Beyond The Stockade There Is Chaos And Nothingness
Friday, April 25, 2003 This week, a man walking down Main Street in Bennington, Vermont wearing only a pair of boots was stopped by police. They couldn't arrest him, however, because there is no law against public nudity in Vermont.
It seems like somebody would have thought this through. It seems like somebody, at some point in the history of the state, especially in the state of Vermont, would have tried to make a point of shedding their Dickies and communing with the land, even if that land happened to be in downtown Bennington. And it seems to me that the borders of Vermont contain equal parts Puritans and Hippies. Maybe more Puritans. And frankly, Puritans usually have a way of putting a stop to things like that, though it appears that they are either asleep on the job or they need me to send my mother up there to turn her icy, reproachful stare on them. Guys, legalizing public nudity does not mean that Jessica Simpson will show up one day and sunbathe naked on the town square.
So what the hell?
Two Southwest Pilots were fired for removing their clothing during flight. No further charges will be pursued, however, because there is no law against operating a plane while naked.
Now, see, it's not that I'm against nudity really. If I can see you, however, it's honestly best if you happen to be made of marble or some other cold, hard and inanimate substance. And if you are made of some cold, hard and inanimate substance you shouldn't be flying my plane.
Has the FAA never run across a situation like this? Did they not find it necessary to prepare for the eventuality that someone, sometime would take advantage of that little loophole in regulations?
Good glory, everybody put your clothes on. I'm not against tittie bars, sprezlheim or nudist camps. I really don't care. Knock yourselves out. If you are walking down my street, however, you have about .5 seconds to yell "PERFORMANCE ART" and smock yourself before I hit you with the hose.
Anyway, happy Friday...Oh so tired from staying out too late last night...Oh so guilty about opting for the chicken kebab sandwich at D'Engeos instead of hauling my flabby (and well covered) ass around the block at lunchtime...Oh well...
posted by [AOK] | 4:18 PM
Thursday, April 24, 2003 Do you ever have the feeling like you ran over somebody's dog or something, because everybody all of a sudden really doesn't seem to want to talk to you?
People you were casual with yesterday all of a sudden give you very formal answers to questions like "How are you?"
It's "I'm fine, thank you.", spoken with a tone of voice generally reserved for toner cartridge vendors, when yesterday they might have at least asked what you did last night. Or even worse, they are outright hostile.
I guarantee I'm not imagining this.
I can't say I don't care, because obviously I'm making note of it, but I care only in the sense that it's like a time warp back to sixth grade, when girls did this to me on a semi regular basis for no discernable reason (though I was nerdier than most so I was an easy mark).
I purposely don't make an effort to make my workmates into hangout buddies, but I do try to be friendly when I talk to them. So what the hell did I do and why do I care? It's not just one person, so I'm either projecting a really bright aura of misanthropy and it's me, or somebody got themselves offended by something, the playground posse closed ranks, and it's not me.
My general feeling is that if someone has an issue with me and they don't fill me in, it's not my issue. I'm not about to ask.
But now at least I'm big enough to go kick the shit out of some eleven year olds.
posted by [AOK] | 3:53 PM
Wednesday, April 23, 2003 I'm so ding dang busy. posted by [AOK] | 4:06 PM
Tuesday, April 22, 2003 A middle-aged man in grubby clothes rocks back on wooden chair legs on a porch. Ben approaches with a cardboard box. It has been raining, and it is going to rain.
- Oh -
- Heh heh heh -
- Shut up -
- Heh heh... -
Ben drops the box on the porch and goes inside.
- You're early. Dinner ain't ready... -
- I know. I know, Ma. I KNOW! -
- ...no way to speak to your mother... -
- Jesus Christ! -
- ...Oh!...oh... -
He heads for the basement door
- ...foul... -
Slams it shut behind him. Descends to a rec room where he turns on a TV. A man is talking.
- Still! -
He looks up. There is a face in the basement window. It is the man from the porch. The man grins.
- Heh heh heh -
- AAAAAAAHHHHHH! Shut up! Shut up! -
He piles books on the window ledge until the man's face is obscured. He swings around and pulls an object from his pocket. He wads up some paper and lights it on fire in an ashtray, and holds the object over it. With his other hand he reaches into a jar and pulls out a pinch of powder, which he sprinkles over the flame. There is a loud explosion of a lightning strike outside.
- This is insane. I don't get it at all. -
He begins to pull down jars and bags and a large wooden bowl. He pulls a book from a shelf and follows along, adding the contents of the containers to the bowl and chanting.
- Mel mel fixwan hando geema clay geema clay... -
The man on the TV screen begins to clutch at his throat.
- ...mata kall mem kall... -
The man on the TV tries to scream but cannot.
- ...bontala mel mel bontala... -
There is obvious pandemonium around the speaker. The screen cuts to commercial.
- Are you getting what you can from your wireless network? -
Ben looks up and closes the book.
posted by [AOK] | 3:28 PM
Monday, April 21, 2003 Oh dear.
I'm going to take a shot at this in a little bit but I'm not guaranteeing anything today... posted by [AOK] | 4:16 PM