This is one of my favorite pianists playing one of my favorite pieces, by one of my favorite Russian composers. Check out the wicked left-hand action. I've loved this pianist, Anna Gourari, ever since I saw the Werner Herzog film Invincible. She's not only talented and beautiful, she also makes "oh" faces when she plays--kind of like Hendrix did when he played the guitar.
Enough of this high-brow crap.
Today's joke comes directly from my childhood--a little gem that used to crack us kids up back in the day.
There's this Indian chief that is constipated. He goes to his shaman to seek a cure.
Shaman: "What matter, Big Chief?" Indian chief to shaman: "Ugh! Big Chief no fart!" Shaman: "That problem can take care of. Try this soup. It has many beans. It will make Chief fart."
So, the Indian chief goes away to his tepee and partakes of the shaman's special soup. The chief wakes up in the morning feeling even worse. He goes back to the shaman.
Shaman: "How soup, Big Chief?" Big Chief: "Ugh! Big Chief no fart!" Shaman: "It worse than expected. I'll make even stronger soup so chief can fart."
The Indian chief does as he's told, just like last time and eats the soup. The next morning the chief feels the worst that he's ever felt. He has his sons carry him to the shaman's tepee to see what can be done.
Shaman: "Big Chief don't look so well. Still no fart?" Big Chief: "Big Chief still no fart! Big Chief kill shaman if no fart this time!" Shaman: "Big Chief will fart. I have concentrated soup with strong chilies, many beans, and chunks of boar fat in it. Big Chief will fart, or I will willingly die if fail."
The Indian chief is carried away by his sons to his tepee. The chief eats the shaman's strongest soup and goes to sleep. Early in the morning the shaman is woken up by an explosion. He gets out of his tepee to see what happened. When he looks out he sees the villagers running up the hill screaming. He grabs one of the frantic braves and asks him what happened.
Shaman: "What happened? What make big noise?" Frantic Brave: "Big fart! No Chief!!!"
Not really. I was watching a bit of mind numbing stimuli on the TV whilst eating some eggs and toast this morning. When I eat I don't pay attention to shit. So, when I eat I usually need to have the TV on to something hypnotically dull. On The Discovery Channel there is this absolutely überboring program called " How It's Made". See, if you ever wondered how pens, lobster bibs, or jack hammers are made, you can just tune in to that program and turn into human goo from the boredom. Personally, it is more of a trance thing for me. Watching the automatic assembly lines with the sound off, and some CAN in the player, that is what gets my void on. Anyway, this morning I learned that the first cotton swabs were called "Baby Gays" instead of Q-Tips. So, there I was eating my cocoa puff equivalent cereal when my brain received this fun fact, and then started laughing like a stoned college student, milk dribbling down my chin. It was at that point that I thought of looking through my bags of leftover prescription drugs from past medical adventures and see if I had any Oxes or Loris left and just make today a complete "shit the couch" circus. My better judgment prevailed and so I went to work.
I dropped by my sister's place today to find out that I have a new friend. My sister got a cat from the animal shelter, a seal point mix. I used to be indifferent to cats until I befriended a black and white "Sylvester" some time ago. That cat was affectionate. Unfortunately, it was killed by a coyote. I thought that cat was an anomaly amongst cats, but this new cat of my sister's is the bee's knees. The papers say that her name is "Princess" and we all thought that was pretty gay. So, this cat has no name at the moment. If it was a male, my vote would be for "Terence Hill". You just can't give dogs people names.
Anyway, my sister has been through a lot lately and she needed a faithful companion to love her and keep her company. It is amazing how much one little being can make life better.
I guess you just can't blame a guy for wanting to get laid, though;) BTW, I know elkspeak and this guy claims to have slept with Rachel McAdams, was a secret adviser to the Obamas, and invented the delicious desert that we all know and love: ice cream. Amongst other embellishments, this elk claims to have been the first member of the Cervidae family to land on the moon. The problem with lying your way into people's pants, hearts, and lives is that that you end up more alone and lost than you started out.
Farewell, Scott. It was nice knowing the fabrication that was you. And like a coward, you took down your blog and tucked your tail between your legs without so much as an apology, defense, or an explanation. This is how you lose respect and lose friends--people who would have heard you out. But, no, you slid back into your mossy crevice, waiting for the right time to reemerge and troll upon trusting people on the internet. I really hope that you get your act together and respect people enough to tell them who you are and not who you think would impress them. I, at least, hope that the good guy that I saw in you was real and that you can take from this humiliation something to build upon: truth. It is the only way that you will find happiness and I will gladly eat my harsh words towards you if you do so.
For those who need a back story on all of this, go here and especially here.
I'm sorry to have to kick your ass, Scott, but you need a good old ass kicking to get you started in the right direction. May your best efforts in restitution be rewarded.
Sunday, I went up into the mountains behind where I live to go for a bit of adventure. Sunday was the best in a few awesome days of spring weather that has been long over due around here. I decided to check out some old mine tailings that I had spied over the years--see if I could access them. Here is the first mine shaft that I reached. It wasn't that big. I crawled in and it did eventually open up enough to walk in without crouching. On my way out I noticed that there was a spot where the shaft ceiling was vertical. I pointed my flashlight up and there were about a dozen bats right above me. I must admit that I turned into a bit of a spaz and ran out of the mine, tripped right before I had to crawl, and got all muddy. At least it wasn't guano. This is the reward for hiking in leafless oak brush. I had to come down the mountain in the dark, but I was treated to herds of deer, relics from forest fire crews, and a duck. Yeah, a duck. I had no idea that ducks got that adventurous. I was at around the 6,500 foot mark on the hill and I hear this rustling in the brush. I got real curious when that rustling started going "quack-kwa-kwa-kwa-quack". Thinking that I was either going crazy, or the psilocybin was starting to kick in. I ran towards the thicket to see if I could flush this thing out and there it went: a damned duck at that elevation with no bodies of water around. I'm thinking that this duck just had enough of the daily grind of people throwing bread crumbs at him and all that quacking. Sometimes, you just have to get the duck outta dodge and go up in the hills.
Ah-hahaha!
P.S. When you bushwhack through oak brush that was burnt from a forest fire, you'll end up looking like you lost a fight with a big bag of Kingsford.
Just letting you know that I am doing well. Life is life and family issues are a source of never ending excitement.
I talked to a friend today that I haven't heard from in awhile. BTW, I did end up going on an epic hike today and my policy of taking a flashlight with me now has paid off. I was in the dark for quite some time. I will do a post about it later, with pics!
More blog pals are jumping ship lately. I feel sad about this, but that is just how it goes.
My hair has still not been cut since I was made bald from chemo. You'll get pics before I cut it.
Clyde, my truck, has finally been fixed. I have had steering problems since the beginning of the year. It started with one component seizing, then causing a chain reaction of failure throughout the whole steering system. Here is an inventory of parts replaced: right and left tie rods, drag linkage, upper and lower ball joints on both sides of the axle, front axle locking hubs, passenger side axle stub shaft u-joint, steering gear box, new front discs and pads (because I might as well do the brakes if I've gotta do the rest of that shit), and a partridge in a pear tree. So, I did all of the above repairs myself, with a little help from a friend's brother's 12-ton hydraulic press. Oh, my friend was there to make fun of me here and there. This is proof that if you want to go off road and get a bit rowdy that you have to be willing to pay the price. Let's just say that doing it myself, as much as that sucked, saved me around $1k. Oh, and I'm going to have to take it easy for awhile, or until my wallet cools down.
I've been asking people this question lately and I want to hear from you: How do you wang chung? What is wang chunging? What sort of time frame and commitment is involved in this sort of thing and how many people does it require? Is there a risk of chaffing?
Is there such a thing as pet circumcision?
Why are there so many songs about rainbows? No, why do people say that, and then upon further inspection, you find that there really aren't--that there are more songs about rainy days--yet, people still sing that damn "Rainbow Connection" with total blind faith that Kermit the Frog is not a lying sack of green shit?
Let me hear your thoughts on these.
FYI: Bigfoot is completely covered in thick hair with the exception of his genitals and crack. He likes those to be clean shaven.
So, there I was at this IHOP. The server dude kept calling me boss. It annoyed the hell out of me. I could taste the grill on the pancakes and their urinal was so brown from urine buildup that the smell made me tear up. On top of all of this it made me fatter. The kicker is that I paid over $13 for this experience. So, you tell me how the economy can be in the shitter when people still pay to eat the shit?
Don't be alarmed! I'm just having to spend my first full day of spring break at the HCI for a regularly scheduled poke and prodding. The problem is that I will be there from 8:40am till 4:30 pm going from one clinic and tests to another. I am certain that everything is fine. Like I said, this is just part of the regularly scheduled programming.
Oh, I can at least share a dirty joke with y'alls.
This dad is tired of his half-wit son, Timmy, not going anywhere with his life and figures that he just needs to get him laid for motivation. So, this dad sends his son off to the outskirts of Reno with $300 and an address to a whore house that his buddy from work gave him. We now enter the whore house.
Timmy: (Puts the money down on the barrel head) My dad gave me this many dollars for a pretty lady to turn me into a man.
The Madame: Hmmm, well, that's nice of your daddy, but my ladies aren't into tutoring little boys. Y'all got some experience?
Timmy: (Confused) Uh, I think I do. Yeah, I've had experience.
The Madame: (Skeptical) Something tells me you don't, sonny. Tell you what, there's an old sycamore tree out back with a bunch of knots and holes in it. Why don't you go out there and practice on it first.
Timmy: (Still confused) Okay!
So five minutes pass and the madame goes out to check on Timmy.
The Madame: Boy, what on earth...What have you been doing out here?
Timmy: (Proudly) Going number two!
The Madame: No, son. You've got to practice by screwing the tree (explains what screwing is). Now, I'm going to leave you out here a little bit longer until you get the hang of things.
Timmy: Okay.
This time the madame waits a couple of hours and then goes out to check on Timmy.
The Madame: So, you think you've got the hang of it yet?
Timmy: (Exhausted, yet feeling triumphant) Yep!
The Madame: You think you are ready to try it out with one of my girls?
Timmy: Uh-huh!
The Madame: Well, all right then. Let's get you in there, tiger!
The madame escorts Timmy into one of the rooms where one of her girls awaits. The madame closes the door and lets nature take its course. Three minutes pass and the madame hears her girl start screaming like crazy. She runs into the room and finds Timmy chasing the girl around the room, poking her with a broom stick.
The Madame: What in the hell do you think you're doing to that poor girl?
Otter Pops need to stop using artificial flavoring. Don't they realize that I can tell the difference between real and imitation otter flavoring?
I was at a hardware store this weekend and noticed that there is a company that makes urinals and toilets named TOTO. This got me thinking: There needs to be a toilet that plays Toto's "Africa" while it is being used. I thought about this one. I really did and I thought of other possible songs that would work on the toilet and none did. Black Sabbath's "Sweat Leaf" sort of did, in a stoner sort of way, though.
There is a need for the existence of a mythical being or creature that cleans between my toes at night and leaves money under my pillow. I call that mythical creature a wife.
Gurngh!
Update: REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling" seems appropriate for the musical toilet idea.
So, there I was driving down a busy road going fifty in a forty. A Geo pulls onto the road right in front of me and slams on its brakes. This is a four-lane road with a suicide lane in the middle. I slammed on my brakes and the rear brakes lock up on me, causing me to slide sideways. The cars behind me are desperately trying to stop as well, trying not to run into me. My slide then takes me in to oncoming traffic. That is when a bit of Einstein's Theory of Relativity comes into play. Time just slowed down to nothing and my senses were sharp. My hands did this magic thing with the steering wheel and I ended up 180 degrees the other direction perfectly positioned in that middle suicide lane, where the cars behind me and the oncoming cars passed by me A-OK. Aside from feeling like I was the center of attention and suffering from extreme embarrassment, I felt incredibly lucky and drove off unharmed. All of my personal effects were thrown over to the passenger side, but, other than that, I was fine. Do you want to know why the person in the Geo stopped? Way over on the other side of the street was an old lady starting to cross the road--there isn't a cross walk at that point. So, being nice trumps other people's safety. I hope emotion does not triumph over logic on the road, ever.
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