"Alright Then, Get Yah Tits Out" (And Other Dumb Things To Say)

KAMIKAZEEE!
(Note: I feel the recipie provided is off. Double the Vodka, cut the Triple Sec and you have a fine drink).

ANYWAY, how are you blog-people? Are you getting enough vegetables? Are you comfy? Is your breathing doing okay? How's that one activity you do going? You still working at that one place? You still with that one person / Whatever happened with that one person?

I've recently found myself adept at small-talk, and believe that I am cursed for the rest of enternity with nothing constructive to say. I think it's a progressive surse of adulthood. When you're little, you're aloud to not say anything and just run around with kids you barely know and everything didn't revolve around people awkwardly trying to pretend they care about the person they're talking to.

Then aain, I suppose we all get to the point eventually where all we can do is small-talk. When we reach a point in our lives when none of our friends are really doing anything anymore or are dead and you don't really jive with those young folks these days. I suppose I should get my good practice in now.

-Thomas

You Don't Have to Be a Dick

I go to a fair number of concerts. Not having to pay for them really helps that, but that's not the point of this discussion. I go to a fair number of metal shows (when they pop up) and it's almost always a good time. I have no problems with mosh pits; you want to shove me around, that's fine, whatever, I'll shove you back. Hey! You feel down, let me help you up. (Good) Metal shows are great, there's some fun shoving and headbanging, but it's unspoken that we're all here to have a good time and go back to work / school in the morning with no extra bleeding or broken bits (again, these are good metal shows).

Last night, I went to see Converge, probably the most polite metal band ever. Now, the thing with Converge, is that they're often billed as hardcore, so that meant a lot of hardcore kids showed up. Now, I wasn't too sure what that would entail at the time as all I know about harcore kids at shows is that metal kids are supposed to hate hardcore kids, but being me and progressive, I thought to myself, "it can't be that bad."

Wow was I wrong.

Apparently the thing to do for hardcore kids is to windmill your fists and feet as fast as you can; hitting and kicking people at will. I got a couple of these wonderful random whacks and I just got agitated. What's the fun of going to a show if all you do is get your jazzercise out of the way? Why, for the love of everything wonderful in this world, do hardcore kids feel the need to swing their fists about? Can't we go back to the nice moshing? Do you jack-asses really need to kick me because you're swinging your legs about? I'm confused here!

What made it even moronic was when one of the guys - we'll call him Redshirt - hit me in the back with his windmilling fists and didn't stop to apologize for the second time(my expereince in metal shows is that if you accidentaly do something to someone, you get a very fast apology), I did the only thing I could think to do and put a foot above his knee and pushed him back. He then got all anrgy looking and went back to his jazzercise. Huh? Look, I understand you want to fight someone, but do you have to do it in here, where I am?

So here's my open letter to the dumb-fucks that apparently make up the hardcore crowds:

Dear Hardcore Crowds,

You don't have to be a dick at shows, really.

Love,
Thomas

P.S. The way to impress women probably doesn't include grabbing them off the wall and then throwing them at a different wall.

Not much of a letter, but I think it has to be pretty straightforward.

I hate people

-Thomas

Soy Sauce.

Hang on, we're blasting off to the mooooooooon...

One of my friends and I got into an argument bout this today. She believes that the announcement is very conveniently timed, y'know with that political pressure on the White House and stuff.

I don't know, maybe I'm not as paranoid as I should be, but I would be dubious that NASA's desire to be perceived as still relevant after years of pointless flailing is overridden by Bush wanting to llok good. Yeah, I said it, our space program is a joke. My vote: demolish and rebuild.

Anyway, brevity is today's theme, I have a show (Cursed!) to attend, so no time, my friends.

-Thomas

I'm a Writer Who Never Wrote Home(But I Phone When I Need Money Because the Words Don't Sell)

I often wonder if the creative efforts I pour my excess energy into mean anything. I set expectations and goals and rarely accomplish them. I always feel that it is not through lack of vision (my ideas aren't too bad), but rather insufficient capacity to fashion what I want. I can't decide if the derision I heap upon my work is driven by arrogant presumption of my abilities or merely crippling self-doubt?

Futility is a damning drug.

I previously posted on the joy of capture the flag. Well, alas, the games did not continue over the summer, nor were there signs of them continuing in the fall, so what was the logical conclusion? Organize it with a friend of mine. The final touches have been put in place and all is ready for next Friday's battle, the first of many. That said, I thought I 'd share the formal rules to entice others to organize a game themselves. If yee languish in boredom and no exercise, entice thine friends, thine neighbors, strangers thoust meet in restaurants to join in the merriment and recklessness that is free capture the flag.

Ingredients:
-Two flags (PVC pipe and cloth work great)
-Construction Cones (for the flags to stand in)
-Headbands (we made ours out of two different colored sheets, T-shirts also work well)
-First Aid kit, if you're really worried about it.
-A mess of people

Rules:
1) Don't be a dick / bitch.
2) All rules disputes will be solved through paper - rock - scissors; best out of three. The winner is correct.
3) Head bands are to be worn around the head, royal crown style, only; none of this around the leg/arm hipster bullshit.
4) To win, your team must bring the opposing teams flag across the middle no - man's land.
5) When you're tagged you are frozen in place; no moving. You can move again if someone on your team must crawl under your legs - freeze tag style - or four minutes have elapsed from the time you were tagged. If you don't have a watch or cell phone or some other time keeping device, use your judgment. See rule number 1. THERE ARE NO FREE BACKS. When freed, by teammate or time limit, continue playing as you see fit. Be warned that you are open to be tagged again.
6) There is no, "puppy guarding," your team's flag. You must be no less than ten normal steps (thirteen if you're short) directly away from the flag (no zigzagging). You can break this rule if an opposing team member has entered that zone.
7) If someone grabs your flag and you tag them before they make it to the other side, the flag stays where you tagged them; you can't throw the flag to a teammate if you're tagged.
8) Boundaries are unlimited except for the middle line. Use your judgment for where that would be if you can't easily see it. See rule number 2.
9) Games will start when team captains close cell phones and end when people don't want to play anymore.

Enjoy.

-Thomas

Hole Dug, Wishing it was Deeper

Somebody asked if I would and so I will. Interesting, no?

I'm here to complain about price inflation.

There's a delicious middle-eastern cafe right off the St. Paul campus - we'll leave it nameless - that makes delicious fries, delicious gyros, pita sandwhiches, kabobs, and I'm told they even make a good cheese burger (why you'd by a cheeseburger at a place that makes killer falafel is beyond me). I would frequent there during spring semester becuase you could get a mind-numingly good lunch for less than six dollars including an order of those god-sent french fries.

I returned there yesterday, only to be dismayed to discover that prices had jumped a good two dollars over the summer. I stood there in disbelief, numb from the horror. I got my food anyway, but I was mortified.

I understand gouging progressive people for, "exotic," food, but for the love of god, was business so good that now I get charged nearly a third more for lunch?

I guess times are tougher than I realize.

-Thomas

In Defense of Antics

Apparently that, "flag blog," bull actually works, who would have thought that I could press, "next blog," again and again and get no spam blogs. Truly a fine day.

I'm sitting in the computer lab I'm supposed to have a two-hour night class in (first day and the professor is only 1/2 an hour late). While I would normally just skip town on these sorts of occasions, I am sitting in a high-speed computer lab, which is an improvement over my current residential computer situation (currently non-existent). So, because I am bored and trying to waste time on the internet, I'm here.

I mentioned - or I meant to, anyway; I'm too lazy to check to see if I did - that there were antics this summer, much antics. Antics are difficult to describe, but I guess the best way to think about them is reckless fun that harms nobody. Urban Frisbee Golf is a good example.

Urban Frisbee Golf involves grabbing crappy Frisbees and going to a dead major metropolitan area. In this case downtown Saint Paul, but really any place with tall buildings that shuts down at about 5:00 PM is a good option. Go there at midnight and throw said Frisbees at designated targets, just as you would in a golf game.

Like I said, antics. The reason I bring up antics is many don't understand or support antics, something I just can't comprehend. Antics, by definition, harm nobody. All they can really do is embarrass their practitioner and that shouldn’t be a reason to disapprove of such an enjoyable set of activities.

Reckless behavior, my friends, wild abandon unleashed from your soul, that tears through your preconceived notions of what is socially acceptable. Playing leap-frog at a concert? Do it. Going onto a bridge and screaming with others? Do it. Bowling cream soda bottles with an old car tire? Do it now.

Partake in antics as often as possible, trust me, you'll feel better for it.

-Thomas

Sharing Is Caring

Fun times here.

I bought a bike this summer. That's not really relavent, but neither is this, so forget I said anything and discuss how grasshoppers differ from locusts.

I find the longer I think about anything the more I decide to change my mind. I waiver between things like topics, things to say, and other things that require me to communicate. So, before I decide this a bad idea, let's begin:

The other week one of my freinds told me I have an, "enthusism for booze." It troubles me slightly because I don't like to think of myself as a progressive alcoholic, still I can't help, but wonder about it. I guess it comes backto my worry that my social interactions will all deteriorate into a pile of booze-driven maddness.

-Thomas

Noam Chomsky, Why?

Hey kids, I'm back. School, hooray...

Anyway, a few big things have happened to me this summer. I'm now living in a renovated hotel building from the 1920's and I discovered I actually can drink (thank you P.O.S. and Dosh). So that's more like a couple, but that's not important. Antics: many. Action: little.

I got my first spam comment, see comments.

Anyway, let's talk about hurricanes because everybody's talking about hurricanes. Yup, man is it a shame about those levies. Hey, look Bush said / did something dumb, HA-HA! Look at those black folk they sure are hysterical.

Maybe it's just me, but the weather porn needs to stop. I mean, what can you cover in a massive natural disaster that's relevant after, "oh my god, that's horrible, look what happened." There's only so much you do with causality. This storm came in and bad things happened beause of this certain meeting of fronts in the Atlantic Ocean. So, what's the point oh the super-saturation coverage, other than the fact that it's the first week of September and news is just starting to exist again? Oh wait, didn't that Supreme Court guy die? Isn't there that one war? Two wars? Whatever.

I guess the hurricane coverage is better than more Tom Cruise bullshit, but still. When I go to read the freaking wire, I'd like to have some choice other than hurricane stories. Is it relevant? Sure it is, but come on mother fuckers, there's plenty of stuff that needs to be covered.

Speaking of which, R.T. Ryback, if you Google yourself and find this, call me back so I do a freaking interview already.

Side note: do not pick up Noam Chomsky's spoken word album. It's not so much a spoken word piece as it is a lecture cut up awkwardly to make individual tracks. That and Noam Chomsky is not the great liberal orator of our time. Then again, he's about as good as anyone else.

-Thomas

P.S. What about this?