2.2.2018 (first posted this week, 2002)
So I got one of them little peeky-peekys. Some folks call them satellite dishes. A fine, fun-loving List Member set me up with the hardware and I called the programming company and got me about 500 channels. Now while this might sound like a lot of stuff to watch, truth is there's nothing. A whole lot of nothing. The Home BO replays the crappiest movies ... ever. The Food Channel, while somewhat interesting at times, torpedoes its best show, Iron Chef, with that campy English voice over. (In the old days, Iron Chef was on a SF cable-access channel DIE-rect from Japan. It had no English VO, but rather these English subtitles, translations from Japanese, and reading them, the viewer had the feeling that the translator didn't quite saavy Japanese-to-English. And that he was stone drunk.) But at any rate, 500 channels or not, I could scarsely find anything to watch. That is, until I stumbled across the "Operation Channel."
Pop on the Operation Channel and you're in for a treat, if you can stomach it. Well I can't. The close-ups of the gall bladder surgery or the intra-cavity camera's shots of the hernia operation frankly make me want to hurl. The strange thing, though, is my inability to look away. I'm grossed out, completely, but fascinated (discreetly).
I threw on the Operation Channel the other night and found someone's toe being reconstructed. Someone had apparently dropped a heavy object, perhaps a bowling ball, on their toe and some enterprising surgeon figured they could salvage the little piggy. Dang but the inside of the toe is icky-looking. The doc was packing what looked like orzo or wee-little shipping peanuts into the meaty, pink, split-toe and I forgot that I needed to look away often and ended up staring at the screen for a long time. Nose wrinkled, squinting and about to puke, I remembered myself and looked at the back of my hand just in time.
Moments later, as the nausea washed away, I returned to the screen. This time, they showed some fella sitting in bed, reading aloud crappy Laughter Is The Best Medicine jokes from Reader's Digest. The jokes weren't funny, but the guy was enjoying them. I was about to ask what happened to the toe when the camera panned down the bed and the Doc and a bunch of lackeys were down there working on the toe. The dude wasn't even konked out! That threw me for a loop. What a miraculous time we live in, when we can simultaneously enjoy the worst jokes on the planet and get our toe operated on. Oh joy!
Tonight - Vesuvio Cafe
(Julie's pinky can now drink legally...)
News: Arg! Mateys! Robot feels like a pirate!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Member: Moss
Satanic Word of the Week: Error [(Venue Announcement not verbose enough to constitute Satanic Word of the Week. Error No. 666)]
Porn Title of the Week: Whore of the Rings
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 08, 2018
Thursday, February 01, 2018
Bloated (REDUX)
2.1.2018 (first published this week 2001)
I've been overrun by crappy music lately. I've been ice skating a lot; once or twice a week. For some reason, the folks at the rink insist on playing oh-so-god-awful music over the loudspeakers. Stuff like "Walk like Mr. Egyptian," "Bang the Warrior," "Only the Lonely Can Play" (I used to sing "get laid" instead of "can play." Ha ha.) In all honesty, though, I sorta liked that "Only the Lonely" song way back when. It was by the Motels. I thought they had a cool band name. Even though I can't play a note on any instrument and I'd be hard-pressed to hold a guitar properly I always thought it'd be cool to have a band. Most folks'll start a band by, y'know, learning how to sing or play the drums or something. I figured that a good start would be finding a cool name. Some reason I liked the Motels' choice for a name. Kinda corny, but kinda sexy too. Oh well. They had another hit aside from "Only the Lonely." Anyone know what it was? Yeah, so, the rink's speakers are pumping out this crap. I'm hearing stuff I'd prefer not to hear again. 38 Special. Seger. Anything by Journey. Where the heck they find this shtuff? I didn't go killcrazy because they'd pepper that shit sandwich of a playlist with gems like Leppard, Quiet Riot and Gary Numan. Gary Numan? Man. That was some good stuff. I dug out a cassette with "Are Friends Electric?" on it. That song kinda rules. All this reminds me of this time - a while back - in '77 when my family was on vacation in upstate New York and we were skating at this outdoor rink during the day and they too were playing crap. I remember I was just about to hurl because prolonged exposure to bad music made me boot back then too when all of a sudden they threw on that disco version of the Star Wars soundtrack. They had samples of the C3PO and the R2D2 and everything. It was inspirational skating music. I skated as hard and as fast as a little fella could. Ya think all the music that's played at the rinks around the globe's inspirational to at least one person? Nahhh! I defy you to find someone inspired by "Arthur's Theme."
For drinking pleasure, join the TNSC at:
Make Out Room (by request)
cash only - no cover
Joining the list tonight are Naomi and Rebecca. Say "hey" to Naomi and Rebecca at the venue tonight and buy them a drink. Jer's new roommate and her sister would be on the list, but they didn't cough up their email addresses.
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: "Bite The Big One" Contest. (Thanks for the suggestion, Teensy.)
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: This cool dream I had a while back. I was at lunch with Robert Plant and this weird little waiter with an eyepatch and a limp kept giving us drinks that we didn't order. There was an old-fashioned bomb with a lit fuse for the table lamp. (Editor's Note: This super-lame reenactment is the result of the funding cuts levelled on the TNSC TonDramReen Foundation by the new Administration. It is this editor's opinion that this is but the beginning.)
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: The aforementioned Jeremy Johnson. That sucker is back in town fer good this time. He blew into town last night with a truckload of stuff that didn't get moved into my apartment, so I figure he's serious. Welcome back!
"Wiplash" by Metallica is a good inspirational skating song. I'm not sure why they don't play that one. Come out to the bar tonight and see your pals, new and old. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
Here we go!
I've been overrun by crappy music lately. I've been ice skating a lot; once or twice a week. For some reason, the folks at the rink insist on playing oh-so-god-awful music over the loudspeakers. Stuff like "Walk like Mr. Egyptian," "Bang the Warrior," "Only the Lonely Can Play" (I used to sing "get laid" instead of "can play." Ha ha.) In all honesty, though, I sorta liked that "Only the Lonely" song way back when. It was by the Motels. I thought they had a cool band name. Even though I can't play a note on any instrument and I'd be hard-pressed to hold a guitar properly I always thought it'd be cool to have a band. Most folks'll start a band by, y'know, learning how to sing or play the drums or something. I figured that a good start would be finding a cool name. Some reason I liked the Motels' choice for a name. Kinda corny, but kinda sexy too. Oh well. They had another hit aside from "Only the Lonely." Anyone know what it was? Yeah, so, the rink's speakers are pumping out this crap. I'm hearing stuff I'd prefer not to hear again. 38 Special. Seger. Anything by Journey. Where the heck they find this shtuff? I didn't go killcrazy because they'd pepper that shit sandwich of a playlist with gems like Leppard, Quiet Riot and Gary Numan. Gary Numan? Man. That was some good stuff. I dug out a cassette with "Are Friends Electric?" on it. That song kinda rules. All this reminds me of this time - a while back - in '77 when my family was on vacation in upstate New York and we were skating at this outdoor rink during the day and they too were playing crap. I remember I was just about to hurl because prolonged exposure to bad music made me boot back then too when all of a sudden they threw on that disco version of the Star Wars soundtrack. They had samples of the C3PO and the R2D2 and everything. It was inspirational skating music. I skated as hard and as fast as a little fella could. Ya think all the music that's played at the rinks around the globe's inspirational to at least one person? Nahhh! I defy you to find someone inspired by "Arthur's Theme."
For drinking pleasure, join the TNSC at:
Make Out Room (by request)
cash only - no cover
Joining the list tonight are Naomi and Rebecca. Say "hey" to Naomi and Rebecca at the venue tonight and buy them a drink. Jer's new roommate and her sister would be on the list, but they didn't cough up their email addresses.
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: "Bite The Big One" Contest. (Thanks for the suggestion, Teensy.)
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: This cool dream I had a while back. I was at lunch with Robert Plant and this weird little waiter with an eyepatch and a limp kept giving us drinks that we didn't order. There was an old-fashioned bomb with a lit fuse for the table lamp. (Editor's Note: This super-lame reenactment is the result of the funding cuts levelled on the TNSC TonDramReen Foundation by the new Administration. It is this editor's opinion that this is but the beginning.)
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: The aforementioned Jeremy Johnson. That sucker is back in town fer good this time. He blew into town last night with a truckload of stuff that didn't get moved into my apartment, so I figure he's serious. Welcome back!
"Wiplash" by Metallica is a good inspirational skating song. I'm not sure why they don't play that one. Come out to the bar tonight and see your pals, new and old. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
Here we go!
Thursday, January 25, 2018
TNSC, CNC and U
1.4.2018
So through some grace I found myself with a 3D printer and after a bit of futzing around with it, I got it to work. Yay futzing! I printed up a few dinguses I found on the web, modeled a few others and then printed them with success. My little robot progeny was designing a game and needed a spinner and so I printed him one. It worked well and he liked it.
He and his pals are into making games and he asked if he could take the spinner to school to demo it for them (and use it in the game they were making). He asked if we could make more spinners for his friends. I asked if he wanted to give them away ... or sell them? Yay Capitalism!
So we piled a bunch of rolls of PLA filament into an online cart, hit the Place Order button and got a mail prize a few days later. We got busy printing spinners and started to pile them into a box. When the box was full, he took it to school and "didn't come home until the box was empty." Actually, the spinners sold themselves and he was quickly out (he did float some kids on collecting the price (they said they'd bring it in the next day) - so I think he and I need to have a conversation about interest on a loan and collection "techniques.")
Perhaps the best part of the spinner design is the blank face of it: It is without any numbers, letters, symbols or anything else the spinning pointer would point to when finished spinning. That part of the unit is - as they say these days - an "add on purchase." We have cardstock and a compass with a cutting end. We make and sell the inserts!! Yay New Economy!
Tonight - The Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
So through some grace I found myself with a 3D printer and after a bit of futzing around with it, I got it to work. Yay futzing! I printed up a few dinguses I found on the web, modeled a few others and then printed them with success. My little robot progeny was designing a game and needed a spinner and so I printed him one. It worked well and he liked it.
He and his pals are into making games and he asked if he could take the spinner to school to demo it for them (and use it in the game they were making). He asked if we could make more spinners for his friends. I asked if he wanted to give them away ... or sell them? Yay Capitalism!
So we piled a bunch of rolls of PLA filament into an online cart, hit the Place Order button and got a mail prize a few days later. We got busy printing spinners and started to pile them into a box. When the box was full, he took it to school and "didn't come home until the box was empty." Actually, the spinners sold themselves and he was quickly out (he did float some kids on collecting the price (they said they'd bring it in the next day) - so I think he and I need to have a conversation about interest on a loan and collection "techniques.")
Perhaps the best part of the spinner design is the blank face of it: It is without any numbers, letters, symbols or anything else the spinning pointer would point to when finished spinning. That part of the unit is - as they say these days - an "add on purchase." We have cardstock and a compass with a cutting end. We make and sell the inserts!! Yay New Economy!
Tonight - The Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Penny-stealing ... Wanna-Be ... Criminal ... Man (REDUX)
1.3.2018 (first posted this week 2005)
whrr ... clik!
A Christmas tradition that had taken a backseat to getting smashed on NOG for me was enjoying the Christmas Stocking. My Ma was a champion at stuffing the thing with really great stuff back when I was a wee little Robot. And I ain't talkin' about "fillers" like oranges and such. Everything was precious and well thought out.
This past Xmas the small circle of Fam and Friends and I resurrected the tradition in Grand Style! We went as far as decorating our own homemade stockings (the 'blanks' deftly crafted by a crafty Delp) by cutting up bits of felt and glueing them on. This Robot, looking for inspiration thought of the things he liked most ... and came up w/ Nachos and Margaritas! Both rendered in felt quite well, if I do say so myownself.
So on Xmas morning I dissassemble the bloated stocking and much to my delight I find little booze bottles and cigarettes, a false moustache (and spirit gum), some lottery tickets, a Daily Racing Form, a bottle of dishwashing liquid, a pad of Post-Its and a small round pin - some folks call them buttons - that said in a crazy typeface: COFFEE SLUT.
I affixed the COFFEE SLUT button to my fleecy, warm sweatshirt and proudly wore it, as I am, indeed, a COFFEE SLUT. There the button remains and whenever I don the fleecy, warm sweatshirt I remember the joy of the Xmas stocking.
FAST FORWARD to last Saturday when the grrrrrrrl and I are on our way to a weekend in Yosemite and we stop in a grocery store. I'm again wearing the fleecy, warm sweatshirt and it indeed still has the COFFEE SLUT button on it but I don't really see it anymore because it's always there. All at once, in line to check out, I see the COFFEE SLUT button and laugh quietly to myself. Then the nice lady starts ringing up the beer, beef jerky, dry-roasted peanuts and, without looking up, says, "So ... you're a COFFEE SLUT." I said, "heh, okay." She said, "Your button. It says COFFEE SLUT." I looked down at the button and said, "Oh! That’s, uh, that’s uh, my piece of flair. I'm, you know, required to wear a certain amount of flair. ... uh ... I didn’t actually choose this. I, uh, I just grabbed a button and, uh, I don’t even know what it says! Y’know, I don’t really care. I don’t really like talking about my flair."
The nice lady looked me with sad eyes and said, "okay, fine. Sorry." I paid and left.
Tonight - Bar 821 (by request)
You never know who will show up there.
bye-ee!
This past Xmas the small circle of Fam and Friends and I resurrected the tradition in Grand Style! We went as far as decorating our own homemade stockings (the 'blanks' deftly crafted by a crafty Delp) by cutting up bits of felt and glueing them on. This Robot, looking for inspiration thought of the things he liked most ... and came up w/ Nachos and Margaritas! Both rendered in felt quite well, if I do say so myownself.
So on Xmas morning I dissassemble the bloated stocking and much to my delight I find little booze bottles and cigarettes, a false moustache (and spirit gum), some lottery tickets, a Daily Racing Form, a bottle of dishwashing liquid, a pad of Post-Its and a small round pin - some folks call them buttons - that said in a crazy typeface: COFFEE SLUT.
I affixed the COFFEE SLUT button to my fleecy, warm sweatshirt and proudly wore it, as I am, indeed, a COFFEE SLUT. There the button remains and whenever I don the fleecy, warm sweatshirt I remember the joy of the Xmas stocking.
FAST FORWARD to last Saturday when the grrrrrrrl and I are on our way to a weekend in Yosemite and we stop in a grocery store. I'm again wearing the fleecy, warm sweatshirt and it indeed still has the COFFEE SLUT button on it but I don't really see it anymore because it's always there. All at once, in line to check out, I see the COFFEE SLUT button and laugh quietly to myself. Then the nice lady starts ringing up the beer, beef jerky, dry-roasted peanuts and, without looking up, says, "So ... you're a COFFEE SLUT." I said, "heh, okay." She said, "Your button. It says COFFEE SLUT." I looked down at the button and said, "Oh! That’s, uh, that’s uh, my piece of flair. I'm, you know, required to wear a certain amount of flair. ... uh ... I didn’t actually choose this. I, uh, I just grabbed a button and, uh, I don’t even know what it says! Y’know, I don’t really care. I don’t really like talking about my flair."
The nice lady looked me with sad eyes and said, "okay, fine. Sorry." I paid and left.
Tonight - Bar 821 (by request)
You never know who will show up there.
whrr ... clik!
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