FRQNC


Thursday, May 31, 2007 And while I'm in a list-y mood, here are, in no particular order, 5 places that I'd much rather be right now. I do this partly because I think it'd be kind of amusing, but mostly because I want desperately to be anywhere other than where I am right now. So, I'm going to do what anyone of my maturity and sophistication should do when they find themselves in such a situation... I'm going to pretend. 1. Thames St, outside the Admiral's Cup, in Fell's Point, Baltimore. I'm the guy balancing his wrought-iron chair on its two back feet and smirking at the rest of the world, the entirety of which seems to be rattling their way along the cobblestone streets of Fell's Point during today's rush hour. A cigarette dangles from one hand, and a Bass Ale leaves dew rings on my jeans as I rest it on my knee. On the table sits a worn and dog-eared black Moleskine journal, and a bright red fountain pen. 2. Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, in Rome. If you can shake the tourism-induced daze for a moment, you just might find me. I'm dressed in a slim black sweater, black pants, black shoes, sunglasses, and I'm leaning languidly along the marble steps that lead to a church that's over 1.000 years old. Next to me sits half a bottle of wine, purchased from the pizzeria across the street. I glance up from the pages of the journal in my hands just long enough to look saddened by the Frodor's guidebook that's clutched tightly in yours. 3. The White Elephant Hotel, Nantucket Island. I'm in a whitewashed adirondack chair that's located in the commons area just outside my gray shingled cottage. I'm dressed for the island, with loose fitting khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. Every so often I stop writing to smile at the well-dressed children, freshly released from dinner with their parents, who're playing in the grass next to the pier. The sun has begun to set on the west side of the island, and the moon is rising, crimson and slow, between the masts of the sailboats in the harbor. 4. Sailing the Chesapeake Schooner Race. It's 1am, and I'm standing on the foredeck with the wind snapping its way through the tail end of the bandana that's tied around my head. Occasionally I look upward at the curve of the sails, check the tension of the jib sheets fastened to the belaying pin next to me, and glance around for the running lights of the boats we're racing against. The only sound is the hushed rushing of the wake along the bow, and the occasional ratatat of a line stretched taut. 5. Fenway Park, Boston MA. After a couple pints of Harpoon at The Cask'n Flagon, I step outside and breathe in the crisp evening air of New England, and make my way down to "Gate A" on Yawkey. I pass through the turnstiles and instantly feel history drape itself around me. Dark cement hallways, peanut shells on the floor, and the glint of green grass just visible between the low ceiling and the seat backs. I stop for a Fenway Frank, and then make my way to my seat. First base side. 3 rows back from the dugout. Sigh... That worked for a little while I guess. But now I just want to get out of here even more... j.s.



9 Words Jeremiah Loathes: Sluice Chortle Lukewarm Panties Brackish Hand Lotion (Okay, that's technically two.) Eschew Unguent Cudgel 9 Words Jeremiah Adores: Capricious Serendipity Providence Sagacious Alacrity Apotheosis Sobriquet Rakish Apogee j.s.



Wednesday, May 30, 2007 Behold the newest incarnation of Microsoft, and unlike ~~Longhorn~~ Vista, this one actually looks impressive. Some of you might remember me linking something like this a while back, and gushing over how this technology was going to completely change everything. Well watch those videos (especially the last one), and you'll understand what I meant. j.s.



Tuesday, May 29, 2007 So La just sent me this about 10 minutes ago, and since then I've had my face buried in my hands laughing about it. [[click the image to see the video]] It takes a little time to load...but I promise it's worth it. j.s.



Friday, May 25, 2007 Hi there Bleuxpee! Sorry for the absence, I've been bouncing around quite a bit lately. Hither, and yon. For example, last night was my landlady's birthday, and Angela, Jane and myself took her to Collina's. (Hey, she folds my drawers for me when I accidentally leave them in the dryer...it's the least I can do.) But after just a few glasses of wine at the restaurant, then a couple more back at our place, I somehow became three sheets to the wind. No idea how that happened. And this was particularly unfortunate since...damn, I guess she needs a nom de guerre doesn't she? Hmm. La. We'll call her La for now. Okay, where was I? Right. Particularly unfortunate since La dropped by, and I was unable to do much beyond slouch in a lawn chair and grin like a brain damaged chimp. Quite becoming, I know. And speaking of brain damaged chimps, I happened across a list of "science" fair ideas for creationists today. Some of my favorites are: - What was the weather like before the Flood? [Partly cloudy with a chance of holocaust.] - Were all the animals friendly to man before the Flood? Idea: raise several baby animals like snake and mouse together to see if they remain friends as they are older. [Seriously. The Flood thing? Look, I'll grant you that it's an interesting enough story for, say, a 5-year-old. Much like the Easter Bunny, and Dora the Explorer. But grown people believing that a 800-year-old man built the only boat in existence to house not only every variety of creature on Earth, but also enough food for all of them for months? That's just a testament (ZANG!) to blind dogmatic idiocy.] - Why did God create the moon to control the tides? ["For thine is a busy God, He spaketh the words "Administrative Assistant," and lo the moon was formed to handle the tides and some light filing. And God said it was good, and gave the moon a raise. So he might return to hiding dinosaur bones.] - Why do people believe in Evolution? What events caused them to become evolutionists? [The presence of a fully functioning cerebral cortex.] - Were dinosaurs alive at the same time as humans? [To paraphrase Bill Hicks, if dinosaurs were alive at the same time as humans, you'd think they'd have made it into the Bible at some point. Granted, the Bible isn't necessarily intended to be a "news source," but c'mon...giant fucking lizards are wandering around, and the topics of discussion revolve around fig trees, polylingualism and carpentry?] Sigh...these sorts of things really test my faith in people. =] You know, I promised some pictures of the Andre the Giant B-Day party didn't I? One of the two tables o' cupcakes. Power Hour Prep. D'awwww... "I'm Craggy McSailor, I'm thick as a whaler..." The brothers are drunk. Lost Bryan in the front yard. This would be me losing at karaoke to La Just eat the damn cupcake...you'll feel better. And finally, there was a protest in Texas today regarding the TAKS test, which is the general knowledge requirement exam that all high school seniors are required to pass before graduating. Apparently a group of seniors failed the TAKS, and were thusly denied the right to "walk" during commencement. Just a guess, but I'd hazard it was the English portion of the exam that they failed... "Let Are Kids Walk?" sigh Have a good weekend. j.s.



Tuesday, May 22, 2007 Wow...I've been posting a lot of videos lately haven't I? Sorry. I'll get back to my nonsensical rambling soon enough. I just thought some of you might like this as much as I did. j.s. [[The poem is from "Under Milk Wood," a play by Dylan Thomas.]]



Today my heart has been broken. j.s.



Monday, May 21, 2007 Man am I'm glad I found this. And though I find it to be ridiculously funny, odds are pretty good that (unless you're a fellow webgeek), you aren't going to get several of the references. shrug Wiki Robert Scoble, Kevin Rose, and Jason Calacanis if you want to know what he's talking about... j.s.



Hi there! I'm currently sitting at my desk with a smile that refuses to fade, bobbing my head to "Energy" by The Apples in Stereo, and am generally feeling more enamored about the world than I have in as long as I can remember. And no, I'm not on any medication, thank you very much. I'm skimming along happily on the memory of yet another excellent weekend, and even the fact that the USA boat was knocked out by the Italians in the America's Cup semi-finals isn't able to weigh me down. Let me sum up. Friday night was spent celebrating the birthday of-waitaminute... You know, I don't think I'm ready to give her a bloggy-sobriquet just yet, particulary because we haven't had a discussion of this little nook o' the web and I've found that some people have an adverse reaction to having their lives published online for complete strangers to ridicule. So we'll just say that I was more-than-happy to meet someone for her birthday, and we'll leave it at that. Saturday saw the "Andre the Giant Birthday Bash" at Danny's place, which was everything it was billed to be and more. 80's dancing, Power Hour, Guitar Hero, half-nude karaoke, megaphones, 2am driveway Wiffle Ball, condiment body shots... All set to the backdrop of a moving waterfall picture, 400 cupcakes, and a platter of tiny cheeseburgers. Definitely good times. So much so that it necessitated an entire Sunday spent in recovery. Which is an excellent trade if you ask me... And tonight is the first of a 3-game Sox/Yankees series, which has me ~~singing~~ yelling along with "Tessie" in the Jeep and whipping myself into a frothing hatred of anything even remotely related to New York City. See you kids in the Bronx. j.s. For the Fenway-uninitated, after a Red Sox win three songs are always played: 1. "Dirty Water" by The Standell's 2. "Tessie" by Dropkick Murphys 3. "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night (Yes, the crowd sings my name at Fenway Park after we win.) This is yet another difference between us and the goddamn Yankees, who set Sinatra's "New York, New York" on repeat after a win, and play Liza Minnelli's version of the same when they lose. rolls eyes Now I ask you, honestly, which would you want associated with your Major League Baseball team? These guys... or this... Yeah, Me too. j.s.



Friday, May 18, 2007 Uh oh Al... j.s.



Thursday, May 17, 2007 For those of you who are blissfully unaware of such things, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that this Saturday, May 19th, would be the birthday of a truly amazing person. He was a world-class athlete whose whose kindness, generosity and warmth shone to children and adults the world over. He was also a gifted actor, starring in episodes of "The Six Million Dollar Man," "The New Zorro," and "BJ & the Bear." He even garnered a few decent roles in films. And he was a man of incredible stature, standing nearly 7 1/2 feet tall and weighing over 500 lbs. I am, of course, speaking of none other than Andre Rene Roussimoff, a.k.a, "The 8th Wonder of the World," a.k.a "Fezzig," a.k.a... Andre the Giant. Andre passed away at the young age of 47, and he would have been 61 on Saturday. And I think we can all agree that the world simply hasn't been the same without him. So, in his honor, I'd like to share a little known fact about Andre the Giant: He had an amazing capability to hit the sauce. I mean the man was epic. And I would never say such a thing lightly, since I do pride myself on the amount of ethyl hydroxide I can imbibe with minimal effect. Alas, Andre makes me look like a teetotaling Mormon with a sippy-cup of O'Douls by comparison...and as such my hat is off to the man. Here are some stories I unearthed from Modern Drunkard today: -- It is estimated that Andre drank 7,000 calories of booze EVERY DAY. -- He often "warmed up" for a match by drinking a dozen quarts of beer in his dressing room. We're talking quarts people. That's 24 pints... And then he went out and wrassled someone. !!! If you drank 24 pints the only thing you'd have in a headlock is the rim of the toilet, and would doubtlessly end up peeling Marlboros and peanut shells off your face in the morning. -- Andre would also go through an entire case on the bus to his wrestling matches. And as he finished each can he would crush it in his hand, and carom it off the head of a young upstart wrestler that often sat in front of him. That wrestler's name was Terry "Hulk" Hogan. Just say that out loud once. "Andre the Giant used to throw empty beer cans at Hulk Hogan's noggin on their tour bus." Your day has suddenly become awesome hasn't it? -- One evening in New York City, bombed out of his mind after drinking all night with fellow wrestler Dusty Rhodes, Mr. The Giant decided to steal a horse-drawn carriage, and led a fiery charge down the streets of downtown Manhattan. Booze in one monstrous hand, a pair of reins in the other, all the way back to their hotel. I'll be honest, just picturing that makes me a little teary-eyed. -- And finally, many of you have heard tale of the Caribbean cruise where I managed to rack up an $1,000 bar tab in 4 days...a feat I felt was most impressive. But once again, I am but a childe before Andre's man. While he was filming "The Princess Bride," Andre the Giant ran up a $40,000 bar tab during his one month stay at the London Hyatt. $40,000. For the love of everything holy, that's over $1,300 *per day, and he wasn't even on vacation...he actually had to make a movie during that time. Boggles the mind. So, it is with all this in mind that I say, this Saturday, wherever you might be, I ask that you raise a glass to a man who has given us all so much. And if you happen to be in Houston, Danny has brilliantly fostered an "Andre the Giant LOVES the 80's, Hot Sluts & Bodyslams*" event at his place. An event that will see us all drinking prodigiously, rocking ample Guitar Hero, performing a successful "Power Hour," and no doubt toasting Andre countless times. And you, my friend, are cordially invited to join us... Pending you don't suck that is. To Andre! j.s.



Wednesday, May 16, 2007 And while we're on the subject of piracy... And any pretense of pseudo-intelligence that I might've wrangled up is completely foiled when I laugh uncontrollably at two pirates robbing a Kool-Aid stand... j.s.



To Atty General Gonzalez: You've got to be fucking kidding me... Didn't we just go through this with Lamar Smith almost exactly a year ago? Were you not paying attention when he basically got laughed out of Congress with it? For those who haven't yet seen this, Alberto Gonzalez (the replacement for John Ashcroft), is trying to criminalize attempted copyright infringement. "It is a general tenet of the criminal law that those who attempt to commit a crime but do not complete it are as morally culpable as those who succeed in doing so." Part of that rings true, as we do require qualifications like "attempted" to precede some crimes, so I can see why he'd be ~~bought~~ convinced that "attempted copyright infringement" should be included in that list. It's that whole "morally cuplpable" bit that gives me the jibblies though. Just what the hell does that mean in this context? And when you're done explaining that, enlighten me as to how someone convicted of attempted murder in our court system is equally as "morally culpable" to the guy who goes down for actually killing another person? Because quite obviously we don't levy the same punishment based solely on intent. Or are you basing this one on a strange interpretation of Kantian morality? And if I don't stop this line of thought it'll derail completely into an argument over transcendental idealism, so let's just stick with those two for now... Besides Al, shouldn't you be off on a lo-pro vacation somewhere after that whole "Dismissal of the Nine" incident? Oh, and, while we're on a political bent, THIS is a pretty good write-up by Jacob Hornberger. He made some interesting (and easily accessible), points, although the McVeigh/Middle East allusion, and his Libertarian pimping at the end didn't sit very well with me. Decent essay though. K, I'm off. j.s.



Tuesday, May 15, 2007 And if any of you have an interest in playing along with one o' those newfangled ARG's [Alternate Reality Games] that all the kids are talking about, here's one I stumbled across today. The only other instructions were: The words provide the clues. The letters points to three cities of Gaia. The intricate web holds secrets to the dream of fallen earth. And no, I have absolutely no idea what that means. But it's going to haunt me for the next few days as I try to figure it out. Good luck. j.s.



Quick America's Cup Update Semi-finals have started, and we tied Luna Rossa (Italy) at one match apiece in an utterly amazing come-from-behind victory this morning. (One that saw me doing the Craggy McSailor dance around my living room and setting off a cacophony of dog barks with my unabashed "WOOOOO!ing as we crossed the finish line.) It literally came down to the final jibe to see who would win. More exciting given that at one point in the race we were over 200 meters behind the Italians. But as I'm sure I've mentioned somewhere before, dogged determination and sheer arrogance wins sailboat races (not necessarily in that order); and we eventually closed the gap by out-tacking, out-thinking and generally out-sailing Luna Rossa. It also helps that we have a ridiculously fast downwind boat... Next race is tomorrow morning at 7:30. Woo! j.s.



Monday, May 14, 2007 I know I'm supposed to do my weekend recap thing now, and tell you a meandering tale of debauchery involving where I went, what I drank, and with whom. A recount of all the fireworks that happen whenever Jeremiah collides with alcohol, and the plight of those so geographically unfortunate as to be in close proximity during such an occurrence. But not this weekend. This is partly due to the past week being filled with enough nadirs and apogees to make a seismograph on Mt. Etna look like Ted Williams's EKG, and I could be here for hours trying to cover everything. It's also partly because I'm not too sure of where to begin/end the story, so anything I do say about it (right now), will only end up anachronically weakened... But mostly? Mostly it's because I don't want to. No, this one is mine. Sorry. Go have your own weekend. j.s.



Friday, May 11, 2007 Finishing up articles for June... Back soon. j.s.



Tuesday, May 08, 2007 Insect humiliation. Proof that science is actually doing some good after all... j.s.



So thank you all for the messages/calls/general good vibes for my grandmother. She got out of surgery about 30 minutes ago, and they actually had to do a quadruple bypass on her rather than just a triple. blink blink She's in the recovery room at the moment, but will be moved to the ICU shortly where we'll be allowed to see her. The surgeon has said that the next 24 hours are the scary ones though, so please continue to keep the good juju flowing her way. The karma from doing so will no doubt carry you to your heart's desire. Thanks. j.s.



Monday, May 07, 2007 I am exhausted... And this is directly attributable to two things: First, Saturday was the Cinco de Mayo party at my place, during which time I drank enough sauce to tranq a rabid palomino on methamphetamines. By 11pm I was dancing around my backyard, slurring incoherently, and generally being the happy drunk I'm world-renowned for being. I also vaguely recall going to Andy's for a late night grilled cheese, although that whole trip is rather blurry... And second, I spent the better part of last night at the hospital with my grandmother. She had a mild heart attack on Saturday, and may require heart surgery tomorrow. (I'll know more after I leave work today and head over there.) So if you guys wouldn't mind sending some good vibes/well-wishings her way that would be loverly. Thanks. j.s.



Thursday, May 03, 2007 America's Cup: Round Robin 2 - Day 5 Yeah...obviously there are no matches today. And while that does kind of suck, it also affords me a chance to tell you about our upcoming race against the Italians. Currently we are tied for first place with their boat, "Luna Rossa," and we'll be racing them in the first flight tomorrow morning. The winner will go up two points on the other, with just six races left in the round robins. And, if we can hang on to first place, we'll earn the right to "choose" our opponent in the semi-finals. That's right. We get to point a finger at the scrawny, asthmatic, four-eyed kid who's standing in line to play (well, the sailing equivalent thereof anyway), and say "Yeah, we wanna play against that guy." Now perhaps it's latent bitterness over such personal schoolyard bullying that's talking...but I think that is fucking awesome. Anyway... Tomorrow morning! AmericasCup.com! Show some state-side support for our sailors! Please! (Because we sure as hell aren't getting any press from anywhere else...) j.s.



Wednesday, May 02, 2007 So now I'm tell you a short love story. Ready? Imagine a married couple in their late-twenties, blonde, bright-eyed and smiling. They're dressed comfortably, him in a t-shirt and baggy khakis, and her in shorts, a tank-top and red Chuck Taylors. Our scene is a patio at a bar, where these two are drinking a few German import beers, and telling stories and laughing with some people they've just met. At around 10pm, they decide that it's time to go home. So they head to their car, which is parked in the Firestone parking lot next door, only to find that Firestone locks their gate after 9pm. They stand there, shocked, and try to figure out what to do... Now you or I would probably shrug, give up on the car for the evening, and call a friend to get a ride home. Or maybe we would call the people at Firestone, and try to convince them to come back and open their lot... But, rather than going gently into that good night, this couple instead calls a cab and gets a lift to Wal-Mart, where they pick up a Black & Decker metal grinder... as well as a new MasterLock. Then they hop back into the cab, and zip back to the bar. I'm sure you can guess where this is going, so let's just skip ahead to the part where the husband is holding the chain taut, the wife is wielding the metal grinder, and together they're slowly sawing their way through a lock. All to rescue their car from the clutches of the overbearing social/geographical policies of malevolent tire salesmen. When he gets tired, she takes over holding the chain, and suffers a torrent of golden sparks bouncing off her arms and un-goggled face. She gets tired... They switch again. And, after 15 minutes of of this, the lock eventually snaps and the gate slides open. They free their car from its prison, close the gate behind them, and lock it back in place with the new MasterLock. Then they pull around to the night drop and fold the new lock key into a note that apologizes for having to break into their parking lot. At which point they wave goodbye to everyone at the bar, and speed off together into the night, the sound of laughter echoing from their open windows as they go... j.s. [Yes, this is a true story. It happened last night as we were playing bocce at a lcoal bar.] [[Please don't ask me why we were playing bocce, as that's an entirely different story.]]