“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard: May 23, 2004

Saturday, May 29, 2004

God damn I've been going nuts with these quizes lately. Here's one from Mikey, Prince of Dorkness.

mors



?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla


Why does that not surprise me?

By the way, we're going down to the farm Sunday at about 5 PM. Contact me if you want to tag along.

Dress is casual, drink and smoke is on a BYOB basis.

Another one from Skippy.


Take the quiz: "Your Psych-Ward diagnosis"

Schitzophrenia
Diagnosis: Schizophrenia.
A psychotic disorder characterized by loss of contact with the environment, by noticeable deterioration in the level of functioning in everyday life, and by disintegration of personality expressed as disorder of feeling, thought (as in hallucinations and delusions), and conduct -- called also dementia praecox.


Friday, May 28, 2004

Another quiz from Skippy.

gi joe
You're GI Joe with the Kung Fu Grip!! You're
strong, tough, and know how to kick some ass.
Don't forget though, no matter how manly you
think you are, you're still just a doll. God
Bless America.


What childhood toy from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Wednesday, May 26, 2004

This just in:
'Pirate Act' raises civil rights concerns
Last modified: May 26, 2004, 4:00 AM PDT
By Declan McCullagh
Staff Writer, CNET News.com

File swappers concerned about getting in trouble with record labels over illegal downloads may soon have a major new worry: the U.S. Department of Justice.

A proposal that the Senate may vote on as early as next week would let federal prosecutors file civil lawsuits against suspected copyright infringers, with fines reaching tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The so-called Pirate Act is raising alarms among copyright lawyers and lobbyists for peer-to-peer firms, who have been eyeing the recording industry's lawsuits against thousands of peer-to-peer users with trepidation. The Justice Department, they say, could be far more ambitious.

FULL ARTICLE

I wrote a haiku today while I was at burger king.

Pardon me but I
Want to stab you in the throat
Nothing personal


I think it shows that I'm making progress, don't you? I mean it's way more positive and less psychotic than my old poetry.

I never apologized in the stuff I had to write for my college classes.

See? Progress. Working through my agression.

But yeah, we were at Burger King and some older woman was in there with a young kid. Bitch was too old to be her kid, she must have been his Grandmother. Anyways, the kid is simply running amok. He has a basketball. He's bouncing it. Every third bounce it gets away from him in a random direction. Each time it gets away he screams and plunges headlong after it, reagardless of the personal space of those around him.

No, I wasn't armed. If I was, that old bitch would be dead.

I understand that sometimes kids can be a handfull. I understand that they don't allways listen to reason. I also understand that some people have a problem with kids being beaten in public.

You have to pick your moments.

It just galls me to see kids running rampant in public places, doing things that would have gotten me a quick five across the eyes, without a parental figure even trying to correct them. Bitch didn't say a fucking word, just ordered and went about her business.

If I had acted that way, I would have had problems. Major ones.

I can kinda see the mentality behind not wanting to use violence as a deterrent, but here's the thing, if they don't learn that thier behavior has repercussions, and they grow up, and they get near me, I'LL use some fucking violence.

And it'll be a whole lot worse than the spanking you should have given them.

Now piss off, I'm watching my brand new copy of Bubba Ho Tep for the third time today.

Go rent it now you fools!

Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Now the revenue man wanted grandaddy bad
He headed up the holler with everything he had
It's before my time but I've been told
He never came back from copperhead road...


Steve Earle - Copperhead Road


So on the advice of Outpatient and Skippy I checked out Steve Earle and as I suspected he's pretty cool. I had a feeling he would be as Skippy, despite the handicap of being a Nirvana fan, has pretty good taste in music.

Not that I'm knocking Outpatient's musical tastes, It's just that I don't really know what they are. Steve Earle gives him some credibility in my book though.

Anyways, now I have a good name for the road that runs across the farm property I mentioned last post. I'll have to paint a sign before I go back down there on Wednesday.

Speaking of which, if anyone wants to go down there it looks like I'll be spending quite a bit of time down there in the future (Especially now that I've taken a few notes from Steve Earle). It really is pretty bad-ass. Just contact me for details.

Besides, I might as well spend some time down there as I guess I'm now officially a farmer. Yesterday I planted eight tomato plants in my backyard. Four Roma, two regular red and two yellow.

I've worked in gardens my whole life, as most of my older family members keep them, but this is my first real stab at growing anything on my own. It should prove to be an adventure as I've killed pretty much every plant that's ever been left in my care. Yes, even cacti. Plants, even ones that can exist in conditions that I could not, are unsafe in my care.

I've been spoiled by the family grown tomatoes I've had over my lifetime. The ones you buy in the store just have no flavor to me at all. So I'm growing my own. Luckily, I have this pamphlet:

So, yer farmin'?
Pamphlet 1: Tomatoes

Step One: Plant tomatoes (henceforth to be refered to as "t'maters" or simply "'maters".)

Step Two: Place liberal ammount of 'Red Man' or other tobacco product between teeth and gums.

Step Three: Spit residue at bankers, revinue officials, politicians, etc.

Step Four: Complain about undue Government intrusion into your affairs.

Step Five: Inquire daily as to the whereabouts of your federal bailout check.

Repeat steps as necessary.


I may just have the stuff for this lifestyle after all. Maybe next year I'll plant some 'taters. Mmm-hmmm.

Monday, May 24, 2004

Take the quiz: "Which American City Are You?"

Washington DC
You're rotten to the core. You're deeply agressive; street-level violence and big-time politics.


See that Mikey?

Look at it! Look at it I tell you!!!

All I need is some inspiration
Before I do somebody some harm
I feel just like a vegetable
Down here on the farm

Nobody comes to see me
Nobody here to turn me on
I ain't even got a lover
Down here on the farm

They told me to get healthy
They told me to get some sun
But boredom eats me like cancer
Down here on the farm

Drinkin' lemonade shanty
Ain't nobody here to do me harm
But I'm like a fish out of water
Down here on the farm

I wrote a thousand letters
Till my fingers all gone numb
But I never see no postman
Down here on the farm

I call my baby on the telephone, I say
Come down and have some fun
But she knows what the score is
Down here on the farm

I can't fall in love with a wheatfield
I can't fall in love with a barn
Well everything smells like horse shit
Down here on the farm

Blue skies and swimming pools
Add so much charm
But I'd rather be back in Soho
Than down here on the farm

On the fucking farm!

Artist: Guns N' Roses
Album: The Spaghetti Incident?
Title: Down On The Farm


So we went down to the farm today.

I really like the farm, despite what my musical intro seems to suggest.
It's just that I allways run that song through my head a few dozen times
whenever I'm down there.

Ryan, his girlfriend Raychel, her roommate Julie and I went fishin'.
Actually, the girls went fishin'. Ryan and I just kinda hung out.
But it doesn't make us any less manly.

They weren't really sure what to expect when I suggested the outting.
I just knew they liked to fish and I knew a good spot to do it.
Turns out I would be just as surprised as they were.

The farm's former occupant was my Uncle Dan. Uncle Dan was a mountain
man if ever a mountain man there was. He was a real man from back when
men were men dammit. I'll put it this way, last time I saw him alive he
was walking with a cane. I was a little taken aback by this. The Dan I
knew would never use a cane. It was a threat to his Sam Peckinthorpe
style ruggedness, you understand. Anyway, I later found out that he had
broken his leg and set it by himself only that fucking morning and he
couldn't make the two mile walk to where we were without the cane.

I didn't make that up either.

Dan made moonshine right up until his death in 1999. On occasion he'd
drive to Lynchburg Virginia and come back with a couple of the charred
oak barrels they used to age Jack Daniels in. He'd then use these barrels
to make bourbon from the moonshine. This resulted in a smooth, subtle
flavor that hit you in the face like a shit-shovel.

When Dan died, My Mother and her brother, Dan's Niece and Nephew
respectively, bought the land from the estate. Well it seems my Uncle
has been spending a lot of freaking time and money down there.

I had heard he was putting in a picnic pavillion by the pond, which he
cleared around and stocked with fish. I also figured the pavillion
would be equipped with electricity, which it was. I was however a
little surprised by the running water and the grill, but the celing
fans made me simply stop and stare in wonderment.

THE FUCKING CAMPSITE HAS CELING FANS! JESUS-BILLY-FINGER-LICKING-CHRIST! CELING FANS!!!

That having been said, it was actually kinda cool. Hell, put walls
on the fucking thing and it'd be nicer than my house.

So Ryan and I chilled out while the girls took the paddle boat out fishing
(yeah, I said paddle boat) while my cousin Eric and his friends destroyed as
much of the local ecosystem as they could on thier dirtbikes. I call 'em the
Hecks Angels. Fuckin' wussy dirtbikes and thier wussy safety gear...

Don't worry too much about that environment thing though, the farm is just
downriver from the DuPont chemical company so it's not like it's gonna last
forever anyway.

So it looks like we're going down a few more times this week and we're currently
planning a major bonfire-fishing-camping-dancing-naked-pagan-ritual-bloodletting-kegger.
I'll keep you all up on the details.

See you in hell.

Oh, PS: I got sunburned. Fucking sun. How do you put up with that crap every day?