Thursday, February 25, 2010

Bitte Orca, Orca Bitte.

Did you hear about this? This is so crazy.



So get this. My grandparents were there, at that last show of the day.
Apparently they were having some problems with the whale before the show so my grandparents left before it happened. They actually met the woman before the show and talked to her a bit. My Grandma told me on the phone that the lady seemed quite nice.

I'm rather glad they didn't have to see that.

Well, whatever makes you happy.

I promised, I swore to the highest of heavens (my Facebook status) that I would not Chatroulette.

Well, I Chatrouletted. If you don't know, it's a website where you are paired with a random webcam. It's like speed dating and that horrible MTV show Next thrown on the interwebs.

I came in with the preconceived notion that it would be mostly awkward men looking for boobs who would skip me immediately. I thought that it would simply be a portal for lame people to meet other lame people and have lame conversations about nothing. But hey, who am I to judge that? Everyone should have something in this world that makes them happy. OH WAIT UNLESS THAT THING IS WANKING OFF TO COMPLETE STRANGERS ON CHATROULETTE. I honestly am telling the truth when I say that the first penis shocked me. There it was, present on my screen, there not long enough for me to comprehend it but enough to burn into my memory forever. I nexted him to another handful of weiner. I no longer Chatroulette.

Is there no courtesy? No disclaimer that the guy could hold up and say, "I'm about to show my dick. Leave if you want." I feel like there should be a place where people can Chatroulette with their weiners on their weinercams. Maybe that's just Chatroulette.

I considered posting in front of my cam a picture of Justin Bieber just so when a veiney sausage popped up I could print screen the image and put the word "PEDOFILE" in large type.

Just, forget it.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

"Let the work of change begin."

This is a response to the post below this one.

To those eyes that have seen history, to those who unwillingly carry the duties of yesterday and today and tomorrow and forever more, to who have shunned from liberal conspiracy and romantic drivel, to mothers who have lost their sons to war and daughters to glowing screens, to those who countdown to something different, to the few glad to be where they are, to the inhabitants of a broken world and those being mended, to those who don’t get it and those who want to, to lovers, rapists, abusers, and drug users, to the forgiven and the forgetful, to the investors and the gamblers, to those who are holding on and those who’ve let go, to the working class and the workless, to the drones and the liars, to the hearth and the salamander, to everyone around here and everyone we don’t know yet, to the defeated, to the cows and the poor, to those who want for more and those who don’t know what they want, to the just, to those who ask for too much and those who have yet to ask for anything, to the subjects, to the helpful and the helpless, to the collectors, to the spectators, to all the King’s horses and all the King’s men, to the child that cries when innocence dies, to those whose attention spans beyond election cycles, to thinkers who provoke, to the provoking and the provoked, to the idols and the pathetic, to the women who bear children and the children who know not what they are, to those who can not read this, to the door holders, to the history buffs, to the self-important and the humble, to the children who wish to share with their parents, to those who can’t sleep, can’t write, can’t eat, can’t talk to people, to the absurdists who think that you’re the weird one, to the clown and the poet, to those who say nothing and those who won’t shut up (yet have nothing to say), to the responsible, to the meaningful, to the feminists and the chauvinists, to the unqualified and the overrated, to the anti-social, to those who still take baths, to the old and the new, to the dead and the living, to those who don’t know what to do anymore, to the lawyers, employers, creators, and destroyers, and to the evangelicals who damn all of these sinners –

You are not all that different.

Things That Happened

My Dad served jury duty last month. There were two what I guess you would call waves of people in the jury pool to be interviewed and selected. Of the 10 in the first wave, five jurors were selected. In the second wave of 12, four jurors were selected. My Dad was one of the four selected from the second wave. The details of the case concerned a woman who confessed to a nurse that after an argument with her boyfriend, he beat her several times around the head, strangled her, causing damage to her eyesight, and forcing her to remain in a closet for three days. Reportedly the strangulation was caused not by the man’s hands, but by the gun he forcibly shoved down her throat. The jury was apparently ready to hang this man. With the facts already against him, he was looking forward to six to 20 years in prison.The first witness called to the stand was this woman. The defense attorney asked, “Can you identify so and so?” Yes. “And can you tell us who that is?”

My man.

And when asked how her injuries came about, she claimed she was hurt in a bar fight.

Upon hearing this story, I knew immediately that this would be forgotten, like everything of this nature is.

Stare decisis
.