1. 21:22 14th Feb 2010

    image: download

    You presume to know you’re in a red state (Texas) when a regional chain business will take a pot shot at Obama for a traditional, diplomatic bow to Japan’s figurehead emperor. I have a hunch they did not post any public comment when George W. held hands with the Saudi prince in 2005, an equally symbolic gesture, though arguably a hundred times more gay. The alternate explanation, of course, is that my interpretation is spurious and the sign is to be taken as a general platitude. This, I could go for. Not a big fan of bowing am I - in fact it’s my number one hangup about actively practicing Buddhism in spite all of its non-theistic reassurances. I don’t really appreciate the point of bowing to Buddha, much less Christ, Muhammad or Zeus. So in the alternative explanation maybe the folks at the tire shop are far more daring in publicly espousing their atheism than I am. I would totally fucking respect them in that case. And to be perfectly “fair and balanced” about it, wouldn’t this pass, prima facie, for an Ayn Rand quote? So, should I call the tire shop and ask them? Or should I let my intuition and seething resentment of southeast Texas just fester? I’m paying beau coup dollars for a prime-location apartment in the greener ideological pastures of Austin. So why haven’t I been there in weeks? The answer is obvious: self-loathing. And maybe you thought this was about a sign. Or politics. Or religion. No, not really.

    You presume to know you’re in a red state (Texas) when a regional chain business will take a pot shot at Obama for a traditional, diplomatic bow to Japan’s figurehead emperor. I have a hunch they did not post any public comment when George W. held hands with the Saudi prince in 2005, an equally symbolic gesture, though arguably a hundred times more gay.

    The alternate explanation, of course, is that my interpretation is spurious and the sign is to be taken as a general platitude. This, I could go for. Not a big fan of bowing am I - in fact it’s my number one hangup about actively practicing Buddhism in spite all of its non-theistic reassurances. I don’t really appreciate the point of bowing to Buddha, much less Christ, Muhammad or Zeus. So in the alternative explanation maybe the folks at the tire shop are far more daring in publicly espousing their atheism than I am. I would totally fucking respect them in that case. And to be perfectly “fair and balanced” about it, wouldn’t this pass, prima facie, for an Ayn Rand quote?

    So, should I call the tire shop and ask them? Or should I let my intuition and seething resentment of southeast Texas just fester? I’m paying beau coup dollars for a prime-location apartment in the greener ideological pastures of Austin. So why haven’t I been there in weeks?

    The answer is obvious: self-loathing.

    And maybe you thought this was about a sign. Or politics. Or religion.

    No, not really.

     
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  2. 13:38 26th Jan 2010

    iPhone GPS, you’re not my friend

    Okay, the good news: I seem to be getting my legs back, as I did my regular run/jog at my best pace yet, with no stops or walk breaks. The bad news, aside from the fact that exercise doesn’t seem to be helping my funky mood much, is that my iPhone GPS app is apparently not going to be much help in figuring out my pace as I continue to improve. iPhone’s GPS can let you down at the worst times when you’re trying to use it while driving - these maps really illustrate just how bad it can be. Is it just me, or does iPhone GPS seem to be getting worse over the past year? Anyway…

    Here’s my route, as plotted on mapmyrun.com:

    Now, here are two different maps generated by iPhone app Pathtracks. Apparently I like to swim across Town Lake (Ladybird Lake, whatever).

    #1 -

    And #2 -

    Oh well, I love my iPhone, but sheesh… the GPS can be downright pathetic. I’m outside, few obstructions… should be pretty ideal conditions.

    You’d think.

     
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  3. 00:48 15th Sep 2009

    The Outback Variations

    The scene was classic: Dinner with extended family at an Outback Steakhouse franchise. Several siblings simultaneously revert to that timeless, golden age of junior high humor. And before you know, it’s time for dessert. You know the house specialty: Chocolate Thunder from Down Under. We felt some need (go figure) to add a few variants to our scato-mythology. Here are but a few of the fine desserts concocted in our twisted little minds that evening:

    • Chocolate Splatter from Off a Ladder
    • Chocolate Sauce from the End I Don’t Floss
    • Chocolate Dessert that Made My Butt Hurt
    • Chocolate Eclair from My Underwear
    • Chocolate Truffles from that Hobo Who Shuffles
    • Chocolate Chiffon From That Bowl I Sit On
    • Chocolate Victual I Found In This Stall
    • Chocolate Bo Peep From Under That Sheep

    Damn, when I started this, I was sure I would remember some better ones than these. Or maybe they just seemed better at the time. Oh well, I can’t give you those last 45 seconds of your life back, so maybe it’s best you move along as quickly as you can…

     
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