I went out last night and saw Savage Republic, Mike Watt, the Urinals, and Human Hands at the Knitting Factory in Hollywood.

Wow that was good. A reunion/nostalgia gig like this is always doubtful (will they be fat and old and boring? will they do smooth pop?) but my faith is restored. I had four great sets of music, I saw some old friends and enemies, my ears are still ringing, and a gay man hit on me. What more could I want from a night out in Hollywood?

The skinny

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Low
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Moderate
Histrionic:	High
Narcissistic:	High
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	Very High
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Moderate
— Click Here To Take The Test —

Some kids in Uganda built a freakin’ helicopter. I love stuff like this. Restores my faith in human ingenuity.

Digital Camera Update:

I cooked two good things, and today on the freeway I saw the Van That Takes You Away (phear). Lights for back and side entrances, step-up to get in, US Govt plates, night light up front on dashboard, and some type of video viewer hood in passenger seat.

click ‘n’ look

You can be a gambler who never drew a hand
You can be a sailor who never left dry land
You can be Lord Jesus, and all the world will understand
Down where the drunkards roll
Down where the drunkards roll

License plate seen on late-model Cadillac:

HPY SEWR

Setting aside the obvious “Happy Person Who Likes to Sew” we have possibly:

Happy Sewer
Hippy Sewer
Harpy Sewer
Hippy Sower

Frankly I believe hippies belong in the sewer but I doubt that’s what she was trying to say.

I also believe that this livejournal entry could have been funnier somehow.

This is for all you Green-voting, non-voting, “anarchist” types who don’t vote because “they’re all the same”.

Wake the fuck up.

They’re not all the same. The people who won yesterday want to take away reproductive rights, roll back civil rights, dump a huge tax burden on working people, strengthen entrenched monopolies, chop down every tree in North America, and send us to war for little reason.

I see the arguments that “I can’t give my vote to the opposition because they’re slimy and annoying” and I have to laugh. Folks, politics is not about whether you feel beautiful and pure and ideologically correct leaving the booth. Politics is practical. It’s about what you can accomplish with that vote, in the real world where we all live. It’s not about reading ‘zines and drinking wheatgrass juice and being part of a totally ignored nouveau hippie subculture. This stuff has real-world consequences, and not just for you and your painfully correct friends.

So I hope you get what you wanted, anyway. Maybe at the next party you can put on your hemp cap and sweet talk some girl into bed with your tales of how you stood up to the Man and didn’t cave in and vote for some compromise candidate because you’re keepin’ it real. Or maybe you just got to stop off for a latte on your way to work instead of punching a hole in some cardboard.

In any case the rest of us are going to be spending the next two years watching George II and his cronies take away our country. Thanks for nothing.

Whose monkey is it anyway?

My feeling is that capuchin monkeys should be free and open, because monkey wants to be free. I shall now start an OpenMonkey project and get the Free Software Foundation to support me.

Seriously, how can we look forward 20 years and see that someone has TAKEN OWNERSHIP of the monkeys? Our grandchildren.. they demand more of us.

Terrifica is here to save you, ladies.

I’m not sure New York girls really need a lot of help. And most women I know would pepper-spray her and start running if she approached them. The world is a very big place. Very, very big..

This evening meta_kate and I were at D’s blathering about politics pretty enjoyably; she knows a lot about the subject and I’m happy to listen.

A young woman showed up and was ordering coffee. She was maybe 18 or 19 at most and had a pretty much perfect body of the dancer/gymnast type; slim, athletic. She also wasn’t wearing very much.

However, she was also wearing a gigantic faux-fur cloche hat, the kind that looks like you’re a cartoon character wearing a church bell.

The whole effect was very odd. She looked like she’d be a hit on the dance floor of a New York club at 1 am. But this was Costa Mesa, California in a coffee house at 7:15 p.m. And there was Little Miss Hottie looking like she fell out of a Fellini movie.

While Kate and I were discussing this, yet another almost identical woman showed up, wearing almost identical garb, plus a faux fur coat. They then left together.

Unfortunately the rest of my evening was less decadent. I came home, made pumpkin pie, ate some of it, and now I’m going to go to bed.

..the hats… why?