protection

Twitter now asks 'what's happening?" instead of "What are your doing?" Apparently the latter was too intrusive.

God give us the strength to protect you from yourself.

snatch & run

Engineers enlisted to protect Muff Road sign
10:43AM Friday Sep 11, 2009

Council engineers have been asked to come up with ways to ensure South Canterbury's Muff Road sign stays put.

The sign, in rural Orari north of Timaru, has in the past been a tempting target for thieves, and a local resident has campaigned to have the road name changed altogether.

But the Temuka and Geraldine community boards recently voted to keep the name, and Timaru district councillors backed that decision at a meeting yesterday, the Timaru Herald reported.

Engineers have been asked to come up with alternative signpost options to ensure the sign stays where it should,

Muff Rd was named after an early settler in the district Englishman Sam Muff and descendants who have retained the name have campaigned to ensure it remains.

Muff Rd resident Roger Payne has complained about the sign going missing all the time and said it made navigating the area difficult for visitors.

the ugly truth

Over sized sunglasses on ugly people are like 17" chromes on a Lada.


No matter the glitter, you just can't hide the faults

12 steps - 4. inventory

I made a searching and fearless inventory of myself. I like what I found. Along the shelves of my mind, I found random pieces of eccentricity alongside subtle notes of madness. Yellows and oranges nudged each other for prominence. The agnostic and the sceptic played a ragged tune while a mercurial temperament banged a drum whose skin was pulled taut with cynicism.

And over there by the entranceway, The First stood, candle in hand. Molten wax dripped down the long red stem, as slow as time. She's been standing for so long that her presence is a permanant fixture. The bright flame flickered and dark shadows danced upon her face. They undulated along the walls and stretched down long corridors. Corridors that led to even darker recesses the deeper one ventured.

On the outside, the lines and folds and ridges. The curves, the knobby buttresses. And the epidermal tissue that stretched across bone and muscle, all merged together to cast a profile acceptable among these mere mortals.

Yes, I do approve.

random thoughts

If you think obesity is overrated, 2 million Americans weigh more than 550 lbs. You don’t need statistics or studies to prove this. Take a trip to your local Costco or Wal-Mart.

May was masturbation month. Did you know:

• John Kellogg (yes that cereal guy) was against masturbation. He was among several Christian advocates that pushed for routine circumcision of males to deter masturbation.
• In 1879, the Spermatorrhea bandage was invented. It kept the penis tightly bound making it impossible to have an erection.
  
• In 1994, former Surgeon General Jocelyn Elder was dismissed by President Clinton after she stated that masturbation “is something that is part of human sexuality and its part of something that perhaps should be taught.”
  

Slogan on the back of a windshield repair company van - "I luv gravel trucks"

2 reason why Chrysler is in the state that it's in:

1. Replacement alloy rim for 2001 Neon - $400
   
2. Replacement rear brake flex line for 2001 Neon - $365
   

Why do we always blame the the Koreans & the Japanese.

beaver tails & cats

The frail wooden door slammed open in the sudden gust of wind. It flapped helplessly on it's rickety hinges as tired as an old beggar worn threadbare by years of abuse and failure. 

It flapped again against the stone wall before I reached for it. I had to lift it up in order to close it so that it would not drag against the broken cement floor. 

Just before the latch snicked close, I noticed the large hole in the crumbling wall. It was not there before. No surprise really as this house was starting to decay, beaten down by endless rain, high humidity and neglect. I poked at the loose mortar curiously. A snake uncoiled silently. It had crawled into the hole to weather the encroaching storm. Black beady eyes and flickering tongue, we both shared an instance of shock and fear. I thought briefly for a moment of picking it up with a stick and tossing it out but decided against it. There were other pressing matters to attend to.

There was the parrot that the cat had tried to kill. It was only my high pitched yell that stopped him. The parrot was a riot of orange and yellow feathers with a tall plume that flopped from side to side each time it talked. It had a fascinating story to tell. Of mountains and forests and tribal warfare. It kept looking at the cat with disdain as it waxed ecstatic about it's exotic adventures in far away lands. Then there was the sullen garden gnome. The detailed features of it's face had all but washed away.

Later, after the rains had stopped, I walked around the side of the house. The grass was long and the blades soaked my jeans and shoes. Water had pooled in areas and I had to tread carefully so as to not sink into the mud. Cicadas make their sound deep inside their thorax where hollow cavities covered by a membrane act like vibrating drum heads. The sound buzzed like a crazed symphony that had lost it's tablature. And then I noticed the beavers. At first glance they appeared to be huddled together by the fence but as I got closer I realized that one of them was trying to pry loose the fence boards while the other two were giving it directions. They chittered away in high speed like a 33 LP on 78. They stopped as I approached and looked over at the fourth beaver as if searching for guidance. 

The fourth beaver was large. No. if he was huge. He looked more like a seal than a beaver. I estimated him to be about 8 feet long but I had missed seeing him against the house. He wore a coat of camouflage so deceiving that he blended into the shrubbery that lined the foundation of the house. I became frightened. The urge to urinate was strong. The three beavers by the fence had stood up and balancing smartly on their beaver tails, started walking towards me. They didn't look friendly. The fourth beaver rumbled something unintelligible. It sounded angry and sinister like distant thunder. As I stumbled backwards in fear I bumped into the scientist. He was carrying two steel briefcases. The kind that secret agents carry around high tech gadgetry for blowing things up with. I knew instantly that inside each briefcase contained something that was critically vital to the little garden gnome. He had commissioned the beavers to retrieve it. Maybe it was his face.

The beavers chittered and chirped in frenzy. Chittered and scraped. Chittered and scratched. And scraped. And scraped and scraped and scraped...

...and she moaned softly against my shoulder. I opened my eyes. Dawn was reaching through the crack in the blinds. The bloody cat was playing with the BZee Kitty in the basement and I had to pee. 

 

titillating tuesday

Busts and bosoms have I known

Of various shapes and sizes

From grievous disappointments

To jubilant surprises.

~Anon

titillating tuesday

pretty maids all in a row

awake

Green. Green walls awash in a muted green glow. Green is symbolic of renewel, health, growth. Green is envy and jealousy. Green is harmony and balance. 

The small winking green light on the smoke alarm just outside the bedroom door flashes every 10 seconds. At first I kept thinking it was lightning. I listened for the accompanying rumble of thunder but the quiteness pressed down like a veil. Like clockwork. 6 times every minute. 120 times every hour it winked, a sentinel keeping watch over this slumbering house. 

The green numbers on the small clock radio beside my head display 1:47. There is a halo of green that surrounds her head beside me. It's from the small green charge light on the phone. The First breathes deeply, evenly. I lie so still that I can feel the comforter rise and fall with each breath. I try to match my breathing with hers. It is a faint hope that syncopation will hasten the edges of sleep that has remained tantalizingly out of reach, closer and closer. It has evaded me for the last few hours, flitting away like an annoying fly with each desperate lunge. 

I can barely make out the fan blades overhead as they rotate silently on abundantly greased bearings in the luminous green light. Scattered thoughts keep me company. The solace of her warmth is like an extra blanket. But it is the breath of sleep that I desire the most. Harmony & balance between the enveloping arms of sleep and my woman.

answering your emails - to go

BARRISTER MIKE WILLIAMS ASSOCIATE
                             LEGAL & SOLICITORS
                             26 SOLEDARITE RUE DUE COMMERCE Rd
                             BLOCK 2 FLAT 3 BP 2564 LOME TOGO.
 Attention : N Geeta
 
I am Barrister Mike Williams, a solicitor at law,personal attorney to Eng.P.B.Geeta,a national Of your country,who used to be a contractor and importer here in Lome Togo. Herein after shall be referred to as my client. On the 26th of december 2003,my client,his wife and their only daughter were involved in a ghastly Plane Crash in a village called Adjarra near Porto Novou after take off from Cotonou in Benin Republic where they went for a Concert . All occupants of the plane unfortunately lost their lives. Since then I have made several enquiries to locate any of my client's extended  family/relatives,To no avail.F

or more on the plane crash log on to
 
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/3348109.stm
(http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/12/26/benin.crash/index.html)
 
After these several unsuccessful attempts, I decided to track his last name over the Internet, to locate any member of his family hence I contacted you. I have contacted you to assist me in repatriating the fund valued at US$8.5 million left behind by my client before it gets confiscated or declared unserviceable by the Security Finance Firm where this huge amount was deposited.
 The said Security Finance Company has issued me a notice to provide the next of kin or have his account confiscated within the next twenty one official working days. Since I have been unsuccessful in locating the relatives for over one and half years now, I seek the consent to resent you too as the next of kin to the deceased since you have the same last names, so that the proceeds of this Account can be paid to you.

Therefore, on receipt of your positive response, we shall then discuss the sharing ratio and modalities for transfer. I have all necessary information and legal documents needed to back you up for claim. All I required from you is your honest cooperation to this project to enable us conclude it smoothly. I do guarantee you that this transaction dose not in any way attracts risk. It will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of the law. Upon the receipt of your response i will furnish y

ou with detailed clarification as it relates to this mutual benefit transaction.
 
KINDLY EMAIL ME AFTER GOING THROUGH THIS MAIL.
Best Regards.
Mike Williams Esq.
Lome Togo West Africa

_________________________________________________________________

Dear Mr Mike Williams Esq,

Having gone through this email, I am obliged to divulge, in all honesty, that the resentment is mutual. The transaction dose that I have partaken off has rendered me temporarily with a moment of clarity which I am hoping will fade rather quickly. 

In the meantime, I have found that my present mode of transportation, although leaving me feeling a little, shall we say, violated at times, is quite sufficient. Perhaps, instead of the US $8.5 million I could bother you for a gel seat?

Sincerely,

~N 

the mysterious disappearence of the green spring - part I

...it was under the entertainment centre

grey gazing

Sitting in traffic, my thoughts drift along with the clouds of vapor belching from the slowly moving cars ahead. Like a funeral procession for snails we creep along the frozen tarmac coloured a dirty white from the salt and drifting snow.

What's the difference between partly cloudy with sunny periods and partly sunny with cloudy periods? The world around me is reduced to monotones of greys and whites. Even the evergreens, cloaked in snow have taken on a grey-green tint for which Debbie Travis must have a creative name for.

I would like to be a meteorologist. I'd like to throw weather darts against a weather dart board and fuck up the day of the general paying public. That's how it's done isn't it?

Deep within the bowels of some indistinct building, Larry passes through two separate security doors. The steel doors hiss open and close with a small puff of wind with each swipe of his electronic pass. He is carrying a precious load balanced precariously on a precisely engineered tray. There is still a long sterile corridor through which he must walk down. His footsteps echo and crack against the glossy walls. His destination is one last door ahead of him looming larger with each hurried step. Fluorescent tubes crackle and hum above. His mission is almost over. Just one more swipe of his card. The Card.

Larry bares his Card with pride and determination. It took him years of peddling and pandering to fat men in starched Moore's suits and thin-lipped women dressed in black slacks and suit jackets

(Fairweather's, 40% off)

to get this point. He carries this Card around his neck like a rosary. Stroking it several times a day in a mantra of self-admiration and gratification.

The last door swished open with the same hiss of pneumatic jacks and well oiled gears as the previous entryways. He blinks to adjust his eyes to the muted glow of the large almost barren room.

Heads turn toward Larry and voices erupt in a symphony of praise and joy

"Hey, coffee's here"

"Man, that took you long enough"

"Did they have chocolate glaze?"

"Damn! I love the smell of Timmies in the morning"

Larry beamed. A smile as wide as his chubby cheeks would allow made his face glow with happiness. One of them approached him to take the precious cargo off his hands. Fred was like that. An endearing man with an unassuming face, his hair had long abandoned him for the deep recesses of the bathtub drain. But he wore the remaining strands like streamers at a birthday party. With a little effort, the dark strips contrasted well against his shiny pate like an abstract painting. He held before him a pointed object, sharply tipped on one end and feathered on the other. It was a dart. Not just any dart. The Dart.

"Here you go Larry. You know what to do".

Yes of course Larry knew what to do. Today, Wednesday, just like every other Wednesday for the past seven years, it was his turn to throw The Dart against the Weather Board. It was his turn to make sure that this small light weight object, flew from his fingers with precision that belied the weight of the world in it's missile-like shape. It was time to predict the weather.

Larry took a deep breath as a chorus of angels erupted inside his head. Mozart's Ave verum corpus in Technicolor-colour. Larry approached The Board...

super freak (or where should I hide this microphone)

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bring out your pencils

Sometimes paint by numbers is just not enough. So boring really if you keep getting all the colours right. Sometimes one needs a challenge. Something more, well...deeper if you will.

After all the pages have been coloured in and you're still looking for a place to point that pencil - well then point it HER-E

are you butter or margerine?

untitled

10:10 p.m. Fell asleep on the couch last night. Lulled to sleep by the drone of the television and the gentle vibrations of a purring cushion.

4:24 a.m. Your pillow survived the night despite the repeated punches to mold it into some form of shape. Coldness greeted me like an icy hand every time I ventured over to the left side of the bed. The empty side of the bed.

5:37 a.m. Only one cup of coffee this morning. Bare feet on cold wooden floors. Greeted by soft confused mewls.

6:18 a.m. Restlessness hangs in the air like a glider. Silence surrounds the house broken by the cry of birds. The thermometer reads 8C but there will be no heat until October.

7:07 a.m. Wrapped in a comforter like my stubbornness I ponder if you can see little bird breaths like cotton puffs in the cool air. Ten more days before touchdown.

bump-her stick-her (or random thoughts as I drive in to work)

Vegans Taste Better

"…in what context?"

when marinated for 24 hours in a fine red wine, spit-roasted slowly over an open fire and served with a vegetable medley lightly seasoned with olive oil?

Interesting bumper sticker, but I wish it was a little more descriptive.

I'd like to become Ruler of The Universe (ROTU)...nope I can hear the subjects laughing already. How about Supreme Lord of the World (SLoW)...damn, that's not going to work either.

Almighty King and Universal Noble Tyrant (AKUNT). Hmm…interesting but not quite the oomph I'm looking for.

"…as compared to what?"

Mulligatawny Soup, Whipped Cream over blueberry waffles and maple syrup, French toast, mashed potatoes, fresh pineapple and mango in custard. Definitely no asparagus. Or garlic. Too much onions is questionable as well. Plenty of water, cut back on the coffee. Too many strawberries increase the acidity. I've been told I taste yummy, sweet with a delicate aroma of bleach.

When I become Supreme Lord of the Universe and Tyrannical Sultan (SLUTs) HA!...sometimes I just kill myself - I want to live on an island surrounded by bare-breasted natives fanning me with Palmyra leaves, running toddy-coated nipples across my lips.

I'M PINK THEREFORE I'M SPAM

Fucking bumper stickers! They always have to be funnier than me. When I am SLUTs, I will decree that no bumper sticker will be funnier than I.

omni (potent)

"Has God made man or man made god"
~Extreme

the t to the pizzle

Never mind the lyrics, here cums the Russians

just right

The Committee for Refrigerator Ethics (CoRE) has decided that once the surface of jello has taken on a wrinkled appearance, much like grandpa's foreskin, it can be safely removed and discarded. A shame really, it was fascinating to look at every time I opened the fridge. It jiggled seductively with every movement. It gave me pause as I pondered the possibility of consuming the blue experiment.

But common sense prevailed. It had to go. Sigh. There will be others just like it I am sure, following valiantly along in its unsteady footsteps.

Watching the lunar eclipse a little while ago, she kept slipping me from her mouth to comment on it's progress. It was a stunning display of nature, regal in it's beauty, sublime in it's powerful serenity.

"Would you like me to move over?"

"No I'm fine thank you" she manages to reply from between pursed lips glistening wet in the darkened room. "I can see it quite well from here. But if you let go of my hair, I could move my head better"

So I grabbed a nipple instead. A man needs something to hold on. It's only just...right