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I scoured through all of my pictures, and amazingly enough this is virtually the only booby shot I have from my camera. For all of my extensive digital camera wanderings, this is the just about the only flesh I have to show for it. To be honest, I have one or two others, but this is the only random person I have a shot of. I wouldn't be too popular with my peers if every one of their drunken antics immediately ended up on the web. (Not to mention that they probably have much incriminating material to counter with) I love this picture. It is a beautiful moment in time, frozen forever. I love the way the old man's eyes linger ever so creepily upon the flame covered boobs of the nubile young woman. I love the photos of the smiling vixens in background. I love the beads, the mouth of the beer bottle, the Bud sign, and the purse. Not really. I really just like the boobs and the creepy old man staring at them. Not pictured in this photo, of course, is the creepy fat guy who took the picture in the first place. Formerly-fat-me. At one time I had the supreme motherload of all French-Quarter debauchery pictures. I was at one of the homogenized Bourbon Street clubs and apparently it was Gomorrah Night. My camera witnessed the most complete display of depraved acts since G.G. Allin came to town. But alas, the gods of hard drives were angered at me. One day I moved the hard drive which contained these photos onto another computer. Microsoft's shitty scandisk started to spin. I got a creepy feeling. I canceled it. The hard drive was toast. Scandisk had killed it. I have not run a Microsoft OS on my personal computer since. In other news: Enjoy the boobs. Send me feedback if the javascript doesn't work in your browser. Permalink to this post. |
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As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches one. This is quite true, particularly when discussing politics. The left slings out Bush/Hitler comparisons as frequently as Indiana Jones does his whip. There is no question that the Nazis were pretty damn evil. I think that's pretty well established. It's also pretty clear that Hitler himself was no creampuff either. But I think that modern vilification of Hitler and the Nazis is quite unfortunate. (A pause for everyone to prepare their angry emails) The problem I have with the characterization of Hitler as the single most evil and vile entity in the universe is this: Hitler was not unique. Nazi Germany was not unique. Go read a history book. Look at what the Japanese did to Nanking. Read up on Stalin. Pol Pot. The list goes on. I remember arguing with a coworker several years ago about Nazi Germany. My point was that what happened in Nazi Germany was possible in any country given the right circumstances. He actually argued that there was something special about Hitler, and in fact something particular in the German people that made Nazi Germany a wholly unique situation. I found it quite ironic for a PC hippie to use racism as his supporting argument. So you're probably wondering why I bring all of this up? Well, there's a new pope, and already the left is spouting off with characteristic vitriol and painting him as the "Nazi Pope." Nazis, of course, being the personification of everything evil that ever existed. All of a sudden everyone is an expert on this guy's life. Everyone is a damn Pope Scholar, complete with an encyclopedic knowledge of the back stories of all cardinals. "I can't believe they picked THAT guy!" they shout, as if they knew Jack or Shit about any of the other candidates. I'm pretty sure that everyone else's introduction to this guy happened right around the same time as mine: When John Paul II died. We got the 30 second rundown of the contenders. Arm length, time running the 40, and height. Eye color and favorite food. All wrapped up nicely by some talking head who read the same information we can find on the internet from Google. After Googling around, it seemed that all of the non-crackpot sites agreed on his background which is nicely summarized in this Wiki. Bottom line: As a teenager he was legally required to be in the military. Not like you're legally required to get a brake tag, oh child of privilege, but legally required as in they would shoot him if he refused. Note also that his family was forced to move several times because of their anti-Nazi stance. Can you imagine growing up under totalitarian rule, hating what your family is being subjected to, and then finally breaking free of it. Making something of yourself - only to have the world accuse you of being the very thing that oppressed you as a child? Somehow I doubt that he would be getting all of the bad press were he a member of any other country's army - voluntary or not. Russian soldier? That's not a news story. Vietnamese? Japanese? Nah. Only because he had ties the THE GREATEST EVIL THAT EVER EXISTED is it news. I don't care who you are or where you live. All of our societies are one crisis and one charismatic leader away from Nazi Germany. Permalink to this post. |
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Ever interested in attaining a modicum of fame for my site, I decided to try my hand at the funny. I encountered the picture above at ircimages.com, and it seemed like a shoo-in for internet meme. I mean, look at that guy. Never since mosh girl has there been such determination and pure intensity on the dance floor. As with mosh girl, mosh guy's intensity is such that other revelers are forced to stop and stare at it like deer in headlights. The two pictures tell the same tale: those in attendance cannot believe what they are seeing. They are seeing pure, unbridled awesome. For shits and giggles, I decided to combine the greatness of mosh guy and girl into one picture.. I suck at Flash. I have always sucked at Flash, but I figured an exercise or two could make my sucky flash take a turn for the better. It does not seem to me that excellence in modern computer-aided graphic arts has anything to do with innate artistic talent. It seems that the two factors which separate sucky graphic artists from good graphic artists are patience and knowledge of the tools. This project was incredibly easy, yet took hours. Hours of tedious erasing of backgrounds, copying and pasting, and many other completely un-artistic tasks. Computer aided graphic art is art in the same way that computer programming is baking cookies. Anyway, bitching about graphic arts aside, below you can see the result. The Mosh Guy Clock. Permalink to this post. |
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In this picture you can see what my crowbar hath wrought. The psychopath who previously owned my house felt that it was not enough to have two enormous garages. No, he had to build a half-assed room over one half of the yard, and a weird quasi-roof over the other half. And he decided to pour concrete on the ground and cover it with astroturf for good measure. And cover everything with mirrors. And nail a ship's wheel to the fence. And nail rubber fish, sharks, crawfish, and frogs to the overhang. And nail a bookcase to the fence (attached with 4 layers of 2x4 boards). And embed a pylon into a cube of concrete. And let his daughters spray paint all over everything. And write a love note to his wife in the concrete before it dried. This weekend I introduced my hammer and crowbar to the mad mosaic of wood and nails. This picture shows me at the end of Saturday when I thought I was almost done. Wrong. I was less than half done. See that giant beam that crosses behind my head? That thing is about 300 pounds. Unfortunately, it supports the roof on the building to the left, so I couldn't just take it down. I wedged a board under it 2 feet from the building (far enough to continue supporting the roof) and used a hand saw to cut through the massive beam. I temporarily wedged a board under the middle of the beam so as the beam weakened, rather than sagging into my saw and making it impossible to cut, it bent upwards, making it easier to cut. When the beam finally fell it shattered one of my stepping stones. That bookcase? Hundreds of nails. Wedged in between two pillars. Still no match for my crowbar. Even bolted in with screws the size of my fingers, the pillar could not resist. I win. Sunday my brother, Brent, and Brenda came over and watched me work for a little while. "You know what you look like, Beau?" he asked. (Note: My family calls me Beau) "What?" "You look like Zoolander in that coal mining scene." And everyone laughed. With me, I hope. This is the only thing I'm going to miss about having the giant roof hanging over my whole yard. Permalink to this post. |
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That stuff adds up. Now that I am a homeowner I have developed a more critical eye. Things that looked fine before are now horrible eyesores. Track lighting is ugly. Other than my front rooms with the hardwood floors, Tracey pretty much hates every room in the house. I'm starting to agree with her. We chose my big bathroom for our first big project. Step 1) Take down the enormous mirrors that lined each wall. Easy, right? Wrong. They were held to the walls with tar. Tar. I paid a friend to shatter the mirrors and take them down piece by piece. Tracey and I spent the next week taking down tar. After the tar was down we put a coat of joint compound on the walls to smooth them out. Tracey then sanded these surfaces, filling my entire house with a fine white powder. Even my Gamecube had dust on it. It was almost time to prime and paint. But first I had to take down the bathroom light fixtures. I hate almost every light fixture in my house. That's my pet peeve. The house is a mish-mash of bizarro world light fixtures. And not a damn one of them takes a standard bulb. Since I bought the place I have refused to go and buy these wacked out bulbs. My house has grown steadily dimmer as bulbs burn out and I do not replace them. The vanity light fixture above my bathroom sink was particularly repulsive. It was a long rectangular mirror adorned with shell-shaped bulb covers. The light bulbs were tiny cylindrical ones that fit between two poles like a AA battery. Before we were to paint I wanted to replace this one long fixture with two smaller ones. Fixtures that take normal human All-American Farking Light Bulbs, dammit! I could see no obvious way of removing the front of the fixture, so I unscrewed it from the wall to take it down. The cable from the wall was tightly attached to the inside of the fixture, and I could see no clear way to disconnect it. It seemed that the only way to remove the fixture from the wall was to cut the cable, and I obviously couldn't do that with power going to it. I got up at 7AM Saturday and Sunday to map out the breakers in my house. For those of you who don't know, here's a super quick home wiring primer: Your house has many circuits of electricity within it. A circuit is essentially a loop. One side is positive, denoted by a "+", and the other side is negative, denoted by a "-". In order for any device to have power, it has to be properly connected to a circuit in your home. The device must have one positive wire and one negative wire feeding it for it to power properly. Each circuit in your house has a maximum amount of electricity it can provide. Once you go over this amount you overload the circuit. If your electrical system didn't have any safety shutoff, you could keep plugging devices into a circuit until it overloaded, most likely starting a fire. The purpose of a circuit breaker is to let you know when you have overloaded the circuit. If you plug too many devices in, it flips, turning off power to that circuit. The other use of this breaker is to turn off power to an entire circuit, allowing you to safely cut wires etc. without risking a horrible death. I purchased a breaker finder from Lowe's for about 20 bucks. They are pretty cool little devices. They come in two pieces. One half you plug into a receptacle for which you want to find the breaker. You then take the receiver half and move it over your circuit breaker panel. When you are over the breaker that controls the circuit the other half is plugged into, the receiver beeps. Pretty cool. Unfortunately, if your circuit only contains a light fixture and no plugs, this device will not help you find the breaker. For those you have to trial-and-error flip breakers until the lights turn off. After about 5 total hours of work I had all of the circuits near the bathroom light fixture mapped. I flipped the breaker to the vanity and all plugs etc. that had wires going through that wall. Once I got the fixture down I realized that the front panel was removable, and I could have disconnected the wiring inside rather than cut the fixture off of the wall. Oh well. Right away I noticed a problem. Even though the previous fixture extended across both sinks, it only connected to the electrical system over the left sink. The second fixture was connected to the first by a cable, as you can see in the first picture. Light fixtures are connected to the wall by screwing directly into an electrical box. An electrical box is a box that you embed in the wall for the purpose of A) containing spliced electrical connections and B) Attaching receptacles, light switches, and light fixtures. Because there was no electrical box over the right sink, I had to run my own wire and embed my own electrical box. There were three studs between the existing electrical box and the desired location of the new one. Electricians use a stiff wire called "Fish Tape" to find paths through walls. Using fish tape can be pretty tricky, and I didn't think I could guide the tape all in one run. Because of this, I did not drill holes in the studs, but rather used a router bit on my drill to cut a small area on and around each stud. Then I "hopscotched" the wire around the studs. This made the fishing relatively easy, because I only had to fish a few feet between each stud. The cable is pretty thin, and we are going to simply use sheetrock joint compound to cover the places where the cable is routed around the outside of the stud. To embed the electrical box I cut a circular hole with a sheetrock knife, pushed the cable into the box, and then pushed the box into the hole. I used an electrical box with little wings that extend outward when you turn their screws, causing the box to tighly grip the surrounding sheetrock. Finally, I wired everything up based on the diagram found at the bottom of this page, and Voila! Two new sweet-ass light fixtures. Permalink to this post. |
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