''...you gave me power in your god's name...''

After seeing this at moralcalculus, I could not resist. ''I am the cult of, I am the cult of, personality.''

The trifecta of weird on espn2.

I spent a decent part of the weekend with a tv running in the background. Nothing mind blowing to report, but there were a couple things that caught my attention and got me thinking. I happened to flip by espn2 and see former baseball player Wade Boggs on a hunting show. He was on Vancouver Island with a guide hunting black bear. Why? Why do people feel the need to kill animals? I just don't get it. It's not for the outdoor experience. They could have had the experience if they had shot the bear with a nice high power camera lens. And it's not to test marksmanship skills. That can be achieved much more efficiently on a range, with targets. It is all about killing something. And I just don't get it. I am not saying, don't kill animals. Go forth and do what makes you happy while remaining within the guidelines we as a society have created. I would just like to know what it is in someone's melon that would make them go to the trouble of traveling thousands of miles to kill a bear. Flipping by espn2 again later, I happened upon a fishing tournament of some sort. As one of the participants was exiting his boat, big clear bag of fish in hand, he slipped. He caught himself on the dock, with his sternum. The hand holding the bag made it to the dock, but the grip was less than stellar, and half of his catch slid right back into the lake. As did our competitor. Is that a karmic bitch slap or what? Completing my trifecta of espn2 weirdness, I swung by one more time during football on Sunday. In a crazed attempt at counterprogramming they were running the Scrabble National Championships. Let me say that again, the Total Sports Network was running the Scrabble National Championships. ??? There is nothing wrong with Scrabble, or Scrabble National Championships, but espn? Scrabble? It's like a penis enlargement infomercial on Lifetime. Then I had a little yugi-o marathon. Nothing weird about that.

The Sexiest Night on TV?

I have been seeing ads everywhere for the past few weeks about the sexiest night on television, the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show on CBS. Being the curious sort, I stayed up Wednesday night to tune in and see what was what. The promos, after all, were slickly produced and looked great. And how can you go wrong with beautiful girls in lingerie? Well, there are a couple of ways. The show kicked off with handheld cameras flying around the backstage. Quick clips of the models in preperation for the show with voice-over of the director calling out orders to the crew. It was a nice way to open the show. Let me repeat, it was a nice way to OPEN the show. This little game with the director talking over the shots and shaky hand held cameras continued throughout the show. I don't know if the director thought he was being hip and edgy, or what, but it came off as annoying bordering on ridiculous. It was like the show was an afterthought. Something that they just threw together on the spur of the moment. Then we get to the girls. I found myself wanting to rent one of those big vans that hotels use to shuttle guests to and from the airport. Then load it up with these girls and drive them all to the waffle house for double texas cheese steaks and milkshakes all around. Thin is one thing, but some of these girls were freakishly skinny to the point that it makes them less and less attractive. I'll take Rita-Sue over Olive Oyl every time. The one girl that stood out head and shoulders above the rest was Adriana Lima. She is so pretty it makes my eyes cross, topping even the german goodness of Heidi Klum. Oh, and the walk. Can't forget the 'runway' walk. Can someone explain that to me? I have seen lots of pretty girls walk around in heels, and they don't look like that. That just looks silly. And I may have looked away when they gave the results, but who had the winning time? They were powerwalking up and down the runway so fast that it had to be some form of a competition. VS should go find the guy that makes videos for playboy. Good lighting, wind machines, slow-mo. The lingerie itself ran the gamut from beautiful, to wha huh? That is to be expected from any fashion show I suppose. I do think that it proved once again that a nice black lace bra and panty set is the classic that can not be topped. I will add a thumbs up here for the wings. That is a theme Victoria's Secret has run with, and it works. Adriana in the purplish bra and panty with the white wings is breathtaking. And Heidi wearing the 12 foot wings was quite a site. Moving on, there were the musical performances. A roomfull of models and lingerie backstage and we are looking at Sting. Not Sting singing while models move up and down the runwyay. Nope, just Sting. ??? I guess we should be thankful that we didn't have to hear the director talk over his song. So, overall, the sexiest night on television left much to be desired. You can go to www.victoriassecret.com and see a web based recap that will show you everything you need to see. Hang around, or fast forward, to the end to see Adriana and Heidi in their wings. It is the highlight. 18 more days...

High Weirdness on the internet.

Last night was a strange one for my copy of the internet. I was having trouble logging on to etherstorm.net to check in on #firefly. That, in and of itself, is not that strange. The etherstorm server is provided by Ted and Dr.Xen free of charge (We all really appreciate it!!), so the occasional outage is forgiven. Normally the IM's fire up and we are off to another server, no worries. For some reason this wasn't working either though and led to a goofy conversation between myself and the lovely and talented Sarah, from moralcalculus. Both us sending server names back and forth and having one after the other fail to connect. We finally ended up making a room on the G4 chat server. Thanks Shemp!!! After that it was just a matter of getting the word out. So for future reference, if etherstorm is down, check the tags at #firefly and fffnet. The alternate servers will be listed there. Thanks for the firefly link Shemp. Very cool. I assume you will be attending the show. Looks to be a good one. I have to confess that since I moved I don't get G4 anymore. (dave ducks) I do check in on Cheat whenever I get the chance at a friends house though. And I look forward to getting it on our cable so I can watch all the old shows again. Especially the Squid easter egg!! Holy smokes, today is one of those days that Seattle looks like it is reputed to be. Just pissing rain like crazy. If my name was Noah i would seriously be looking into drawing up some boat plans. I even had to take a detour at lunch to dodge a flooded out road. And as I sit here typing this there is a steady rain thumping on the top of the car. Oh and sarah, while I am not to the Carni Fucking Vale point yet, after episode 10 I think I am just pulling into Carni Frecking Vale. :) It is getting good. Off to work. Have fun.

Firefly scoop

Hey there Just wanted to pass this along to the firefly fans out there, thought I know you're not in California. Check this out: http://www.comicbookscifi.com/program2.html Yup. Ciao

Back again hoping to post more often

Gosh how time flys, and how much blogging has happened since I last visted! Where does the time go? I'm sure I could contribute more than just movie nonesense but it is something I love! Silke I've got a cousin studing in Germany I'll have to ask him again where he's at. Reading what you say about your hometown and my emails with him make me really want to visit Germany more and more, I just have to find the time! DOH! Oh Josh, you asked long ago about the 710 and the Washington Exit...(sometimes I'm terrible with directions) but it's all under the L.A. umbrella, if it was there the 5 Freeway that's close to Cal State LA and East L.A. it could be the 710 on the way to Long Beach...so it's hard for me to tell. hee... The Comment feature is a good addition Dave, very cool. There really has been some fun stories going on here too. I don't have much to share really. I did see Matrix at 6:45 in the AM the wednesday it came out, me and some guys from work went bright and early. There was only about 20 other people in the theatre and that was cool. I did like the movie, but let me say it of course wasn't GREAT, but it delivered on the action and that was to be expected. It just comes down to the fact tha you can't ever top the first Matrix, it is the best. Now thinking of LA freeways, I have to comment on a recent midnight movie I went to here in L.A. I saw MIDNIGHT MADNESS at midnight last firday. It's all about this huge scavenger hunt called the BIG ALL NIGHTER, and If anyone has seen the movie, the actor who played LEON was there. He put the All Nighter together in the flick. It's a fun flick, and cheesey too, but it shows off some cool place in L.A that are no longer around. This Friday I'm excited to see ROCK N ROLL HIGH SCHOOL, now that's one of my favorites! The RAMONES just rock! "Hey Ho Lets Go!!!!" and "GABBA GABBA HEY!" that's my song quotes for the evening! Hey Dave we're finishing up another season of CHEAT! have you been tuning in? I know some of our old episodes are going back into rotation, maybe the squid easter egg will be back on TV! And to think that's when we first started chatting! Well, the weather here has been strange, we've had rain and sun and pouring rain and I know it's thundering by my house. Now I just have to face traffic to get there. L.A. drivers seem to loose their driving abilities in the rain...sure i've set up the joke...LA drivers have good driving abilities? hah... Oh well, but let me just say how YESTERDAY was just such a great driving day, with the holiday. I got to work in a half hour, and today an hour and 15 minutes, doh! Ok, so off into the dark traffic I go and promising yet again to blog a little more than i've been. Shemp Out! Blog ya laters ;)

11.11. und die fünfte Jahreszeit

for someone from the rhineland or especially cologne, my beautiful hometown, the 11.11. is a very important date. the fifth season started today at 11h11. :o) "the fifth season" is carnival. beginning today, it will last until a week in february, which will be full of dancing, singing, partying in the streets of cologne. one week. thursday to wednesday. a whole city in a state of emergency. in addition to the 1 mio inhabitants of cologne, about 1 mio tourists will visit during those days. and yes, i do know that to everyone who did not grow up in or near cologne that looks crazy. my dad who moved to cologne 32 years ago still hates carnival and avoids it whenever he can. but i was sitting in front of the TV this morning at 11h11, yearning to be at the alter markt in cologne, feeling homesick, watching the countdown. and that was all i wanted to talk about, besides: nice work with the comment-feature, dave :o)

Blog junk

Just a short note to point out a couple changes I have made to the blog tonight. You will notice that there is now a link for comments after each post, so you can tell Silke and Shemp to post more, Josh to post less, and me to quit babbling about inane shit like TANG and nougat. Special thanks to Sarah@moralcalculus for finding the haloscan comment service. I also added a new link under blogs of interest. HFK & LostAngel are friends of mine from the Firefly universe and they have recently dipped their toes into the blog waters. They are both very cool people and I am looking forward to reading what they have to say. By the way HFK, excellent work on the design for the page. That is sharp. Good luck to both of you.

Behold the power of TANG...............and woodies!

It has been a long last few days. Some vile little bug has managed to slip past my immune system defenses and is having a ball making me miserable. Headache, running nose, sore throat, the whole package. This hit me pretty hard on the way to work on Friday. Upon hearing my gravely sick voice UCAC immediately suggested hot TANG. To give you an idea of how crappy I felt, I completely missed the dirty joke door that opened up. Anyway, I am willing to try anything once, and NASA must have sent all that TANG into space for some reason. So, a few minutes later UCAC returned with a steaming mug of hot TANG. She told me I should feel very special because she was letting me use her woodie mug. She held it up, and sure enough, the mug was covered with little woodies and surfboards. Then she added, "I like woodies." Now I wasn't too sick to catch that one. I raised my left eyebrow and was forming my funny retort when she completed the thought, "Oh yeah, both kinds." That pretty much killed any joke I could make, but was funny its own self. Anyway, I drank the hot TANG. Believe it or not, it actually worked. My throat felt better right away, and the headache subsided. My congestion even eased up. Which leaves me wondering if it was the hot tang? the magic of the special woody mug? or just the fact that someone took the time to try to help? ------------------------------ Since I have seen everyone else posting the results of the quiz the lovely and talented philomel linked, here are my results. Make of them what you will. GURU (Submissive Extrovert Abstract Feeler ) Like just 12% of the population you are a GURU (SEAF)--kind, knowing, giving. Like Buddha of old, you can be a persuasive speaker, and you use your creative talents to further the objectives of your heart instead of your mind. But be careful that your friends don't take advantage of your relaxed nature, that's what happened to Jesus. Above all, you like going with the flow. And there is probably nothing in the world you haven't smoked. That's cool. Oh yeah, you like to talk a lot. That's cool, too. Whatever. ------------------------------ If you are interested in some good reading click that link on the right of the page for poptart and read her new chapter of Strawberry Road. It is very impressive. Miss Poptart is quite the writer. I have a new favorite song. Everyday sunshine, by Fishbone. It makes me think happy thoughts about happy things, like that girl in that sweater, emails from germany, rubble updates, the firefly movie. Ya know what I mean. Back to work with me.

So long, dear friends

Okay, quick hit and then I gotta run. Grabbing a load in El Paso, headed out to LA, and then from there to parts unknown. Love love to all, and I'll do my best to be safe, serene, and well-behaved. Okay, yeah yeah. Substitute well-mannered for well-behaved. It's amazing what you can get away with if you properly distribute 'sir' and 'ma'am' through your language. Had to grab some of my old CDs for this run, because I can't endure another period of XMness without some decent Archer music. All I could find on a quick pass was some Days of the New, Gravity Kills and so on... bit of Japanese taiko, shakuhachi, and biwa. I know I'll never hear biwa on XM. Around here, biwa is described by my local associates as 'the fine art of Japanese cat-torturing with a banjo accompaniment.' (XEN! XEN! Come down here please and tell these no-good bishonen bastards what a glorious and ancient tradition biwa is. I know if an extremely attractive female approves of it, they'll dance all over and retract themselves, and that'll just be hi-larious to watch.) Anyway, farewell to all my friends, enemies, regular readers, and of course to The World's Greatest Receptionist. Oh, and this blog is dedicated to... to... to... Tall Guy. Who we'll probably never see again. Who scared him off, anyway?

Why I love Cap'n Buck

Transcript of an IRC conversation held a few minutes ago... CptBuck- don't i know it Archer- Yeah, damn the authorities and their constant meddling. We almost had that reactor up and running. Archer- And they called us mad at Radio Shack. HAH! CptBuck- that's just cause they didn't know what you were going to do with all of the wire lubricant Archer- I had a perfectly plausible cover story. Archer- I mean, you said it was plausible. CptBuck- I did say that Archer- Those were the good old days, pal. When we could live in the same state, and use our real names and everything. CptBuck- yeah... * CptBuck sighs Archer- Who knew that the strippers would rat us out... CptBuck- who knew that they'd live through it! Archer- I mean, they were part of the cover, after all. Wire lubricant for oil wrestling... Archer- Well, you always were a lousy shot. CptBuck- no, I was sober then Archer- How did that happen? CptBuck- I'm a good shot when I'm sober CptBuck- I'd just woke up Archer- Oh wait, we burned down the liquor store. Archer- Damn them for not extending credit. CptBuck- I warend them CptBuck- hell, YOU Warned them Archer- And it was in the service of science, dammit. They should have been honored to contribute the ten kegs and thirty bottles a week. CptBuck- but no, all they'd do was stick a shotgun in our face and tell us we were nuts CptBuck- yeah, some people lack vision Archer- I tell you, you can't get good customer service anywhere these days. CptBuck- damn straight Archer- What really hurt was when the government of Argentina agreed to extradite us. I thought I had, y'know, a special relationship with them. With meaning, and feelings, and all that sort of nonsense. CptBuck- banging the president's wife is not the special relationship you think it is Archer- It was only the one... ten times. Archer- Plus the oral sex, which doesn't count. * CptBuck sighs

Here we go, a rant

Now, as promised... I'll dedicate this one to the fine and noble Sparkstyr, he who hates the ambiguousness of using 'y' as a vowel. (Cue Maguinan. "Ambiguousness!") Current song- Linkin Park, Numb. "I've become some numb, I can't you feel there. Become so tired, so much more aware. I'm becoming this... all I want to do is be more like me and less like you!" I was wondering about reading my usual news and information. While I'm rather sick of politics, one must keep their eye on the enemy. I was wandering about, wondering what I'd post on... found a moving and tragic retrospective at Capitalism Magazine, written by a woman who traveled across Russia analyzing the history and meaning of the gulag. Then I came across this wonderful bit of stupidity on the bill to permanently ban net taxes, which is stalled out over the debate on such things as VOIP phone services. And this very very stupid man, who appropriately enough has found himself a job in the senate. (There will be a rant on senators in a minute, stand by.) ---------------- Several states currently collect taxes on Internet access services, and opponents of the ban are worried that the legislation could limit this revenue source. "You could see billions and billions of dollars lost," said Sen. Byron Dorgan, D-N.D. "Definitions are everything." ------------------------- Okay... if you have children, please send them out of the room. Senator Dorgan... 'honorable' senator Dorgan... IT'S NOT YOUR FUCKING MONEY! NOT NOT NOT YOUR FUCKING MONEY! The citizens of this nation are not the property of the government! Their lives, their work, their dreams and hopes are not your property! Over a hundred million people were murdered in the last century because governments of various nations regard their citizens as another resource to be used, expended, or liquidated. Does anybody know how many billions of dollars a year the federal government loses every year, just flat loses? (Mind you, a good chunk of that figure goes to 'black budget' business, but god knows how much simply gets siphoned straight into the pockets of greedy bastards feeding from the public trough. And I'll guarantee you that a lot of that black-budget money goes in the same direction.) I have a choice in life. I can give up part of my life paying taxes for a million and one things I do not approve of, or I can get some government housing paid for by similarly extorted people. When I was working 120 hour weeks, I got a computer statement once a week on my pay. Forty goddamned hours a week, I was contributing to the NEA, public television, housing and urban development, and a million other despicable, corrupt schemes. Toss in the other fifteen hours or so a week that got lifted for state and local taxes and... goddamn them all to hell. These bastards sit on high and look at taxes as simple numbers and figures to feed their pet programs. We're nothing but numbers to them, polls, revenue, votes, sheep to be appeased before being sheared. This isn't any kind of an epiphany on my part, I'm well aware of the stinking corrupt indecency of the system. But bullshit statements like that tend to bring it out of me. ------------------ As to politicians and senators, the recent fooferah over the senate intelligence committee memo.... (Question. The intelligence committee has been around for what, fifty years? More? No idea. But anyway, all these decades, have they ever managed to find a senator with any intelligence? More money down the drain.) OMG OMG OMG, senators using investigations and goings-on in the senate to position their party for an advantage. Who ever heard of such a thing? "With politics, nothing works right. Without politics, nothing works." One of the more vile and disgusting truths of life. But enough with the respect and veneration of politicians. These are not bright and shining people, noble types who willingly accept the burdens of leadership. They're eta, dammit, people who engage in low, vile activities so the rest of us may go about living our lives. We should shun them in the streets, tell our children not to make fun of them... because they can't help it, they're only politicians. Honor of the senate, my ass. Just because Joe Bob can't hold down a real job and goes into politics doesn't make him special. BAH! (Memo to the World's Greatest Receptionist. Yes, I'm a bit irked tonight. But you still have my heartfelt admiration.) ---- Addenda- This thing has a spell checker? Nifty. But why doesn't it recognize the fine and honorable word 'fucking'? Machines are so stupid.

Okay, so I took another personality test...

Just one more. I'm okay. I can control this. Besides, it's all Phil's fault, for posting the test. Besides, this one is funny. ----------------- JUDGE (Dominant Introvert Concrete Thinker ) Jack Smith Like just 3% of the population you are a JUDGE (DICT). Your affinity for facts and analytical approach to life help you some complex problems and make tough decisions that others cannot. But don't think you don't act like a bitch a lot of the time. You jump into arguments and hold grudges like crazy. Try jumping into the sack and holding buttocks, instead. You could probably use some love. While some may see you as a bit overbearing and arrogant, your friends know that you are a trustworthy person with depth and a strong sense of righteousness. Although you are introverted and somewhat reserved, you have a forceful personality that your friends appreciate and your enemies fear. God help them. God help all of us. ------------------- Seems reasonably accurate, I suppose. "But don't think you don't act like a bitch a lot of the time." Yep, I can buy that. "God help them. God help all of us." Oh yeah, nothing like a nice massive ego-stroke for one who doesn't much need it, but enjoys it vigorously all the same. And somebody has been telling me recently that I do need to jump into the sack and hold buttocks more often. All very ironical, that. This one is dedicated to... Himberry! (Heh heh, I already dedicated one to Silke, so now I can dedicate one to her alternate alias. I'll use that one next on Dave...) Musical bit of the night... Firewater, song is Refinery from the Get off the Cross, We Need More Wood for the Fire album. (My favorite band.) "In the end, anonymous and floating in your chair, you rewrite the story. What's your name? And you tell them who you are and why you came, and they believe you. Thinking back, on nights when you were just a broken doll, behind the window... and you know that no matter which way you decide to go, you're never going back there." Bookstores. My most vile addiction. Again it strikes today. I go in... just going to get a couple of books, including a replacement copy of the John Paul Jones biography I left in a motel in Washington state. And naturally, I walk out with a hundred bucks worth of books. "Oh, shiny! Must have that one! And that one!" Worst part is, even as fast as I read, I'm massively backlogged right now. I haven't even finished Theodore Rex. At least I was halfway through the Jones biography when I lost it... Got the Zell Miller book, blah blah blah Conservative Democrat, for my father. Yep, yep, I'm not fond of conservatives, though I do tend to favor them over the left-wingers who alternately call themselves liberals and then run from the label. (Note: I am embarking on a one-man crusade to reclaim the word 'liberal' for the true liberals, people like me who believe that life is best when we mind our own business and don't wander about taking care of everyone else, whether they want it or not. American so-called liberalism is perverse.) Also dropped of the system I'm going to convert into a proxy server off with the ISP, for later recovery. Check this noise out... with the upgraded software, you can't change slots on the receiver card or switch it to a new computer... without taking it to them to reassign the MAC address and do other arcane rituals. I am displeased. Apex 2000 is verging on not having a place in the Future Regime. Also picked up a new pair of eyeglasses for my father, which allowed me to once again gaze in awe upon Cute Eyeglasses Girl... (See, Dave's not the only one with the propensity for nicknames.) Alas, I can only gaze in awe from a distance. She's smart, funny, warm, and dreadfully married. Siiiiiiiiiiiigh. That's the way it always is. ("Zathras have very sad life... probably have very sad death. But at least there is symmetry.") Got gas, realized my usual gas stop has switched to prepay, because the degenerates of the world have made it too dangerous for them to just turn on the pumps. I loathe people like that, the reason you can't leave anything loose on your property, have to watch the tips you leave for waiters... Ah well, life is still good. Because I got lots, and lots, and lots of books, baby.

Damn Poptart's Uterus

Okay, so I can't sleep, which means my prime writing time. The religious parable reminded me of an unwritten scene that's been weighing on me for years. It's just a brief excerpt from a much larger storyline. Fans of WW games and their Mage RPG will recognize it, but no familiarity is required. Hopefully after this Poptart's uterus will let me get to sleep... Oh yeah, music... Survivor, Eye of the Tiger- "Rising up, straight to the top. Got the guts, got the glory. Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop, just a man and his will to survive. It's the eye of the tiger, the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of a rival..." Dedication goes to... hey, I've never dedicated one to Maniac, my other lunatic after my own heart. HA! This is totally straight off the press, so the usual disclaimers about typos and errors applies. ------------ Jerry passed the pointer on to Hoff, who expounded on the structural details of station Freedom Seventeen. IOCOM units, which were typically called on to operate in a variety of exotic environments, were studiously cross-trained in various specialties relating to engineering, planetology, and other fields that were often critical to mission success. Under normal circumstances, Dennehy would be following up with a briefing on native flora and fauna, but the only such items listed on the indy station were the usual people, rats, and hydroponics. Proper care and maintenance for EVA battle suits was a religion among the marines, and whenever possible the corps required the mandatory 'four-check' where each suit was independently examined by four other unit members. Buddies checked each other, squad leaders checked their squad members and each other, and the platoon leader and platoon sergeant checked everyone. Jerry glanced over the connections and seals of Houston's armor, glad that they had plenty of time to do the job properly. Under emergency circumstances the layers of cross-checking peeled away in a hurry, but only the most dire of emergencies would put marines into combat without at least one cross-check per suit. "Alright," Jerry said cheerfully. "Locked and loaded, quick word with the sister, then we go to earn out pay. Sister Marianna Culver was a former Choirist who had ended up stranded on very nasty, hostile planet when her battle-coven had been annihilated by Grandarin mercenaries. Rescued by a marine expeditionary force sent to pursue the raiders, she was one of the many former Traditionalists who had been absorbed into the colonization program of their former enemies. Officially, she commanded the heavy weapons squad, her present rank of sergeant being the highest rank she could ever achieve, no matter what her well-proven competence might demand. Unofficially, she served as the platoon chaplain. Jerry smiled as she stepped forward, grasping his front ammo-ring and pulling their helmets into contact. Jerry smiled lavisciously at the woman, her dark features locked in their usual intense grimace. "Talk dirty to me, Sister." Pulling no punches, she launched into her usual diatribe. "You are the most wretched and vile of sinners, lieutenant." "Glory hallelujah!" Jerry replied. "You take the name of the Lord in vain. You gamble and drink and succumb to the pleasures of mortal man to the exclusion of your immortal soul. You seek women with the bodies of houris and the minds of sewer rats." she continued. "Can I get an amen to that?" he said, shifting from foot to foot eagerly. "When you die, you will go before the Lord, and he will turn his face from you, saying 'I know thee not.' This is the certainty of your fate, lieutenant, lest you repent your sins and accept Christ the savior into your heart. It takes but a small step, for the lord God hath said that all he requires is faith in the size of a mustard seed..." She always tried that one on him, in the past year of their acquaintance. "I have seen the light, sister! Save my soul!" Jerry bellowed. "Have you now?" she said, a note of hope in her voice. Despite himself, Jerry almost felt bad for toying with her sincerity. "No, I'm sorry. I don't." "In the end, you will be cast down with the deceiver to share his eternal torment. But before then, the Lord God has given a charge unto you, in his unknowable wisdom and mercy. Take us through the fire, lieutenant." With that, she released him. Jerry shifted anxiously from side to side, the line about women with the bodies of houris rolling through his mind. Damn, but that woman knew just how to get him pumped up and ready to kick some ass. Next down the line was Houston. Jerry was desperately curious about just what the dour platoon sergeant and the sister discussed, and it was incredibly tempting to hit the audio pickup and eavesdrop. Houston had never shown any religious inclinations, but off-duty he lived a life that might just be puritanical enough to satisfy the sister. He watched them finish up, and sighed as the Sister moved down the line. Tempting, but he'd never invade a platoon member's privacy in that manner. ----------------- As the Sister moved to the end of the line in second squad, she matched helmets with the platoon's new attached corpsman. "Are you afraid, corpsman Philip?" she asked softly, her intense black eyes staring at him with deep, compassionate depths. "Yes... very much," he said, after a moment's pause. He was a ship's corpsman, fresh from the academy, and never trained for operation with a marine unit. Especially not an IOCOM unit, with their reputation for freelance insanity and atrociously high casualty rates. "Fear is the Lord God's gift to man, that he would remember his place and understand that all life is beyond his control. Fear is the gift that drives us into the loving arms of our Shepherd, to be cradled in his embrace. Know this, corpsman. Every warrior here has faced his baptism of fire and survived it. None of them did so in the company of this fine unit, the best platoon in the damned Corps. Every warrior here will lay down his life for that of his brother, and you are now part of this family. Are you a religious man, corpsman?" Philips hesitated again, his mouth dry. He started to speak, but his words came out in a croak. He swallowed, then started again. "I was raised... yes, I believe in god, sister." "Then bow your head," she said "Bow your head and pray with me... Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me, For my soul takes refuge in You; And in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge Until destruction passes by..." ----------------------- Psalms 57:1-6 1 Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me, For my soul takes refuge in You; And in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge Until destruction passes by. 2 I will cry to God Most High, To God who accomplishes for me. 3 He will send from heaven and save me; He reproaches him who tramples upon me. Selah. God will send forth His lovingkindness and His truth. 4 My soul is among lions; I must lie among those who breathe forth fire, the sons of men, whose teeth are spears and arrows And their tongue a sharp sword. 5 Be exalted above the heavens, O God; Your glory above all the earth. 6 They have prepared a net for my steps; My soul is bowed down; They dug a pit before me; They have fallen into the midst of it. Selah.

And finally

I did promise Wulf I'd write up my parable of Christianity and deliver it to him. Since it's been a fairly popular request, I'll just post it here. Who the hell hasn't gotten a dedication yet? Somebody clue me in next time we talk. In the meantime, I'll give this one up for my new bestest buddy Cap'n Buck Rogers, a lunatic after my own heart. Current song- Sin City, from the Snake Eyes soundtrack. "A drowning man does not die silently, you can feel the final warning. And the black money follows through the veins of the shallow. Change the name to protect the guilty, you'll never leave sin city. Just one kiss from the shadow be the touch of an angel, just one kiss is all that you need, you'll never leave sin city, where you are king." So anyway, on to my little parable, the product of my usual dire habit of thinking too much, about four years ago. ---------------------- You create a couple of children, let them live in your palatial estate and give them free run of the place. They can go anywhere they want, do anything they want, just so long as they don't get into the cookie jar on the table. Then you invite your heroin-dealing brother-in-law over, who tells them it's no big deal, eat the cookies. He swears up and down you'll never notice. Naturally, you catch them on your spy-cam and immediately evict the tykes, with all sorts of dire noise, threats, and anger. Totally appropriately, you then send them off to live with this brother-in-law. But you're not really a bad guy. You write them letters, explaining that if they love you, worship you, and above all don't listen to anything your brother-in-law says, then by golly gosh, you'll let the move back in with you when they're eighteen. Of course, any children they have will have to live with the brother-in-law as well, for a good few thousand years, before you decide to finally bust a cap in his ass, while also gunning down any of the kids who somehow didn't find it in their hearts to understand what a really swell guy you are. But hey, the little snots had it coming... the ingrates. ------------------------- And there you have it. How anybody could see the love in that storyline is beyond me, but then I never was much on bending my knee to anybody or anything. Wulfster, if you want you can perhaps tinker with the language and concept a bit, just run it back by me when you're done. I trust your able hands. Quote of the day- "Warning: I believe in preemptive attacks and parting shots."

Oh, and a couple more things

First off, yay me. I'm down to buying my second new belt in three months. While I'm still very much a round mound of the profound, there's a lot less of me to love these days, to the tune of about fourteen inches off the waistline. And because I always have to dedicate and do the song bit, let's see, who haven't I covered? Uh, have I done one for Slinger, my favorite guitarist? Where are you, P.J.? This one's for you. And the current song is another anonymous Iced Earth track, "Pure ambition burns in me, it's a beast of eternity. The only peace I can find is when I'm here with you. You're the ones who keep me alive. You're the ones for which I'd die. Forever we will be standing tall, side by side. We're the children of the night." And here is something that struck me to do a few minutes ago, a chronological compilation of all the sexually related (or construed) quotes from the #firefly site. Hats off to Dave and Annie for making one of my favorite little fun corners of the web. If you read these as a single dialogue, other than a few jarring moments it makes for a fairly hilarious discussion. My personal favorite 'exchange' is "Spark: and one time at persephone, kaylee stuck a compressor coil..." "Kaythryn: dont use cool sex lingo around me" With... "maguinan: Well, we don't have the vocabulary to adequately describe textual intercourse." "Philomel: Is it smut or porn?" "lostangel: um, what's the difference?" "Philomel: Cuz smut is all kinds of good, and completely acceptable." and... "Spark: I have a good 8" you can have phil." "maguinan: I would so slut myself for him." ...vying with each other for second place. Here it is... Lost Angel: I think it's our duty to try to show the world that sex, dirty, kinky food filled sex, is a wonderful thing Archer: Is this the part where we group hug and cop feels? maguinan: I'll hump one leg and you can have the other. Lost Angel: The nuzzling was fine. The hands were distracting. HFK: No, no ,no, kinky sex is "You dirty little whore" Lost Angel: Sarah, will you be my god? Kaythryn: This is making me hungry. It's supposed to be sexy, not hungry. Kaythryn: If Mag gets in the green jello, can I spank her with my limp eel? Kaythryn: You're either on your toes or on your ass in here. Maguinan: And, if you're really lucky, on your back. maguinan: So I told it to stop sucking, it said, "permission denied". Sarahetc: And the armed duck would certainly let us know that we'd be getting fucked forward, not backward; upward, not forward; and always twirling twirling twirling! Kaythryn: Whoo, hands! Hands in new places! maguinan: Well, we don't have the vocabulary to adequately describe textual intercourse. Philomel: Is it smut or porn? lostangel: um, what's the difference? Philomel: Cuz smut is all kinds of good, and completely acceptable. Lost Angel: Cause we can't grab sex out of the refrigerator. Spark: I have a good 8" you can have phil. maguinan: I would so slut myself for him. Sarahetc: What a very large penis you have, Dave? Archer: Okay, I give up. We're in porno now. Sarahetc: Do I look like y'all's pet pornolizer? Spark: and one time at persephone, kaylee stuck a compressor coil... Kaythryn: dont use cool sex lingo around me maguinan: that's some high class entertainment...50 cent hookers Sarahetc: I'll bring the camera, you bring the handcuffs. Poptart: damnit sarah, stop it. i can only take so much of your sexy mouth... Kaythryn: Phil, you get in trouble when you start talking about organs. Sarahetc: Thinking about naked men, mostly. But you could also do that on your own. If you cant play with a group, play with yourself. HFK: I like breasts, and pie Lerxst: well who doesn't? Saprko: gay diabetics? Philomel: It's just a quickie, I just need to get it up. Archer: Okies consider sex with flour-based products to be normal. Wulf: whole wheat on top, white on the bottom, meat in the middle lostangel: where do the tentacles go? Lost Angel: you let phil slide on a cock? WHERE WAS I??????????????? LostAngel: well, you're men of the new millenium, smooch another guy and we'll consider kissing in front of you again Poptart: Archer, what are weigh stations for? spark: dropping off hookers Spark: I need to just stop talking about penis' bamadave: Yeah, Go back to boobs. Sarahetc: It was more than hissing. It was squealing and thumping and growling. Sarahetc: You have seen my thrusting? Sparko: Yes, but i don't recall your username Spark: now the penis, you can always do something with that and i mean the you in general not the you in you Poptart: man, now maybe i SHOULD masturbate :} Sarahetc: I gotta find Pop. We gotta make some Waffle House porn. Kaythryn: I'd buy that tape. Sarahetc: But I get the day off. Heh. At first I typed "I get the dave off." and oh oh oh bamadave: YEAH!! Kaythryn: Boner = hard on, erection maguinan: Can't we all just get it on? Sarahetc: Fuck me pink and purple!

Not bad, not bad

This one is dedicated to Lerx, who I haven't seen in forever. Am I going to have to go to Columbus and dig him out from under whatever rock he dwells beneath? Current song- Iced Earth, not sure of the title. "We shared dreams like all best friends, blood brothers at the age of ten. We lived reckless, he paid the price, why did he have to die? It still hurts me to this day, am I selfish for feeling this way? I know he's an angel now, together we'll be someday. I feel it once again, it's overwhelming me. His spirit's like the wind, an angel watching over me. Oh I know, oh I know, he's watching over me." Went to see Matrix Revolutions, first time in a while that I've gone to see a movie and not left feeling somewhat or totally ripped off. It's not Citizen Kane by any stretch, but it was pretty damn cool. Some drastic plot points, good action scenes. No 'endless fight scenes' like the infamous million-Smith fight in the second one, though there is one death scene that drags on and on and on. (Won't spoil it for anyone, but halfway through when one character is telling another one "You can't die!" I was hoping the other one would say "Yes I can! Watch!") The big mech fight scene is just beautiful, albeit utterly cliche. (This one's gonna die, this one's gonna save the day, no suspense in it beyond manufactured tension.) Other than that, nothing much to report tonight. Departure is now fairly firmly scheduled for Sunday evening, and this is going to be a special long shift, three weeks out. But afterwards, I'll get pretty much all of December off, so it's a worthwhile trade. Even if I have to suffer through sitting home through the Not-Named Holiday. I should be back in the IRC tomorrow night, hope to see all ya'll again.

All good things must come to an end, happy trails, that long journey into the night, yadda yadda, sob...

I have a most mournful note to sound, but first I must answer the gracious Silke, who has awesomely taken up my habit of song quoting, with an excellent choice. It is powerfully tempting, dear Silke. I've long pondered giving skydiving a whirl, and I could think of no better place to land than your neighborhood. I know just how you feel... word got back to an English professor in college that I was referrring to him as Ivan the Mad. (His name was Ivanov, and he ably lived up to my nickname for him.) Needless to say our relationship, never cordial to begin with, deteriorated even more. Scraped a D out of that class, then went on to ace it on a repeat, A+ the next semester. Current music, appropriate for the topic at hand... the Bangles version of Hazy Shade of Winter. "Seasons change in their scenery, weaving time in a tapestry. Won't you stop and remember me?" Dedication goes out to Bishop Ebonhand, who I know I've never dedicated one to. Generally a quiet fellow, but he strikes me as being very intelligent and an excellent sort of fellow. Now, on to the sad news. Texans and their pickup trucks. It's like cowboys with their horses. Well, the time is coming near for my beloved Sancho Panza. I was talking to a friend the other day about refurbing him and passing him along to new owners. Him- "You're selling Sancho? Funny, I always imagined a discussion like that would involve the sentence 'prying the keys from my dead, cold fingers.' or something like that." Me- "I'm not selling him. I'm finding him a good home, where he can relax and enjoy his twilight years." The illusions we use to sustain ourselves... Today we were talking, and I admitted that if it weren't for the resale value, I would put a merciful bullet into his radiator. That got us into talking about the proper funeral for a beloved pickup. Viking, of course, with logs and fire, but unfortunately that wouldn't properly reduce the frame to ashes. So then we started getting into the notion of melting down the frame with thermite and then gathering the resultant slag, putting it in a barrel and taking it to the ocean. All the places Sancho has taken me, he's never seen the ocean. I think it would be only fitting that he spends eternity wandering among the majestic waves. And as a final gesture, I would fling his license plate to the sea. From the waters whence we came, all those millennia ago, and to the waters we return. It is so tempting to arrange such a proper send-off for the old soldier. Oh Sancho, Sancho, my faithful pickup....

Andi and Achim

first things first: welcome home, josh! your blog entries always keep me busy for hours, because you use so many words i dont know and have to look up. keep flying, i like that a lot. oh, and an informal ceremony would be fine with me, as long as you just show up. since dave shared something he called tripledumb with us, it is my turn to let you all partizipate to something that happened at university yesterday. this semester i have a course about the life and work of the german author achim von arnim (1781-1831). he wrote an enourmous number of novellas, essays, poems and short stories, and spending so much time with his work make me refer to him as achim. the prof's first name is andreas, and the work group i am in this year started calling him andi. well, i started it, but they did not really try to convince me that that is not proper and after a while they adopted it. noone would dare adressing him andi when he is around though, so its no problem. at least we all thought it was no problem. a delegation of our group, among them myself, had to see 'andi' in his weekly consultation hour wednesday afternoon because of our presentation of one of achim's writings. when franziska, katrin and i were standing in front of the prof's room, we found a post-it note on his door that the consultation hour has been cancelled. so we were standing there, angrily complaining about andi and that we all moved appointments to be there at this particular time and that andi could have mentioned it in the course that morning, really - when the door got torn open because andi heard us. he has been in his room all the time. we all froze and noone said anything, rethinking if we said something bad about him besides calling him andi. he did not say anything, not a single word, just looked at us. but on his way downstairs we quickly went through the different subjects we covered with our presentations. he, running in front, dark long coat blowing behind him. the three of us following, trying to catch every word he said, books and pens and paper everywhere. not knowing if he heard us in front of his door. in the lecture today i didnt have the feeling he remembered us. the whole thing was just embarrasing. we certainly still call him andi, but from now on will make sure he is not around. my song of the day (or rather week): eagles - the last resort, extremely loud, and especially 5:27 - 6:06 "and you can see them there, on sunday morning, stand up and sing about what it's like up there. they call it paradise, i dont know why, you call some place paradise: kiss it goodbye." god bless sony. they made my headphones. my neighbours say "thank you, sony" as well. and i got sarah mclachlan's new CD 'afterglow' today and from what i have heard so far, it is very blogworthy and one song ('answer') will probably become the song of the coming few days. and now i have to hurry to my dear friend faru where the 2 of us will unpatiently wait for the MTV EMA 2003 (european music award, this year from edinburgh, scottland) to start :o) bis die tage :o)

All grown up

Very impressive. I'm going to have to steal 'dumbass trifecta' for my own use the next time I pull a similar boner. I like how it ties in so neatly with the title 'Dumb dumb dumb.' too. Okay, so this one will be dedicated to the World's Greatest Receptionist in specific, for having supreme competence despite her poor taste in web literature. Current music- Dream Theater, Pull Me Under. "Pull me under Pull me under Pull me under I'm not afraid All that I feel is honor and spite All I can do is to set it right" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * What, you thought I actually had something to say? I'm dead. Killed myself last night over the Bambi issue. It's all Dave's fault.

Dumb dumb dumb

I have mentioned before that I often spend my lunch hour in the parking lot of an unnamed business piggybacking on their wireless network. Wednesday started out like any other day. Enjoying my lunch, typing out an email, and checking some blogs. Then I was pleasantly surprised when the lovely and talented Kaythryn showed up in #firefly. We had a nice chat before she had to leave for class. So, with Kayt off to class, my emailing and blog reading done, and a tasty lunch completed I closed up the laptop and was getting ready to head back to work. Then all of a sudden, my radio shuts off. That was very odd. It took me about 30 seconds to notice that my headlights had been on all damn day. A turn of the key brought nothing but the silence of being a dumbass. With a swallow of pride I dialed up work to have someone come and give me a jumpstart. As I was talking to one of the guys at work, my phone shuts off. Dammit. Forgot to charge it. The last thing he had said was "I'll call you right b..." So, in a desperate move to complete the dumbass trifecta i go to the glove box to get the adapter to plug the phone into the car. Of course, completely forgetting that I need the phone because the car's battery is DEAD! Jeez. Anyway, I got the jumpstart and made it back to work. There was a bright spot of funny that came out of the episode though. Uber-cool accounting chick was happening by and I told her the story. I ended with telling her I wasn't sure that the car would start when I left work. She said "Oh, I'll jump you." Now that was meant in the very kind and helpful way, and most likely I should have let it go at that. But come on, that is a wide open door. I looked at her, "Now I could take that a couple of diffferent ways." It took a second, and then the realization of her unintentional double-entendre hit. Her eyes got big and she giggled. "I am going to go with that second meeting for now." Language is fun. Anyway, after an 11 hour work day the car started right up and I headed home. And now I wake up to read about the adventures of Josh, that truck driver guy, as the world's greatest receptionist would say. Well done description brother. Yes, we have more than one reader, but the dedication works. I certainly echo your sentiments about Poptart and the Princess. I count myself lucky to know both of them. They are spectacular. See how I am not making truck driver or Texan jokes. I think I've grown.

One more thing

I was glancing through Moral Calculus, and I noticed one of Sarah's posts put up in my absence. Sarah, dear Sarah, naturally I assumed that you meant the 'royal me' to refer to, well, me. After all, I'm arrogant! All my love, and please oh please be on Friday night. I do want to see you before I go.

The Dog's Life

Okay, this is posted totally unedited because I'm tired and going to bed after writing this part. So besides being obscenely long, it's probably full of grotesque errors in spelling, syntax, and so on. Flog me tomorrow. This one is dedicated to the ever-wonderful Poptart, my fellow egoist. She knows she's wonderful, and I agree. Truly a brilliant spark of life in that young woman, who rarely fails to bring a smile to my face. I might have dedicated one to her already, but all these folks are worth repetitive dedications anyway. Hell, I'll dedicate this one to my Princess as well. Love ya, Annie. Oh, and I'll dedicate one to our reader. (Dave, is this where you tell me we have more than one outside reader? If so, gentle reader, just imagine this is dedicated extra-special just to you, with my warmest regards.) Current music- Aerosmith, Dream On. "Every time that I look in the mirror All these lines on my face getting clearer The past is gone It went by like dusk to dawn Isn't that the way Everybody's got their dues in life to pay" -------------------------------------------------- I get a lot of questions about my job, not to mention very generous invitations along the lines of "If you're ever in the area, give me a call." I've been pondering a 'Day in the life' kind of post for a while now, so I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone. This is a blow-by-blow of a night around... a week and a half or two weeks ago. It was a run that started in Wisconsin, picking up in Green Bay. We start the action in Winslow, Arizona, at the Pilot truckstop. (I'm not going to do the precise times because I don't remember them, and I don't have my log handy to refresh me.) ------------------------------------- Wake up around... eight in the evening. (2000, because the industry runs on military time.) Got a good day's sleep while my co-driver took it across Texas and New Mexico. Start out by getting a bit of breakfast. (Morning is whenever you wake up, and breakfast is the first meal of the day.) Finish up breakfast, go into the truckstop to use the facilities. (Rule number one... go to the bathroom every chance you get. The constant vibration tends to bring the urge on more frequently than usual, and it really sucks to be in a twenty-mile traffic backup with a bladder that's threatening to erupt.) Got evening entertainment working the lot, typical for Pilots. (Pilot truckstops are dumps, bad parking, poor-quality fuel, poor security in most locations.) Pretty girl with the best upper works money can buy, riding in an RV with a big sign that says "CB shop" on the side. Clever operation, moving from town to town and staying ahead of the cops and the local competition. Damn shame. Damn shame that she doesn't have anybody to treasure or respect her, damn shame that she's spending the beauty of her youth to provide cheap friction for some of the lowest and most disgusting scumbags around. Do the math, call it fifty bucks a trick. (I'm not up on the price scales, but that's what it runs across the border right now.) Ten tricks a night, work six nights a week. 12k a month, nontaxable. Probably has a useless degenerate scumbag of a pimp/boyfriend who snorts most of that up his nose. After expenses, she probably clears a couple of grand a month. Guess that and a bit of mouthwash is a worthwhile exchange for dignity for some people. None of my business. Even an outside chance she likes what she's doing. Yep, I get all maudlin-McGee some nights. Anyway, back to the truck, I log my sleep break. The logbook is the central administrative tool in a driver's life... (Side note. We call ourselves 'drivers' not 'truckers.' ) As I was saying, the logbook is our holy text. We have to tell it about everything. Stop for a break to stretch your legs and go to the bathroom? Log it. Stop for lunch? Log it. Wake up in the morning, affirm on your log that you have slept away the night. 24/7, your whereabouts in some form or fashion must be noted in the log, so long as you are on duty. (And off-duty must be noted as well, but in a more general sense. The DOT has no business knowing if I'm off to watch a movie while I'm home.) In this case, I note that yep, I got my minimum eight hours of rest, and that I performed a pre-trip inspection on the truck, right here in Winslow Arizona. For my own notes I note my starting hub mileage, because I also have to list how many miles I've driven every day, plus how many miles overall have been driven. A lot of goofballs treat their logs as a joke, making funny entries, cheating for no good purpose beyond feeling all naughty and rebellious, and otherwise behaving in an unprofessional fashion. I keep mine clean, up to date, and stone-cold serious. When it comes to dealing with the state DOT and the feds, I like to operate in a very much 'under the radar' fashion. A pissy DOT officer who doesn't find you amusing can reward you with a couple of grand worth of fines in a heartbeat. Well, off we go. Total sit-time from waking up, 45 minutes, all of 'em busy. (Okay, I lingered over breakfast while reading Theodore Rex, but still...) (By the way, Morris' biographies of Roosevelt are excellent. Theodore Rex hasn't proven to be as enrapturing as the previous one, but all the same. The man has such a gift for language and exposition, a way of integrating rich imagery into what are very dry scenes in real life. Why he had to invent a fictional character for Reagan's biography baffles me, and I hate the way has tainted his other work.) Cruising down I-40. This is a good chunk of road to run in the summer and spring, but I'm not looking forward to the next part. Normally, heading for LA, we'd just stay on 40 and drop down on I-15 in Barstow. But the fires just started, and 15 was closed during the day, and is likely to be closed tonight. So I'm doing I-17 off Flagstaff. Every OTR driver has a hill, I think. Usually one of the top ten hills, Cabbage, Flagstaff, Lookout, Grapevine, Donner... Usually a hill they hit early in their career and get a good scare on 'em. Other hills they can look at with professional dispassion, but The Hill, well, that quiets 'em right down. 17 off Flag is mine. I was three months out, green as grass. Now to explain this, I have to go into the nature of the hill itself. Flag is flat neurotic. In the winter, a couple hundred miles out, folks start asking what Flag is up to. Somebody usually says something like "Why are you asking, driver? It'll just change in fifteen minutes." That's only a mild exaggeration. You can go from full ice on the roads to thaw in under an hour on Flag. I got snowed in on the top, spent the night at the opulent Little America hotel, got up the next day... it's clear, it's clean, roads are good, icicles melting, so I take off an hour earlier than I had originally schedule. Half an hour later, I'm sailing off the hill in a blizzard. Nothing bad happened, but it was exciting as all hell, probably gave me a couple more gray hairs. Ever since then, that particular road has been one that gives me a bit of a chill. Tonight I'll be running the heaviest load I've ever taken down it, gross total weight of 78,000 pounds. Should be interesting. Most of the construction is down. This is the sweet spot in the year. Good freight as the retailers gear up for Christmas, less traffic as the summer break is over, construction comes down for winter, but the weather hasn't started kicking yet. Haven't gotten the Pbus adaptor for my radio, so I can't hook in my MP3s. So I'm stuck with the damned XM, which bores the hell out of me. No station plays my music, see. And I demand control over my playlist, as well. So as usual, I start off with the sports talk. Problem with that is, they usually have only about five minutes worth of good news that they rehash endlessly, then we get the idiot callers.... ("Hi, this is Greg from Sacramento. I think the Niners should trade Tai Streets and a fourth-round draft pick for Jamal Lewis and Ray Lewis.) Then they do interviews. I think athletes should be made to pass the Shannon Sharpe test before interviewing. "Are you going to say something interesting?" Instead, we get two interviews. The pre-game interview. "Well, they're a great team, and it's going to be a battle for all sixty minutes. We just have to execute like we know we can, make less mistakes, and hope to keep it close and win it in the fourth quarter. They haven't got a great record, but they've been in every game, and we can't overlook them..." Postgame. "Well, they're a great team, they just had some bad luck, and Bobby did really good getting us those four interceptions, and they had some bad bounces on those six fumbles..." Bah. Hit the hill, coming down. Come down a bit too hot, nervous anticipation. Handle it fine, but warm the brakes a bit more than meets my exacting standards. Not good, but not too bad. Light traffic at this time of night, fortunately. 17 is a bitch for traffic. (Strong hint. DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT pull off on the shoulder of a steep downhill to take pictures. They have scenic viewing areas. They have off-ramps. I'm not joking about this, a whole lot of people get splattered doing this, because they're asking us to maneuver 80k lb. missiles against the force of gravity. Happens all the damn time on this stretch of road. The shoulder is for breakdowns and emergencies, people, not sightseeing.) Off the hill, into Phoenix, take the loop around, pretty uneventful, off down I-10 toward LA. So far so good. Sports is boring my brains out, though. Switch over to the news. Okay, screw Bill O'Reilly. An interview is supposed to expound upon the viewpoints of the interviewee, not serve as a forum for the interviewer to bellow about their own agenda and viewpoint. Even if you call it a debate segment instead of an interview, stop riding roughshod over your guests, you ass. You could get so radical as trying to let them finish a sentence occasionally. Got an idea... why don't you and Al Franken strangle each other? With barbed wire. I'd pay to see that. CNN. Great. Some dingbat idiot working subtle slants from the teleprompter. Grrrrrr. Okay, music. New Age, nice and mellow. But it's threatening to put me to sleep. Stop and go to the bathroom at the rest area. First time my feet have hit the ground in about five hours. No nighttime security here, but last time I saw a security guy was in Florida, and I wondered when he would be old enough to shave. Rest areas are dangerous turf, especially in the middle of the night. Rule number one for drivers. Everywhere you go, you're on enemy turf. You don't speak the language, you don't know where to dodge to if it goes south, and that nice guy next to you at the bathroom sinks could very well be a well-armed cargo hijacker with accomplices. They've tracked and taken trucks as far out as a thousand miles outbound from LA. Helps to have some eyes in the back of your head. Back to work. Okay, we'll try the rock stations. Nope... nope... nope... they call this crap techno? Bah. Off to the decades. Start with the nineties. Pop. Go back to the eighties. Hey, Bonnie Tyler. Cool. Now there's some memories. Okay, rap, no no no. Back to the nineties. Madonna? No thank you. Hell, let's try the seventies. What the hell is this? ABBA? FUCK YOU, XM! FUCK YOU! Okay, I have a lot of songs memorized. I'll just sing to myself. Entering California. Check station at the border, normally you present your bills and tell them what you're hauling. On rare occasions, if something arouses their suspicions, they can just pull you up and completely unload your truck and trailer. Nifty, no? It's never happened to me, but I have a charming smile. It's not a common happening, and usually something really has to trip their radar. Cruising up ten, hit Indio, which is where I really start counting myself as getting into the LA area. Still got a long ways to go to LA proper. Radio is saying 10 is still clear, and 15 is definitely down for the count, both sides. Love those windmills in this area, even if they aren't worth a damn for realistic power generation. I love hearing about the 'alternative energy sources.' Pie in the sky, folks. You want alternative energy, let's start talking orbital solar grids. ;) Hit Banning and I can see the skyglow off the fires. Banning, California is the most infamous scale in the country, the place that added its own jail cells to house the truly heavy offenders of the sacred DOT code. With my automatic preclearance AVI, I hardly ever have to stop there. Hah hah, suckers! Virtue pays off! Except. BASTARDS! They're pulling me off the highway. Great. Four years of doing this, I have yet to undergo a full DOT inspection at a scale... (Speaks to the heavy enforcement out there, neh?) I sure as hell don't want the first one to be at goddamn Banning. Whew. Just run me over the scales and let me go. So long, suckers. I'm back at it. In the infamous words of Pete Kennedy, "Cheated death again." (Pete Kennedy was a fellow who took a reporter crew along for a ride and gave away entirely too many secrets of the business, the variety of secrets that tends to cause people to write their congressmen. He did this cute 'cheated death again' routine when passing a closed scale. Last I heard about him, he got a rather ruthless and professional roughhousing job done on him at the Sierra Sid's truckstop in Sparks Nevada. Pays to keep your damn mouth shut, Pete.) Get past there, getting toward the outskirts. I can see Rancho Cucamonga burning. All the times I've made fun of that town and griped about it... (Try writing 'Rancho Cucamonga' legibly in small print in about an inch and a half, with the threat of a hundred dollar fine for illegibility hanging over your head... no fun.) This really sucks. It's beautiful, but I know what's going on. It's not cinematic, with neat lines of fire. No, it's burning in patches and chunks, a smoke cloud you can't see all of, just the part that's lit up by the fire. The normal acrid scent of LA smog mixed with wood smoke makes the atmosphere even more unpleasant than usual. (Side note. I get a real kick out of the California anti-smoking thing. SoCal from Diego running on north to Sacramento just tears my lungs to hell, coughing and wheezing all the way through. This happened even during the years when I wasn't puffing my cancer-sticks. You wanna tell me that secondhand smoke is worse than LA smog?) Fontana, about sixty miles from LA proper. Stop for fuel at the company terminal, second time my feet have hit the ground in about nine hours now. Fuel, bathroom, and off to delivery. (Sadly enough, I can't even remember what LA burb we delivered in... it was on Washington Street off the 710, I think... Shemp? Help?) Hit the customer. Don't know if this is going to be a drop and hook or a live unload. Hoping for a drop and hook because the regular unloading folks don't show up until noon, and it's four a.m. local. YAY! Drop and hook. Dump the trailer, grab an empty one and go. Feet hit the ground again, do the trailer exchange... actually, now that I think about it... we didn't need an empty trailer for the next one. COMMERCE! That was the 'burb. It comes back to me now. Dump the trailer. Send the message out over the satellite, load delivered, heading for the next one, which we were notified about yesterday. ---------------------------- And that's the biz. When you're on a run, that run is your whole world. Every so often, you glance at the clock and calculate your spare margin on time, based one whatever mileage average you're aiming for. Everything else is a distraction, possibly one that can make you late. (And a late is very very bad black mark on the old career record.) As soon as that one's done, it's over and forgotten because you're already moving for the next one, working out the margin, studying the routing if it's something different than the usual freight channels. So much as I would love to visit all the people I've met online, I'm usually moving. The truck doesn't pay for itself, and this is another one of those stand still and die sort of situations. Over the years, under some very fortunate circumstances, I've managed to meet precisely three friends from the net. We run an atypical operation, taking a day off every week, so if I'm in an area where I know somebody, AND I have their number, AND I'm not so dead-shot tired that I don't just sleep for twenty hours, I can have a visit. Since we seem to end up in LA on Saturdays and take our day off there on a semi-regular basis, I have managed to get together with my conscience a couple of times. Other than that, back when I was a solo driver I had a load that had a day to spare, and hit a buddy's place in Iowa on Christmas eve. Later on I took three days off there. (That's one perk of the job, back when I was a solo I could technically take my days off anywhere in the 48 states, or even conceivably in Canada.) One other time I pulled into Huntsville Texas a bit early and had dinner with a friend before I hit the sack. It's not really a bad job, though the all-consuming nature of it along with the isolation tends to burn people out. The typical career path tends to go like this... people either quit or go local after six months, two years, five years, or feet first. Six months for the ones who had no idea what they were getting into and flat can't handle it. Two years for those who have families and didn't realize that the typical ration of three to four days at home a month wasn't conducive to maintaining their relationships. Five years for the burnouts, where the frustration and constant stress puts them on the shoulder. Feet first for the rest, who usually planned to do it for a couple of years to pile up some cash before moving on to a better job. (That line about 'two years' is soooooooooo damn common. Hell, I said it myself when I was starting out. Now I know why all the old floofs were chuckling at me.) Best part is, I don't have to drive to work in the morning. -------------------------------- P.S. I've never forgiven Bambi. She told me she really loved me, and not just for the eighty bucks I'd slipped into her g-string over the course of the evening. Damn you, Dave, for tearing open the old wounds. I'm gonna go pop some corn, watch a movie, and kill myself.

Nougat, the other other white meat.

Just ramblin...good traffic today so I have a few minutes to kill before I go to work. Josh, the world. The world, Josh. We couldn't let Texico and the crew at #firefly have exclusive access to your thoughts and opinions brother. And by the way, welcome home. It is good to have you back, even if it is for a brief respite. Sucks about the truck, and I can't decide which line I like best, so I will allow each reader to choose their favorite. A) Sorry to hear about the little incident with bambi, but hey...JERKY!! B)Sorry to hear about the truck, but it's probably still cheaper than your usual interactions with things named Bambi. I have noticed that Sarah@moralcalculus seems to be quiet recently. Less with the updating and not in #firefly much. Does that mean that the next BC is in the offing? One can hope. I can hardly wait to hear more of the adventures of the mysterious Philomel. Either way, we miss you Sarah, hurry back. Just in case you have missed it, the ever amazing maguinan has added a countdown to the release of the Firefly DVD set to the #firefly page. (http://www22.brinkster.com/numberfirefly/) Nice work mag. And oh my, only 33 days! Has everyone tried the new Reese's Fast Break? Do yourself a favor and pick one up. Chocolate, peanut butter, and tasty nougat. Really, nougat. How did they not come up with this sooner? Now, off to work with me. Good day all.

Fans? Readers? Here?

Lessee... Current music- Firewater, Dark Days Indeed. "I was born ashamed at dawn, I saw the angels cry. I raised my arms and made the stars tremble in the sky. When I sang, the choirs were humble, when I danced the mountains crumbled, chased the waves right back into the sea. Feasted on the fatted calf, I drank whole cities dry. I made the devil dance for me, I spat into his eye. So, so long Jack, we hardly knew ya. Here's to hell and hallelujah, take this rock and shake it 'till it bleeds. And these are dark days indeed." This blog is dedicated to none other than the lovely and gracious Lost Angel, with whom I had a most interesting discussion on personality analysis tonight. When Dave came into the IRC tonight, he informed me that we have... a fan. Or at least perhaps a reader. I was mortified. I mean, suddenly all this adoration, and me with nothing to wear. (Dave swiped my pants after he tore his last pair open, so I tried to bum a pair off of HFK, and, well, that idea was doomed from the beginning.) Odd odd. I knew that this was an open forum and all, but I never expected anybody beyond our circle to be perusing through here. I promise I won't let this newfound celebrity go to my head, though. I look to the example of industry giant RC Cola, which maintains its vast power and prominence at the center of the cola industry in a quiet and understated fashion, yes, to RC Cola will I look for a role model, and behave myself accordingly. And if everybody else starts showing up in limos before our mutual posting sessions, I'm outta here. (By the way, dear reader, I give you hearty greetings. Autographed pictures are fifteen dollars apiece. We're still working on the 30-second phone message system, but I swear upon my honor that you'll be the second person to know, with Dave delivering the message personally. In my pants, no less.) Ciao, ya'll. I have this fabu party in Santa Monica to attend.

Gorram Bambi

So there I was, cruising up SH 83 on a clear dark night. Great visibility, reasonable timetable, set to be home the next day. So there's Bambi in the distance, right in the middle of my lane. Company policy for any company in the biz... you don't dodge the wildlife in the road. They teach it that way because if you get all frenetic about dodging, especially the rookies, you end up with a truck laid over sideways across both lanes. Which is all sorts of exciting and dramatic in a bad way. But I had the room, and I ain't a rook. I took it left... woulda cleared the stupid herbivore, but nooooooooo... damn deer cuts back and runs right under the bumper. Thank god for full-coverage insurance package for body-work of this variety. Second bumper we've had to get replaced in about three or four months. Pretty much sums up my trip out. Bumpy. Lessee... This blog... is dedicated to our very own blog-ladies, Shempcat and Silke, for gracing our lives with their words and warmth. (Silke? You like Shadowrun? Tell me, would you prefer a big church wedding or an informal ceremony? I'm flexible.) Current music- Dire Straits, Drummer Boy. The rebellious melancholy music of my red-beret, camoflauge-jacketed adolescence. "Well, I tried to be meek/ I have tried to be mild/ But I spat like a woman/ and I sulked like a child. I have lived behind walls that have made me alone/ striven for peace/ which I never have known. And I can still hear his laughter/ and I can still hear his song. The Man's too big/ the Man's too strong." Current mood- Awestruck at the entries I just read over at the Rubble. The power that we have in our hearts, when we open up and cut loose... it's unbelievable. I can't think of anything to say that will do justice to the... majesty of those entries. Nobody was in the IRC waiting with balloons and those annoying noisy things people blow on at parties, so I'll just dive into some scenes and vistas from the road... Got into and out of LA twice during the big fires. Hell of a sight, the hills burning, the smoke blotting out the sun over two hundred miles away and well into Arizona. Heard some criticism of the San Diego firefighters for honoring their mutual aid pact with the LA area departments and sending units and firemen up in the early stages of the LA fire, only to have San Diego catch up in their absence. Goddamn journalists badgering the fire chief in San Diego about it, asking him if they would reconsider such mutual aid pacts in the future. Godddamn, no-good, pencil-pushing, story-seeking, REMF jackasses. Every damn fire department in the country has something like that mutual aid pact with surrounding fire departments, because when your brothers-in-arms need help, you send whatever you can. Sure, in this particular case it left the San Diego FD out of position, but with the winds and the state of the countryside, land units wouldn't have been able to do squat about it anyway. But it makes for good copy. I have a general loathing and distrust of journalists, the bloodsucking disaster-whores. There are good ones, but it's a dirty business, 'it bleeds, it leads' mentality and so on. Had a pleasant time in Wisconsin, other than a really nasty bit of docking in a junkyard where they literally had to bulldoze scrap appliances out of the way so I could get into the door. But it was a by and large congenial visit. I had all sorts of deep thoughts and so on that I pondered on the road, as usual. But I'm just a bit too bone-weary to write 'em up. Hey Shemp, I know where you're coming from. I inherited my grandmother's dog, the smartest one I ever saw. I only had him for about three years, but I was a pretty solitary fellow at the time, and he often provided some of my more interesting conversations on those odd weeks and months where I was avoiding talking to people. (No, he didn't actually talk to me. Put the straitjacket down, folks.) He was such a damn con artist... about fourteen years old, and blind in one eye. And whenever guests were over, he'd go into this 'feeble old dog' routine that was just a thing to behold. He'd get all clumsy, start walking into walls and so on... and everyone would go "Ooooooh... poor doggy!" If he was in full form, he'd go jogging down the back steps on the way to doing his bathroom business... and stumble off, invariably around the second step, and go snout-first into the ground. And I'd yell "You goddamned faker!" And everyone would look at me like I was a monster. I used to take him for rides in my battered El Camino, Rosinante, and feed him beef and cheese enchiladas from Jumburrito. Damn, but he loved those burritos. Then he'd get gas, and it would be a nightlong symphony, sound effects and some of the most ghastly odors imaginable. Good old Promise... one hell of a dog.

Scrolling right, Scrolling down, Scrolling all around.

Just a suggestion for anyone thinking of sending photos through email. Lately I have noticed that more and more of the pics I get are ridiculously huge files, and they don't need to be. The changes in digicam tecchnology have made two and three megapixel cameras fairly prevalent among consumers with digicams. If you want to print out 8x10s that 2048x1536 pixel image is going to give you a sharp looking print, but if you email it to someone, you are going to stuff their mailbox with a huge file, and the photo is going to be too big for their monitor to display anyway. Case in point, today I got two photos in my email that were over 1 megabyte. And in viewing them at 100% I had to scroll all over the place to see what was what. Now, I am very thankful that I received these photos, they were very good. I am just saying that it makes it easier on everyone if people chop these things down on their end, before sending. A max of 1024x768 is a good rule of thumb. And jpeg compression works pretty good. You can get a nice quality 1024x768 photo under 200k without losing much quality when viewed on a monitor. If that sounds too picky, blame it on this being a 5 minute need to get back to work and WGR was complaining about more updates entry. It is just a suggestion, and if anyone needs help figuring out how to resize their images, let me know and I will explain further. And a big thank you to all of you who are gracious enough to share your photos with me. It is appreciated muchly. Back to work with me.