burrito was godly. What an awful place to live. Beach. Sun. Tacos.
Mercedes. Silicone boobies on size 3 girls. Just awful.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Day 4 -- Part 4
burrito was godly. What an awful place to live. Beach. Sun. Tacos.
Mercedes. Silicone boobies on size 3 girls. Just awful.
Day 4 -- Part 3.
Nice ride. Lots of nice cars here. Porsche is doing verrrrry well in
this market !
Day 4 -- Part 2.5
ww2. 16 inch guns and 5 bags of powder lobbed shells 25 miles with
seconds of accuracy. Not minutes. Assloads of trig with 30 second
marks gets you that kind of accuracy in 1943. Ofcourse I thought I'd
play with powder bags.
Day 4 -- Part 2
the beach, then drove up through the naval base to Cabrillo monument.
Named for a Spanish explorer around 1530, the point is now a park with
some 200 year old light house. Stunning views. Really.
Day 4 -- Part 1
the beach. Beautiful. Walked the path up and down took Crystal Pier
out over the water. It's about 200 to 300 yards out from the shore
with rentable cabins on the pier. 500 bucks or more per night 3 night
minimum, 6 to 12 months advance. Had huge breakfast burritos and
potatoes at Konos on the pier. This is how I ate breakfast.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Day 2 -- Part something
Village, scored a new hat, saw the USS Midway carrier. 18 dollars
admission got to me. Then hit a cigar bar before a fantastic dinner
at an Italian place. Then I paid my 36 dollar parking ramp fee. But
not before some homeless bum on a bike asked me for money then lifted
his shirt to show me a tumor the size of a cantalope. God why does
this happen to me? Calling it a night!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Day 3 -- Part 1
waffle spot. Lo can't handle the penis looking sausage cartoon
characters. " giggles I wanna take a pic of the bangers next to the
sausage. Giggles"
Day 2 -- Part 3
freak out in the rain. Tons of fun. Met up with Zo and Lo and hit up
Casa Brava for some excellent tapas and sangria. Had snail and lamb
plus some awesome patatas. Nice place. Then hit Karl Strauss for San
Diego home made brews and food. Good night!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Day 2--Part 1
burger fries and two tacos with drink...3.25 plus tax. Walked it off
at two missions and watching the surf roll in Oceanside. Damn life is
hard out here!
Day 1 -- Part 4
it all electronics, in better depth and breadth than a Best Buy, but
it's also bigger. All sorts of random PC preiphrials on the cheap.
And. They sell porn. Not that wannabe Playboy stuff the mall has.
But real porn. Here's proof. Awesomeness. This was followed by a
run through Taco Surf. Awesome food. Goooooooodnightnow!!!!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Day 1 -- Part 3
ocean. Eat me. Eaaaaat me!!!
Day 1 -- Part 2
frame. Was just offered 300 dollars in vouchers to take a later
flight by the airlines. I think I'll see how despatate they are. If
the offer doubles, I'll take it! Also the larger planes now offer Go-
go wifi. Interesting!
Day 1 -- Part 1
awaiting boarding. I'm sure this is monitored. I'll be back later
from ORD.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
DIY Funerals… The Next Big Craze????
Home Burials Offer an Intimate Alternative
Article by Katie Zezima [available Online via NYTimes.com]
PETERBOROUGH, N.H. — When Nathaniel Roe, 92, died at his 18th-century farmhouse here the morning of June 6, his family did not call a funeral home to handle the arrangements.
Instead, Mr. Roe’s children, like a growing number of people nationwide, decided to care for their father in death as they had in the last months of his life. They washed Mr. Roe’s body, dressed him in his favorite Harrods tweed jacket and red Brooks Brothers tie and laid him on a bed so family members could privately say their last goodbyes.
The next day, Mr. Roe was placed in a pine coffin made by his son, along with a tuft of wool from the sheep he once kept. He was buried on his farm in a grove off a walking path he traversed each day.
“It just seemed like the natural, loving way to do things,” said Jennifer Roe-Ward, Mr. Roe’s granddaughter. “It let him have his dignity.”
Advocates say the number of home funerals, where everything from caring for the dead to the visiting hours to the building of the coffin is done at home, has soared in the last five years, putting the funerals “where home births were 30 years ago,” according to Chuck Lakin, a home funeral proponent and coffin builder in Waterville, Me.
The cost savings can be substantial, all the more important in an economic downturn. The average American funeral costs about $6,000 for the services of a funeral home, in addition to the costs of cremation or burial. A home funeral can be as inexpensive as the cost of pine for a coffin (for a backyard burial) or a few hundred dollars for cremation or several hundred dollars for cemetery costs.
The Roes spent $250.
More people are inquiring about the lower-cost options, said Joshua Slocum, director of the Funeral Consumers Alliance, a nonprofit watchdog group. “Home funerals aren’t for everybody, but if there’s not enough money to pay the mortgage, there certainly isn’t enough money to pay for a funeral,” Mr. Slocum said.
Baby boomers who are handling arrangements for the first time are particularly looking for a more intimate experience.
“It’s organic and informal, and it’s on our terms,” said Nancy Manahan of Minneapolis, who helped care for her sister-in-law, Diane Manahan, after she died of cancer in 2001, and was a co-author of a book, “Living Consciously, Dying Gracefully,” about the experience. “It’s not having strangers intruding into the privacy of the family. It’s not outsourcing the dying process to professionals.”
While only a tiny portion of the nation’s dead are cared for at home, the number is growing. There are at least 45organizations or individuals nationwide that help families with the process, compared with only two in 2002, Mr. Slocum said.
The cost of a death midwife, as some of the coaches call themselves, varies from about $200 for an initial consultation to $3,000 if the midwife needs to travel.
In Connecticut, Indiana, Louisiana, Michigan, Nebraska and New York, laws require that a funeral director handle human remains at some point in the process. In the 44 other states and the District of Columbia, loved ones can be responsible for the body themselves.
Families are typically required to obtain the death certificate and a burial transit permit so the body can be moved from a hospital to a cemetery, or, more typically, a crematory.
But even in states where a funeral director is required, home funerals are far less expensive.
“I think with our economy being the way that it currently is, and it’s getting worse, that many people who may not have chosen to do these types of things may be forced to because of the finances,” said Verlene McLemore, of Detroit, who held a home funeral for her son, Dean, in 2007. She spent about $1,300 for a funeral director’s services.
Some families, like the Roes, choose burial on private land, with a town permit. In most states, those rules are an issue of local control. “Can Grandma be buried in the backyard? Yes, for the most part if the backyard is rural or semirural,” said Mr. Slocum.
(Some members of Michael Jackson’s family have spoken of making Neverland Ranch near Santa Barbara the singer’s final resting place, but officials say no one has submitted an application to the California Cemetery and Funeral Bureau, which would have to approve the home burial.)
Recently, some states, with the backing of the funeral industry, have considered restricting the practice of home funerals. Oregon legislators last month passed a bill that would require death midwives to be licensed, something no state currently does.
Many death midwives are like Jerrigrace Lyons, who was asked to participate in the home funeral of a close friend, a 54-year-old woman who died unexpectedly in 1994. Ms. Lyons was initially frightened at the prospect of handling the body, but she participated anyway.
The experience was life changing, she said, and inspired her to help others plan home funerals. She opened Final Passages in Sebastopol, Calif., in 1995 and said she had helped more than 300 families with funerals. Weekend workshops for those interested in home funerals have a waiting list.
Ms. Lyons educates the bereaved about the realities of after-death care: placing dry ice underneath the body to keep it cool, tying the jaw shut so it does not open.
Mr. Lakin, a woodworker, makes coffins specifically for home funerals. Ranging in price from $480 to $1,200, they double as bookcases, entertainment centers and coffee tables until they need to be used.
He became interested in home funerals after his father died 30 years ago and he felt there was a “disconnect” during the funeral process. Mr. Lakin is now a resource for funeral directors in central Maine and a local hospice.
His coffins are sold to people like Ginny Landry, 77, who wants a home funeral one day but is content to use her coffin to showcase the quilts she makes. It once stood in her bedroom, but her husband, Rudolph, made her move it to a guest room because he pictured her in the coffin every time he laid eyes on it.
“It’s very comforting to me, knowing I have it there so my children won’t have to make a decision as to where I’m going to go,” Ms. Landry said.
During her battle with cancer, Diane Manahan also requested a home funeral, and the family did not know then how much it would help them with their grief.
“There’s something about touching, watching, sitting with a body that lets you know the person is no longer there,” Nancy Manahan said. “We didn’t even realize how emotionally meaningful those rituals are, doing it ourselves, until we did it.”
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
There are several articles like this one, floating awash on the internet now… not to mention the hordes of “death midwives,” writing blogs and hosting “weekend workshops,” on the subject. But really? Really?
Monday, October 12, 2009
Dad chained car bumper to teen son, police say
article by: Ann Mcglynn [available online via QCTimes.net] Oct. 5th 2009
A Davenport father who allegedly chained a detached bumper from a 1979 Camaro to his son's ankle is facing a criminal charge after police say he admitted to doing so in an attempt to keep the 14-year-old from running away.
Richard Allen Collins, 37, of 1516 W. 7th St., is accused of child endangerment with bodily injury. His brother, James Harry Collins, 43, of the same address, is accused of assault with injury.
Authorities became involved late Sunday afternoon when Richard Collins called the police reporting his 14-year-old son was out of control.
According to reports:
The teen ran away from his father's house on Wednesday because "his father routinely beats and hits him," the police report states. The teen had visible signs of injury to his face.
He found a ride to Wilton, Iowa, where he was picked up by the police for jaywalking. The police called Richard Collins to pick up his son Sunday, but the teen said he did not want to go home with his father because he was afraid of being beaten.
The teen did eventually leave the police department with his dad, who arrived with James Collins to pick him up.
In the car on the way back to Davenport, there was a physical altercation between Richard Collins and his son. It is disputed as to whether it was just Richard Collins hitting his son, or if both participated, police reports indicate.
Once at the house, the physical altercation continued. Richard Collins told his son to go to his room. Reports indicate the 14-year-old damaged items in his room and threatened to run away again.
Richard and James Collins then wrapped a log chain around the teen's ankle and padlocked it. The opposite end of the chain was attached to what was later described as a heavy car bumper retrieved from the garage.
The windows in the teen's bedroom are screwed shut, the police report noted, also to prevent the teen from running away.
The car bumper was left chained to the teen's ankle for up to 30 minutes. After it was unhooked, Richard Collins called the police.
The Iowa Department of Human Services is involved. The teen was released to his mother.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Pride Is A Sin… Except in Bangladesh… and Except If You Are the Rat Killing National Champion…. and Except If Your Government Buys You A 14” TV As A Prize.
Bangladesh awards farmer who killed 83,000 rats
By JULHAS ALAM [available ONLINE via Goolge hosted Wire]
DHAKA, Bangladesh — Bangladesh on Wednesday awarded a farmer who killed more than 83,000 rats and launched a month long campaign nationwide to kill millions more, to protect crops and reduce the need for food imports. Mokhairul Islam, 40, won a first prize of a color television for killing some 83,450 rats in the past nine months in Gazipur district near the South Asian country's capital, Dhaka. He collected their tails for proof.
"I am so happy to get this honor," Islam told The Associated Press after receiving a 14-inch television and a certificate amid cheers at an official ceremony packed with 500 farmers and officials. "I had no idea that the government gives prizes for this."
"This is an exciting moment. I will continue to kill them," he vowed.
Officials say the impoverished nation imports some 3 million tons of food annually, while the Ministry of Agriculture estimates that rodents annually destroy 1.5 million to 2 million tons of food.
"We can cut the import of food by at least half if we can succeed in this year's campaign," said Wais Kabir, executive chairman of the Bangladesh Agriculture Research Council.
He asked everyone, especially farmers, to take on the killing mission as a sport. The government has said it will train mainly farmers and students for this year's campaign.
"Killing rats is not that easy, it needs training," Kabir said.
Islam said he mainly used poison to kill the rats at his poultry farm, and that the cull has paid off as the rodents now scavenged less.
"Previously I needed 33 sacks of poultry feed per week, now I need less than 30," he said.
Fakhrul Haque Akanda, a farmer from northern Bangladesh and the second-prize winner, killed some 37,450 rats mostly with traps, some he invented.
"These bloody rats are my enemy, they destroy my gardens," Akanda said.
"Please pray for me so that I can continue my mission, and teach and motivate others to join me," he told the audience before taking his prize, also a television.
Last year, the U.N. World Food Program launched a monthslong food aid project in the country's southeast after a plague of rats devoured rice crops.
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There is really just so many things wrong with this. But I can’t resist a hot story like this one, before the rest of the national media gets a hold of it! First off; how do you store 83,000 rat tails? Hold a NASCAR event! [rimshot!] Seriously though; if I catch a field mouse in a trap, its outside in about 3 minutes after the snap. This loon had keep 83,000 rotting tails, cut from poisoned corpses, to prove to his government that he earned a 14” tv. Which, I think probably wasn’t even 1080p, and are still likely smaller than a Gameboy screen. I still am waiting for the Obamanation to start pushing stimulus dollars for a similar program. Probably my favorite part of this whole mess is the quote about how killing rats takes skill and training. Then he admits, he used poison. That’s about like Albert Einstein saying it takes skill and training to master physics to create ideas on relativity. Then walking to Kmart to buy Physics For Dummies to write a paper about it. Something like that. That and the “please pray for me,” line. That shtick has worked for televangelists for years, why not rat killers…. in Bangladesh…. with 14” tv’s.
Monday, September 28, 2009
I Could Make The Hall of Fame Yet One Day…
Or, as I was told… the Hall of fame of Douche Bags.
Is that harsh?
I really didn't think so either, after I thought about it. Of course, that conversation happened before another ill-fated date. I guess, I really have made a career of it. People always wonder why they feel like they have the worst love life. Then some of them meet me. Others, end up at the other side of a table from me at dinner. They are the unlucky ones in this. Tonight, we tried a rather nice, talkative brunette, and a low key place in the early afternoon. I then spent the early evening trying to get the hell out of Davenport for a few hours. Eventually I realized, there wasn’t much point in running away from it. I managed to sit through dinner; what keeps me from just sitting through it in Dport? For that matter, what keeps me from sitting in the chair, awaiting my induction at the Hall someday? That’s what keeps me going I guess.
For the longest time, people never believed me when I would tell some stories. Then, inevitably, then never wanted to stop hearing stories. Now, they seemed to have stalled or stagnated on the stories. Some are asking pesky questions. Or loosing interest. So. At dinner, we sat. I tried to make idle conversation. It wasn’t working. There wasn’t really any kind of middle ground. I also noticed, she wasn’t particularly making any eye contact at me. Always a great sign. I hate being so uninteresting that people ignore me. Especially in one on one settings. So, sensing it was a lost cause, I shut up for a while. She was talkative. But not interesting. People Magazine would be interested. I wasn’t.
“So what kind of porn are you in to?” The question just sat there on the table for a few minutes. There was the awkward time where neither of us really wanted to touch it again. But. She finally answered. I win again.
Eventually I got my 10 minutes of fun out of her discomfort in approaching the answer. Squirming. Making funny faces, forcing the outward look of appall. But I forced the issue as best I know how. So, I think it couldn't have gone any worse than it did. Would it really go much better than that?
Here and now, I guess I laugh about things like this. Its pathetic. I understand that. I also understand, I put myself through great and unnecessary duress, to not end up in the Hall. I don’t want to end up in the Hall of Fame. When has anyone ever said that? When has anyone, with numbers like mine; with stories of the chase like mine; that has just gone through the grind every day, to play the game; when has anyone ever said that? That I don’t want to be in the Hall of Fame. But, I’m on my way.
As a career, it really isn’t about what I’ve played for that is going to get me in; it’s how I played. Take for exampled my most recent dinner date fiasco. I pulled that can of gas out, and doused everything in sight. I didn’t need to do that. I didn’t wasn’t to do that… not initially. But I did it. Like the one winter night, where I sat and just screamed obscenities at someone, to make her cry, and to watch her cry. It didn’t matter what she had done to me, most people might say. It didn’t matter what I was playing for. It only mattered what happened when I went to bat. And, I keep going to bat. I never miss my turn. I bat third. Because for every shit situation I keep getting into, I always have to make the last out. Make the last out, or make it count. That is what defines a Hall of Famer. That is a career guy.
I always sit up, those moments before I get out of bed, but after the alarm goes off, and ask myself; What kind of day am I going to have? I ask myself, if today is the day I can make it happen. So I go out there and get ripped every time. I go out there, when I know that I had an awful game the day before. I know I have to swing again when I hear the cat-calls, and the jeers. I know too, that I have to hit again in 3 innings or less. Like it, or not. Like it or not; I’ve gone back to girls I shouldn’t have. I’ve faced them again and again. I’ve seen people I’ll never see again. I’ve seen people that wouldn’t ever want to see me again, every day. But I go back out there.
Like it or not, 3 innings is coming up fast on me again. Maybe it means, this is my last few at bats before I have to call it off. I’m pressing, but I need a hit. I can do it in my last AB. Ted Williams hit a homer and walked off on his final shot, and look where he is… Cooperstown. Teddy Ballgame. Ted Williams was a ball player. The best I’ve ever known. Ted Williams, made the Hall of Fame. I’m on the path to the Embarrassment-town. I’m probably going to make the Douche Bag Hall of Fame. Because I don’t want to end up that single guy, over 30. I don’t want to be the one, everyone laughs at. The guy that doesn’t have a family. That doesn’t have a real job, or real money. The guy that doesn’t really have the respect of anyone that knows him. The guy, everyone looks at, and treats differently. So I play. I play the game. I keep playing because I want it. I want it to work out for me…. or maybe just for someone like me. Maybe that doesn’t matter now. What matters is, I’m getting older. I’m getting fat. I’m getting so opinionated, I’m divisive and called a separatist. I’m so dedicated to my interests, people abandon me. But I’d like to think I’m not a bad guy. I’d like to think, it isn’t entirely over yet. My name might be on a ballet some day though.
Its Been 10 Years
Since I graduated high school. that really does seem like an eternity. i was trying to think what all was going on ten years ago; and i came of the opinion the more that i thought about it… that the world changed. 9/11 didnt happen. no wars in afghanistan or iraq. bill clinton was president. the internet was still largely accessed by the hordes of AOL users. iphone? ipod? there wasnt even the imac yet. there was no windows vista, no xp, no NT5 or 2000. we had windows 98, pre SE! no firefox. linux existed, barely, in Mandrake and mostly in Red Hat. apache was a buzz word when it came to computers. multi cores didnt exist, multi threading couldnt even work in the current OS’s. the red sox largely sucked. the yankees were a good team. there was no bartman for the cubs fans. nascar still had dale earnhardt. hell richard petty had hardly hung it up. limp bizkit was already out of favor once, we had heard all we wanted of the boy bands, and the new crop of girl [without]bands was propping up. britney spears seemed like a porno character, hardly the household name. and michael jackson was still boning 8 year olds. the world was different. that was the world i lived in, until so many things changed.
but that was when i graduated high school.
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