Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Ripe for my iPhone
Apropos... given its syntax and definition.
This is in light of this, which is surprisingly difficult to Google. Guess Google's suggestion spell check has a streak of patriotism written into it.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
We Don't Know Why
At the request of our esteemed host, I'm uploading some images that I've added text to. Some of them may not make any sense to you, so my apologies for any lack of relevance... but hey, our whole generation is one big inside joke of meaningless exchanges, isn't it... guys... isn't it?
How many can you remember?
Tell us what gets down into your jimmies and gives them a little rustle.
The great legend of my latter formative years.
How many can you remember?
Tell us what gets down into your jimmies and gives them a little rustle.
The great legend of my latter formative years.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Live From New York, it's Mick Jagger
This is an EPIC episode of SNL, probably one of my favorites of all-time.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Well, Your Sign Fucking Sucks
"Polling showed that feelings about the issue were divided in North Carolina as they are across much of the nation: along generational lines, with younger voters opposed to the amendment."
i pity this institution — as if the product of electoral democracy bore even a resemblance — but i also find an absolute anti-patience in being outnumbered in Good Idea by a showing-up-for-being-there group of old, tired people. if showing-up-and-being-there is all it takes to bear even a resemblance, well then . . . why is something that does well — like young people getting together to say that shit is bullshit come our time to say what is and ain't the shit — not be enough of what we need enough to be? why do we say no, ever? or yes?
we should instead, ignore it entirely and refuse the bait at the end of that quote. we've overstayed our welcome and these are not our feelings.
we should instead, ignore it entirely and refuse the bait at the end of that quote. we've overstayed our welcome and these are not our feelings.
Friday, April 27, 2012
The Armpit Collection XLI: Interventionist God? Nah.
Also, I love this idea in "Brompton Oratory," which basically tells the story of walking into a church and hearing a sermon. There's a wonderful drift that is present in almost all of the songs. A lightness to contrast the heaviness of the lyric.
Apparently there's a bunch of material left off the album that can be found as B-sides. Still need to check those out. Dig it.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Top Five...
...Worst Footwear Choices as Dictated by Emily at some point Over the Past 5+ Years:
CINCO
Man, these were everywhere my freshman year in Alabama. I'd never seen them before that. I remember being mildly intrigued by them, but could never really understand if they'd actually stay on your feet. They gave off a "my bangs are almost in my eyes - the bottom of my cargo pants are torn a bit - this hooded sweatshirt is too tight to wear over my polo" vibe.
QUATRO
My parents became irrationally supportive of these... which resulted in a "washing the boat" and "I don't give a fuck what you think" explanation. I actually don't mind them as lawn care foot wear
TRES
Classic. Too many straps negates any sort of convenience you get in wearing sandals. Though, the idea of owning a pair of high quality handmade leather sandals is attractive.
DOS
Absolutely not. There's no aesthetic or functional reason to wear these.
UNO
There's too much to say about this phenomenon, which ironically stems out of the burgeoning philosophy that walking and running barefoot is actually better for you. (Who would have thought?) So what do people do? They design a shoe to address this theory!?!?
CINCO
Man, these were everywhere my freshman year in Alabama. I'd never seen them before that. I remember being mildly intrigued by them, but could never really understand if they'd actually stay on your feet. They gave off a "my bangs are almost in my eyes - the bottom of my cargo pants are torn a bit - this hooded sweatshirt is too tight to wear over my polo" vibe.
QUATRO
My parents became irrationally supportive of these... which resulted in a "washing the boat" and "I don't give a fuck what you think" explanation. I actually don't mind them as lawn care foot wear
TRES
Classic. Too many straps negates any sort of convenience you get in wearing sandals. Though, the idea of owning a pair of high quality handmade leather sandals is attractive.
DOS
Absolutely not. There's no aesthetic or functional reason to wear these.
UNO
There's too much to say about this phenomenon, which ironically stems out of the burgeoning philosophy that walking and running barefoot is actually better for you. (Who would have thought?) So what do people do? They design a shoe to address this theory!?!?
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Long Way from the Indian Ocean
An unlikely surge of violence occurred last week off the coast of the French Broad River. Plagued by unrealistic fantasies of theft, abduction, and violence, Asheville residents invoked the 2nd Amendment and formed somewhat of a militia. Though not much of a site to some, the olive drab wreaks of spirit and patriotism.
Hours of fighting was interspersed with hunting squirrel, drinking beer, smoking cigars, and grilling things, but the raggedy militia wore down Somali pirates hell bent on capturing something to negotiate a ransom. No casualties were recorded on our side. One might even dub the conflict more of a "boys night" than an engagement with the enemy, who can be seen here beckoning a fight and brandishing a RPG.
Friday, March 9, 2012
The 700 - 280 Club
"For his part, Mr. Robertson said that he 'absolutely' supported the ballot measures, though he would not campaign for them. 'I’m not a crusader,' he said."
From Pat Robertson Backs Legalizing Marijuana.
I'm also glad to hear that a major fundamental Christian figure is embracing non-crusaderdom.
From Pat Robertson Backs Legalizing Marijuana.
I'm also glad to hear that a major fundamental Christian figure is embracing non-crusaderdom.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
We Trust (the good maker has opened your eyes)
This is one of the most interesting things I've read in my life. Staggering, really.
LETTER FROM A FREEDMAN TO HIS OLD MASTER.
[Written just as he dictated it.]
Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865.
To my old Master, Colonel P. H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee.
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the[266] folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq.,[267] Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.
From http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38479/38479-h/38479-h.htm#Page_265
LETTER FROM A FREEDMAN TO HIS OLD MASTER.
[Written just as he dictated it.]
Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865.
To my old Master, Colonel P. H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee.
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the[266] folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq.,[267] Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.
From http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38479/38479-h/38479-h.htm#Page_265
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
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