Driving Miss Thlaspi arvense

In honor of the fall release of the James Bond movie, "Casino Royale", I recommend sharpening up our evasive driving skills with the following exercise:

Pick a car traveling at least three car lengths behind you, and pretend this is the tail. Make rapid, but safe turns to verify that you are being followed. If a car chase ensues, well, then you've got a real goat-rope.

Conversely (and often more fun), you can practice following a mark. Limousines are ideal, but conversion vans or Mini Coopers work equally well. Try to follow the car at a safe distance to their destination. No fair shooting out the tires - you must pretend they are bulletproof.

On my list of things to do before (maybe JUST before) I die, is to drive a car at least 100 ft. on two wheels, just like those 70's movies and TV shows. I need to post my list of other things to do before I die. One I was able to cross off several months ago when I was able to tell a reporter, "I have no comment." I then sic'd Security on him as he was trespassing. I'll feel badly if I find out he was Peter Parker or Clark Kent. I think he was just a scruffy weasel though.

I have invented (I believe) a new pasttime called "Truckspotting." This is based on the peculiar British activity called "Trainspotting," and it involves recording the time, milepost, trucking company, and trailer number of semi-trucks you pass on the freeway. Loads of fun. Trivia: "Semi" is short for "semi-permanent." I am thinking of creating a website to encourage this new sport of truckspotting. Double points will be awarded for trucks logged at adult bookstores if a digital photo of the driver leaving the establishment is uploaded for public shaming.

A game I like to play is to sing along with drivers who are rocking out in their cars during the commute home. I try to match their singing, but with 10-20% more intensity. If I can't determine the song they are singing I just pick any Def Leppard song. Seems to work. When they notice you, roll down the window. Hold up a lighter for effect.

Here's how I write much of the time (for you young fans of my garbled prose-ack): I typically start with a COMPLETELY random thought or statement, and then WRITE WITHOUT THINKING. I take a seemingly cryptic, obscure, meaningless (or pithy), or random phrase and open the floodwaters of free association from the brain to the fingers. (The use of parenthetical statements is a must!). Here's how it works. Everyone has a tiny chimpanzee within their brain. This chimp is constantly typing away at a tiny typewriter in a state of utter silliness, but the forebrain is a harsh editor, and sends the chimp's work directly to the nose in the form of snot. The chimp lives on root beer and Reese's Pieces oddly enough. Strange. I would have thought green bananas and coconuts. Anyway, that is my secret to how I write. I know that some authors such as Bill Buckley and Stephen King have differing methodologies, but the chimp theory makes much more practical sense.

"The pelagic argosy sights land." What does that mean? Hard to say. It may require 2-3 readings of "The Shadow of the Torturer" to get this one.

I like to read Mercer Meyer books looking for the baudy double-entendres.

Thank you and good night.

You know it's a good play when...

...you are close enough to the stage to get overspray from the lead's soliloquies.

"Alas [spit], poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest [spit], of most excellent fancy [spit, spit]: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times [spit, spit]; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar [big spit]? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's [spit] chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must [spit] come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing."

The Utah Shakespearean Festival was once again incredible. Hamlet was absolutely amazing, and Merry Wives of Windsor was a riot. I wish we could go back and watch all the plays again.

Salmon River

It was a good vacation. Dallin and I eventually caught some fish. Pure happiness in the Sawtooths.

To be continued

So naturally, I realized that it wouldn't be a real blog without at LEAST two entries, so I fired off another salvo of verbalistic flotsam and went back to watch the Jetsons.

.... . -.-- / --..-- / / -.-- --- ..- / ..-. .. --. ..- .-. . -.. / .. - / --- ..- - / ..--.. /

(Morse code)


01001000 01100101 01111001 00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01110101 01110010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110100 00100001

(Binary)

Rants, pt. 1

I am not really feeling it right now, but I feel I should rant about something. It just seems the blogospheric thing to do. Taking that as a starting point, I think I will rant about the first sentence of this posting.
"Don't be such a conformist! If you don't feel like it, don't rant!!"
"Yes, but ranting is such a part of our current society. Everyone's doing it. Expressing personal angst (ang[er] + st[upidity]) is the stoop d'jour. I feel compelled to vent. Argggg!!!"
"OK, I glummly concede your point."
"Waaaa!"