Mumbling About

Commiserate Panda

2007-05-04T11:06:00.000-05:00

My job is in a corporate office park. That doesn't really bother me so much, I bike in, lock up, do my job, and ride on home. I glare at the people who glare at me, flick off the cars that try to kill me, and wave and/or nod at everyone else. It's a good system. I'm aware that somewhere in this little set of buildings there is a bike rack. I've heard rumors of it, I have no reason to doubt it's around somewhere, but I haven't been able to easily locate it. Combined with my obscene amount of laziness, I lock my bike to a no parking sign in front of the building. I've doing this for over a year now with problems whatsoever. This remained true until last week when the Securitas decided to assert some fictions authority.

I feel like a little background is needed to really to appreciate the Securitas, but, really, there's not that much to say. They are your typical rent-a-cops except, unlike most rent-a-cops, they drive around in a little car that says, "Securitas," on it. What the significance of the Spanish is will elude me until my dying day. Of course, by then I'm hoping to not give a damn, but I hope it involves Mexico and daring boarder crossings. Anyway, the Securitas spend all day driving around in their car putting fake orange parking tickets on people that park in the fire lane. Amusing, but pointless. Back to our story already in progress.

I come out of my job after a long shift of dealing with morons and see a little orange thing wrapped around my bike. I go over and pull it off and discover it is the parking ticket telling me to use the bike rack. I look around and double check that there are no signs telling me not to park my bike there and seeing none, stuff the ticket in my pocket, laugh, and speed away. I figure the story ends here, since I'm not going top stop locking my bike to the no parking sign (go irony!) and they probably won't hassle me. Two weeks later, I'm working and someone comes over and tells me the Securitas are snooping around my bike. I keep an eye on this because the, "ticket," says they'll impound my bike and that's my way of getting home. Nothing happens, but it's pretty irritating to know that I'm getting hassled for locking my bike somewhere convenient. Still, I'm hoping for the inevitable dramatic confrontation. I imagine it something akin to a Clint Eastwood western: Securias twitching their fingers over their ticket book and pencil, me with my bike lock key out, and an the sonic mastery of an epic soundtrack of the likes none have ever heard will fill the air. Of course these things always look better in my head, but it doesn't seem right for the Securitas to play it any other way. Live up to that potential, damn it.

Tacked on discussion topic: Waffles vs. Pancakes vs. Crepes, with your choice of filling/toppings, which is superior? Go!

-Thomas

Some People Cut It and Some People Scratch

2007-04-14T10:38:00.000-05:00

I was in the bathroom the other day and came to an odd predicament. I'm aware this is not the best way to start out, but if you've read this before you know I tend to talk about my adventures in the bathroom (that would probably have made a batter name for the whole blog in a lot of ways) and if you're back for more, then you have no one to blame, but yourself. So, I go into the bathroom because I have to poop up a storm. I had eaten four burritos in the past two days so I was ready to go in every sense of the phrase. I open the door and go to the stall closest to me. No dice, there is toilet paper hanging on the seat. Not the actual black plastic itself, but front and center, top part of the "U" where the plastic decides to take a break and it's pure porcelain. The next stall's door is locked shut, but doing a quick foot check reveals that some hooligan has decided to be clever. Since this probably involved standing on the commode, I make a mental note to never use that stall again. I'm left with one option: the handicapped stall.

I usually don't like to use the handicapped stall. It has nothing to do with some moral sense that I may impeding some guy in a chair's ability to get his shit on, I just don't like the feel of them. I like to have my feet planted when I poop, and the handicapped toilets are just a little to tall for this purpose, but I'm out of options at this point. I sit down, do my business and reach for some toilet paper. At his moment I realize that, unlike most stalls, this one has toilet paper dispensers on both sides of the stall. Aside from being officially crazy talk, I started to wonder about how somebody chooses. They were the same distance apart, so there wasn't an advantage to going to one or the other, but I went for the one to my right. Is this because I saw it first or do I have an innate tendency to check my right first? I'm not really sure. I'd like to see some data on which way people turn to wipe their butts. I demand this research be undertaken.

-Thomas

You Are No Longer Welcome in My Country

2007-04-09T17:23:00.000-05:00

I have begun to worry about becoming too insular. Insular isn't even really the right word for it, but it's close enough. It's an odd fear, one I'm not really sure I should even have, but it exists nonetheless. Of late, I've felt more cut off from a lot of people and things. My life is feels like a giant ocean and I'm floating in it instead of swimming across it; waves move me about and I have to dodge floating chunks of shit, but I mostly remain as static as possible to avoid sinking.

Mmm... Unoriginal metaphors.

I tend to look forward to my bike rides these days because it gives me the most time to think. I look forward to things, but I feel the most stable and secure when I'm by myself or with a few other people. I've always had a bit of an introvert streak, but I don't think it's ever been this bad. I hate it. I used to be all about hanging out with a bunch of friends and I used to be way more proactive in getting things done. I'm pretty sure the fear this generates is due to the absolute weirdness of it all, but I also think it's an good old fashioned fear of dying. I've always seen getting more isolated as a sign of getting old.

Let me break TK1's Theory of Old Folks down for you. As folks get older, their circle of friends narrows and they become more inclined to work with the status quo. This happens for a variety of reasons, and, "status quo," is relative to the individual. As I seem to be following this pattern, my tiny lizard brain conclusion (yeah, tiny lizard brain be all philosophizing and shit, screw you) is that the end is coming.

That's much more depressing typed out than it was in my head.

What I am choosing to believe is that I'm just a little burned out. This seems to happen every spring and is just extra bad this year because I'm doing so much more. I'm not crazy just because I get depressed in spring and happy in the fall/winter, right?

-Thomas

I Think You Would Shoot a Baby

2007-03-23T10:17:00.000-05:00

As I've discussed before, I get a lot of spam. This is the nature of having a publicly posted email address linked to my email. My spam filter takes a lot of it, but a bunch will still get through. Every once and while as I slide over to my spam filter to delete these shit-raft bastards forever I'll feel a little guilty. I mean, what if Adam is really honestly trying to make my penis bigger? What if Kent F. Constance meant to tell his friend about civil rights and include a picture with info about stock tips, but instead he sent it to me? Then I laugh at myself and remember these are scamming money grubbing whores and I don't really give a shit. Sure, maybe they're trying to make a bunch of money, but does it have to be done in the worst way possible? I mean surely there's a better way to pass on your fortune.

So today, I flip open my email and I see this message:

From: Cornell Pina
to: me
subject: anti-spammers are lamers

Upon opening this bounty of hilarity, I am rewarded with:

subj

regards, spammer.

Take a stand Cornell. Take a stand. If you don't stand up for your right to make your cash, then the anti-spammers have already won. God bless you Cornell Pina, you are a beacon for freedom-lovers around the world

-Thomas

I Promise, You're Only Half Fat

2007-02-10T17:59:00.000-06:00

You know who I hate?

Fuckers.

-Thomas

Let's Talk Royalty Structures

2007-01-06T14:59:00.000-06:00

I bike a lot, but I didn't used to, especially in the winter. Back in the day I would walk or bus pretty much everywhere. This was fine with me because I had time to read or listen to music, it was great. Since I started biking this hasn't really been possible. I mean, sure I could read while I bike, but I don't really see that as a viable alternative to living. Listening to music while I ride is sort of mixed bag. I know people that do it, and I'd be lying if I said I'd never done it, but I'm afraid of dying. I just have this thing about wanting to hear things as they approach or something. Yeah, it's pretty whinny of me, but that's how it goes. Anyway, the end result of all of this is my life is a little less well-read and music-ridden than before. This makes me sad.

So what's a bike hooligan to do? My latest attempt to save myself is to listen to my object of shame under my headset at my tech-support job. So far that's worked pretty well. The one downside is that I tend to worry about how loud my music is. I always worry about customers hearing it and wondering what's going on. I mean, I know I'm still giving them the same amount of attention as I would if I had music on or not, but they don't know that. So far there's been no problems except for a couple of days ago when I was listening to Dessa and out of no where, she (the customer) started singing everything "Everything Floats" while she was waiting for me to process her account.

To say I freaked out is misleading because it implies I was far less terrified than I was.

Aside from that there haven't been any problems and it's definitely made work that much more bearable. I still haven't figured how to get my reading back (I miss you too, crappy weekly papers!), but who knows. I guess I can make time out of my non-transportation time to to read them or something. Still, I used to pace my trips on how much of the Onion I could get through, so that's sort of sad. Albeit, it wasn't a very accurate system, especially on trips that went longer than one issue, but I still miss it. Myabe I should just convert to the Jack system of measurements. Wait, that doesn't work either. I guess I doomed to measuring things in time traveled without having a difficult to compare measuring system. Stupid time.

-Thomas

Talons Fly as a Last Disguise

2006-12-22T19:28:00.000-06:00

Happy no-sun day, yous people.

I finally have sold out. No I haven't started bombing orphans for fun and profit, but I have acquired an mp3 player. Not just nay mp3 player, but a an iPod. I know it hurts me too. Oh the shame, the terrible, terrible shame. In my defense, this one was free, and I haven't had a CD player in forever. Not to mention my minidisc recorder has long since destroyed itself in a fit of rage. So, in order to retain my love of portable music, I succumbed. But it was free, so I feel justified, or least pardoned in some small way.

I am also learning to hate compromise. Not in the sense that I hate reaching a mutually acceptable agreement with someone else, but I hate having to delve up the benefits of something to the satisfaction of everyone involved.

Say I have a jelly donut and I've got two friends that want a piece. That's cool, but both of them are going to feel shafted if I give them too small a piece, and inherently feel like the other friend got the better part of the deal. So, I end up cutting my delectable jelly donut into two huge pieces and one tiny piece for me. The net result of which is that both of my friends will hate me and I will be miserable since I didn't get to eat jack squat of my donut. I'd probably end up with all flaky crust and no gooey filling.

No. Fucking. Gooey. Filling.

So, next time I'm gonna decide to screw it and eat my donut my god damn self. That way everybody is still filled with a thirst for my blood, but I'm left happy.

I think I took that metaphor to a point where it ceased to make sense. For that I am probably sorry. If you're lucky.

-Thomas

Fuck You, Rooney

2006-12-10T19:26:00.000-06:00

I'm waiting for The Amazing Race to come on the television. It's sort of a wier thing considering I didn't watch any network TV a year ago.

My grand plans of regular updating have been, mmmm, irregular. Life gets in the way these days. Well, not in the way, but is more interesting.

Anyway, I wonder how long you have to put up with something before you can't take it anymore? How long does the initial good vibe you get from a place last before you can't handle being there anymore? It's a strange thing, watching myself growing distaste and aggravation with something that was once so important to me.

Still where one thing fades others grow. I've been biking a lot more lately. It's made me a lot happier overall, but has also made me guffier. I'm way more in your face to drivers that try to kill me than I used to be. Call me new fashioned, but if you're going to try to run me over, I'm gonna get upset about it.

The one downside to this philosophy is that I tend to piss the hell out of the drivers. This confuses me. I mean, do I transport to a crazy mixed up parallel world world when I spank some car or flick some jerk-bag off? Them getting mad at me is like someone shooting at me and then being mad when I duck.

Damn fuckers.

-Thomas

I Tend to Whoop Ass

2006-10-11T15:06:00.000-05:00

Hi.

Sorry I've been so not here lately. I took my usual summer hiatus and then got too busy, but I'm back now. I'm shooting for semi-regular updates. So expect the usual wheneverthehellIfeellikeit.

I don't have too much to ramble about, there's lots of crap I have to do these days. I'm working for The Onion as an intern, the K, and tech support keep me busy. That and looking for a new place to live, trying to have a wierd metal band, and remembering to sleep.

Anyway, just to prove I'm not dead and all. Also: I'm now half-famous, albiet in a way that makes me look like a stoner.

-Thomas

There's a Scuker Born Every Second, Son, So Put Your Cock Back in Your Pants

2006-05-19T17:22:00.000-05:00

It has been a while, but - in my defence - I've been frightfully busy with finals and girlfriend and so forth. I've had topics, but none have really compelled me of late.

So, what, you ask, could have possibly stirred me from my endless topic-drought? A few things, I suppose: life settling down a little, a desire to regain the cathartic nature this sometimes grants me, a need to communicate with the five or so people that read this, endless boredom caused by work; you get the idea.

I find myself in an odd place. It feels as though I am continually anticipatory, but I don't know what I'm waiting for. Jack to return to the TC? Maybe, but that doesn't feel right. It's an odd sensation: waiting, leaning over with excitement, but no idea what I'm waiting for.

-Thomas

So, this Would Not be Like Breaking the Bones of an Anorexic

2006-04-26T19:42:00.000-05:00

I can't get "My Humps" out my brain. Not just the original, soul-devouring musical abomination, nay, Aggro1's "Long Hard Humps Out Of Hell" mashup (Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps" v. Marilyn Manson's "Long Hard Road Out Of Hell"). It never ends.

My brain hurts, I feel like I just need to sleep and I know I've got no opportunity to do so in the near future.

That's all I got. Just a few complaints.

Fuck, Jesus.

-Thomas

You All Need and Choose Your Own Lie

2006-04-25T07:59:00.000-05:00

My lack of posting has more been caused by insane business and then a lack of inspiration when I have the time. so instead of giving you real life Thomas, where if I continue to ramble long after my point has been made or I have nothing to say, I thought I'd use the convenience of the medium and edit out one of my more obnoxious flaws.

Ahem.

I have, of late, been losing patience with everything. I feel like I can't get myself to, "think globally," if you will. I'm sure that doesn't make a lick of sense since I don't really understand it and I wrote it. I guess the best way to think of it is I'm tired of working for that better tomorrow. Sudan genocide? Yeah, that's important, but I'm having problems dredging up the outrage and concern I used to. Human rights abuse in China? Tell me one I haven't heard before. It's a sort of weariness of the world's ills; a sort of giving in to the inevitable doom of humanity. Maybe it's the continuous tide of idiots, maybe it's the endless deluge of problems I can't do anything about, maybe it's that I feel like no matter what I want to accomplish, I can't alter the foolishness that awaits us all, or maybe I just really want to curl up with a bottle of Russian goodness with the new Tool album blaring into my skull.

It's not apathy, it's a wish for the problems of the universe to cease hassling me, at least for the time being, but even with a hazy idea of why I feel so exhausted by the world, I find myself reading the BBC, working on news stories, and ranting and raving about how much I hate the administration. So, maybe there's some hope for me after all.

Remember, republicans are destroying the environment. Earth day is very important.

-Thomas

Communication is a Joke

2006-04-08T12:46:00.000-05:00

Ahem:

Dear Jackass that stole my bike seat:

Was it really necessary to steal the entire bracket and bolt assembly too? May your blood cells go sickle and rend your pathetic veins into ribbons. May your fat liquify and boil in your body. May your remaining flesh decay so rapidly the final sensation you have left on the earth is the scent of your own worthless self dying. Finally: I wish your bones shatter simultaneously, ripping to shreds any nearby loved ones.
Thomas Kwong

I am so full of hate.

-Thomas

Name is an Illusion Created to Define that Which Causes Confusion

2006-04-04T11:04:00.000-05:00

I don't have a lot of direction with this. I'm simply bored and have had a couple rants in my brain for a little while. I hate midterms.

Daylight savings time fucks with me every year. Not the fall back one (that one's fine, but spring forward? Rape me with an elephant. Every time I look outside I'm confused. I literally feel off balance for a good week until I adjust (there's a reason I don't like to bike as much). I feel constantly late, and I have insane dreams (more dying than usual, yay!).

Conservatism continues to confound me.

If I hear one more piece of shit religious nut job tell me about the sanctity of marriage, but they're not homophobic, I'm going to punch them in their reproductive organs.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to tell all University of Minnesota alumni that want a stadium on campus: pay for it your god damn selves. I can think of more important things for my institute of learning to spend that much state money on then a stadium we'll use a few times per year. I can also think of better use for the twenty-five dollars a semester, thanks. So, if you want it so bad, you can pay for it. Current students that want one: you can contribute as much money as you want. Just don't make me pay for your self-esteem boost, you insecure little fucks.

One last thing: stay up tonight.

I mean it. You can do so in whatever method you choose, but stay up. For at two minutes and three seconds after one, one of those crazy time things shall occur. In particular, it's only once every century. Is numerology silly? Sure it is, but hopefully you still like to giggle at weird nerdy things, get excited at planning to stay up, "late," or just really like counting.

So, stay up. Have sex until 1:00, watch a bunch of movies, study, set an alarm if you have to, but be up at 01:02:03, 04/05/06.

-Thomas

It's Not Because I Don't Like You, I Just Really Need to Close My Eyes for A Minute

2006-03-25T10:17:00.000-06:00

Last night, I was lucky enough to have Electric Six destroy my soul. This was a fine experience. Mosh pit at a "dance" concert? Hells yes, hells yes indeed, mother fucker.

Electric Six being ten tons of awesome is neither news-worthy nor the topic of today's discussion. However, their concert is. Like most bands, they have opening bands that are on tour with them. They were your standard dance punk bands, so meh. What stood out to me was how infuriating close to a metal band the second opening act was. Dance punk frequently borrows from metal. Bass lines tend to have similar low rhytmic throbbing, guitar parts tend to borrow similar angular riffs, and most of their drum lines would be ten times better with double kick (well, most things are better with double kick).

This doesn't bother me, I like metal and all, but what does bother me is that this band kept teasing us. Every other song would steal the main line from "Raining Blood" with a slight step change. Maybe it's just me, but if you're going to rip off Slayer lines, you should make a metal band.

Just saying.

-Thomas

Wood Borer

2006-03-22T07:24:00.000-06:00

Insert your own boner joke.

I find myself in an awkward situation. Knowing that this a topic that is not uncommon for me, I suspect most, if not all, of ye blog readers will quickly become bored with the following rambling mass of incoherent pestilence. So, if you suspect that me over analyzing my internal thought process will be boring I recommend that you proceed to click next blog at this time. If this does not adequately fulfill your needs, might I suggest this as an alternative. Barring that, I leave you with mindles joy.

Anyway, at present I am trying to determine whether I know what I'm doing anymore. It's not that I'm not cognizant of my actions, but rather, that some of my behavior feels like I'm on auto-pilot. A better way to describe the sensation would be as though I have to convince my conscious mind that, "yes that did happen you did get that done." For example: I woke up this morning and ate breakfast. Now, at the time, I knew I was chomping away on some delicious cereal, but now, I have to think about what I actually did. Another example: I went to London last week; I've got pictures to prove it. The memories are solid, but I can't shake the feeling that it didn't actually occur.

So, what I can't decide is: am I going crazy or is my life so awesome I just can't believe things are going so well?

-Thomas

We Got Eggs and Toilet Paper and a Hate that Needs Diffusing

2006-03-10T08:26:00.000-06:00

Strange and "new" things seem to happen all the time. I say "new" because it isn't really new (i.e. it just came into being) as much as it is new to me.

I was biking home from St. Paul last night. It's late, dark, and nippy as hell. It was one of those rides where you find yourself being able to actually take your full lane as entitled to all bikes in Minnesota, the road stretching out, unencumbered by the hulking wretches that clutter it throughout the day. Part of this miraculous freedom to swerve back and forth across all four lanes has to do with St. Paul going to bed as of 9:00 PM, but I always find myself giggling when I'm up late enough to enjoy the post-apocalyptic peace of an empty street. Perhaps this is due more to my pent up childhood giddiness of staying up late, my fondness for late-night antics that occur in such conditions, or it's possible I just love speeding through areas I normally have to fight tooth and nail to get through safely.

Anyway, the joy of night-haunting is not my focus here, rather a particular incident that occurred due to such activity.

Last night I was speeding down a long downhill street and got to a freeway overpass. As I approach, I grumble as the light shifts from green to red. Now, normally, I'd have to wait for the light to change due to traffic, but as I peer around I realize that nobody is even close to the intersection, so I shift back up and blare through the red light.

Before I go any further I should note that ignoring traffic regulation devices is a tried and true biking tradition, one that I'm quite proud to carry on (when vehicles follow the laws that apply to me and I'll start following traffic laws). That said: I am well aware that I am technically breaking the law, and, therefore, I fear the wrath of the policia. Back to our story, already in progress:

I'm flying through the intersection and all of the sudden I see these bright flashes of light. Everyone has had one of those moments when adrenaline hits and everything slows to a crawl; well with those flashes of light all I could think was, "fuck... busted..." I sit up in my seat and turn around, expecting to see the hurtling form of one everyone's least favorite government-funded vehicles. Instead I'm greeted by the dimming flashbulb of a red-light photo cops.

Grinning like a complete idiot, I race through the final set of lights for the overpass (also red), cackling like a six-year old who just pulled off their first successful whoopy cussioning.

Although I do have one question: can get prints of those?

-Thomas

I Want Your Soul

2006-03-08T14:31:00.000-06:00

No eating of said soul, I promise.

I have lived many days this week. Life has taken too long to move forward and I grow agitated.

Enough on that foolishness. Happy Women's Day! As someone who wakes up every day, thankful of his gender, being a women strikes me as having some amazingly sucky qualities (rampant discrimination, menstruation, men, menstruation, pregnancy, and let us not forget menstruation), and if any group of people deserves a day of, "yeah, go you," it's women. Despite these general feelings - I'm not going to lie - Women's Day bothers me for the same reason that AIDS Day bothers me. Yes, women have lots of problems facing them - human trafficking, the afore mentioned discrimination, and so on - and that sucks. However, what do we get by having one day? It raises awareness you say? Well, that's kick-ass, but what about the rest of the year?

Let's honestly ask ourselves if all the statements people make about how awesome women are and how we need to fight for women's rights really develop into noticeable changes for women. The answer is no. Just like AIDS day, where most people buy a little ribbon and then forget about it for the rest of the year, women's day does not develop into anything, nine times out of ten.

I'm not advocating for getting rid of Women's Day; quite the contrary in fact. All I'm saying is that instead of going nuts on one day, we should make sure we hold policy people accountable, we should make sure that the money we give to advocacy groups goes some where reasonable, and we should actually take what we're saying seriously and try to do something the other days. It's either that or shut the fuck up.

-Thomas

Canda Pacific Still Runs Tracks and We Can Still Fling Bodies Boldy Over Fairview

2006-03-03T19:57:00.000-06:00

Every once and a while I'll find myself in a situation where I get so exasperated, so mind-numbingly irritate that I lack the words to properly express my frustration. It is in these moments of great murkiness where one of two things happen. The first choice is rage shall erupt forth, I will yell, I will shout, I gesture angrily, and I will stumble out ideas from my head like some drunken patrons at a bar. Whole blocks will know of my anger; it is the very deffinition of, "causing a scene." The other, and more common, outcome is a great deal of silence; a great stweing of internal frustraion to a point where I may, hopefully, wield some great destructive force against that which I feel has become so deserving of my wrath.

I preffer this latter solution because it often gives me time to refocus and say, "no, you really, don't need to get that upset over this. He/She/They didn't mean to say something like that, let it go." In short, the pause in which I am attempting to perfect words so vile and hateful that the bark of trees would likely melt off, gives me enough time to bite my tounge and dismiss it.

The fascinating part about this, is I am not entirely rid of the bile in my throat, in fact, I'm sure that it's being buried off in the desert of my sub-concious. Still, the fact that I can dispose of the ideas is significantly better when I would just launch into the afore mentioned tirades. In short: I am thankful my aging process has allowed me to settle down a little.

-Thomas

Someday, When You're Big and Strong, You Can Blow Up the World With the Power of Your Mind.But Right Now, You're Still Just a Jackass

2006-03-01T11:02:00.000-06:00

Seriously. The best line in the whole thing is, "Given the ruthless efficiency of the Germans, if there was an extermination programme to kill all the Jews, how come so many survived?"

And people still ask why I hate people.

Anyway, I recently redicovered network TV (in particular Univision, more on that later). This is no small part due to my girlfriend donating bunny ears to my life (in fact I would say it's pretty much mostly on her part), but it's also my fault for going, "well, I'm eating my dinner, I wonder what's on TV." The answer is often nothing, but sometimes it's the Simpsons and that's always good.

On the other hand, I've also seen Fox 9 news, which is bad, America's Next Top Model (hilarious, but bad), and so much other crap I can't think of it all.

One, "bright," spot in all of this has been the horror that is Cristina on Univision. This is not a good talk show, but it is amusing as hell. "Video Vixens! Good or Bad?" That's not a topic I'd listen to in English, but Spanish with some crazy women? Done.

-Thomas

I Thought I Was Dead to You, But Now You've Got Me Turning in My Grave

2006-02-25T12:36:00.000-06:00

"I thought it was slit to the throat, but is was just a close shave."

I love Doomtree, so fucking much.

It's quite odd, but the happier I am, the less death concerns me. It seems sort of silly to say, but I just don't fear dying as much. That's not to say I want to kill myself or have gone crazy reckless (well, no more than usual), rather I'm more comfortable with the knowledge that I could die today, tommorow, or in the next three seconds. I guess I view it this way: when I'm depressed I feel like I've wated my life, which irritates me to no end. As opposed to when I'm happy, life seems to be excellent, without significant problems and, therefore, I can die knowing full well that I have gotten something good from a universe that has no reason to exist.

Woo-hoo! Nhilism!

-Thomas

Man, Jews are Fucked

2006-02-20T14:00:00.000-06:00

Kosher rules have always confused me.

I am beggining to hate Patti Smith sooo much. Yes, you did a great cover of "Gloria" and, yes, you made some nice records, but you're still a pretenious art fuck who happened to know a lot of people. John Cale was sort of between projects, remember? I guess I'm just tired of everyone bowing down and eating Patti Smith out for one record.

-Thomas

Earthquakes Don't Kill People, Buildings Do

2006-02-15T09:30:00.000-06:00

I'm a fucking building and I might kill you. Sound of the police. Woo Woo Woo.

I'm sorry I forgot about Valentine's Day, blog-folk. You know how much you mean to me. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Well, I'll at least buy you that pair of shoes you were looking at yesterday. Maybe not for a couple weeks, but I'll totally buy them for you.

I've decided that my dream hobby (not job, just a side thing) would be to name the streets in new suburbs. I mean, look at those shits who are currently in charge, zero creativity.

Wilderness Run Court, Wilderness Run Drive, Wilderness Run Avenue, Wilderness Run Street, Wilderness Run Boulevard, Wilderness Run Place, come on. I guess those are better than Jamaica Court, Jamaica Avenue, well you know where I'm going from here, but nevertheless, weak sauce street namers, weak fucking sauce.

Now, if I was in charge of your new suburbs street names, well, you would have the best fucking address ever. Imagine yourself saying, "Why, yes! Yes, I do live at 1238 Corpse Choked Lane." Yeah, that's the fucking shit. Think of yourself telling your friends, "Hey, I just moved to a new place. Yeah, it's out in the middle of nowhere. Mmm hmm. Anyway, my new address is 9827 Hemophiliac Wound Avenue..." Envision your delight when you fill in that change of address form, "38517 Pit of Blood Drive." Talk about earning the respect of your post office!

Although, I can see one potential problem with having suburbs with such awesome street names: I would hate to make the choice between 77 Pestilence Scars Lane and 1704 Floating Carcass Path.

-Thomas

Shiny Bright and Fancy Like a Fucking Monkey, a Shiny Robot Monkey

2006-02-11T12:20:00.000-06:00

After receiving the same call three times today (same problem, same voice, same stupid responses when I tell them to do things) I have come to believe that there is a collective stupidity that drives these fools to become like one giant unthinking, technologically inept, pile of fetid societal waste.

On a similar note: I finally answered one of the burning questions of my life; namely, "why did I play sooo much evil music when I did the morning show?" Well, having woken up to some god awful poppy monstrosity, my reaction was to turn of the radio, turn on my CD player and blast power noise; all of this at 6:45 in the morning. Suddenly, it all made sense. It wasn't so much that I loved destroying people's souls at early morning hours (although that certainly was fun), nor was it that I simply loved evil music that much (well, I still do as my current shift demonstrates, but it isn't as big of a problem), none of that; it was simply a horribly violent reaction to music that I really hated very early in the morning.

I seemed to have developed this problem with doors as of this morning. I push/pull them to open before I've turned the knob and then run into them. I have a feeling this destroys my credibility as someone with the authority to hate the stupid. Then again, if you know me, that credibility has been long destroyed anyway.

-Thomas

Beneath These Blood-Soaked Skies

2006-02-08T16:56:00.000-06:00

One of my friends gave me a copy of a Johnny the Homicidal Maniac anthology. This comic is one of the best pieces of work I have seen in a while. Now, I only mention this because these comics are not just sort of violent, they're extremely violent, yet I still enjoy them. So, much like my love of movies by Miike, I'm left wondering if I'm a really terrible person or just a really good person who's comfortable with looking at violence I know is fake and see a relevance too it?

-Thomas

I Ain't No Kevin Bacon

2006-02-04T15:48:00.000-06:00

I have not been as bored as I currently am in the past four years of my life. I can literally feel my brain curdling. Maybe if I drill out my brain, I can fill my emptied skull with hard candy; I mean, who doesn't love hard candy? People that should be shot that's who.

-Thomas

Shitsuyou, Tsuyoi Dokonjo Daikon!

2006-02-03T08:55:00.000-06:00

You can do it! Live, damn you! LIVE!

I hate waiting for people to call me back. I never want to start doing something because I know that I'll have to stop doing it if the person calls me back and I feel like crap the longer I'm just putzing around because I feel like I could have started and completed something in the time I'd been waiting. It's even worse when I'm waiting for someone to call my desk phone. Time stretches towards the infinate abyss of boredom and I can feel my mind slowly wheezing out its last bit of thought.

It's sort of funny that I have a job where a lot of my time is spent waiting for people to call me back.

-Thomas

P.S. Stupid blogger. My Moderate Comments thingy got turned on again after I turned it off after I realized it didn't work like I wanted it to..

Katherine Harris is Still a Troll

2006-02-01T07:50:00.000-06:00

A troll I tell you!

To: The Democratic Party of The United States of America
From: Kwong, Thomas

Re: State of the Union Response.

Dear Sirs or Madams:

Go fuck yourselves.

Warmest Regards.

Mr. Thomas Kwong.

Those god damn dipshits didn't respond to the NSA bullshit that god damned piece of baby vomit spewed all over my radio. Not one single fucking word. Way to go you stupid piles of grandparent piss. Yes, let's let the conservatives frame this as something that could have prevented the september eleventh attacks. Let's not argue that at all, nope, that would require us to think with something resembling a brain.

Here's a good idea you dipfucks, why don't you say, "sure, it could have, but why don't you need court approval then?" Oh, wait, I forgot, being smart is what lost us that election.

I reiterate what I said in 2004, the Demcratic Party must and soon will be replaced by a liberal opposition group that actually does something. We will one day look back at the Democrats with the same giggles that we hold for the whigs.

Father fucking piles of shit.

-Thomas

2006-01-28T11:26:00.000-06:00

My mind tends to wander and so I find myself typing this backwards (the ending was typed first) and without any real direction for what to write other than to expunge the boredom drilling a hole through my head like I've got a energy-lobbyist standing on top of me and I'm the Alaskan Natural Wildlife Reserve.

Cex is right. Food is disgusting; it is what they make shit from.

Is it low self esteem or just paranoia that makes one question why good things are occurring to them?

I've been having an ongoing discussion on this, but what do you call the equivalent of a female boner? I mean, guys have a nice convenient one-word noun to describe it, but for women I can't think of anything. So, I put it to you, my more intelligent than me audience.

Oh, and happy New Year, bitches! I know, I know, it's technically not until tomorrow, but I have internet now. Go eat a steamed fish.

-Thomas

Bacon with a Butter Garnish

2006-01-25T15:07:00.000-06:00

Oi, I've been a terrible blogger.

I like to think I'm a mostly harmless sort of person. That's not to say I won't retaliate harder than "Safe From Harm" should the situation arise, but rather that I don't really mean to be offensive.

Now, I suppose you're wondering, "why didn't you just say that in the first place?" To tell the truth, I don't really know. Probably because I wanted to talk about how I retaliate harder then "Safe From Harm" which is probably a sign I'm a collection of fetid, rusty artificical legs (useless and stinky), but I stand by my choice.

Where was I again? Oh, yeah.

I tell a lot of jokes that are in questionable taste. But, I mean, who doens't find that one about walking on babies HEE-LARIOUS? I don't know, I always worry that somebody will not realize I'm kidding when I make a chink joke and my fate will be sealed, sealed I tell you!

I never get tired of getting asked what I think about the Current (competing public radio station run by the evil empire itself: Minnesota Public Radio). By, "never get tired of," I mean, "stop asking me, you fools!" I don't know, how would you feel if someone made a richer, lamer, and greedier version of you?

I guess the only thing I love more than being asked about how it makes me feel or what I think of it is hearing about how my friends gave it money. Thanks guys. Hey! I know! Let's go find a person who wants to kill me, except they don't have any bullets. Then, you can hook the cash up to buy them said ammunition because, hell, that'll be faster than funding the people taking money out of my pocket.

Or, hey, maybe you could support the station that does what that lame-ass pile of wealth claims to do. Seriously, give people a softer, more accessible version of what they say they want and instead of complaining, they eat it up. I'm sorry Radio K actually plays that variety you keep saying you're after. I'm sorry my poor little station plays that edgy stuff you claim to be all about.

Bitches.

-Thomas

Insert Other Act of Anger

2006-01-20T16:21:00.000-06:00

Man, do I love tea; sweet, delicious, soul-warming, tea.

Patterns of words always intrigue. For example: why does, "sweet, delicious, soul-warming," sound better than, "delicious, sweet, soul-warming," or, "delicious, soul-warming, sweet," when you say it?

Shameless Plug: I just wrote the best story of my journalistic career, which is nice. You can hear it shortly (6:00 PM CST) on Radio K and then for the next ten days or so on the Daily.

When you like music that everyone seems to hate, does that make you a no-taste hack, an elitist snob, or awesome?

-Thomas

Always a Fuss and Fight

2006-01-18T15:07:00.000-06:00

Lawless Monkeys! Lawless Monkeys! Lawless Monkeys!

Sorry, but I don't think it's possible to be bored by the idea of

Lawless Monkeys! Lawless Monkeys! Lawless Monkeys!

I mean, how could you not be excited by that phrase? Barring sheer excitement, you should at least be filled with fear.

I have on-site laundry in my building, which is pretty fucking sweet. I don't have to haul crap to a Laundromat, I can do laundry in my pajama pants, and I can do it whenever I get around to it. Those are all fine features, but the best part is: I don't have to camp in front of a washer or drier to fend off potential laundry thieves. My building has an awesome machine to occupant ratio, where there is almost always at least one open washer or drier variety and so nobody is going to flitch my machine or my laundry. That fucking rules. I can go back to apartment, cook, read, watch a DVD, whatever, and get up after the appropriate interval and either move to a drier or bring the laundry back to my room as needed.

So, all and, a perfect setup for cleaning my garments. However, there is one guy who closes and locks the door to the laundry room while he does his laundry. This isn't really a huge problem, as the door can be opened with a building key, but it is soul-shiving obnoxious to be carrying my hamper only to the do my wash only to have to walk back and get my key. I want to grab him by his shiny, balding head and scream, "NOBODY IS GOING TO STEAL YOUR FUCKING LAUNDRY! EVEN IF WE DID HAVE A LAUNDRY THIEF IN THIS BUILDING NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD STEAL YOUR HIDEOUS COLLECTION OF KHAKIS AND CARDIGANS!" I'd probably finish it with a kick to his nuts, just for good measure.

The worst part is he always seems to be doing laundry when I am. So every week for the past month I have made a quite a spectacle of myself carrying my white plastic bin of dirty laundry towards the laundry room, noting the closed and locked status of the laundry room, turning around, and heading back to my apartment with a look of pure rage that grows more fierce as the weeks grind on; I actually scared a women last night.

Well, that also could have been due to how much profanity I was unleashing. Oh, old ladies! You're so prude!

-Thomas

Choke on the Flesh of the Sick and the Young

2006-01-16T16:09:00.000-06:00

I thought I woke up screaming this morning. It turned out I had just left my CD player on and it got stuck on a metal scream. Actually, I'm willing to believe both occurred, but I try to ignore things that could possibly indicate any deep psychological problems.

Every so often, something will actually rattle me. I'll feel like someone actually ran up and shook me and then ran away; leaving me partially in shock, somewhat confused, and thinking things like, "ow, my brain." I'm not good in those situations, and - just like when waking up screaming - I try to ignore that they happened at all.

On a lighter note: Last night, I saw someone standing outside of the liquor store near my apartment building. What made this notable (I mean, let's face it, people standing outside of a liquor store is not exactly an uncommon occurrence), was that the liquor store was decidedly closed (Sunday 3:20 in the morning - I know it was technically Monday, shut up). He might have been waiting for a ride, but he definitely had the look of someone that was confused to be where he was; as though his expectations were decidedly not met and he was trying to decide if he should just camp out and wait until the place opened up or if he should meander elsewhere. As I'm waiting for the light to turn so I could stumble into my abode and collapse into blessed slumber, he sort of shuffles his feet, takes a swig from his paper sack, and then hurls the - presumably empty - bottle into the road, right into the windshield of a cop car that had just turned towards the on-ramp. The car screeches to a halt, flips into reverse and tries to navigate around the median to get at the guy.

Needless to say, the gentleman booked it and was gone before the cop got close. The cop gets out, obviously swearing, and brushes off his car. He then climbs back in and returns to his original objective of getting the hell out of uptown.

-Thomas

No, it's Not, "We're With the Liver Balls." That Would Be Dumb; Funny, but still Dumb

2006-01-11T17:00:00.000-06:00

A person's behavior and personality are derivations of what expectations have been placed on them. Which is to say: everyone reflects what is expected of them. Be it a conformance to those expectations or a direct refutation of them, people's actions are tied to expectation.

Maybe that doesn't apply to hermits, but for the most part, I've found that philosophy to hold true. I just wish I wasn't so lame and could remember who it was who formulated it.

Shameful confession of the day: I love having this dialouge with people:

Wŏ: "No, I'm not going to reactivate your internet service because you owe us $[Amount]."
Tā: "Sir, I am going to send you a check."
Wŏ: "That's fine, and we appreciate that, but we'll reactivate it as soon as we get the check."

Yeah, I'm a dick, and I hate that I feel good saying, "screw you because I can't trust you."

-Thomas

A Fine Evening Spent Watching Curb

2006-01-09T16:13:00.000-06:00

Not really a big surprise to any of you, but I love rice. Yeah, yeah, I know, me and a whole continent of people, but I really love those succulent puffy white bundles of starchy heaven. So, given that, I can't figure out if I like Mochipet because he is awesome glitch-core goodness or because his mailing list is called The Cult of Rice.

I believe that it's quite easy to get blood from a stone, it simply requires one to understand that stones don't have the same sort of blood most animals do. I mean, they are stones after all.

School starts soon, I'm dreading it already. I get into a routine over break that involves me relaxing a lot - although, today, I am really stiff and sore pretty much all over - and I am loathe to return to my pattern of slaving over hot textbooks.

I don't even know why I'm complaining about school. College beats working in the real world.

-Thomas

Grinding My Soul to Buy Enough Bread

2006-01-06T18:50:00.000-06:00

I'll keep this short: all religious organizations should immediately have their tax-exempt status revoked. They want to be a non-profit, fine, they can follow those rules. Oh, and the Catholic church shall remain cursed with my eternal disgust for all enternitity (I apologize to the Catholic readers).

-Thomas

Dead Baby Sea Turtle

2006-01-06T09:31:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I wouldn't click on that.

Have you ever met someone that makes you depressed no matter what? I'm not saying they aren't fun to be around, or that you always feel like shit every time you see/talk to them, just someone that inherently makes you sad.

My roommate is awesome. Nice guy, reasonable about bills and such, good to talk to, and all around a great guy. That said, every time I think about where he's going with everything, I get less and less optimistic about my odds in getting a job in my field of choice. I mean: here is a guy with a double major in journalism and political science, a clip file longer than my arm, and a ton of connections. Despite all of that: he's going to grad school because he can't get a job in journalism.

If he can't, what the fuck am I going to do?

-Thomas

I've Got the Ultimate One-Up for Such Conversations with Straight Men, Bisexual Men, Bisexual Women, and Lesbians

2006-01-04T19:35:00.000-06:00

An Open Letter to All of Humanity

Dear All of Humanity:

Don't buy old people internet access. They don't really need it or want it and all it does is make technical support people eradicate their entire genetic line in hopes of eliminating incompetence from the human gene pool.

They're going to die soon anyway, don't make people like me suffer because you think it would be cute if grandma or grandpa could send emails.

Mr. Thomas Kwong.

I'm not kidding. Well, maybe about the mass murder bit, but not by much.

-Thomas

Blessings Upon the Throne of Tyranny

2006-01-02T10:32:00.000-06:00

Dimmu Borgir has the weirdest song titles sometimes.

I wasn't really going to mention this stupid bull shit, but I get more enraged every day I read something about it.

How is it that one of the most flagrant abuses of governmental power in recent months is being investigated not for the abuse itself or the questionable legality of the whole thing, but, rather, for how the media got a hold of the information.

What the raped baby Jesus is wrong with you bitches?

I'm terribly surprised by any of this, but, as a journalist, I am mortally terrified of this kind of shit. This isn't the sort of thing that should happen in a democracy. The NSA can already get away with a whole lot of stuff, so why make this a big deal? Hell, why not put it in the Patriot Act? My biggest concern is the, "our enemies now know something they shouldn't," attack. Excuse me? So, the media - trying to do it's duty to expose governmental abuse and excesses - is compromising American security by saying, "hey, this thing might be illegal, and there's no real oversight," and then pressuring for answers? That's bullshit. I am now being told, by my government, that I should not do anything that makes them look bad. Welcome to fascism.

I don't know if it's illegal or not (I hope it is found to be illegal because this scares me), but I fail to see how this program has actually helped. Maybe that's a good thing, but I think the best thing we can do is take the more free society route and just accept that we may get attacked and people might die. I hope that it doesn't happen, but maybe, just maybe, freedom is actually worth dying for in ways that fall outside of that jingoistic nonsense.

I will close on this note: China, USSR, and a host of other countries have or had the same sort of powers that the FBI et. al. are clamoring for and they are no closer to stopping their, "problems". China still has Falun Dafa, the triads are still going strong, Russia wasn't able to stop the Russian mob, and the Chechens are still causing hell. What makes this country think we'll fare any better?

-Thomas

You Sure You Want to be With Me I’ve Nothing to Give?

2005-12-31T13:20:00.000-06:00

I have deep seated love of depressing lyrics. I don't know why, but they always make me smile.

Let's highlight Cex's excellent "Kill Me" off the equally excellent Maryland Mansions. The chrous goes a little something like,

Things aren't getting any better.
Everything is only getting worse.
I'll apologize for the rest of my life for the rest of my life forever,
unless you
promise to kill me first.

I love that; it makes me grin ear to ear. My enjoyment of depressing stuff doesn't really bother me to much, but I can't help but wonder what it says about my own personal psychosis. Am I manic-depressive (maybe)? Am I going to kill myself (always an unlikely possibility)? Am I getting enjoyment out of someone else's misery and therefore a jackass extrodinaire (the last part is probably true anyway)?

All of those strike me as reasonable possibilities, but I think it's something more mundane and cliche: listening to other people being depressed makes us feel better about out own depression, be it minor or terrible. Maybe it's a sort of, "at least I'm not that bad," for a lot of people or, "somebody understands what I feel!"

I'm not sure where I fall in in all of that; to be honest I don't really know where I'm going with any of this. I suppose my final point is that I've gotten to a point with my deppression, where I can feel a sort of strength in it. It's hard to describe because I'm happy most of my life right now and so I don't really feel deppressed that often. To try to make some sense of that last paragraph: I think I look back on my periods of terrible deppression from a now-happy standing and I feel better about where I've come. Sort of a reassuring reminder that all that stuff happened and now I'm ahead of it.

Bah, I don't know what I'm saying anymore.

-Thomas

Smells Like Vampire Shit

2005-12-30T09:29:00.000-06:00

I was going to the bathroom - nothing too unusual there - at a particular Minnesota based retailer that shall remain nameless yesterday. Now, I had to drop a load like you would not believe, but, much to my dismay, all two stalls in the men's bathroom were occupied. This fills me with a dread I cannot describe because men are the worst crappers in the entire world. Get us in front of a urinal, we are in and out with minimal time. You sit yourself down in a stall and as soon as you click that lock into place, you are on vacation. You've got time to doodle, scratch out a political manifesto, scratch that nasty itch, and even do a bit of yoga if that's your thing. Needless to say, with this knowledge in hand, I am not looking forward to the purgatory I was now facing. My vision narrows on the two stalls and my ears flick about, listening for any sounds of flushing.

Now, as I'm standing there, desperately trying not to do something rather embarrassing to my fine pair of pants, I can't help but to inventory my options in case I get desperate. I furtively glance about the tiled confines of my rapidly narrowing world and decide in case of an emergency I can do my business in the sink, trash can, floor, or one of the two open urinals.

I discard sink off hand, as that kind of destroys the purpose of a sink. The floor quickly follows because I try to avoid feeling like I live in a third world country when I don't. The trash can I linger on for a moment, even rationalizing that it'll get taken care of faster than any other option I have considered. Reason quickly sets in as I realize that it is way to high up along the wall and would require far more acrobatic skill than what I like to employ when going to the bathroom.

That and if I were cleaning trashcans at this particular retailer, I would hate my job already and this would probably push me over the edge, and I would hastily quit my job and regret it as soon as I got to my car.

Anyway, this leaves me staring at the two open urinals. The longer I glance at these un-utilized receptacles of human waste, the more irritated I get. I have, at this point, ruled out using the urinals for what is definitely not their intended purpose, and have simply begun to stew with impotent rage at the inefficiency of the whole situation. At some point in my inner anger-ridden rant, I come to the conclusion that urinals should be removed completely.

Yeah, I said, man's personal piss playground should be removed and replaced with fully functional toilets. Here's my reasoning: guys piss in standard toilets all the time; at home, at a friend's house, unisex facilities, when there's no urinals left, and at male-only retreats at locations that have both bathroom types available, but the men's bathroom is all full up and since there's no women anywhere nearby you can use the women's bathroom. So, why can't we all just agree to put in four stalls where we currently have two stalls and two urinals and be done with it? No more wasted ceramic space, no more awkward half-muttered comments like,
"Looks like there's a line."
"Yeah..."
Do you hear me public restroom management of America? Do you fucking hear me?

-Thomas

You Can Smell It. Smell It Like You're Some Crazy Wolf-Person.

2005-12-25T09:12:00.000-06:00

Little baby Jesus, it's your birthday. How does that feel, especially with being all dead and shit?

Finals have been done for a couple days, but I've been reveling in the freedom, thus the delay.

I find myself loathing the so-called spirit of the season. Not that I'm against people being kinder, but it always seems to stick in my craw. I mean, why can't you just not be a jerk the entire year? Do you really need the fear of baby Jesus? Call me new-fashioned, but why is it so hard to just be a better person all of the time?

I really don't have a lot of ideas right now. I'm hungry and I'm tired, not a good combination; the spiritual panda slaughter, if you will (lot's of screaming and blood).

-Thomas

I Would Be Happier if, “Mr. Scalpel,” Did Not Meet, “Mr. Sternum.”

2005-12-15T12:01:00.000-06:00

Dying is for suckers.

Well, the pressing onslaught known as finals has temporarily lessoned. So, instead of applying myself constructively, I thought I'd do this.

Now, I'm not one for talking shit, except for very sarcastically, but I just cut some hot jams and they are the mother fucking jam. They walk up to your shit and say, "Yo, mother fucker, you think you're hot jams, don't you? Well you ain't. You just some punk-ass fucker who could touch me like you're Michael Jackson and I'm a small child. Even if you tried there'd be all these sirens and lawsuits and shit." I'm lying; they're actually not that good. They're not bad, but I'd be surprised if more than two people find them enjoyable.

I think now would be a good time to introduce Kwong's Law of Getting Action. The law is as follows:

If, and only if, one is not in a relationship that includes action as a benefit, the amount of action one receives is the inverse of the amount of action one expects to receive.

I have yet to be proven wrong.

-Thomas

You're on Fire. Yes, Your Flesh is Burning

2005-12-05T10:18:00.000-06:00

Two points:

1) Grand Buffet can't be, "like the best thing ever," because they're so close to being the best thiing ever, we just round up.

2) I was wrong about Massive Attack's Blue-Lines, it is awesome. However, I maintain that it is not on the same level as Mezzanine, which is in an enternal duel with Portishead's self-titled record for the greatest trip-hop record of all time.

Anway, minor-hiatus is now being declared official as I brace for finals. Sorry, I want to pass this semester.

-Thomas

With a Face Like That, How Could I Say No?

2005-12-01T17:00:00.000-06:00

Why do some guys not flush urinals? I mean as much as I love public hygeine there is something missing when you say, "I'm not touching that urnial flushing lever; that's germ-ridden. I would rather leave my urea to splash on some poor sucker when he tries to pee."

Bitches.

-Thomas

My Sixth Sense Peacefully Placed on My Breath

2005-11-22T10:54:00.000-06:00

I have long since abandoned dreams of seeing certain performers live. Cacteu Twins (well, Elizabeth Fraser in general), Massive Attack, Portishead, Front Line Assembly, Hypnoskull, The Banshees (Ms. Sioux I can see during the next Creatures tour), and Mr. Bungle have all been regulated to the abyss of the never to be seen live. To be fair, I did have Bauhaus in this list and that was taken care of, so who knows for certain, but I am well aware that the odds are very slim.

In contemplating this, I wonder why I have this drive to see live performances. I mean, this is what I have records for right?

-Thomas

"No," Means, "Eat Me Out First."

2005-11-17T11:54:00.000-06:00

For reasons I can't quite explain, that really bothers me.

"I will eat your babies, no doubt."

Funny lookin' critter isn't he? My faovirte line from the whole speech is, "In Washington you can ordinarily rely on some basic measure of truthfulness and good faith in the conduct of political debate..." It's kind of like that, "we don't torture people," bit.

I've been busier than Satan during Lent this past week, sorry. More later, midterms now.

-Thomas

Oh, and Then There Were Protesters

2005-11-09T15:10:00.000-06:00

Where does time go?

I am full of detachment today. I don't want to do anything, I feel irritable, cranky, and fuck. Anyway, I got a call while I was DJing yesterday, the conversation went about as follows:

Me: Radio K.
Caller: Hi, is this Thomas?
Me: Yup, what can I do for you?
Caller: I have a question and a request.
Me: Okay, shoot.
Caller: I heard you were a, "mixie," is that true?
Me: ... A what?
Caller: A, "mixie," half-asian, half-white.
Me: Oh, yeah it's true, why?
Caller: Well, I'm a mixie too. [She may have said something after that, I don't really remember]
Me: ... Okay, what can I play for, you oh fellow, "mixie?"
Caller: ... [Indignant] Fine, I guess you didn't want to have me call, but anyway, I would like to hear...

The relavent bit was over at that point, but a few things stand out:
1) I've never heard, "mixie," in my entire life.
2) That she got all huffy.
3) Who the hell was this girl and who did she hear I was mixed from?

I mean, I've been on the radio a while, but that creeped the shit out of me.

-Thomas

Unead, Undead, Undead

2005-11-08T10:35:00.000-06:00

Bauhaus is cooler than any of us. You know, I know it, Zorak know it.

-Thomas

The War Won't Stop, for the Love of God

2005-11-03T11:31:00.000-06:00

Metric is the jam-monster.

Yesterday was national walkout day, just in case you don't look at that news thing or regularly visit a college campus. The whole idea is let's all leave class at the same time and then go protest Bush and the War and all that stuff. Me? Nah I didn't participate, I try to be constructive with my protests.

I don't think it's going to stop kids. I don't think enough people will care if congress announces that the case for Iraq was non-existant. I don't think the majority of Americans will figure it out, hell 50% don't know who Karl Rove is, let alone why there's these news stories about some chick named Valaire or know if something illegal might have happened (for the record, I think the spy thing is a stupid law to begin with). I don't think most people realize how vigourously conservative Alito is. I don't think it will matter how many times prison abuse will come, people won't figure anything out. I don't think it matters how many reports of attempted suicide, hunger strikes, and what not before people stop believing it's all part of terrorist training. I don't think it'll matter how messy it gets because nothing will happen.

Yeah, we're fighting the war, but it's not going to stop. Sucks doesn't it?

-Thomas

Everyday is Today

2005-10-31T19:41:00.000-06:00

Happy Halloween, everybody. Is it the best holiday ever? Hell yes, my friends, hell yes.

BOO!

-Thomas

I'm Sorry I Aborted Our Baby, Really!

2005-10-27T18:00:00.000-05:00

Dear Universe:

I understand the need for you to test the strength of my karma by having someone try to steal my bike, but please understand that I had to foil your attempt with my bike lock. In the future, when you dispatch your minions to punish me for my wrong-doings, please remind them that my bike will still be equipped with a lock when I am not riding it and that I would greatly appreciate it if they would be so kind as to re-attach my wheel properly after trying to remove it and thereby get around my lock. The most recent incident delayed me a good five minutes as I endeavored to correct the error your workers left.

Best Regards.
Thomas Kwong

Sometimes, you have to make a stand. This probably isn't one of those times, and I'm quite comfortable sitting, but sometime soon, I expect I will have to make said stand. There's no great challenge facing me (other than the usual, "we're all going to die," sort of thing), but rather a feeling of impending doom. I can't trace the sensation, it could be the advent of Halloween, it could be that I need a vacation really bad, it could be the creepy homeless gentlemen I accidentally bumped into yesterday who muttered something about a curse on my line (thank god he didn't say, "thinner..."), or it could be the amount of class work that's kicking my ass with patent leather combat boots.

I'm not sure which one those it is, but I have this feeling I'm going to have to drop my pants, moon the world, and then run like hell.

-Thomas

Shoogar

2005-10-24T15:48:00.000-05:00

Oooh, fancy title.

Today, I didn't get to eat breakfast or lunch. Let's just say that my clock was not re-set properly and I almost missed a group presentation. Anyway, to compensate I went to the vending machine and bought some cookies. They were named Duplex cookies, which I thought was a fairly insipid name for sandwich cookies. Yet as I started to eat them and read the nutritional values I was blown away by the deal I had just scored. Yes, ladies and gentleman, a deal in the vending machine.

Seven hundred Calories, twenty-five grams of fat, five grams of saturated fat, zero miligrams of cholesterol (uh-huh feel the health benefits) five hundred and twenty-five miligrams of sodium, zero grams of sodium, fifty grams of sugar, ten grams of protein, a whopping forty percent of your daily iron, a total of fifteen cookies, and all the flavor goodness you've come to expect from generic cookies that have a white cream filling, vanilla cookie on side, and a chocolate cookie on the other. Yeah, suck on that puny two hundred and thirty calorie M and M's!

The one thing that brought any doubt into the choice was the tag-line.

Baked in Goodness"

Jigga-what? "Baked in goodness," what the fuck does that mean? You ground up some fucking kittens and babies and puppies and rainbows and sunshine and Jesus and angels and America and freedom and Bald Eagles and lolipops and gum drops and stewed your cookies in their ground up dust? That's sick, Duplex cookies, that's fucking sick. Seriously, I'm just unsettled by the phrase, "baked in [noun/adjective]," no real reason, it's just weird.

I got nothing.

Also

-Thomas

She Says, "I Don't Wear Makeup to Work Anymore Because Everyday I Cry."

2005-10-21T13:43:00.000-05:00

How's that for a ray of sunshine? Speaking of which:

BAM and fucking BAM.

Those aren't approval ratings, hell, Bush probably wishes he had Nixon's approval ratings these days. Holy fucking mother of god.

I can't tell you all how happy this makes me, I really can't. I'm *sniff* I really *sniff* had y'know *sniff* lost faith in America you know?

Who am I kidding? I still don't have faith in America.

-Thomas

Innocent Holiday or Occult Celebration

2005-10-19T14:20:00.000-05:00

I still don't know exactly why I do this. Sure, I can say it's my way of manifesting and dispensing with my loose, rambling thoughts that I used to pour into my best friend, but that doesn't reeeally get at the heart of the matter. I could just as easily go back to just writing bad poetry. Yes, Citizen Blog is in questionable status. I feel like a tolitarian state, questioning the existence of one of its members because I cannot explain it to myself. I feel like I started this because to comment on my buddy Jack's blog and then rationalized writing my own because, hell, surely somebody would find this interesting; surely my view-points are just as invaluable as the the person I just saw in the magical fairy land of NextBlog.

I guess I figured, like most people, that this thing would become a bouncing pile of dust, one I would stumble over one evening and laugh at myself over (CD's I, "released," in freshman year of highschool come to mind as a good comparission).

On a related note: this is the perspective on why people should blog that I agree with.

-Thomas

Calls at 2 AM Should Be, "I Need to Have Sex." Not, "This Party Sucks."

2005-10-17T16:54:00.000-05:00

I've always beena great admirer of Calvin and Hobbes. To be percise I've always been a huge fan of Calvin's outlook on life. Maybe not the stupidity, but the sheer power of imagination and impromptu life-style. Probably one of my favorites is the one where he's complaining that his homework is impossible and then he sits up in one of those, "oh, wait," moments, you know with the exclamation point over the head and everything, and he springs up saying, "nothing is impossible for STUPENDOUS MAN!" That's the kind of random mind-set I strive for.

That said, I always feel like I'm not that random. My friend, Jack, is just shits wierd sometimes and it's amazing. Me? I'm just wierd. I always feel like I lack a certain element of spontanaeity (much like the future itself) to be as off-kilter as I wish I was.

I figure it's just an over-active imagination that doesn't come out as much as I'd like it too. Stupid life.

-Thomas

Why the Fuck Do All These Guys Named Herman Keep Sending me Emails About Pills?

2005-10-13T12:03:00.000-05:00

I hate my job sometimes.

-Thomas

I'm Sorry I Forgot to do that One Thing I Obligated Myself to do When You Asked Me, What More do You Want?

2005-10-08T06:48:00.000-05:00

I am constantly in awe of the human body. Not in the sense that it can do amazing, although that's true, but more in the sense that it transforms itself from a not stinky, not greasy, albeit dirt-coated sack of flesh, to the polar opposite. Puberty? I get that, my body can get fucked up during that point, but post? What the hell? How did I not need anti-perspirent for my entire childhood and then need to rub, basically soap, under my arms for the rest of my life?

Albania.

I think in order for life to spontaneously appear, a combination of several things must occur:

-A party
-Free food
-Free booze

I hate sports bars. In concept, pratice, and appearance. To be percise I hate crappy bars near campus. May they die in response to their patrons attending bars of quality.

Are you having a bad day? I hope not, but if you are may you take power in this:

Isn't that better? Found Magazine hopes so, and I do too.

Sorry, I'm in an odd mood this morning.

Albania.

-Thomas

Asinine Prick-Hole

2005-10-04T12:49:00.000-05:00

Tom DeLay's indictement filled me a warm fuzzy feeling when it first broke. I can think of few modern examples of a man getting a taste of his own medicine that are quite so appropo. That said, I cna't shake off the feeling that he could be right.

I haven't seen the full indictement, but there's a chance DeLay could be innoccent. I guess I just like watching the little tool squirm.

In other minor news: Deftones, Around the Fur, hells yes, again.

-Thomas

I Am A Bad Blogger. I Wish I Were Dead. Boo-Hoo.

2005-10-03T11:10:00.000-05:00

Yeah, lofting dreams of regular updating are getting eaten by busy work.

I was cruising the internet at work this weekend and ran into a quiz. Like I do for most quizes I mocked it's puiny existance and made it ask what it wants from life; basically weant all Happy-Time Harry on it. I continued this until I saw one brilliant question that has stuck with me. The question?

"Name three perfect albums."

So, it's not even really a question, but it's been haunting me.

What get's me the most: I can't do it. I can't pin down three records I consider, "perfect." Massive Attack's Mezzanine has moments I'm not a big fan of. Tool's Laterelus drags in some places. Front Line Assembly's Tactical Neural Implant has a couple parts that I routinely skip. Pig Destroyer's Terrifyer, intro and track 6, not so much. A Whisper in the Noise? Ides of March is pretty damn close, as is 2d, but even there, I find myself going, eh about bits of it.

The more I think about it, the more I can't stand it. It's been apparent to me that I'm a hyper-critical music-snob, but I can't even declare some of my all-time favorite albums as perfect. Maybe that's a good thing, I really don't know.

What kind of dick-face can't even figure out, what albums they consider perfect?

-Thomas

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

2005-09-26T17:35:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-22T11:35:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-09-19T16:35:00.000-05:00

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)

2005-09-15T12:49:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-13T11:38:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-08T18:56:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-07T16:10:00.000-05:00

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?

2005-09-06T07:44:00.000-05:00

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?

Concern Expressed Over Rate of Jesus Utterances

2005-06-21T11:52:00.000-05:00

Well, happy solsitice kiddies. I've been way too busy of late, but that's because it's summer time and there's shit to do. That and I've got work and lots of it, so I'll probably start regular updates once school starts in the fall, but for now, I'm on hiatus.

Take care of yourselves.

.-Thomas

I've Got A Stick. It May Be Sharp.

2005-05-16T00:25:00.000-05:00

I feel as though I adjust to change to easily. As though I over-anticipate the actual change and then seem confused after it already happened. I'll often over-think things days, weeks in advance and then, when the shit actually rolls around, there's not climatic shift. Thre's a slight disorientation - like those first moments of falling over where you hover in the air trying to figure out how in the hell you got yourself into a situation where your face and/or behind is about to meet the ground in a most awkward fashion - and then the next thing I know I've got a set of habits, behaviors that adapt to the new deal. It happens when I get a new job, when someone leaves and I'm not likely to see them again, when I start dating someone new, when someone dies, just a quick hiccup and then there's no sensation of anything new. It reminds me most of smacking your television to get your signal and you end up changing the channel.

All of this gives me a lack of permanance. I always feel like I'm just whirling about, moving, gaining nothing of the static reliability I somehow anticipated life contained. It's a strange thing, given how much I overthink things and how often I'll dwell on the same topic over and over again.

And now I've gotten all pretentious. Sorry, kids, finals week got over for me yesterday (damn you to hell, Saturday Finals) and I have since been trying to decompress all of the stupidity that brings.

In other pointless news: I'm stepping down as morning drive time DJ for the radio station in my end of the world. Moving on to new things and more sleep.

-Thomas

A Quick Note for Guilt for Our US Readers

2005-05-04T12:43:00.000-05:00

Good old Chritianity. Lettin' those people die.

-Thomas

Nothing But Time and a Fucked Up Mind

2005-05-04T12:14:00.000-05:00

Going to the work in the morning means biking or bussing and with "spring" finally here I've been biking more. That said: the bike is currently out of commission until I have time to fix it, which probably won't be for a little while as finals doth loom yonder.

///"Loom," always brings forth images of creepy pale people in black robes with ash-filled skies and gouts of flame in the backround.///

So, without my favorite method of rolling, I'm back on the bus. I'm more than okay with public transportation and everything, so it's no big deal.

Riding the bus is awesome in terms of people watching, in particular the bus stop. My stop is fairly busy, about four other people use it and this is at 5:25 in the morning. One of these people is an middle-aged blue-collar dude. Cooler lunch, mustache, sports team jacket, baseball cap, the whole shebang. Everyday, this guy waits about half a block from the bus stop, under a store's veranda, smoking. When he sees the bus coming he walks over, some times finishing up the smoke and pitching the butt.

I could never really figure out why he didn't smoke over by the bus stop, it's not like it would bother any of us. At least until this morning when he got in line behind me. As he walks over, gets behind me, and starts fumbling for his bus pass, a waft of stickiest passes over me.

Looks like the old guy liked his green and wasn't to keen on being asked to share.

-Thomas

Honey, I've Had a Long Day of Ethnic Cleansing

2005-05-03T11:56:00.000-05:00

Holy, hot fucking shit! As a nerd who likes to pretend to be cool, I would say that this is one of the most kick ass ideas ever.

"I'm from the future, and I'd like to attend!

We're not sure how you're emailing us from the future, but we'd love to have you! Come as you are! No dress code whatsoever."

Father. Fucking. Brilliant.

-Thomas

Oi, My Bleeding

2005-04-29T07:16:00.000-05:00

The end is near. My year-long stint as morning show sucker is nearly complete.

I feel like I've been distracted for the entire year, as though I should be doing somethiing, but I never get around to it. Now, I'm willing to attribute this to my natural shirking and putting-off-for-tommorrrow-what-I-can-dooo-today, but it's more than me avoiding that twelve page paper, it's like I'm really avoiding something.

I do notice I tend to forget people I don't interact with often. case and point: I called my friend last night and left a message along the lines of, "Um, hey, I realized I hadn't talked to you in about a month after I said I would call you back."

Maybe it's just that I'm always tired, drifting off in class, dozing at parties, being that sleeping guy on the bus. I ramble a lot, I mumble more often than I care to admit, and don't I wish this post had some direction.

But. today, I'm cranky and tired, so I don't really give a fuck. Finals approaching is making me more surly than usual. Trucker hats, bad mainstream country, conservatives, zealots, hemp paper, and corn ethanol...

-Thomas

If You Want a System to Handle What You Want, Yeah, You Need the Bass

2005-04-24T17:38:00.000-05:00

I return alive and thankfully unscathed. I considered baking soda over eyelids, but we all decided against it.

I am blessed and / or cursed - depending on your view - with a low-powered liver when it comes to mister happy booze face. On one hand: this rules; no alcoholism for Thomas, ever. Bam! Then there's that, "no drunkenness for Thomas, ever," thing that makes me not so much.

So, with all the vomitting that is in my fate if alcohol goes down, I don't really drink at all. Yeah, a little, but it's usually something very small and good and then I'm done if I drink anything. The problem is that the older I get the more parties I go to where drinking is going down and people are getting trashed and as you all may or may not know being sober at a drunk party can be entertaining, but usually I just want to push people out of windows.

I guess I'm just bemoaning the gradual descent of my socialization into drinking and more drinking.

-Thomas

Come On Down (Duh, Dun, Dun, Dun, Duh, Duh)

2005-04-18T13:22:00.000-05:00

Name anyone person who hates to sing along to "Death Valley '69" and I'll laugh in their face and call them a loser. That way they'll have another person telling them they're stupid.

I'm currently overwhelmed with fundrasing and road trips this weekend and therefore will not be posting until next Monday. Not that there's a lot of traffic, but I feel obligated to make note of my laziness.

-Thomas

Keep It in Motion, Free Flowing

2005-04-12T21:50:00.000-05:00

I've been playing a lot of capture the flag these days; well, not a lot, but once every two weeks for the past month is more than I have grown accustomed to.

Capture the flag is one of those seminal games that will never grow old for me. Something about running around like an idiot to steal a piece of cloth tied to a stick and run it across some imaginary boundary makes this king. The game isn't very structured, there's no real boundaries or restrictions other than the middle line; buses, cars, bikes, sneaking around for miles: it's all legal. There are no jails, just freeze tag style liberation (you stay where you are until someone goes through your legs), flags are kept in the same location - no hiding, and the teams are huge. I don't like to think of it as nostalgia as much as reclaiming an activity that I had allowed to fall to the wayside.

I can't really explain my fixation with this game. I played it as often as possible when I was little and on through my high school years when I could manage it, but at one point I just ran out of people to play with and got to busy to organize it. The nerdy feel-good reason is that playing a game that is based on luck and team work as much as it is on skill for hours on end with fairly cool people helps me form better communication skills while keeping me active. But really, endorphins aside, it's something far more basic, something more than the sweet pleasure of forgetting all my responsibilities, my projects, my work, and my obligations for a few hours.

In the end, it's running like a madman, howling at the top of my lungs, and the rush of pure reckless abandon. That is serenity in its truest form.

-Thomas

WAAAHHH!!!

2005-04-11T14:12:00.000-05:00

I hate people so fucking much.

-Thomas

No, He's Real, Your Parents Just Feel Sorry That You're Not Getting Christmas Gifts

2005-04-09T12:17:00.000-05:00

I had the most devious set of friends when I was in elelmentary school. Pranks - stealing of pudding cups, sand down the pants, whoopee cushions, snap gum packs, snakes in cans, jumping out into an empty hallway and scaring the shit out of people, tripping, and bike seat thefts to name a few - and terrible comments like the above were common. The thing is: none of really thought anything of it. Everytime someone would say something that would have been fairly horrible if it had been serious, we'd all burst into peals of childish glee and go back to our choclate milk.

Warping nature of the hallway thing aside (I still look over my shoulder a lot), this was all normal and benign. Yet, everytime I tell people the Santa Claus line, something I still think is hilarious, I get horrified looks and, "You guys were what? Six? Seven?"

I'm not that crazy, right?

-Thomas

Wumps-Wha? With Colons?

2005-04-04T13:47:00.000-05:00

Recent deaths have made a little irritated about our all-consuming drive to deify the dead. Not that this is a new criticism, but I will never understand the point of not speaking ill of the dead. If someone did terrible or bad things I’m not going to just let it slide because they're dead. Well, for most people you can generally forgive it. Like if that neighbor that always borrows stuff from you and never returns it suddenly became worm food, you're probably going to let it go (especially since you're more likely to get it back). But I'm not talking about Old Man Wilburson from up the block, I'm talking about people like Regan or Paul Wellstone.

I'm not saying that they both didn't do good things in their lives, simply that we let those good deeds overshadow their mistakes and, moreover, it becomes a spew of hypocrisy for their detractors ("Well, I didn't really mean he was an idiot all those times I called him an idiot all those times," blech). Everyone fucks up, so let's stop invoking the name of these newly created saints and move on with our lives. Why talk about how great someone without mentioning their weaknesses, their fallibility? Wouldn't want to make them real people, now would we?

I'm also peeved because I couldn't sleep for two hours due to the sound of mice running around in my ceiling. Nothing I love more then the sound of rodents scampering around above my head.

-Thomas

Spitfire

2005-04-02T13:27:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I gave tickets to a guy with the name, "Boes," (pronounced: bOws, like bow and arrow). However, it turns out its really pronounced bAse, as in the guitar or location not the fish, and means, "evil," in German. This is the single greatest name ever; next band, seriously.

Triviality aside: I've come to talk to you about Catholicism.

I'm not going to rant off my grievances against the religion, those are not relevant and you've all heard them before from other people, but suffice to say I have never gotten along with the epitome of organized religion. Given my general distaste for said religion's politics and its figurehead / spokesman / policy-maker, Popey McPopesalot, I find myself in the moral bind of wanting the pope to die and yes I know that they just get a replacement, but that's like two to five years of a pope-less world, two to five years!

Obviously that's not the most progressive thing to be feeling. Virulent disgust for a person and the views they proselytize is not a good reason to wish them death. At the same time I think of a world without a well respected figure giving the usual rants against family planning (which leads to lower female independence, higher poverty rates, and more world hunger, among other things), homosexual rights ("I'm not homophobic, I just don't think they should have the same rights I do,"), and the right to die and I get just feel better about them kicking the bucket

///Okay, can anyone explain how, "kick the bucket," came to mean dying?.///

Yeah, I know that there are other people that espouse the same views, but those people don't have a billion people hanging on every word.

Long story short (aren't all blog posts long stories short?): I despise the pope, but I feel bad about hoping he dies. I suppose I'm looking for rationalizations because I can't think of any good ones.

-Thomas

Fuck Potatoes

2005-03-30T07:19:00.000-06:00

I'm a Bio-Based Products Marketing and Management major. Basically a renaming and refocussing of the business-centered part of the Wood and Fiber Science major program. This means I'm in sweet classes talking about the properties of wood and in particular identifying wood (I'm not kidding, this is interesting to me). One particular type of cedar - Alaskan Yellow Cedar, if you must know - looks and smells exactly like raw potatoes.

This isn't a big deal, it makes it easy to identify (and when your tests are, "here's a bag full of wood, tell me what each piece is," that's sweet), but it has made me hate potatoes. The thing is: I used to like potatoes a lot, but for some reason smelling them every week for hours on end has made me not too keen on eating them baked, mashed, or scalloped; predictably fried varients are okay.

I hate getting tired/sick of things. What a great psychological mechanism. Hey! I really like this, but, oh, wait, no, it's boring. I guess it'd be nice if some things were immune; especially the trinity of: food, sex, and masturbation. I guess the last two are kind of the same, but I'm going to pretend they're not and if you think otherwise, then you can just be wrong.

Thankfully, I don't work in a chicken soup factory.

-Thomas

Why You Always Talking About Tits, Man?

2005-03-29T11:54:00.000-06:00

Okay, so raw hillarity aside I can't realy understand it. The marketing just seems all wrong.

I can't really say it's suprising, but I still can't get over, "... the deal reflects the popularity of hip-hop among young people." Gold, gold, gold.

I can't wait for the Big Mac summer jams.

-Thomas

Pirate King

2005-03-24T19:21:00.000-06:00

I always felt sorry for Captain Hook.

I'm walking around, on my way to class, and I found a comic book. Now we're not talking some graphic novel or anything remotely culturally rewarding. No it was a Kraft Macaroni and Cheese newspaper-quality colored advertisement for twenty-five pages. The thing is: as trashy useless, soul-sucking promotionals go, this one was actually worth scooping up off the ground.

Cheese dinasours, flying pirate ships, teddy bears with super-powers, cat supervillains, cheese-obssessed masterminds, this is some fucked up shit right here, which is an odd way of saying, "suh-weet." I couldn't stop laughing at this thing. Not only was it blatantly commerical, it was so wickedly absurd that I had to read it all.

I still don't know if the person(s) who designed/wrote this were just cracked out, or just suppressed genious(es) in the cogs of the giant Phillip-Morris Corporation.

Excuse me, Altria Group.

Survey says bowls destroy cones and bowl and cone wins all.

-Thomas

Egghead

2005-03-21T07:16:00.000-06:00

So, somehow, in all my news addiction, I missed that George Kennan died last Thursday. Kennan, in case you didn't know (and that's not to be arogant, it's just a lot of people don't know), was the analyst that created the containment docterine of the Cold War, believing that Soviet Union would eventually have to realease its hold on its polace and open up to the rest of the world.

I've never really known exactly how to feel about the guy. On one hand his ideas were the ationalization for the Korean War, the Vietnam War, atrocities in South America, and the list goes on and on. So if we would hold Kissenger to the stake, should we really spare the man who gave the intellectual ground work for the policy?

That said: Kenan vigorously oppsed both Vietnam and Korea. He said that America should do that example thing.

I guess it comes down to: do we hate the man or the people who twisted his ideas?

-Thomas

Fuck 'Em Up, Hang 'Em High (Hate the Player, Hate the Game)

2005-03-15T20:15:00.000-06:00

I wish I didn't have to pay for samples.

Actually, I was going to talk about something else, but I've decided to rant on copyrights.

Copyright and other intellectual property protections are a good idea. However, in practice they have become a little too protected. Liscensing fees for commercials is one thing, but if I just want to manipulate it and put it over a phat beat, wouldn't it be better if I just, I didn't have to pay, especially if I'm manipulating it further? I'm not advocating for out and out theft, but, rather, a policy of openess. Ask permission, don't have to pay; manipulate and you don't even have to ask.

I guess this is more against corporate copyrights than anything else (I was going to rip Rhapsody in Blue, fuck you very little Disney), they're the ones that sue you half the time anyway. How corporate copyrights last longer than individual ones is beyond me. I suppose it shouldn't be too big of a shock, though, it's not the first example of corporations having more rights than real people. Which, of course, is absolutely amazing for the future of our society.

Ugh. I feel like shit, I better not be getting sick. Everything from my head to my balls hurts.

-Thomas

Sweating and Breathing and Staring and Thinking

2005-03-12T14:18:00.000-06:00

I've been trying to deal with my feelings of guilt over my inactivity of late. I haven't been running or biking or doing shit for excercise lately and it's starting to get to me. Running and biking are good solid ways to relieve my stress, forget about the nagging thigs that I over-analyze over and over again, and basically just have a rock solid excuse to avoid responsibility.

Part of it's because I feel like I should be excercising more than not at all, but it's mostly because I keep slacking off or I'll start thinking about things too much. My tendency to overanalyze is giving me more aggravation than I know what to do with and I'm getting positively jumpy. I'm spacing out, fidgeting more than usuaul, and more prone to rolling over and not waking up on time.

From this I conclude I'm getting sick, I'm more sleep deprived than usual, midterms casued way too much stress, or I'm about to die.

It either one of those or I really, really, really need to get some.

-Thomas

Fades and Hooks

2005-03-09T20:09:00.000-06:00

Retro stuff and nostalgia confuses me. Well, I should correct that: 80's retro from people my age confuses me. I guess I dont really understand the appeal of a culture we were too young to know anything about.

Nostalgia, though, that's the big, what what wha? To me: nostalgia is looking back at things in the past and desiring to be back in those times. I guess I find few things more depressing than someone who is so disatisfied with their current life that they would go back to a previous point in their life.

It's going to sound more cynical than it really is, but nostalgia just strikes me as a good prelude to killing yourself.

I've been a little terse lately, lack of time has been the biggest factor. I love midterms

I'm also exceedingly proud of this. Not my work, that credit belongs to Xopl, but it's my baby.

-Thomas

The Flaming Fingers Are the Other Candles

2005-03-08T20:13:00.000-06:00

Arbitrary decisions piss the hell out of me.

"What's the justifcation for that again?"
"No."

I can't stand it. Making decisions for no reason other than, "I said so," is the most idiotic way to do things. Yes leadership is about making choices that may make people angry, but there's a second part to it that's also about convincing people you're right.

Fucking bullshit.

-Thomas

Performance, Breach, and Discharge(Contract Law is Dirty)

2005-03-06T11:07:00.000-06:00

A long time ago - based on percentage of life lived - I decided that life was pointless (twelve and angst-ridden, what a time to be alive). Which isn't to say good things can't be accomplished or that life can't be enjoyable, it just means that there is no reason for existence.

Whenever I tell people, they usually look at me with apprehension, ask me if I'm okay, blah, blah, shit-eating-blah. I guess it's one of those mindsets that is usually associated with rampant depression, but I don't see it that way; in fact I think it makes me a hell of lot more secure.

To me: just because you have no reason to be alive and that most of your life is trivial doesn’t mean it's a waste or that you should just end it all. People I meet that discuss the reason they think they're alive (e.g. god's plan, do good things, serve others) seem uncertain of themselves and insecure about what they’ve accomplished. Setting some lofty purpose for your life just seems like you’re setting yourself up for failure and disappointment. That's not to say having dreams and goals is a bad thing, but by declaring that this grand purpose is your reason for being alive means that every time you fuck up, you fail not only what you were doing, but the greater scheme of things as well.

Let's look at the classic mid-life crisis: people look back on their lives feel as though they've accomplished nothing and become little bags of whinny woe. Aside form being annoying and not healthy for anyone, I believe it's always because they want to think that they have some purpose for being here and if they can’t meet that purpose they shouldn't exist. Whereas me: I don't think I have a grand reason for being here, so if I don’t become the next big to-do (although I wouldn't mind, year-and-a-half dry spell for anything below the waist and all), I'm not going to feel like my life has been a waste. Moreover: if there's no point in being here, then someone owes me big time and I getting as much shit as I can out of this.

So, it's not that you can’t do big things or do things for others, it's just that it won't enact some sweeping change most of the time. Really, if you're struggling for a cause or doing something just to be remembered, then you aren’t really doing it for anyone except your self and fuck you.

-Thomas

We All Hate Eachother

2005-03-04T16:28:00.000-06:00

In brief: I'm always fascinated by what the AP covers and what it tends to be a little slow on.

Discrepencies between internation coverage and national coverage is a common thing no matter what country you're in, but you'd think people would be down with this. Connies get someone new to hate, the rest of us get to feel better.

-Thomas

Shop Smart, Shop S-mart.

2005-03-03T12:20:00.000-06:00

I've come to a dillemma over arts and politcs, in particular the sheer awesomeness of M.I.A.. She's probably one of the more slick acts I've heard lately, but she's got a loose (read: difficult to prove, but it's pretty visible from conjecture) support for the Tamil Tigers.

As a revolutionary group goes, they aren't the worst (IRA, Cultural Revolution factions, pick your African rebel group, and other various South American groups come to mind), but they're right up there. We're talking the people who made suicide bombing a household name, who take revenge assassination to a whole new level, and who crush dissent so fast Putin could learn a few things. So, I feel more than sort of guilty listening to her music.

This isn't the first time either. I have problems listening to some of Immortal Techniques stuff for the same reason. Extreme politics bothers me from any side, but it's a weird, awkward thing when I like the artist's music a lot.

Is it ethical to listen to music of people who don't support the most human rights friendly politics?

-Thomas

Mittens Are for Chumps, Now Give Me My Fucking Pie

2005-03-01T12:14:00.000-06:00

My friend, Kyle, has proposed one the greatest ideas ever, but first, some background:

Standing ovations have become pandemic to the point of triviality. In fact: I would go as far as to say a standing ovation has no meaning anymore. In theory it supposed to be a big nod of appreciation; getting out of your seat because you liked something is pretty huge. Yet in practice: it's become identical to, "Way 2 Go," sticker your fifth grade teacher would put on your homework to make you feel better about your grades.

So, in order to counteract the loss of the meaningful standing ovation, Kyle has purposed that people be limited to five standing ovations in your life. Not only does this force standing ovations to become less common, and therefore, more valuable, it means we won't have those stupid seas of clapping people after three people stood up; if you didn't think a performance was that awesome, you can stay seated and no one will begrudge you.

To make sure that the five limit is maintained, he purposes that either collars or neck implants be used. After number five: your head explodes.

Artists know for sure that people really believed their performance was extraordinary. If someone's head explodes, then you know someone loved your work so much, they were willing to die to show their appreciation. This is a good system.

Cake is the inferior dessert.

-Thomas

They Should Caption Old People With What Kind of Cancer They Have

2005-02-27T18:30:00.000-06:00

There are few greater sensations than accomplishment, no matter how pointless and useless the thing is. I don't know what the point of this is, but I do know I just finished my paper and I'm nigh euphoric even though I've got studying for my wood and fiber science test that I'm likely to fail.

I've noticed that a lot of people have the habit of focusing on the immediate temporary aspects of life. It's a pretty sensible coping mechanism: ignore long term problems and focus on the thing right in front of you.

I'm tired and I've been playing too much pinball,

-Thomas

Go Bleed Over There

2005-02-25T00:14:00.000-06:00

Losing things is one of the most frustrating aspects of my life. I lose my hat, my gloves, my phone, papers, stuff I've borrowed, and other random objects constantly. I'm often seen cursing my way back to the place I just was because I left stuff there.

Usually people lose things when they deviate from their usual habits. Deviation from patterns that engrain themselves into our lives causes confusion and lost items because we'll set them down or dig in our pockets and then walk off, forgetting that we had left something laying about or fallen out of pockets and bags. Later, when we realize the object is missing, we can't recall what we did with it because it happened when we were outside of our normal routines.

For me: it's just being a dumbass. I can usually find them again, but I've lost my wallet about three times. I've now got one of those obnoxious chain wallets so I can't leave it someplace.

At the same time, I'm endlessly fascinated with found objects. Not the extent of, say, Found magazine (although they do have some amazing stuff) where they collect it, but more of a casual enjoyment. There was a beat-up sock outside of the theater building for about a week and I kept looking at it, making up something new.

Considering I've been caught staring off into space despite the presence of women I would probably rather be gawking at, me looking at random things isn't too suprising. Found shit is like people wathcing, but on a more minute scale. Making up backrounds and stories about people is fairly easy because you can see them moving about, hear them talking, that sort of thing. Objects lying on the street can be from anything, which is probably why I like looking at lost stuff in passing.

-Thomas

Shit. God Damn. Get Off Your Ass and Dance.

2005-02-22T12:02:00.000-06:00

There's something so terribly hilarious about things not going according to plan. The whole scene of some carefully constructed motion falling flat on its face and crying like a broke ass.

That's not very clear so let me explain through an interpretive dance or example. If you select dance you'll have to envision it yourself as the photos didn't turn out too well.

Example: I'm riding a bus that is very clearly of the, "LIMITED," variety; basically it makes half the stops as a regular bus. So as I'm riding the afore mentioned bus someone next to me pulls the stop request chord as though he was requesting the stop the bus is about to pass by. Now the request itself was not unheard of, it was a busy stop for the regular bus, but this t'weren't no regula' bus, sucka. So I turn and watch as his eyes widen and the adrenaline of panic hit as the bus speeds on by his stop.

On hand, I feel bad for the guy; it sucks more ass than a rim-job fetish porn when you miss the stop you wanted, but at the same time that look of sheer unbridled panic was so awesome.

I don't like to think of it as taking joy in another's misfortune, but rather finding humor in an otherwise terrible incident. Humor itself is based on disconnects, when the expected does not happen, be it someone getting a pie in the face to cute animals tripping, it's all based on that sudden jolt our minds deliver when something funny happens.

Or I'm just rationalizing and I'm a terrible, terrible person.

-Thomas

Zeal is No Excuse

2005-02-19T12:22:00.000-06:00

"Dim lights, got a brand new distraction."
-A Whisper in the Noise

I've been sleeping and studying a lot lately.

I hate when people get really excited about something, especially when it's me. For example:

"HOLY FUCK!!! [Band Name] IS PLAYING AT [Venue] AND IT'S [Time]!!!"

or

"NEW EPISODES OF [Television Program]? OHMYMOTHERFUCKINGCHRIST YOU HAVE TO TAPE IT FOR ME!!!"

I'm just as much of a perpetrator of this horrible crime, but it's still one of the most irritating things in the world. I guess it's just bizarre because I don't understand how we can love something so much as to become screaming banshees of joy. I always want to say something like, "oookay, let's calm the fuck down now," but I know I've done the same thing so I just keep my hypocriticalness to myself.

I suppose it's my hatred of zealotism. Religious zealotism, political zealotism, or personal zealotism (i.e. personality worship) strikes me as dangerous and detrimental to the safety and individual freedoms of other people. Why this transfers to pop-culture, I'm not too sure.

Maybe I'm paranoid... Maybe.... But that's not something I'd ever tell you... people; you'd use it against me.

-Thomas

Burn the Heretic, Slay the Weak

2005-02-15T21:06:00.000-06:00

Don't read the story, just read the headline, then read the rest.

Conservatism in this country has agitated me for a while now, but lately it's had me flying off the handle at every random opportunity.

I'm fairly progressive and equal rights and recognition has always been an itch for me, so, logically this would extend to homosexuals too. So the whole, "homosexuality is bad... M'kay. Uh, if you do it, then you are bad... M'kay," infuriates me. This isn't really anything new, but today I hit it hard and fast. I'm reading the campus newspaper, which I've been tending less to do, but you know how it is: you're bored, you left your reading at home, the only thing around is the campus paper, so you pick it up and read it. Anyway, in the back they have a section where people can randomly send in emails and get made fun of. It's like Strongbad, but less funny and mostly less animated, which increases the less funny. So I'm reading through it and it's pretty much standard fair until I hit this conservative guy talking about how he's not homophobic, but - his words not mine- that he's, "...sick of them... homo-nauseas." After shouting a, "what the fuck," in my usual unrestrained volume on the bus and much blinking I come even further to grips with just how weird this whole thing is. Hate speach can be trumpeted around like it's no big deal and we're so used to it, we don't even register it as weird anymore; we are surprised if these folks don't unleash statements about the evils of homosexuality.

What gets me the most is that these people adamantly state that they aren't prejudiced in anyway. I love that; at least racists are up front about it. I guess I can't see how you can take what they say and interpret it as anything but discriminatory. Ridiculous, thank goodness I live in a bastion of progressiveness. Except for that Pawlenty bullshit, but let's not talk about that right now.

-Thomas

Useless Wooden Toys

2005-02-14T19:10:00.000-06:00

I am prone to things that are technically childish. I watch cartoons, I play video games, and I randomly make snow balls and throw them at things (e.g. signs, fences, trees, parked cars, wooden statues that litter the Minnesota State Fair grounds). In truth, I feel slightly guilty that I never grew out of hurling snowy projectiles at inanimate objects. I mean, I don't really know anyone else my age that scoops up snow compacts it and flings, with questionable accuracy, it things randomly.

Well, I should say I feel guilty when someone else sees me doing it; otherwise it is one of the greatest things ever. I long for the days when I could pull together a snow ball fight and not feel wierd.

Really, society's designation of certain activites as childish has always troubled me. On one hand, it makes a lot of sense, I'm more okay with a four-year-old vomiting on my pants than I am some random person at a party. On the other, the things like aciton figures and legos are shunned by society and while I can find some understanding there, it seems bizzarre that we would limit ourselves so.

Then again, this is the same place that decries sex as naughty and evil.

-Thomas

Hitler Damn It

2005-02-12T10:00:00.000-06:00

The debate I've been focussing on lately (as a way to distract me from the imminent invasion of Iran and Social Secruity)is whether the United States is a guilt society or not. By, "guilt society," I mean the reason people do the right thing is deep-seated burning guilt of knowing what the person did was wrong (think Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart"). There's a lot of evidence for it, Christianity tells us that god always knows what we're doing, judging us for evil deeds and vile acts we may commit.

Comparable is a shame society which relies more on the opinion of others (i.e. if someone doesn't see you do something wrong it doesn't matter).

I think philosophy would be cooler if we could manifest abstract ideas and have them fight each other.

-Thomas