouldn’t believe what I thought you meant, and i’m not gonna tell you. HA!
For all you fat chicks who think you’ll never find love, here’s what a skinny Australian drunk had to say:
Wanna tell you a story
’bout a woman I know
When it comes to lovin’
Oh she steals the show
She ain’t exactly pretty
Ain’t exactly small
Forty-two, thirty-nine, fifty-six
You could say she’s got it all
Never had a woman
Never had a woman like you
Doing all the things
Doing all the things you do
Ain’t no fairy story
Ain’t no skin and bone
But you give it all you got
Weighing in at nineteen stone
You’re a whole lotta woman
A whole lotta woman
Whole lotta rosie
And you’re a whole lotta woman
Oh honey you can do it
Do it to me all night long
Only one to turn
Only one to turn me on
All through the night time
And right around the clock
To my surprise
Rosie never stops
You’re a whole lotta woman
A whole lotta woman
Whole lotta rosie
And you’re a whole lotta woman
Alpha is now Jake. I fail to discern a difference in writing style so I don’t think we’re actually being treated to another personality. (Which could be intriguing, or merely confusing.)
This thread is freakin’ me out, man… I mean I totally live in fear each day of leaving my house and accidentally walking into the Twilight Zone.. you know, cuz you cant see it coming and cross the street or something.. its just like, one moment everything is copacetic.. then the next moment BAM !! some totally freaky shit happens out of nowhere.. out of NOWHERE! And the dudes on the Tv show are all casual about it.. maybe a little apprehensive.. Like one moment the dude is standing in his own living room.. groovin on tv or something.. then next minute someone yells ‘CUT’ and like movie lamps go off and props guys are taking his walls away, and his own house is like some kind of movie set… Thats some freaky shit man.. but he’s just kind of like puzzled or something.. Puzzled ??! I’d be freakin’ crappin my pants! That kind of shit happens sometimes you know..when you least expect it.. Like this morning.. I’m riding the bus in our underground tunnels.. and its usually like 3 minutes between stops; you know tunnel 3 minutes then stop for a minute at one of the stations.. but I noticed that we’d been driving down one tunnel for like 45 minutes without stopping, which was kind of freaky in itself.. but just as I was going to pull the stop cord and ask the driver ‘Are we in the Twilight zone?’, the loudspeaker comes on and he says “Westlake.. The Monorail.. Pike Place market..” , now those places are familiar to me so I knew we were in Seattle and not the zone so I wasnt so freaked out until the doors open and like the same guy gets on about 6 times.. I shit you not.. like 6 times.. well, not exactly the same guy.. but different sizes and shapes and genders of bodies all with his face on them .. and they all looked like Alan Ginsberg.. the young Alan Ginsberg.. ok, actually the young Alan Ginsberg as played by that cat in the movies..I dont remember his name but he looked like Kevin Spacey with geek glasses on. Anyway, all these Kevin Spacey/Alan Ginsbergs are standing there just staring at me like my fly is hanging open or something (I checked..it wasnt) So then I’m totally convinced I’ve stepped right into the flippin middle of the Twilight Zone or One Step Beyond or Outer Limits or something.. until I realize, Christ.. I forgot to take my drugs… So I quickly got in my pack grabbed a handful of pills and swallowed them dry.. an effexor, a lithium, a xanax and a haldol.. got one stuck in my windpipe and had to do a discreet self-heimlich but caught the pill before it rolled away.. it just had a couple hairs stuck on it, but that was cool.. I picked them off before I popped it.. and then I totally flashed on that commercial from the 70s.. you know, that drug prevention commercial, but different now.. it was like;
Here’s your brain :: couple nice eggs in a pan::
Here’s your brain NOT ON DRUGS: ::scrambled::
and I hadnt even had a cup of coffee yet or gotten to work.. That should tell you how my day went.. J/H
Turing word: latter
see? freaky shit, verdad?
Jake, you took that solar flare full on, baby. Me, I’ve got this little aluminum hat. You need you one of them there hats. And some gum.
spam:problems. You talkin’ to me….
.. oh man.. we had a solar flare too ?
See? Freaky shit man… Strange Times…
Turing word: thought
this ‘puter is just messin with me..
’puter? Are you a Sondra acolyte?
I wish I had acolytes. I suppose minions would do…
Jeff has myrmidons.
Penicillin would clear that right up.
My grandpa had myrmidons. They burned him something fierce.
My myrmidons only appear between the hours of one and two AM.
He can have his myrmidons.. I want mermaids..
but I’ve been thinkin (probably because I saw Ariel, that hot Little Mermaid on tv today).. Do mermaids, you know.. do it like land people ? or do they swim upstream and deposit their 2oo or 300 eggs on a stream bed someplace where the Mermen come by and wank off over them? And if they do it like warm blooded normal people, then how.. I mean they have scales all the way up to their belly button.. do they have like a few detachable scales.. or what? These are things I’d like to know, just in case I should come home and find Darryl Hannah in my tub.. I mean the Mermaid Darryl Hannah.. not that one eyed whistling bitch Elle Driver..
Turing word: open
freaky…
Pacific time, of course.
Nope.. no Sondra acolyte here… you mean SondraK right? I like the camo thong though.. that would make a nice Dusty Girl ad..
Stay still damn it!
You talkin’ to me? We’re just good friends.
Jeff’s posts are “order.” Everything that follows is “chaos.” In a yin-yang sorta dealy-whopper.
So it may be time to invoke Jeffery’s Angels. . .
Yeah, but AIN’T IT FUN?????
Where’s SeanM tonight? He was smokin’ last night.
Don’t we have anything better to do? Apparently not.
“Were Thursday to change abruptly into Monday…”
Undoubtably as a result of the wanton folly of the Bushitler coup.
I thought we were calling it the ChimpHitler/Halliburton junta.
I liked the old Dusty girl better. But the Say Anything girl is top-shelf.
and where is The Magus tonight ? I havent seen his name pop up anyplace.. I’m beginning to think maybe he doesnt sit at his computer 24/7.. that maybe he does other things as well….
“I like the camo thong though…”
Hmmm…do you like what’s in the other thong? Because if you don’t, you need to visit the optometrist.
Hmmm…do you like what’s in the other thong?
Maybe it’s the years trudging back and forth on Telegraph aVe… or trying to make time with chubby girls at Cafe Med… but I think, sir, that you are objectifying woman… and I can live with that.
Tom makes an appearance. Are you still in Beserkely?
Or Berserkely.
I motated to the land that Nixon left without a trace… although, I golf with a local contractor who built the Western White House and was called by House of Reps to testify about the “extras” Pat had asked for. His story of hiding at local rental house rented by friends – where Rosemary Woods and Hank Kissinger happened to be hanging around in – sort of cool to consider after a Cap’n Morgan and Dr. Pepper.
And they say todays politics are poisened.
So you’re in Whittier?
I sometimes wonder whether his story would make a good article. He also ruined his knee for life playing touch football on lawn during lunch. He was too macho to admit how hurt he was in front of all the Secret Service guys – plus he loved the buzz so much – that he tried to ignore it. His heart is now too weak to operate and he walks with brutal limp. So he sits about and tells great stories about the brief time when San Clemente was 8,000 folk small and hoppin’
Junk like that.
You know he’s dead, right?
John Greeleaf Whittier is dead??
Where’s SeanM tonight? He was smokin’ last night.
Oddly enough, I was out having a smoke.
Oh, and thanks for the compliment, Craig. That goes for Jake as well. He was very complimentary over on that thread.
Just trying to get next you, you stud. Is it working?
Sean:
Were you armed with Charter’s bio of Kerouac.. or do you have the Steve Allen tapes…
I’ll never forget an Owlsey induced night on East Bay carrying the Charter bio as treasure map to locate a home purportedly rented epochs ago by JK and beats… great night, but for entirely other reasons.
You have a nice touch; tres light.
Tom,
Nope. I was just working from my memories of their books, along with a dash of some of the experiences one of my Cal profs had with the beats (he claimed that Kerouac once hit on his wife, and he was supposedly a pal of Ginberg’s up until he died).
Was that house on the north side of Berkeley?
Craig,
Uhhh…
Oh, my, Tom. Was it one of the speckled flats? I used to deal that shit in Maryland. White, green, purple, and the holy grail, strawberry. 750 mics. Yikes.
Stop teasing me, Sean.
I forgot blue.
Kerouacs “place” turned out to be a Duplex in the Berkeley flatlands; about 2 miles from Marina area. You mention Northside. I used to make pizzas at “La Vals” (1978). Did you know the only untalented Fogarty brother owned the all too successful joint? Roger Fogarty may be the most bitter fellow I ever met.
I trust you can deal with the digression?
This is making me flash back to Janis Joplin. Please stop now.
This is making me flash back to Janis Joplin.
Juarez… circa 1962… Janis tearing up the clubs… hell, I don’t know… it said that in her bio… but after watching “Ray” last weekend I’m a little pissed off. Call me cynical, but I had no idea Ray Charles revolutionized 3 genres of music while rubbing wrists and junked up on anything and everything… although I did dig the music…
Is it OK to not like “Ray”?? To feel like my “suspension of disbelief” alarm mechanism going off 17 different times during film an issue??
Oh yeah… I’m only warming up…
OK, I’m sorry. Ray was really great. I swear. I loved the scene where Ray gets off the bus from North Florida in Seattle Washington and, haphazardly, Quincy fucking Jones happens to be leaning against wall of the Bus Station.
Quincy, being the cool cat that we all know him to be, befriends the young blind fellow from the Greyhound bus and takes him to seedy blues bar – and leaves him cause he’s too young to enter himself.
[Now think about how many time my alarm went off during that section]
But, and I’m not kidding, within 30 seconds of leaving Quincy, Ray finds himself at blues bar piano where, no longer than 8 key strikes into whatever beebob he played, 3 couples were moved from catatonia to dancing there fine fannys off on my bigscreen tv.
Damn… at that point my alarm was smokin’…
If I’ve offended anyone might I offer that I rented “Collateral” and watched it two days later. I thought Jamie Foxx was really great in that film. Excellent, in fact.
You know, in the seven years I lived in Berkeley (all on the south side), I never did set foot in the north side La Val’s. And I only infrequently went to the south side location–I was more of a Fat Slice man.
And if you’re innarested in the prof I mentioned earlier, you can read about him here. He was a pretty good teacher, and I met a rowdy group of drinkers in his Junior Seminar on beat generation lit. He even showed up to our end-of-semester party, where he regaled us with tales of the late 50’s beat scene in SF.
He seemed to dislike Kerouac (see above, where I mention Jack hitting on his wife) and really liked Ginsberg, but was open to divergent opinions during class discussions. As far as professors go, he’s a pretty stand-up guy.
Plus, Kerouac and Neal looked like freakin movie stars.. Did everyone in the 40’s and 50’s (except Alan Ginsberg) look like a movie star? I mean, my old man was better looking than John Travolta in Grease..My mother hotter than Marilyn M… my grandfather was the spittin image of Humphrey Bogart…Me? I can walk into a room full of people and no one will notice… I was robbed I tell ya!
Turing word: Job
like jack ever had one for any length of time…
We would notice, Jake.
Maybe that Turing word refers to the biblical Job. Watch out for plagues of boils and whatnot.
I’ve heard that whatnots can be extremely painful, especially if the nots are really tight.
ok..ok.. I didnt say I’m Quasimodo either… just not Neal Cassady or Jack K.. but then they werent only proto-hippies, they were proto-metrosexuals.. They did dress pretty sharp even when they werent dressed up by what I can tell. Theres a Queer Eye for the Straight Guy joke in there somewhere but I’m not going to touch it. hey, did any of the handful of original BEAT writers ever really wear a beret and dark glasses like Beatniks in the movies? Just curious..and finally, some trivia.. Did you know that Quasimodo won the 1959 Nobel Prize in Literature? True story.. I read it in his bio ‘My Way: From the Bells of Notra Dame to the Nobel Prize’
-AB
Hey Lu.. I got a C-note that says that I can totally mess with that Job cat .. take his wives, his kids, his money, his camels, his goats.. give him hideous boils.. any weird thing I can damn well think of… and the dude will STILL praise me and say how great I am and how merciful and stuff.. and keep comin’ back for more.. Dude’s a total stalker.. totally wont take a hint.
hahaha ‘yes sir..may I have another?.. ‘ hahahaha
Youre on God… $100 bucks.. Do your damnedest..
-Lucifer
OH.. you think I’m BS’ing about the Nobel Prize for Quasimodo , huh? Google it smartguy…
-AB
Oops.. the secret is out.. Alpha Baboon is Satan
Turing word: based
as in: ..based on the Apocryphal Gospels of Jeff the Erudite recently unearthed at the ancient temple of Protein Wisdom near the Dead Sea in Israel.
Garbage pick-up chez moi is Monday and Thursday, so I’d probably end up picking you marauding bastards off with an M16 from the roof of my condo, a la Omega Man.
Turing word: order. Strangely.