Why, look... it's a... a... well, it's a dead woman falling through an endless tapioca drink.
(Actually, it's an exercise in simulated physics. If she gets stuck, toss her about with your mouse.)
[Via BoingBoing.]
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  May 2008
 
The Astonished Head Tee! Buttons, Small and Bigger! Chomskybat Magnet! Proloxil T-shirts and Mugs! 
Ba-Bow Limerence (Falls In Waves) 
Astonished Head: The Ad Miserable Ovoid Creature 
Current Crygender The Hacker Crackdown The Ethics of Ambiguity The New Goddess In the Queue Love and Limerence A General Theory of Love Labyrinth of Desire The Second Sex Decoding Gender in Science Fiction Male Bodies, Women's Souls 
The Aristocrats The Blenster's Blog Classical Values The Colossus Exit Zero Fried Green al-Qaedas Kate Evans' Blog Protein Wisdom Seablogger Spiced Sass Ten Fingers 6 Strings through the moonroof verb-ops Virtual Occoquan Waiting for Cassowary  BMEzine ErosBlog Fleshbot Girl with a one-track mind ModBlog Susie Bright  Adventure Cycling 'BentRider Online crazyguyonabike Greenspeed USA HP Velotechnik Ken Kifer's Bike Pages Nomadic Research Labs Northeast Recumbents 
boingboing Dan's Data Engadget Gizmodo Mozilla Oh Gizmo! OpenOffice Slashdot ThinkGeek Treehugger Ubuntu Ubuntu Forums Wired   
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July 01, 2005
Why, look... it's a... a... well, it's a dead woman falling through an endless tapioca drink. (Actually, it's an exercise in simulated physics. If she gets stuck, toss her about with your mouse.) [Via BoingBoing.]
What you've got right here is the Neon George t - shirt. Why? Why not? What's the matter with you? That's our President! And he's glowing. It's all about showing your support for the inert noble gasses that make our country so great, and for Astonished Head, which helps you waste valuable time. So pony up your $15.99 today! I've got one. Be like me. July 02, 2005
This Editor and Publisher bit - - outlining MSNBC political analyst Lawrence O'Donnell's claim that Karl Rove is the source revealed in Time magazine's recent document dump - - will be an excellent test of the Roverster's evil powers. I expect him to bust out with lightning bolts of media humiliation from his fingertips, although he may just use the invisible hand of hubristic larynx - crushing. Of course, there's always the possibility that a small force of ill - equipped reporters will sock a rocket into the White House's unsecured exhaust port. In any case, it'll be a decent show. [Via Mr. Reynolds, not that he needs the traffic.] July 04, 2005
Idle Brains
Amazing. I just watched an 820 - pound copper impact probe the size of a washing machine smash into comet Tempel - 1 at 23,000 mph. Pictures of the event were sent to Earth from somewhere outside the orbit of Saturn, and then streamed from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California to my laptop. If Microsoft products didn't suck mule rectum, I could post a screenshot for you of the impact, but apparently Windows Media Player won't allow that sort of foolishness. Think about that: we have the technology to send a probe to collide with a comet, precisely aim it over the course of six months and 268 million miles, instantly receive images from 3.7 seconds before impact, send those pictures across the country, then wirelessly transmit them to a computer about an inch thick... but I can't take a screenshot and post those pictures on my website, probably because of some ass - headed DRM nonsense that Microsnot has used to cripple my software. Way to go, Bill. Jackass. Still: in the morning you'll be seeing the images I just saw, and they'll look even better once the image processing folks tidy them up. Hubble was also having a peek at the collision, and those pictures should be even better. And if there's a big, persistent plume from the impact, you can see it yourself if you've got a dark place to stand and a pair of good binoculars.
Here's the Deep Impact mission page, with lots of photos of busted - up cometary goodness.
"Well, I think cement is more interesting than people think." Prof. Enid Gumby
July 05, 2005
Idle Brains
I consider FrontPage magazine to be sort of my blogging alma mater; I was posting to their forums when I started this site, and those forum posts frequently ended up as blog posts. I stopped reading it after awhile, mainly because I don't like fundamentalists of any stripe, and there are more than a few of those there, and also because editor David Horowitz has the kind of driven stridency that only an ex - convert can muster. That said: here is an example of Mr. Horowitz's ability to beat you senseless with a big fat p0wnage - stick if you're a) a committed Leftist and b) not all that quick on your mental feet. The intro: It isn’t often that the Left is forced to reveal itself, but in this transcript of a “Michael Medved Show” segment with David Horowitz and Nation writer Daniel Lazare that is exactly what happens in regard to the Left’s de facto alliance with our terrorist enemies in Iraq and elsewhere. Lazare begins by denying the reality of this "unholy alliance" – the title of David Horowitz’s book – but ends up by professing his support for both the “insurgents in Fallujah” and the Soviet invaders of Afghanistan in the 1980s, as well as expressing his view that the terrorists who are fighting us are to be compared to the French Resistance fighting the Nazis during World War II. The transcript has been slightly edited for readability. No sentence of Lazare’s remarks has been substantively altered or omitted. — The editors. Read the whole thing. Mr. Lazare should be embarrassed; I would be. Not because he's a "Leftist" and I'm "not." Because he can't argue his way out of a wet paper bag, even about something that apparently rests upon the cornerstone of his political and moral thought. Whether he's at all representative of "the Left" is quite beside my point. The man's a lightweight. And: from the leftish side of things, arguing the "I'm not, you are!" position with convincing nuance and a firm command of detail, we have Mr. Moulitsas and his, uh, fellow - travellers.
When the whole Rovester - is - the - leak! story broke last week, and quickly began evolving, I posted a comment on Fark to the effect that, "Yesterday, Rove was 'the' source; today he's 'one of' Cooper's sources; by tomorrow he'll have 'ordered a sandwich' in a Subway frequented by reporters." Over at the Nation, David Corn makes a little move towards my sandwich theory: Rove may be in trouble. Or this could be a false alert. But this did - Rove - do - it bubble is a useful reminder. Two years ago, senior Bush administration officials revealed classified information, undid the career of a national security official, and endangered ongoing anti - WMD programs in order to pursue a political vendetta against a critic, and to date there has been no accountability. Uh... well, maybe. Frankly I've never really cared too much about the disposition of Ms. Plame's career (certainly not as much as Joe "Vanity Fair" Wilson seems to). But I sense a trembling in the Force... [Via Mr. Sullivan.] July 06, 2005
PLEASE STAND BY...
... WHILE WE SLOWLY DECAY IN THE INEXORABLE CRUSH OF ENTROPY. Thank You! July 07, 2005
Lessons from our past? Ten Fingers, Six Strings restores Robert Elegant's 1981 article How to Lose a War: Reflections of a War Correspondent to the web through a herculean transcription effort.
Every time I see some bumper sticker/t - shirt/lapel pin/blog post with an "I think, therefore I'm liberal" sort of sentiment on it, I recall things like this. Honestly, I don't know how some people can be so self - righteous, so utterly convinced of their own intelligence, and so hypocritical, all at the same time, without their heads bursting asunder. I'm more than willing to post similar examples from the Other Side, but I must not be reading the right blogs... I just don't come across the sort of deluded cognitive dissonance coupled with thoughtstopping on the "conservative" sites that I frequent. Maybe I just need to get out more.
July 11, 2005
It looks smashing! It actually looks even better on the shirt than it does on the screen. Really! It's got our President's neon mug on the front and the oh - so - hip www.astonishedhead.com URL on the back. It's got stylin' black bands about the sleeves and neck (also available in orange and blue!). You could not send a clearer message about whatever it is you happen to think about our President than with this, the Official Astonished Head Neon George T - shirt. This is a T - shirt of courage. Stand up to whoever it is you happen to disagree with. Show them you're not cowed by their infantile tactics and their arguments which are inferior to yours. Show them you're a thinker and/or a feeler! You owe it to yourself. Show your commitment to something and get your Official Astonished Head Neon George T - shirt today! Be the first one on your block. These things are going to be huge, you know.
Check out new - to - me blog treehugger. All things green and technological, with a minimum of the political snark that makes most eco - friendly sites so obnoxious. An innaresting bit from today: Thanks to a reader who likes iced coffee as much as we do, we've found out how to save some money and conserve energy this summer. Its so low tech we're sure Sony could never figure out how to make one. So low in energy consumption, the electric company probably hopes TreeHuggers don't hear about it. Had to have been invented by a college student. It's the Toddy cold brewer. The Toddy extracts the delicious flavor from coffee beans, with no energy consumption at all; and leaves behind undesirable bitter acids and fatty oils. As our reader Chris points out: "... instead of brewing with hot water for 30 minutes, you brew at room temperature for 12 hours. The result? A low - acid concentrate that can be added to hot (or cold) water (or milk) to make the coffee (or tea) drink of your choice. The concentrate can be refrigerated for up to two weeks".
Idle Brains
July 12, 2005
Hey folks - - the new Virtual Occuquan is out. Go check it out. It's full of... uh... well, see, there's this word that's right on the tip of my tongue, denoting a publication that gathers together pieces from other publications, but I just can't think of it. Even made a phone call to Pea, who's an editrix, and she couldn't think of it either. Anyway, it's full of that word - style goodness. July 15, 2005
Sorry, folks... I've got some strange malady that's sort of digestion - related but mainly expresses itself as a giant sheet of cold molasses that slowly covers my entire body and sucks energy from my pores. It's fatiguerriffic! Hence, the near - total lack of words for you to masticate. On Tuesday, I was on Manhattan Island for the first time in over three months, and I just haven't had the wherewithal to do the planned write - up. But soon. In the meantime, Stephen Green's piece on what Andrew Sullivan doesn't get about America is a good bit of ideation to absorb and consider. July 18, 2005
Idle Brains
D'oh! Representative LoBiondo (R - NJ) pulls a Durbin. From the Captain's Quarters: When will our politcians understand that Nazi analogies amount to an almost - certain political jinx? We don't need to debate the relative merits of one form of fascism and oppression over another; they're all bad, grown - ups know it, and those who don't won't learn anything from sound bites like these. Members of both parties have had their hands scorched playing with this particular form of rhetorical fire often enough in recent days that others should have already learned to avoid these analogies at all costs. [Via Mr. Sullivan, whom I seem to read an awful lot of for someone who doesn't read much of him anymore.]
God, I hate him. For his brain. But, as the flagellant screeched: are you listening up??!? Mr. Goldstein nails the modern multiculturalist's dilemma: I’ve been arguing for years now that a pervasive cultural fear of plain spokenness (as witnessed by the growing appeal, among those whose greatest fear is giving offense, of “tolerance” statutes and “free speech zones”—both feeble attempts to control speech, either by diluting it to the point of semiotic uselessness or by making it contingent on arbitrary logistics) is one of the greatest dangers facing liberal democracies, something now being thrown into sharp relief as British community leaders and politicians schooled on the kind of innate cultural relativism that multiculturalist dogma inevitably encourages struggle to frame the recent London terror bombings in a way that manages to negotiate both the semantic demands of their cultural philosophy and the facts on the ground. July 19, 2005
Last Tuesday, I set foot in Manhattan for the first time in over four months. Reader Rick Mullin invited me to a reception for an exhibit of his paintings at the Cornelia Street Café in the Village. I was onsite in Jersey City that day, which is only a couple of stops on the PATH and a few pedestrian blocks away. The London bombings had happened only days before, and were very much on my mind as I crossed under the river and then emerged into the humid Manhattan evening. I wasn't quite prepared for the degree to which everyone I passed on the street seemed to look like a target. I felt disassociated, surreal, adrift in a sea of anonymous faces, any one of which could have the life blown from it in an instant. I felt, I realized, something like a suicide bomber must feel before he sets himself off: surrounded not by humans but by things, the only difference being that I was myself one of those things, a target like the rest. I was relieved to step into the cool interior of the café and sit down in the white - painted brick alcove, surrounded by Rick's exuberantly colored canvasses. The paintings in this exhibit were derived from sketches he drew while in Istanbul for a friend's wedding in 2004. He uses thick pigment that makes the colors seem edible: cream clouds above a blue mosque, minty leaf - greens on the hills between Topkapi Palace and Sultanahmet, a citrus sky above the Hagia Sofia and its berry - red cherry juice vendor. In addition to being my first trip back to the Island for awhile, it was also my first social event in quite some time... I've become such a hermit, out here in the semi - country isolation of the Lower Hudson Valley. I was reminded of the things that happen in the city that don't happen here: I learned that a Muslim bachelor party can involve a trip to the Turkish baths; I met a Category 3 bike racer from Pennsylvania; I met a Russian artist with deepset eyes, an accent that lived deep in his throat, and a tremendous amount of chest hair that puffed out from his island - print shirt; I met another artist who made a 100 - foot scroll from her junk mail and sold bits of it off by the inch. A had only one more glass of what Rick called the Cheap Wine than I should have, thus avoiding my particular social curse. There were no politics in evidence, and I managed to make conversation about the smoke - and - mirrors of the insurance business with the bike racer. I remember only one name: Sascha, who was a friend of the Russian artist. I'm terrible with names like that, and I've got no idea why I remembered Sascha's... we didn't even speak beyond cursory introductions. And then, at 7:00PM sharp, I said my good - byes, thanked Rick for the invite, and headed uptown to the 9th Street PATH station. As I crossed over Greenwich Avenue, I suddenly asked myself: how much longer are you going to be afraid of getting blown up? The reception suggested other paths to me... paths that involved other people, connections, synchronicity. For a few minutes, as I walked, I considered what it would be like to live in the city again, with places like the café a short bike ride away, with events full of people happening all the time. There's alot about the London bombings that brought back memories, like little punches in the gut: footage of the friends and relatives of the victims, holding photocopied MISSING flyers, the profiles of the dead that showed up in local papers in the following days. The only difference was the scale: a dozen flyers on a wall, instead of hundreds covering the walls of Bellevue and the news trucks in front of it on First Avenue; two or three profiles of victims with New York connections, instead of an entire section of the newspaper with bio after bio next to small portraits. The answer to my question remains: awhile longer, yet.
And, speaking of being afraid of getting blown up, here's some cheery news from Andi's World via Reverend Sensing: Al - Qaida's prime targets for launching nuclear terrorist attacks are the nine U.S. cities with the highest Jewish populations, according to captured leaders and documents. Reliable? Who the hell knows. But I am baffled by the ease with which certain segments of the polity dismiss the possibility. July 20, 2005
Paint! - - Tik - Tok
July 22, 2005
Argh, what a morning. I've got the little background trumpet - ish music from the new Foster's ad campaign running ceaselessly in my mental ear. From their website: Foster's Group Limited is a global premium - branded beverage company dedicated to delivering quality products enjoyed by millions around the world every day. And now we're in your head, bitch! In addition to the downunder lager music, there is an incredibly high - pitched beeping device somewhere on the train, operating at a threshold just below dog - hearing, which is boring its way through my tympanums and making my skull bleed. This does note bode well for the day. Not well at all. On the plus side, I look fabulous today. Orange and blue and yellow, doncha know. Too bad it's wasted at the office. Finally: I think that Mr. Sullivan's depression threshold is much too low. "Nothing is more depressing," apparently, than a bunch of Limbaugh fans in Club Gitmo tee shirts. I, myself, am much more depressed by the fact that no one - - no one - - has bought an Official Astonished Head Neon George tee shirt. I'm telling you, you don't know what you're missing. I was really counting on the one measly dollar I make off of each shirt to defray the costs of my spleen replacement. Now I'm going to have to make one out of a Dixie cup and some waxed paper, and those don't work nearly as well as the real thing. So, when I go all green and bloaty, it'll be your fault. All I want is my iced coffee and my chilled blueberry muffin. That will set things aright, I'm sure. - - - UPDATE: They... didn't make any iced coffee this morning. So they made me an "iced Americano," which is three shots of iced espresso. That'll work.
Idle Brains
July 23, 2005
Let's play a game! It's called Reconcile the Headlines. It'll be fun. Here we go: Headline #1 "Iranian Gay Youths Hanged" Headline #2 "Iran Tells Europeans It Insists on Right to Make Nuclear Fuel" Ready... set... go! July 25, 2005
A nice confluence of piles o' work, a big fat box full o' books from Alibris, and good biking weather means that there may be even fewer words than usual on these pages this week. Or, it might not. That's the beauty of, uh... an unplanned economy. Or something. Anyway, back to the things I do that are not this. July 26, 2005
"Security is a Team Effort - - KEEP AMERICA MOVING." So says a poster on the platform, which I can read through the train window. I've seen some others, with increasing frequency over the past couple of months. Way to go, guys! And it only took you three years. Here, let me quote myself. In May of 2002, I wrote What've we got today? A poorly - publicized color - coded national alert system and a political leadership that's scrambling to make a scandal out of a memo. Where are the posters in our cities' subways? HOW TO RECOGNIZE A SUICIDE BOMBER: Look for the bulky jacket... the nervous jitters... the sweats... muttering of prayers... visible wires at the wrists or on the hands... WATCH YOUR SURROUNDINGS. Goddamn but this PC civil - rights crap is crippling us. Where are the posters telling people who to call if they're suddenly living next to three young Middle - Eastern students who rent a one bedroom apartment month - to - month and have no furniture? Are we going to let the right of people to behave suspiciously negate proper intelligence gathering? Say... they're still scrambling to make a scandal out of a memo. Anyway - - then, I did a bit of warrr mongering. This was pre - Iraq, barely post - Afghanistan, and about eight months after 9/11: Kicking out the Taliban was great and all, but I want blood and guts and gore and veins in my teeth, man! I want every would - be terrorist to know without a doubt that Allah will not save the population of his town, his city, his nation, if he raises a hand against us on our own soil. I want pictures of vast plains of burnt desert littered with the husked remains of enemy soldiers and the smoking wreckage of a thousand tanks. I want the State Ass of every terrorist sponsor to be so utterly and thoroughly kicked that an entire generation will instantly lose the false hope presented by religious extremism. They may know that now, albeit probably with at least a bit of doubt, and Representative Tancredo is doing his bit by playing the role of Loose Cannon in this film. The fact that they're attacking trains and buses in the UK and tourists in Egypt suggests that perhaps we're not regarded as quite so much of a paper tiger anymore. As I approach the Secaucus Junction station, I can see the heat - hazed profile of Manhattan... still missing its downtown punctuation. And I still have the sense that we're missing a Presidential emphasis. The only way to get at the real purpose and intent of the war in Iraq is to ignore the overt message from the White House - - freedom - loving Iraqis, liberation, and so forth. I don't know whether the assessment is that Americans can't handle a plain - spoken statement of strategic national self - interest, or that such a statement would be considered a political liability. Either way, the whole GWOT remains rather nebulous, which leaves the bulk of the non - wonky populace to the tender mercies of our Famous Unbiased Media. Any subtle cues (such as various hints that "it's better to kill them over there than over here,") tend to get filtered out by the wash of BUSH LIED! HIS BRAIN EXPOSED A CIA AGENT! AND ATE BABIES WITH HOT SAUCE! Perhaps that's just the nature of this conflict... a shadowy war where our soldiers move among hidden cells and through failed states, instead of hitting European beaches taking small islands on the way to Japan (and, to be fair, the WWII analogy really doesn't work very well at all). Still, this somewhat vague America: Helping People Help Themselves! rhetoric may be one of the reasons that the current President will probably never be regarded as a "great" leader of our country. He's too insulated by his staff from the people, too constrained by various political machinations to come forth with something that is inspirational and truthful. His "plain - spoken" nature is a bit too calculated to be exactly that. At any rate, this concludes babble from the train... a tunnel approaches. Tunnels continue to make me a bit nervous...
I have been plagued for quite awhile now with what I call "sourceless anxiety." A tightness in the chest, coupled with a feeling of incipient dread. It also makes me grumpy and snappy and generally annoying to be around. It's the mood that makes me want to get drunk, to drown it in a nice bucket of depressant. I have also been plagued with snot - braining allergies, for a similar length of time. Big runny nose, machine - gun sneezes, watery eyes, and a generally bashed - in - the - face feeling. Not at all pleasant. My remedy for this mucoid state has often been what I call "the red pills:" pseudoephedrine hydrochloride. When I was a kid, it was available as a prescription called Actified, and now you can get it over the counter as Sudafed. It's available as a cheap generic, and is a major component of any one of a dozen multi - symptom cold, cough, and allergy remedies. Now, when my allergies really get going, I can scarf six of those little red pills a day - - that's 360 milligrams of pseudoephedrine HCL - - and my allergies can stay "going" for weeks at a time. For awhile this spring, my allergies were refreshingly absent. Then, last week, after a sudden bout of nasal insanity and a couple of days' worth of pill - popping, I had a really bad day, mentally. Snappish, grim, anxious... just a lousy, miserable bugger I was, and Pea caught the brunt of it. Suddenly, it occurred to me to wonder: was my favored chemical allergy remedy to blame? My allergies quieted down for a couple of days, then splattered back into action over the weekend. This morning on the train, I dry - swallowed a couple of red pills to head off a case of exploding face. And all day today: the anxiety, the creeping dread, just below the surface. So, I decided to take a closer look at my little red friends. It turns out that pseudoephedrine is part of a class of chemicals that includes noradrenaline, metaraminol, adrenaline, ephedrine, and dopamine, all of which act within the body's adrenergic system... the same system that regulates things like panic, anxiety, and the fight - or - flight response. It includes the organs and nerves in which catecholamines are the neurotransmitters, as well as all the nerve cells for which epinephrine and norepinephrine (and more broadly, other monoamines, dopamine, and serotonin) are the transmitter substances. Catecholamines are involved in a number of conditions, including hyperactivity and (strangely) albinism, and monoamines are implicated in just about every psychiatric condition they've got a pill for. Like my old nemesis methylphenidate, pseudoephedrine is a sympathomimetic amine that mimics the effects of adrenaline. In simpler terms: in addition to unstuffing my hated nose, Sudafed works within the same neurotransmitter network that I am currently trying to control by scarfing 20 milligrams of escitalopram oxalate every day at 3:00 PM. OK... maybe that wasn't so simple. How about this: I think I've been poisoning myself for years, and I feel like a fucking idiot. Not just poisoning my body. I've been poisoning my mind. This is all highly unscientific, of course, but there's enough smoke for me to suspect a neurochemical fire. When I look back on my pharmaceutical history, I see years spent under the influence of artificial chemicals that work within the same biochemical pathways that regulate my mood: Dexedrine as a toddler for hyperactivity, then Ritalin for same; Dimetapp for allergies, then Actifed for same... all of these chemicals, floating in my brainsoup, going about their mood - altering business. Even over - the - counter Benadryl has its uses as a psychiatric drug, and research into its serotonergic effects led directly to the development of Prozac and all of the other modern SSRIs. I think I'm much more sensitive to these chemicals than I previously realized. I wonder, now, how many of the millions of mentally medicated are actually being adversely affected by the various chemicals that pass for healing remedies these days. What proportion of the anxious population is simply overmedicated, not by prescription, but by the pills and potions available at any drugstore for a few dollars, promising relief from the sniffles, allergies, and colds? And, beyond that: how much modern depression is the result of blood sugar levels skewed by gallons of soda, stacks of sweet snacks, and barrels of fried carbohydrates? Fortunately, for me, there is a more natural solution to my allergy problem: the ancient Chinese 'shroom, Reishi. I've got a kilogram of the stuff, ready to be made into tea. I used to drink it regularly, but I've let it slide this season. It's more effort: water to boil, and a cup of earthy brown liquid to mix with orange juice once or twice a day. Reishi isn't instant relief. But it's a 5,000 year old remedy, and I know that after a few days, it usually works. Also: it doesn't make me insane, which is a plus. July 27, 2005
So I was all wearing my summer parka and whatnot, and carrying my ExtremeGeek KitBag - - y'know, th' one with all the doodads and hardcore wired - up solar panels and remote gizmo switches on it - - and I was so running to catch the train, and like then these big Jackboots were all like "Stop for random search, dude!" and I was like "No way, Fourth Amendment powers yo!" And they were all in my face with their like fascist yaps, and so I yelled like "Free Gitmo!" and "Back off, turd blossom crony!" and they were all stomping on my head with their big Nazi boots and they broke my iPod, which is so bogus and actionable that as soon as I get out of this cast I'm totally filing a protest with the Civilian Complaint Review Board. This paranoia is all MonkeyShrub's fault, man. July 28, 2005
I have. Well, all right then. Just making sure everyone knows. That MY FACE IS EXPLODING. That can be a terrible thing. Take this gentleman right here. His face is very close to exploding. But, as a leader of men, a Senator, he has a staff that will do his exploding for him. I have no staff. When my face explodes, I have to do it. And now that I've discovered that my treasured red pills stimulate my primitive andrenals into thinking that I'm about to get jumped by a saber - tooth, I must suffer through. I have, however, found the Ayr Mentholated Vapor Inhaler. It is the crack of menthol. I bought mine from a skinny guy on a street corner with a gold tooth and nasal passages the size of Montana. I stuck it up my nose and snorted laser - hot beams of sinus - expanding goodness directly into my cerebrum. Soon, I'll be reclining on a chaise in a eucalyptus den, writing fevered poetry: In Hoboken did Kubla Khan I have also plugged a SudaCare Nighttime Vapor - Plug into the bedroom wall socket. It's made by the good folks at Pfizer, who, it turns out, also manufacture the brand - name version of pseudoephedrine. So the architects of my adrenergic wackiness are also providing me with a vaporous sleeping environment. Tomorrow I will boil 30 grams of Reishi mushroom slivers, and make my healthful shroomy tea. It'll be awhile before it kicks in, though... so I've got another couple of days of eye - bugged misery to stagger through. But enough about my mucoid head! How are you doing? July 29, 2005
Idle Brains
July 30, 2005
Folks have been asking about Observe The Twitching Man, which was due to premier back in April. Basically, we've been having some trouble with the money people... one of the many reasons I hate working on productions in Europe. We've been delayed for three months by a bunch of attempto - hip Swiss - types who "vant to be in ze film bissness, you know." But we're working things out, and hopefully the production will be back on track soon. 
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By god, it's time for new merchandise. New incoherant merchandise, which is the best kind, except for merchandise that dissolves, which is why Listerine Pocket Packs are the ultimate... uh... wack.
Occasionally, I discover somthing that, in retrospect, is so blazingly obvious that I really ought to be taken around back and lightly shot, to teach me a lesson.
Have I mentioned that my FACE IS EXPLODING?!