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Share the Road?

You've seen the signs. The bumper stickers. The happy lil' window decals. "Share the Road", they say. An admonition to us stupid mean car and truck drivers not to be dicks and make life hard on the poor poor motor- and bi-cyclists out there on the streets.

Well, today, I just got schooled (yet again) by their spokesperson. Let's call him DMA (Dumbshit Motorcyclist A) for short.

DMA came upon me shortly after I turned onto Taylorsville Road from Dutchman's Lane. I happened to be lucky enough not to make the light at Pee Wee Reese Field Lane, and found myself in the front of the right lane. The light, after its usual interminable wait, turned green, and I took off, setting the cruise control at about 35mph (it's a 35mph area). Checking my mirrors (I try to hit each of them at least twice every ten seconds) rapidly revealed DMA to me.

He was back there a ways, interspersed in the other (non-cycle) vehicles, but I, having been duly admonished to 'Share the Road', kept a watchful eye out for him. About a block from the light, he roared up the dotted line, weaving between the strung-out cars and trucks, and rocketed past me at about 55mph.

He had no helmet. Just a white painter's hat to help the emergency respondents locate his head after his accident, whenever it happens.

Gritting my teeth to aid in biting back and swallowing the bile of watching impotently as yet another lawless asshole shat all over traffic law yet again, I glared at his rapidly diminishing form.

He had to slow for traffic ahead though, and I approached him as we both approached Bardstown Road. Then, without warning (or, natchurallee, signaling), he turned into the McDonald's parking lot (Big Mac attacks can happen ANYTIME, I guess). So I stopped behind the car ahead waiting at the light, it changed, and I turned onto B-road, nearly home. The light at Wrocklage was agin' me, and I stopped behind the same car as before, and noted, with some rage, DMA in the left lane. Yep, he scooted through the McD's parking lot to evade the light onto B-road from Taylorsville, and didn't save a second, because there I was, close enough to spit on him (which I managed to restrain myself from doing).

I can only pray this asshole has his organ donor card filled out, and that he hasn't bred yet.

Lesson of the day?

"Share the Road" means "Pull over and park while we ride where we please, as we please, for as long as we please."

DMA can KMA.

This just in, Raving Douchebag simply can't STFU

(Click the title to see the asswad in question.)

Dude, seriously, STFU.

STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU, STFU,for the love of Satan, STFU!

You are one of Satan's best and most publicly visible helpers, asswad. It's pricks like you that give Christianity a bad name. Do the universe a favor and shoot your Alzhiemer-infested brain with an elephant gun, please.

So, I'll turn in my badge and gun I guess.

So, I'm looking at my DVD's thinking of watching Deep Impact another night, and I'm like, WTF?!? I don't own any of the Star Wars movies? Or the Indiana Jones Chronicles? What the hell was I thinking the last time I bought movies?

And now I'm thinking (and Supermom's already nodded semi-vigorously in agreement) that such a list might prove fodder for people seeking to gift me natally or yuletidally, or otherwisenheimerally. And so long as they try to remember my strong preference for WIDESCREEN format, so I don't miss 30% of the movie, everything'll be fine.

So, without further ado...

Star Wars 1-6, and Clone Wars (the animated) (Yeah, I know, I should just turn in my geek badge right now.)
Back to the Future, 1-3
Indiana Jones 1-3 (please spare me from the Crystal Skulls)
Young Frankenstein (My name, is FRANKENSCHTINE!!)
The Producers (the original, please, Gene Wilder and Zero Mostel are the ONLY producers I want to see)
and you know, the original Willy Wonka too...
But I got nothing against Johnny Depp, and I'd love a copy of Benny and Joon.
I have the first two Spiderman movies on my laptop, but DVD would be better.
It'd be real cool to have Iron Man and the newer (Ed Norton) Hulk in my collection too.
Disney's Hercules and Pixar's Schrek 2 & 3, Toy Story, and The Incredibles.
The one and only James Bond movie I own is Casino Royale (TYVM Kelkie!). Is that sick or what?
Addams Family and Addams FV.

And then there's TV shows...
Who wouldn't want Thundarr the Barbarian, The Herculoids, and Space Ghost, I ask you? And what about V, The Addams Family, Gilligan's Isle, The A-Team, Knight Rider, the Dukes of Hazzard, or any of the other cheesy crap I used to watch?

Anything off this list would be dandy if you're otherwise stumped. Of course, Magic cards always fit, or if you're really stumped, cash works nicely. Or Swedish Effing Nuts. Now, funny tee-shirts are always nice too. Or, you know, a compliant and well-trained wooman.

Totally Average Al

I know that you, dear readers, much like me, are constantly curious about Al, his life and times, what he likes, what he dislikes, what his hamster's name is, you know, pretty much every fricking detail of his existence, as it is all that gives our own lives meaning. Thankfully, we have his extensive body of written work to go on. Like the theme to his show...

It starts off innocuously enough...

Oh, this is a story 'bout a guy named Al

And he lived in a sewer with his hamster pal

But the sanitation workers really didn't approve

So he packed up his accordion and had to move

To a city in Ohio where he lived in a tree

And he worked in a nasal decongestant factory

And he played on the company bowling team

And every single night he had a strange, recurring dream

Where he was wearing leiderhosen in a vat of sour cream

But that's really not important to the story

Heh, funny ol' Al... Always a laugh a minute with you... but here I am interrupting, let's continue, shall we?

Well, the very next year he met a dental hygenist

With a spatula tattoed on her arm (on her arm)

But he didn't keep in touch, then he lost her number

Then he got himself a job on a tater tot farm

And he spent his life savings on a split-level cave

20 miles below the surface of the Earth (of the Earth)

And he really makes a mighty fine jelly bean and pickle sandwich

For what it's worth

Well, honestly, not very much, really. But then things get interesting, don't they? Let's take a rather chilling look into the mind of Completely Normal Alfred Yankovic...

Then one day Al was in the forest, trying to get a tan

Excuse me? A guy who is by all rights a genius, in Mensa, puts the other members to shame with his IQ, graduated college with an Archetectural degree before most people got around to GOING to college, was in a forest, working on his tan? More like lurking in the wooded section of a park, lying in wait on the favorite jogging path of a particular "funny little man" (IE network executive who thought he was REAL funny laughing at Al's idea for a kid's show)...

When he heard the tortured screaming of a funny little man

Well, yeah, when the "funny little man" steps into your bear trap, he is going to scream, isn't he, Al? ISN'T HE?!? He sure wasn't laughing then, was he? WAS HE?!?

He was caught in a bear trap and Al set him free

Oh I'm sure you did, AFTER he promised...

And the guy that he rescued was as grateful as can be

To 'reconsider' your proposal, eh?

And it turns out he's a big-shot producer on TV

So he gave Al a contract and what do you know?

Now he's got his own very Weird Al Show!

Turns out?!? TURNS OUT?!?

Oh Suuuuuurre!! Well, now we know the truth, don't we Al? DON'T WE?!?!?

Milestones

It has been one year and one day since I arrived in Louisville, and tomorrow most of my earthly possessions will share that milestone.

So far, so good.

My job pays about 25% more, my weight is down under 300lbs, I feel pretty good about myself, and while I miss my friends and family up north, I have a phone they can call me on (that seldom rings except for calls from mom) and friends down here.

So I'm ok.

In other news, I've started a(nother) book. This one is non-fiction (well, given the subject is religious, I suppose some will debate that assertion, but they can go urinate up twisted hemp fibers for all I care).

Little Nash Rambler

This will be all over the page, apologies in advance.

In May and early June, I had occasion to do a lot of solo travelling, and hadn't fully explored Sirius radio yet, and made the mistake of allowing myself some introspection.

Oh yeah, this is gonna be one of those posts, I advise you to flee now.

So, I got to wondering about why I've been living in River city for nearly a year now, and not even asked anyone out on a date. I mean sure, I've been burned rather badly, but the fire is enticing as all get-out. A few 5th degree burns ain't stopping any sane person, right?

So I got to wondering just how conventionally sane I am, and I discovered something. That old adage that 'crazy people never question their sanity' is likely a crock of shit. Then again, I really didn't come up with a diagnosis of 'crazy', more like 'emotionally autistic'. I seem to be burdened with a staggering abundance of empathy, if someone around me is experiencing an emotion to any significant degree, I react to it as strongly as if I was affected directly. This happens whether or not I like or even know the person, or they me. Apparently, most people find this objectionable. I'm guessing that they either think I am mocking them, or I'm trying to kiss ass. Me, I don't know what the hell I'm doing when I do this, maybe I'm trying to be supportive, maybe I'm just groping for an appropriate reaction. And apparently I've done this all my life.

Honestly, you people confuse the shit out of me. A smile means a million different things, and so does every other facial expression. Can't you just look mad when you are mad, sad when sad, happy when happy, etc... so I have some damn clue how to act? It takes me about a month to figure out one person's base set of emotional cues to a point where I am even remotely comfortable talking to them one on one. It is by far my preference to have someone I know how to read present with strangers to interpret for me.

*rolls up sleeves*

Let's discuss my childhood. My earliest memory is of my two older brothers nearly killing me. the next one after that is of two strange girls trying to finish the job. My brothers basically were digging rocks out of dad's taters, and I trundled up looking for someone to play with, and they decided that I would make a dandy moving target. The little girls pushed me off the top of a rather tall slide (and not down the slide either) to land hard in the dust beneath it.

From there, we segue into kindergarten-high school, which to me is a long blur of pain, shame, and humiliation. Girls pretending to pass an invisible Lysol can around and spray where I came near them, gangs of 3-4 boys holding me down for a round of punch-the-wimp or stuff-a-wimp-in-a-garbage-can. Of the four crushes I had, two went spectacularly south after assuming pear shapes, the last, I simply hid to avoid the pain.

I'm not sure exactly when I gave up any hope of having a friend in school, but I think it was sometime around 2nd grade, when my one friend (crush #1), a girl named Bonnie, simply up and vanished sometime during the summer break, leaving me completely friendless (all the neighbor kids near my age were in different grades). At this late remove, I can say that our relationship was more like I was one of her favorite pets that didn't live in her home, but at least she didn't consider me a pariah. After that, I just did my best to avoid contact with other students outside class, and was at one point at least a decent prospect for Olympic Race-walking. Had it been an event back then, I might have moved on to bigger and better things with an athletic career. Alas. Needless to say, with my Olympic hopes unrealized, there was no incentive to develop either social skills or a personality. I spent my summer vacations doing things like reading dictionaries (no shit), practicing cryptanalysis with my oldest brother, and staying in the confines of family and neighbors. I can't even remembering wanting to meet other people or befriend them.

Crush #2, a particularly vicious ...person named Tammy (lol, no one I know now) basically encouraged me to openly profess my feelings, and once I had done so, proceeded to unleash a perfect storm of humiliation on me. As I recall, I sort of did an emotional equivalent of blinking once or twice, and simply turned the whole thing off. I pretty much stopped seeing her. And when I say 'stopped seeing her', I don't mean I stopped dating her, I mean I put up a mental block so strong she dropped off my perceptions almost completely. I don't think I acknowledged a word she spoke ever again.

Crush #3 I simply went and did a foolish thing, providing written evidence of my feelings, and it went public, and I got some ridicule. She was far too nice to be mean to me (which I think was a far larger reason for me liking her than her appearance, although she was kinda cute), but she had a boyfriend in another school (or maybe grade), and that was that. Crush #4 never found out how I felt, because I was simply no longer willing to bother trying. The cost-benefit analysis came up strongly negative.

And that's how it went for me. About 9th grade, I discovered RPGs, although I would net no friends, only other players/DMs, for a couple years yet, it did open up a means to escape, and I converted fast. About two years after that, I was on the bus, with the same bastards I'd always ridden to school with, when I noticed that that one kid who was even weirder than me had some D&D stuff in his books during a brief altercation over whether or not I could sit with him (he won as I recall). And that was how I met Charlie.

Charlie and I were closer than brothers, or at least, we were closer than I ever was with my brothers. He was, for lack of any better term, my boon companion, a kindred spirit. I can't say for sure in his case, but for me he was flotsam in a stormy sea. At last, at long fucking last, I had a friend. We were geeks, no doubt. We played D&D, fiddled on the computers of the age (Commodore 64s), went to geek-oriented movies, all of that. But he was my shot at a real teenage life. He was the guy who got me to agree to go on a joyride in his folks Blazer (we just ran down to the all-night gas station for some junk food and soda, but my God the freedom!). We bullshitted about girls, honing our lies about Canadian chicks we banged while away on vacation (apparently every guy in any state near the Canadian border simply has his pick of any desperate Canuck trim he wants, if our lies are true), we had those discussion that most people require pot for while stone cold sober, we had geek debates about the relative merits of Star Wars vs. Star Trek, all of it.

And then he died and took it all away from me again. And I have still not forgiven him for that. I met Orlo and Og, and Log and Tonga and even Bunnyman in the year after his death, through answering an ad for gamers on a local BBS (1992 people, the Internet was called Fido back then). But I had learned my lesson by then: no one can ever be trusted, they all leave you in the end if they don't actually deliberately betray you first. So I kept them all at arm's length for a long time. I also met Dan, who was my housemate for several years, and who saw in me someone with no personality at all, a dishrag to be used to sponge up whatever personality traits he chose to drip into it, a lackey in the making. And he got good use out of me, paying half his rent and utes for seven years or so until I caught him in a fairly monstrous betrayal of me and his current girlfriend, whom I then treated rather badly myself at the time. If I had that period to live over, I'd have done it so differently.

Around that time, in 1999 or early 2000, I found myself in a 'relationship'. Meaning well, my friends helped me woo a girl at work. Little did they know, she was just opening the door for opportunity. I lost my virginity, $400, and the last few dregs of my self-esteem in that fiasco. If I had know she just wanted money, I would have asked her rates, and then balked at realizing she was charging $2/lb and chosen a real professional. At least then I might have enjoyed it a little.

Not long before that, Bunnyman had departed for Florida, and I found myself adrift again. And Orlo and Jojo stepped up and adopted me, nursed me back to the semblance of health I'd fooled everyone at the time into believing was normal for me, and got me back on my feet. A few years later, Dan's ex fixed me up with my ex-fiancee, and that was a damn good two years. It's simply amazing how much good a nymphomaniac can do for a guy's self-esteem. If you have the opportunity, I can't strongly enough recommend availing oneself. It ended badly, my dad died, I got depressed, stopped performing, and she sought greener pastures. At the time I was doubly devastated, but from here I can see that she simply needed something I couldn't give her at the time. I could harp about how I was there for her when her papaw died, but what good would it do? It was time to move on any way, I realized after she was late once that I wouldn't want her to be the mother of my children, and thankfully that never happened. And I learned Pillowing to Master rank, you can damn well believe that!! Whoever's next better have a strong heart, that's all I got to say...

But, when you add all of that up, it's not hard to see that I have trust issues. For a damn good reason. Several dozen damn good reasons actually. Couple that with my inability to read people, and I got some hurdles to jump.

Or, you know, I could just tune out the world and play WoW some more. All the social interaction online is in writing. It's the next best thing to Heaven for me. No damn riddles, someone writes a message, or challenges you to a duel, you know where you stand and what they want. Worst thing I have to worry about in Azeroth is a ninja looter. And I got Ignore on a macro for those assholes.

*EDIT*

Heh, it occurs to me that that's a bad place to finish. Yes. I know. MMORPG socialization does not count. I need to get outside and interact with real humans face to face. The above is my self-examination of why it is so hard for me to do so. It's also an acknowledgement that my choice to go away from the epicenter of most of my interpreters may have been poorly thought out. But it's done, and I will simply have to adapt. It's a lot easier to deal with a problem once it has been acknowledged, I hear. This is my auto-intervention.

Took me long enough

So long, in fact, that I've likely already forgotten something or other, and left it out. If so, Ah ahpologahze.

Ok, so, I visited the ole homestead on the week after the 4th of July.

(And yeah, it has been a while since my last post, sue me.)

My flights to NY went hitch-free, and I arrived at SYR to be greeted by my mom, my brother A, his wife M, their three kids, and also by Orlo and Jojo and Lojo. (Pls note that thanks to internet whackos, I must use initials or nicknames to protect the people I care about, alas.) This led to some severe nipple-twisting, which I probably deserved.

I spent the first night (got in at 8:30pm, long day of travel) at mom's, on an air mattress, which was very comfy. Sunday morning, she and I headed to brother A's place (in the Blazer my little bro G loaned me, which was very nice of him (and I hope he gets good use out of the tankfull of gas I left in it, thanks again G)), where we met him and his, and bros G and J showed up with G's kids, and we all headed to Fair Haven beach, on a truly gloriously perfect day of absolutely unbeatable beach weather. There we proceeded to swim, play games, eat, and repeat all of that several times, and around noonplus Jojo, Orlo, Lojo, Mugg, and Jojo's sister S (and her daughter S) joined us in our revels. It was, if I may say, a really fun time.

I even managed to not be present when J insulted G causing him to leave with his kids in a huff (not that I blame G, J has a long track record of open mouth insert foot). Short of that, it was a day that was easily Epic, and quite likely will be revised in an upcoming patch as Legendary, possibly even an Artifact.

Monday I spent the AM at Orlo and Jojo's, having spent Sunday night there (on another air mattress, lol), and much of the PM at brother A's, where the karaoke machine saw vigorous usage.

Tuesday morning and early on I spent time with my mom, actually we watched a couple of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies courtesy of A. I went to the local bowling alley to hang out with Mugg and Orlo, and also my friends S & M XD and their little one.

Wednesday was more time with mom, and I think was the night that J came over to hang out for a bit. He apologized for Sunday, which was good. Mom and I finished with Captain Jack Sparrow, and moved on to National Treasures 1 & 2, which was fun. Somehow, The Music Man snuck in there. I still love the 'Madam Librarian' bit.

Thursday mom took me and my Aunt R to a local restaraunt I'd never even heard of, and I had this spectacular feast platter of Italian divineries: chicken broccoli alfredo, lasagna, tortellini, ravioli, even some spaghetti, and of course, meatballs and sausage. Then it was early to bed, early to rise, off I went, into the skies.

Back home safe and sound in River City. Where there's no trouble at all.

So, I guess we can get those guns now, eh?

Charlton Heston has shuffled off this mortal coil. The various anti-gun nuts can get out their prybars and get to work defiling his corpse now.

I'll just say on his behalf...

"Get your paws off him, you damn dirty apes!!"

/salute
/mourn

I'm opposed to gun control in any form until it becomes legal, and the only way that can happen is via a Constitutional Amendment. All gun control laws on the books in the US are bullshit, and that's just the way it is.

Mind you, I happen to think some of them are good ideas, but I really, really, REALLY dislike the entire concept of Congress passing, the President signing, and the Supreme court not striking down, laws that completely violate both the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. It's not at all a good thing. There is a completely legal channel for allowing gun control to become legal, and it has been circumvented in its entirety, and that is exceptionally bad for democracy as practiced in the US of A.

See, law and order, that's what keeps me out of the stewpot. Erode, degrade, and tear it down, and sooner or later, I end up on the buffet.

If they amend the Constitution to remove the 2nd Amendment, then I'll get on board the Gun Control wagon, for a few blocks anyhow. Til then, "No!! Bad Congress!! Bad Supremes!! Bad President!! No treats for ANY of you!!"

You gave 'em hell, Chuck, thanks.

Chick Flicks & Guy Picks

So, I was channel-surfing over at Castle Anthrax last night, and The Devil Wears Prada was on. So naturally, I settled in to watch it.

"Naturally?!?" you enquire incredulously?

Well, yeah. For one, it's got Meryl Streep in it, and she's generally good in anything, as she was here. Two, as a putative 'chick flick', it's certain to (and does) have literally scores of eye-candy-grade distaff cast members in just about every shot. But most importantly, it's simply an extremely well-written story, with interesting characters and a solid plot.

Apparently it's based on a novel by a woman named Lauren Weisberger, converted to screenplay by Aline Brosh McKenna. Perhaps they should share their Nobel Peace Prize for Fomenting Good Relations Between the Sexes by Creating Movies that Both Can Enjoy.

Scene-It knows what I'm talking about; they released a Guys vs. Girls Edition called, well, I chose it for the name of this post. Simply put, a movie that will interest a guy will not interest a woman, in most cases. You get those precious and rare exceptions, women who laugh at the Three Stooges, or recite Monty Python lines, or watch Vin Diesel movies because they like the action, but they're rare.

And generally speaking, guys that like chick flicks aren't really worth much at all to the other side, except maye as shopping buddies. But I've seen two movies now in recent memory, Devil Wears Prada and 10 Ways to Lose Your Man (or whatever the title was, it had Matt McCona-who-can-spell-it-ahey and that cute blonde in it, and yeah, the tab with IMDB is still open, and no, I'm not gonna go look). And both were easily enjoyable by men and women alike.

If this keeps up, going to the movies as a couple might come back into style. Which, once again, leaves me on the outside looking in, steaming up the glass and creeping out the paying customers.