Lectures on Everything

A Picture/Video Message!

2008-01-22T09:40:00.001-06:00

GART Day 5 - The Deadwood Total

2007-06-30T02:45:00.001-06:00

Tamara says that after all the food we bought, and all the stuff we did, and all her gambling, she's still leaving with more money than she came to town with.

It looks like Deadwood was essentially free. Hooray for lucky girl!

GART Day 5 - Exploring Deadwood

2007-06-30T02:39:00.001-06:00

We spent all day doing fun things in Deadwood. I climb as many stairs as I could. We went on tour of the city and the graveyard. We went to every casino in town and gambled in most of them. We learned about Wild Bill Hicock, the reason Deadwood's famous. We ate ice cream and watched gunfights. We milked everything out of this town that we could. And it was a lot of fun.

We were both exhausted by about 7:00, so we decided to head back to the hotel. We bought a couple of subs at the sub shop, then decided to go on the go-karts and bumper boats because we're young and fun! I think Tamara had a little too much fun spraying me with the water cannons on the bumper boats. I told her next time we do this I'm just going to save her the trouble and jump into the pool.

We still had a couple of bonus coupons to use at the hotel, so we decided to do a little more gambling. When we went over to the bar to get a couple of beers, we were told that drinks were free if we were gambling. You mean I could have been drinking FREE BEER this entire time?! I told the bartender that he hilariously opened the floodgates. I'm pretty sure he got tired of seeing me showing up with an empty glass, but there was FREE BEER on the line! Come on!

I also spoke a little with one of the cashiers, and she recommended that we visit Wind Cave. With all the caves in the area, it's been difficult to decide on one to go to. But she's really into caves and dropped this one without hesitation, so I'm willing to bet it's a good choice.

Deadwood has been fun, but exhausting. We've only been here two nights, but I feel like we've been here about a week. Soon I'm going to need a vacation from my vacation.

GART Day 4 - Driving to Deadwood, SD

2007-06-30T02:15:00.005-06:00

The drive to Deadwood was long and straight and boring, on one of the longest, straightest, and boringest roads I've ever travelled on. You could look down the road to the horizon and not see a single curve. And when you got to the horizon, to the farthest spot you could see twenty minutes earlier, the road stretched out further still, longer and straighter. At least it was easy to drive -- I just set the wheel and went to sleep.

Tamara wanted to visit the geographic center of the US, located just outside Belle Fourche and not much out of our way. When we got to the visitors centre in Belle Fourche, we found out it was actually north of the city and not south as we expected. The centre was closed, but directions were written on a sign taped to the door. They included things like, "look for a barn with a red pole on the right side of the highway". You'd think something like this would have, I don't know, a road sign, or something. But maybe they capitalize on visitors coming in from the south.

We got into Deadwood and booked a room at the Comfort Inn. We were able to catch the trolley downtown shortly after we unloaded the car. I don't know the last time I've felt this excited! It all just seemed so surreal, I was laughing at everything!

So we're walking down the street and a small group of people come out of one of the buildings. There was a song being played on bells somewhere in the distance, and one of the woman asked us what it was. It was a familiar tune, and while we could hum it, neither of us knew the name.

Tamara noticed that one of the men had Saskatchewan written on his shirt. After a brief chat, we found out that they were hilariously from White City and knew Wendy and Curtis Machmer.

We decided to eat at Mustang Sally's, and the food was delicious. We did a little gambling at a few different casinos, and Tamara won nearly $50!

Life is good.

GART Day 4 - Running Around in Medora

2007-06-30T02:15:00.003-06:00

We started the day with ice cream for breakfast, because we're adults and you can all get bent. Then we snuck off to the Marquis de More's chateau, which I wasn't really wild about seeing, but was actually more interesting than I expected. While we were there, one of the tour guides told us that there is a crazy backwoods trail across dirt roads, private land, and cattle ruts that runs directly out to the petrified forest! So I would be able to go after all, provided that Tamara wouldn't mind spending an hour by herself as I hiked across the scorching prairie to get to it.

After the chateau, we stopped for lunch at Maltese Burgers, a much better meal than last night's buffet. Then we drove off in search of the petrified forest -- which wasn't as hard to find as we expected, but involved a lot of driving over things that weren't really roads.

The road stopped at the end of Teddy Roosevelt Park. We were told that there was a tiny opening in the fence that you crawled through, and that description was completely accurate -- if I were much bigger I wouldn't have been able to get through.

And so began my 1.5 mile hike out to the petrified forest. I had these visions of seeing rattlesnakes and buffalo -- mostly due to the stories told to us by the guide at the chateau, but it was largely uneventful. The trail was very well marked and required lots of climbing, but there was never a chance of getting lost.

The forest itself wasn't what I expected. I imagined, like, a forest, with petrified trees fallen over every which way, but it was completely different: stark, barren, and strangely beautiful in a simple, very minimalist way. The petrified wood was strewn about everywhere, all around, for hundreds of feet, and the ground was a baked white clay you might find on a sea bed. Actually, it looked like this was the remains of an ancient sea whose water had evaporated away.

I spent about 20 minutes taking pictures, then hiked back, where Tamara was patiently waiting. We headed back to town to gas up and get back on our way.

My worst mistake, though, was doing the hike without my shirt. All I wanted to do is get some colour so Heather wouldn't laugh at me this summer. But instead I got sunburned all across my shoulders and upper back. Now Tamara is laughing at me, because she was insisting on sunscreen. I can't win!

GART Day 3 - Medora Musical

2007-06-30T02:15:00.001-06:00

I don't do a lot of talking about fate, but only because I don't really believe in it. Y'know, there's a tiny portion of my mind set aside for ridiculous beliefs, and it kind of hangs out in there, checks out the fridge and whatnot, maybe watches some TV in its underwear, that kind of thing.

But every so often fate gives me a slap in the face, something that feels as ridiculous and shocking as dumping a pail of ice water down my pants. And I got that during the musical.

It's not like the musical is anything stunning. The first minute into it, Tamara and I both leaned close and said, "Saskatchewan Express!" But to be fair, although the show is in the same theme as something from Saskatchewan Express, it's a lot more polished. The parts Tamara and I liked best were the tribute to the American armed forces, the weird religious numbers near the end of the show, and the closing number: God Bless America, complete with giant American flag.

But it wasn't the music, the dancing, the religion, or the jingoism that masde me think this was all fated: it was Teddy Roosevelt. Roosevelt is peppered throughout the play because of his ties to North Dakota. He's very important here, not only because of his conservation efforts, but also because it's his favourite state. I always just discounted the man as kind of a bully, but it turns out he's more interesting that I gave him credit for. And the times around him were very interesting too.

Very well. So I'm to learn more about Teddy Roosevelt. But why was this fated?

Well, if Tamara hadn't misread the map, we would have driven through to Medora the night before, and gotten rained out. And if I hadn't been overcome with sleep for some reason, we wouldn't have stopped at all. If I'd done the 16 mile hike I'd planned, I probably would have been too tired to go to the musical. And when we booked our room, the bunkhouse we were sent to was called Canada Goose.

Sure, it could all be coincedence, and the pieces tend to come together when you look at things in retrospect. But when things tend to clump together like this, I tend to think more about fate than chance. In spite of myself.

GART Day 3 - Crappy Meal at the Chuckwagon

2007-06-24T04:38:00.000-06:00

We both ate at the all-you-can-eat buffet, and we both got sick from it. I joked on the way in that we should order from Maltese Burgers, and apparently we should have.

It's not that the food was bad, but I was bloated from liquids and ended up eating too much, while Tamara just ate something that didn't agree with her. But this wasn't a very good experience for us.

So far I'm 0 for 2 today. Hope the musical's good. And I hope it doesn't rain like last night.

GART Day 3 - Crappy Day at Teddy Roosevelt Park

2007-06-24T04:30:00.000-06:00

Talk about a total bust.

Look, I'm pretty okay at reading maps, all right? I'm more than happy having Tamara as my trusty navigator, but I can get by just fine when she's not around. However, this did not prevent me from driving back ad forth over the same stretch of ground about 200 times while I was looking for trailhead that would take me out to the petrified forest.

Like, could you guys maybe mark the trails? Y'know, with a sign or something that says "Petrified Forest" and a big arrow pointing in some direction? Instead of giving me some stupid map with the trails not even marked all that well?

As it was, I never found the trailhead. I did manage to find a trail that kind of started in the middle of a field and led down to the bank of the Little Missouri river, but I chose not to wade across it, mostly because I was unsure what would happen on the other side. Like, is there a trail there or what? Could you maybe give me a sign?

So while I didn't get to do any of the hiking I had planned, I did manage to climb all over some stuff and take a few trails through some other areas, like the sandstone and the now extinguished coal fire.

I knew these coal fires burned a long time, but this one was found burning in 1880 and finally burned itself out in 1977. I spoke to some people who were here in 1968, and they said there was smoke coming out of the ground and the whole area had an awful smell. It was also really interesting to see how these sorts of things are just a regular part of the area's life cycle, and the effect they have on the environment.

I got back to our hotel room all hot and sweaty, and although I was later than I expected, we still managed to squeeze in a brief swim before heading out to supper. Tamara bought us tickets to the Medora Musical this afternoon, which actually sounds kind of okay. But we'll see.

GART Day 3 - Hiking and Touring in Medora, ND

2007-06-24T04:14:00.000-06:00

We drove into Medora this morning. I was excited about spending four hours hiking the 16 miles to the petrified forest. Tamara was excited about not doing that. So we decided to split up and do our own things: I'm going to hike and Tamara's going to explore the town.

And speaking of the town, is it ever touristy! I asked Tamara what makes a touristy place stand out, and she said it was because everything is so period. She might be right. Although Moose Jaw kind of smacks of that sort of thing, I haven't been to enough touristy spots to come to that same conclusion.

We are absolutely going to get gouged here.

GART Day 2 - Pizza and Beer in Belfield, ND

2007-06-23T04:06:00.000-06:00

It was a long day of driving and doing stuff, and I needed a nap. We stopped at Belfield for a break, and went to Dairy Queen for a couple of slushy drinks.

We were only 20 miles out of Medora. I wanted to press on, but Tamara pointed out that they had three things here that I wanted: beds, pizza, and beer. So we got a room, watched the hilariously lousy Chronicles of Riddick, and went to the bar to eat pizza and drink the night away.

Tamara drank them out of Heineken, so she started on Rolling Rock. It's an interesting beer: I don't think I'd go so far as to call it good, but the two sips I had weren't really enough for me to decide that I didn't like it.

We also ran into a group of people that went to the Medora Musical -- it got rained out! So it looks like we chose the right time to stop after all. The only bad news: no wi-fi. So posting will have to wait until we reach civilization.

GART Day 2 - Touring Teddy Roosevelt Park

2007-06-23T03:16:00.000-06:00

We hit the north unit of Teddy Roosevelt Park mid-afternoon, after a wonderfully scenic drive that I thought wouldn't take us anywhere near the mountains, then took us so close that we saw giant slabs of rock balanced on nothing but imagination. The sun was hanging high above us and felt as hot and angry as a pail of flaming assholes. Given the chance, I'm pretty sure it would have beaten us with a lead pipe and stolen our wallets.

There were some suggested things to do if you had a few hours to kill posted at the ranger station, so we filled up our nalgenes and went for a drive, followed by a hike. This was my first time in the Badlands, and I'm sure Tamara got sick of me saying, "Wow, look at that!" and, "Holy smokes! This is so awesome!" But it really was awesome, and my only apology is that I don't have the language to convey how swept away I was by the scenery. I don't think the photos I took will really do it either, but maybe the sheer volume of them will be the evidence that tips the scale.

We ended up driving an hour to get up to some crazy lookout way up on a hill that afforded a spectacular view of the Little Missouri river, then went for a far too brief hike on one of the shorter trails. While scenic, the park didn't really offer much in the way of excitement. I'm looking forward to getting to the south unit tomorrow, because I really want to see the painted canyon and petrified forest!

GART Day 2 - Outlaw Burgers in Watford City, ND

2007-06-23T03:01:00.000-06:00

We stopped For lunch at Outlaws in Watford City. The hamburger I ordered is seriously one of the best I've ever had. Tamara also enjoyed her overly-girly turkey croissant.

GART Day 2 - A Museum Stop in Armstrong, ND

2007-06-23T02:56:00.000-06:00

We stopped at Armstrong to visit the Lewis and Clark Museum. It was something of a misnomer, to the point that Lewis and Clark had uncredited cameos. The museum was more of a cultural legacy of the town, providing a place to store old clothing, vehicles, and local artifacts. It's in an old schoolhouse so jam-packed with memorobilia it looks like your grandmother's attic.

And this isn't necessarily a bad thing. We're lucky in Saskatchewan that we have the Western Development Museums to preserve the cultural heritage of the prairies, but this little museum doesn't get any state or federal funding. And we both found it a little surprising and a little horrifying that the preservation of the region's cultural heritage isn't more of a priority. Not surprisingly, Armstrong is facing some of the same issues as rural Saskatchewan, with population loss and school closures. We were told that there's oil money in the area sustaining things, but the state is pushing toward closures and bussing.

The tour started with an introduction to some old-tymey farm machinery, which was no big deal to us. And was apparently no big deal to the guide, as she would say things like, "And this is the thresher, or whatever it is, and this over here is a tractor, or something." But my favourite part, which I'm only taking partially out of context, was, "On Labour Day we have a parade, and some of the local indians come and dress up in their full gear, and it's pretty funny." But to be fair to this women, she kind of evened out a little as things went on, and by the end she was concerned with our well-being and suggesting other places for us to go. Hell not being one of them.

Which is also surprising.

Because there was a huge billboard with the Ten Commandments at the side of the road as we were leaving town. And I mean big. It blotted out the sun. So I guess we found out why this museum doesn't get any funding -- they're too busy trying to educate the heathens.

Overall, I think this stop was kind of a Williston Friday.

GART - Day 1

2007-06-22T02:36:00.000-06:00

So things are a little slow right now, in regards to the blogging of the Great American Road Trip.

Rest assured, the full story of Day 1 will be up in due course. In the meantime, please enjoy news from the rest of the days, which is almost fully caught up.

Because of the hardships of blogging using only a Palm handheld, links and photos will have to wait until we return. So I hope the stories can stand on their own.

A Slow Day at the Loogie Store

2007-06-01T13:45:00.000-06:00

Me: Stop spitting!

Tamara: I wasn't spitting.

Me: Oh. Then start spitting!

Tamara: Start spitting? You just told me to stop!

Me: Well, now I'm telling you to start.

Tamara: Make up your mind!

Me: Want to have a loogie-horking contest?

Tamara: No.

Me: Is it horking or hocking? Do you hock loogies?

Tamara: Isn't hocking something like selling it?

Me: You're going to hock your loogies?

Tamara: I might.

Me: Are you so poor you need to hock loogies?

Tamara: I'll sell if I can find someone stupid enough to buy my loogies.

Me: All right, we'll hang a sign out for you immediately.*

Me: Now we play the waiting game.**

Tamara: You're wonderful.

Me: I hope you enjoy your new loogie-free lifestyle.

* Notice how I intentionally added an apostrophe to draw in the proletariat. Also, notice how I unintentionally screwed up on the dollar sign.
** The waiting game sucked. Instead, we played Hungry Hungry Hippos.

Addendum!
A big thanks to the Incredible Schmutzie for setting me straight: when a loogie leaves your body, you're hocking it. When you're in the process of creating a loogie, you're horking one up.

See, I'd know this if I hung around with more seven-year-olds.

Keepin' It on the Down-Low

2007-05-31T13:33:00.000-06:00

I work with a dark-haired woman who often wears a dark jacket, dark pants, dark shoes, and dark sunglasses. I laugh secretly every time I see her come in to work, because I pretend she's traveling incognito and only I know who she really is.

Top Ten Blogs

2007-05-17T09:02:00.000-06:00

This is in response to, or in continuation of, a post I read on Catprint about a post on Idealistic Pragmatist, about a post by Warren Kinsella. In future posts I may just reference these chains by saying Here <-- Here <-- Here.

Anyway, here's my list of Top Ten Bloggers, with genders included.

1) Defective Yeti (M)
2) Dooce (F)
3) The Palinode (M)
4) Schmutzie (F)
5) Kottke (M)
6) Masthead (M)
7) Spoonman (M)
8) Catprint in the Mash (M)

Honourable Mention: MC Hammer (M): You may know him best as the gentleman who won't live in my basement, but I think he had a singing career or something in the 1980s.

So this looks like I read about 25% women, which isn't as good as Lance was saying, but certainly isn't bad.

It may look like there's only eight blogs listed and not ten. That's because there is. It's not that I don't read more bloggers, it's that I haven't been able to count to ten since my thumbs were sheared off in that horrible indoor grill accident. Damn you, Foreman! Damn you!

Edit: Schmutzie would like me to add that this list is in no particular order, except for the part where both she and the Palinode come before Jason Kottke. 'Cuz that guy's crap.

Also, it appears that linking to Kinsella is a great way to get hits. But the views and opinions reflected in the previous sentence do not necessarily reflect those of Schmutzie.

Vynal Vantasy

2007-04-24T11:07:00.000-06:00

New binders give off a very strong smell of vinyl. I ordered some binders for work yesterday, and today, when unpacking them, I caught a big whiff of vinyl when I tore the boxes open.

It's not entirely an unpleasant smell, but it always takes me back to McCollough's Costumers in Moose Jaw. It was this narrow shop, about 25 feet wide, and it was crammed so full of costume supplies that you literally had to squeeze down the some of the aisles to get to other parts of the store. It was like a life-sized Tickle Trunk! We'd go there on or around Hallowe'en and buy capes and plastic swords and bloody axes, and they'd show us the man they have chained in the attic and the jars of severed heads they had on the shelves lining the basement walls. Occasionally the owner would pull out a bottle that looked like a rams horn from under the counter and let us have a little nip. It was filled with a bright green liquid that tasted like burning rubber, but it would make the walls go all wavy, and we'd sing something like "Ka thoo loo, Fa tay gun" over and over, taking sips of that green stuff and laughing. Sometimes it would look like tentacles were coming out of the floor and dragging someone away, and we'd have to sing even louder to drown out the screams. Those sure were crazy times.

Anyway. Because of this, I don't think I could ever become a vinyl fetishist. I have visions of being brought to the brink of orgasm by someone in a skin-tight vinyl suit and spontaneously yelling, "Hi Sheila, has the Big Bird costume come back yet?"

Keeping Up with the 'Nodeses

2007-03-03T22:53:00.000-06:00

Me: So did you read about the woman who found a grenade in her bag of potatoes?

Tamara: Are you serious?

Me: Yeah! She was peeling potatoes, washed the dirt off one, and, yep -- live grenade.

Tamara: Where's she getting her potatoes from, Vietnam?

Me: I think she mistakenly asked for a "bomb de terre". Hang on, I have to go blog this.

Tamara: See? We have conversations like this too!

Me: Okay, fine. I just wish we had them more often.

Everything's Coming Up Scorsese!

2007-02-26T01:56:00.000-06:00

Martin Scorsese, who is probably my favourite director, has finally won a Best Director Oscar!

He's been nominated for Best Director five times:
2005 - The Aviator lost to Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood)
2003 - Gangs of New York lost to The Pianist (Roman Polanski)
1991 - Goodfellas lost to Dances with Wolves (Kevin Costner)
1989 - Last Temptation of Christ lost to Rain Man (Barry Levinson)
1981 - Raging Bull lost to Ordinary People (Robert Redford)

And, because lists are an easy way to populate your blog, here's a list of my top ten favourite movies, culled from my vote history at the IMDb:

1. Star Wars (1977)
2. Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
3. The Matrix (1999)
4. Shakespeare in Love (1998)
5. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
6. Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
7. Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan (1982)
8. Reservoir Dogs (1992)
9. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
10. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)

Average age: 17.7 years.

This list is a result of a hard-fought battle stretching over two days that left bloodied movie carcasses scattered about like victims in a gangland shooting. Hilariously, nothing came up Scorsese, but as with all things, this is subject to change. After all, I haven't yet had the chance to see Raging Bull, Citizen Kane, Children of Men, or Arthur and the Invisibles.

It was surprisingly difficult to narrow the list of my favourite films down to ten. The comments are open for anyone wanting to list their top ten.

No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded

2007-02-26T01:39:00.000-06:00

Winter so far has been laying on the sofa like a lazy roommate, shifting position only to reach the TV remote control or scratch its ass through a terribly revealing hole in its underwear. But one Sunday at the end of January it was like Winter remembered it had a job to do, dammit, and manically tried to catch up for a whole season of slackness.

Winter storms seem to have the exact opposite effect on me than they do on everyone else. While most of the city hunkered down under blankets and in front of fireplaces, I convinced Tamara that we needed brave the treacherous streets and poor visibility to buy a few things from Safeway. But it was Sunday, and even though I drove recklessly, Safeway was closed when we arrived. So then I convinced Tamara we needed to brave the treacherous streets and poor visibility to buy a few things from McDonald's.

There's a McDonald's about a block north of the Safeway we normally shop at, so really it was just a matter of crossing the street and getting into line at the drive-thru. The weather was getting increasingly miserable. I was pelted with snow when I rolled down my window, and sharp gusts of wind tore my order from my mouth. Somehow we managed to convince the attendant that we wanted a couple of cheeseburgers and some fries, and we crawled forward through the growing drifts to the drive-thru window.

The person in the car in front of us was paying with debit when an unruly blast of wind tore the card right out of her poor, freezing fingers. Because of her proximity to the wall, her passenger was the unlucky one who had to get out and look for the card. She looked under the car, around the wheels, cleared some of the snow away from the ground, but wasn't having much luck. The wind was still blowing fiercely, and the snow was beginning to cake in her hair as she continued her search.

And then suddenly, from nowhere, a hero emerged -- a tall, lanky young man in jeans and a blue parka. He came up from behind us, running past the drivers side of our car, pausing only long enough to grab something by our front tire before continuing on to the car at the front. One there he handed the wayward card back to its owner, stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, and ran back against the wind to the comfort of his vehicle. The driver paid for her food, successfully this time, and the line advanced forward.

When we got to the window, I asked the attendant how much the order was for the people behind us. "$6.73," she replied. "Okay," I said, "we want to pay for theirs too."

"You want to pay for the people behind you?"

"That's right. Let them know it's because he got out to get that girl's card."

We drove away with big smiles on our faces. It was still cold outside, but I hope this helped to warm him up a little.

Zen and the Art of Street Crossing

2007-02-05T18:42:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, I got it into my head one day that I should cross the street without looking. More important to this story, I thought crossing the street without looking was a skill -- like swimming -- that could be acquired and refined. I imagined amazing people with my street crossing prowess -- throngs of gaping people watching in awe as I crossed the street heedless of traffic and arrived safely on the other side.

With images of cheering crowds firmly planted in my mind, I set out to practice. My practice, of course, was short lived: a mere three crossings before I was nearly run down by a very angry woman in a very big car. I was able to scamper off into my grandparents' back yard to avoid further embarrassment.

This is one of my favourite stories because it's so outlandish. Who would think crossing the street without looking was a learnable skill? That it should be practiced? I qualified for Mensa, fer crissake.

Had I lived to 80, I never would have believed that this would have some kind of practical import:

In my hotel room there was a little guidebook. The first point in the "Things not to do in Vietnam" list reads: When crossing the street, do not change your speed of pace, do not run, do not step backwards.

I took this advice to heart, and I must tell you, I have never had a more Zen-like experience than crossing the street in Vietnam. Motorbikes and cars zipping past you in all directions and on all sides, but all flowing around you and around each other with a remarkable peacefulness. In North America I would have been scared shitless. Here, I was not worried for a moment. I can only describe it as "moving meditation".

Thanks, Ryan. You just made my childhood that much less ridiculous.

If I Had a Hammer....

2007-01-26T01:39:00.000-06:00

I've got a secret. I've been trying to get MC Hammer to come live in my basement.

It all started innocently enough, with one lonely blog comment posted completely in earnest:
Post #1 - The Original Post

There were then a couple of other stragglers a few months down the road:
Post #2 - No God
Post #3 - Propel
Post #4 - Basement Living

And then things just started to get ridiculous.
Post #5 - Emmitt
Post #6 - Giving Thanks
Post #7 - Rodeo Christmas
Post #8 - Vishal
Post #9 - Best Documentary
Post #10 - Bill
Post #11 - Text'n
Post #12 - Sidekick
Post #13 - Come Together
Post #14 - Cigar
Post #15 - Milwaukee
Post #16 - Picture
Post #17 - Luxury
Post #18 - White Guys
Post #19 - Mountains
Post #20 - Player Haters
Post #21 - Sundance Lounge

But I can't do this alone -- I need your help! Tell Hammer that I'm a good guy. Let him know that my basement's actually pretty nice. Post a comment saying that my dog won't bite him and I won't steal his socks. Well, I may actually steal his socks. But I swear, any money made from the sale of his socks on eBay will go directly to local charities.

C'mon, folks -- every basement deserves to have a celebrity in it! And my basement deserves to have MC Hammer, not just a charcoal drawing of him I did one night while high on solvents. Help me make 2007 the Year of the Hammer (in my basement)!

Great Trip, Terrible Metaphor. So-So Acronym.

2007-01-25T16:57:00.000-06:00

Well, it looks like the Great US Summer Road Trip '07 (GUSSRT) is set in motion, with both Tamara and I batting ideas about like two cats sharing a mouse head. Tamara pulled the head out from under the sofa with a plan to visit friends in Washington, Chicago, and a third place, which I believe she referred to as the mystery place. I pawed the head delicately, suggesting that this circuit was too far to drive. Tamara then swatted the head across the floor with a revised plan to go through Montana and the Black Hills. I feigned disinterest by turning my back and walking a few paces, then suddenly pounced back on the head, doing an amazing half-twist of my body in mid-air: let's make a pilgrimage to the Moose Jaw Brew Pub in Wisconsin. I'm sure I could bring some piece of Moose Jaw memorabilia with me, like my single share of Mac the Moose -- if I can find it. And they're hiring: I may never go home! Or want to!

I know the cat metaphor was a little strained, but I swear to you that's exactly what happened when Guildenstern pulled the mouse head from under the sofa.

Tamara, it looks like the head's in your food bowl. If anyone wants me, I'll be behind the TV licking my arm and rubbing it on my face.

(I may as well mention that I found this link while visiting Jack Pine Press for their book To Kerouac and Back. And I should also plug my good friend Ellen's book Gabrielle and the Man who is Belly-flopped on the World while I'm at it. Jack Pine makes some really neat, short-run stuff.)

Effective Yeti

2007-01-22T13:05:00.000-06:00

Thanks to the delightful Matt Balwin over at Defective Yeti, and my delightful girlfriend Tamara over at, ummmm... my house, I guess... I've won a spot in Plugapalooza! Which means the Yeti will be linking to my little hole in the wall on Friday. Which in turn means I need to write stuff. And fast.

So be prepared, frolicking millions, to gaze lustfully upon the seemingly endless backlog of half-finished, half-started, and heretofore half-undreamt-of posts from the Lectures Drafts Archives. And feel free to also thrill in amazement as I deftly navigate the perilous minefield of where to place the apostrophes in that last sentence.

If I'm to believe my own hype, I ought to pass out energy drinks to everyone that reads this.