So, I moved over Nor'Easter/Halloween weekend and have been living in my new digs at the shore for two months.
Shore living rules. It's like year-round idiot summer camp. I ride my purple with pink hibiscus flower decals and white walls beach cruiser down the middle of the street and hightail it to the curb when one of a dozen cars that constitute traffic approaches. People run, ride bikes, paddle board and surf in all weather. If the tide has been out for a few hours, the sand is packed enough to ride on. And a few weeks ago, I rode into a murmuration -- the freakin coolest thing ever -- of a few hundred sandpipers.
I harbor no ill will toward Philadelphia. I love that town. But man, living there can really wear you down. There are so many just haggard, miserable sons of bitches there, it became too much for me to take. To listen to the crows at the corner store, kids at the dog park and anyone at the local watering hole you learn quickly that everything's a hassle, everything sucks and everything is stupid. It was like living in middle school, except the obese kids run the show and they hate everyone and anything that isn't equally sunless.
My pre-gentrification neighborhood used to be cool. Little ethnic pockets with insane restaurants and all kinds of funny, neat, new people to meet. But as the economy tanked further, the mom and pop shops went out of business, families moved in with other families across town to make ends meet, and the city budget covered less and less.
Poverty doesn't breed anything good, and slather it on top of a particular culture of people who have nothing positive to say to begin with, and it is a fucking drag. Every day. Getting on public trans and listening to people bitch and moan endlessly, never offer any small nicety or help to another, and whine about the whys and hows of their great big tragedy of an existence.
I prefer to be the most negative person in the room. And in F-Town and the surrounding area, I wasn't in the top 10,000.
A couple of years ago I saw a tv weather report from Buffalo, N.Y. A pretty, smiling girl in pink snowboarding pants and an aqua- and turquoise-print jacket was sitting on top of a 22-foot mound of snow made by a frontloader clearing a parking lot. She was wearing massive ski goggles and her microphone was dwarfed by enormous gauntlet-style boarding gloves. It was snowing like a bastard and the wind kept warping the mic reception.
She had a huge smile on her face the whole time she reported 24 inches of snow that had fallen the previous day and the 12 or so more inches that were en route. Yes! Your commute tomorrow should be a mess! And make sure you break the ice on top of water bowls for outdoor pets or livestock, so that they can drink unimpeded! And be sure to cover your faces because the winds are forecasted to top out at 50 mile an hour gusts!
Then she slid down the snow pile and threw a snowball at her cameraman.
It was the cutest, happiest weather report I've ever seen, and it made me long for the '70s, when inclement weather meant SNOW DAY! Everybody report to the hill I live on with skis, sleds, tobaggans, flying discs, upside-down skateboards, stolen lunch trays and whatever else you can find! Snow day meant AWESOME. People who commuted to work let us skitch off their bumpers. Random strangers would sneaker slide down hills next to you and grab your hand to make a chain.
I lived at the bottom of the second-largest hill in town, so you know my Mom was noodling down our angled driveway in treaded after-ski boots carrying a tray of hot chocolates with marshmallows and whipped cream for everybody. My folks were also the first ones on scene when the inevitable genius overcorrected imprecise sled steering and went careening off the road into the ravine.
I recently swung back through my hometown on my way home from work and noticed some new bits of construction: two big speed bumps at the bottom of the hill. I applaud the installation of the speed bumps for the purpose of controlling traffic. There is no way to measure accurately the number of cars that've bottomed out crossing my street and landing in the basin of the hill, other than the awesome damage to the road surface. Especially during the summer, the road would go quickly from smooth surface to practically gravel in a few weeks' time. I had no idea so many Jersey residents even owned Monte Carlos.
But then it hit me. Speed bumps covered by SNOW. YES. Talk about catching air, you don't need a big block Chevy engine to launch off a speed bump at the bottom of a hill. Admittedly, the .375 drag coefficient couldn't hurt, but there are TWO bumps in quick succession.
As far as hometown construction improvements go, this one is aces. A few years ago, I assume in an attempt to accomodate both people with disabilities and parents [nannies] with strollers, the town dropped corner curbs down to street level. The unfortunate and completely hilarious downside to that master stroke is that they flood, and in the winter, freeze into solid ice. So, no one in a wheelchair or scooter can get on the sidewalk via the ramp; and from what I've witnessed firsthand, stroller pushers now approach over the tall part of the curb and go across lawns. Your only other option is to hug the street gutter until you get to somebody's driveway.
So, while I'm sure drivers are in for a serious wake-up call if they contine to hit my street at 40+ mph, sledders are in for a major treat.
This week's forecast is rain, but when it comes to winter sports, I can be patient. I'll be taking the day off and sledding the hell out of that hill at the first sign of snowfall.
I got two new Twitter followers to add to my enormous two-digit following. Hooray! Then I saw all the x's and numbers.
Whore 1 is a 19-year old just looking to flirt and chat with a man who is right for her. Super. Clearly you gleaned from my profile no gender, no interests and nothing identifiable. I don't know how you knew, but yes, I am that dream man.
Idiot.
Whore 2 is some Asian hoon who tells me flat out she won't fuck me on the first date, but that maybe we can work up to it. Her profile photo is of a bone-scrawny tart, ass naked, with her hands over her laughably sad itty bitties.
Countdown to death by STD in 5... 4...
And not five minutes ago, some a-hole called ladiemandy something or another @aol tried to Gchat me.
AOL? Hilarious.
The downside to technology is fucking horrible. When I think spam I don't think carnival, I think ammo. Rounds and rounds and rounds of ammo.
Now buy me expensive shit and send me money, whores! There's a new pimp in town with a shiny chrome car antenna.
It appears a bunch of entitled, ironically bitchy men can't seem to stop crying to the press about how restricted their lives have become as a result of Women's Lib and general intolerance for shitty male-dominated garbage.
Well, I have a proposal.
Ignorant white trash, r'tardlicans and Herman Cain should feel free to say whatever the fuck they want.
No touchie. No professional pressure, no backtracking on womancentric legislation, and don't even kid yourself about trying to mess with Roe.
But freedom of sexist speech, absolutely. And when your sentence ends, and a tire iron smashes out your front teeth, we won't act all shocked at your crude words.
Totally fair.
You infer that I'm a whore though I don't accept payment in exchange for sexual acts -- really I'm just smarter and more clever than you -- I get to break your nose with a brick. Say I have an awesome rack -- obvious to all with eyes and unnecessary to point out -- and I lateral-kick you in the old man knee. Say anything about my mother -- mistake -- and I go Carl Spackler on your hamstrings.
Who are these women who stand by and allow these comments to slide in the first place? Not me. None of my friends. Certainly none of the women in my family. Hell, I don't even know any women who wouldn't backhand you across the face or toss a drink on the crotch of your precious power suit for such things
We don't need to be protected by the likes of a professional sexual harrasser or an arrogant christianist dickweed from Pennsylvania. How dare you even suggest as much. If I were you, I'd do something about those nasty saddlebags attached to the sides of your face, Prick Asstorum, and mind your own fucking business.
Go, do your thing.
Just don't go whining to Congress when we fuck your shit up so bad your quality of life becomes that of a pre-'60s American woman. And remember who you're pissing off -- women with concealed carry permits; women who've experienced the pain of childbirth and consider your incessant droning background noise; women who've gone to war; women raised by men who are unafraid of women; and mean girls from Jersey.
We know who you think you are. It's time you find out and experience firsthand what we think of you.
*****
All men members of 2log are excluded from this proposal, as none are whiny, sexist pricks trying to prove their worth in comparison to minority populations or by brute strength.
The ladies love the 2log and all its brainy, sexy, cultured testosterone.
I got a flu shot last week. A very nice woman by the name of Candice -- no relation to our Candice, other than parents with lovely taste in names -- called my shoulder ink "artistic" when I unshucked my arm for a good shooting surface.
For the next two days, standard fare -- felt like somebody slugged me in the arm, and I gradually started feeling less good, less awake and zzZZZzzz...
This morning, I woke up before my alarm with a bitching sinus headache. I slid out of my room in the dark to grab my allergy med nasal spray. One shot left, bleh, horrible horrible taste. And what should have been one shot right, but I lost my grip on the damn thing and wrecked myself in the face with the spring-loaded nozzle.
I saw stars. Hurt like a MFer. And all the allergy spray ran right back out and down my face while I stood there, drooling and waiting for my skull to stop ringing.
I walked from my dresser to my vanity, leaned over my vanity chair holding my work clothes from yesterday, and grabbed some tissues. Then I hit the floor lamp, and baby, that ain't drool.
Buckets of blood. Running out of my face like a spigot. Bruce Campbell couldn't have done better with the fx team from Evil Dead 2.
And of course I had walked through it and dragged my track pant cuffs through it. All down the front of my dresser, all down the front of my vanity, all over the tissue box, my work pants, my belt and a pair of Fryes.
If you ever wonder if you're a complete idiot, the answer to that question lies in whether or not you've sat on your bedroom floor with tissues shoved up your deluging nostrils, frantically mink oiling blood off your boots and belt, while your pants and socks soak in a sink of cold water.
Harold Camping, who predicted Oct. 21 to be the day Christians would be caught up to heaven and that God would judge the world, said on Oct. 16 that he is no longer able to lead Family Radio Stations, Inc. or his ministry, and his wife has confirmed that the 90-year-old radio evangelist has retired, a documentarian close to Camping told The Christian Post in an exclusive interview.
Camping also said in a private conversation that day that nobody could know exactly when the time of the apocalypse would come, according to his interlocutor. That statement constitutes a radical change in his teachings, as Camping used to claim that the date of the end of the world is encoded in the Bible, and that he had found the way to read it through studying it closely for many years.
Brandon Tauszik, a documentarian who has been attending Camping’s Oakland, Calif., church for eight months told The Christian Post Sunday that he spoke with Camping in person on Oct. 16, only a few days before the second coming of Christ was about to occur, as predicted by the Bible teacher.
Tauszik said that Camping seemed very unsure about the exact date of the end of the world when they spoke. When asked if he was wondering what would happen Friday (Oct. 21), Camping reportedly said that God has not given anyone the power to know exactly when the Rapture would come – a radical change from what Camping had said only last month in an audio message. In that September message, published on Family Radio's website, Camping, although sounding less sure about his calculations, said, "The end is going to come very, very quietly probably within the next month. It will happen, that is, by October 21."
Tauszik was one of the very few people who managed to speak to Camping recently in the days following his third failed doomsday prediction.
The radio host has not been commenting on his prediction ever since he released the recorded broadcast concerning Oct. 21 on Family Radio's website. After Friday's apocalypse did not occur, Camping refused to speak to the press. Camping's wife, Shirley Camping, was very suspicious of Tauszik when he appeared at their doorstep, wanting to make sure he was not working for any newspaper or magazine. She added that neither of them wanted to speak to the press.
Camping has been at home ever since he left the hospital after suffering a stroke in June. In his last broadcasted address he sounded weak, as he did when speaking to Tauszik. He has not been participating in services at his church, while other pastors associated with Family Radio were delivering his messages to the congregation, such as Tom Evans and John Gomez.
Camping seemed still very disappointed that his calculations about the May 21 doomsday were wrong, according to Tauszik. The radio evangelist asserted that he was very careful in making the calculations, and then said in a complaining tone that no matter how careful one is in his calculations, God can still withhold information from him.
Meanwhile, since Friday, at the church and over the radio, Camping's followers have been hearing other preachers say that, though they were all disappointed that Christ did not come, good Christians should live well every day, being ready for that date when Christ finally does return to Earth.
Camping has not spoken publicly to the press since Thursday, Oct. 20, when he reportedly told a Reuters reporter who knocked on the door of his Alameda home: "We're not having a conversation. There’s nothing to report here." Reuters reported that Camping was dressed in a bathrobe and using a walker.
On May 22, Camping reportedly told Tauszik that he was in shock and totally bewildered that the great earthquake he anticipated did not strike. He said: "I have no answers," according to the documentarian.
**********
No shit, crust bag. Why don't you leave all your winnings to charity and go take your chances on the other side. Jesus and Co. sure loved rich assholes who robbed the poor and clueless back in the day.
**********
SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DIE ALREADY, YOU GROSS BAG OF OLD MAN BALLS.
And, followers of Harold Camping?
SUCK IT, SUCKERS! You know that asshole lives like a fucking celebrity off your retirement money, right? You idiots. He and his wife live like royalty in the 902 off of pure lies and total horseshit, bought and paid for by the money you used to spend on groceries and healthcare. You deserve the hardship for letting go of the reins and living your shitty existences like brainless sheep.
Sleep restlessly with the knowledge that Harold Camping's family will blow your savings on frivolous crap and five-star restaurants.
They're Americans when you need them to die for your cause, but rabble-rousers when they speak their minds.
How dare you, Sean Hannity. Fuck off, indeed.
U.S. Marines tell Hannity to ‘f*ck off’
By Stephen C. Webster
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
At “Occupy Wall Street” on Monday, two men in military colors who claimed to be Marines spoke to a cameraman with “The Other 99 Percent” and explained why they joined the protest.
Along the way, both men gave arch-conservative Fox News opinion host Sean Hannity a piece of their minds.
“These wars that are going on, I don’t believe in them,” one man said. “I want my brothers and sisters to come back home. The bailout was a farce. It robbed American people.”
“Like the other 99 percent, I got forced into student loan debt that I’m never going to get out of,” the other man said. “Because with two degrees and a full time job, I still don’t make enough to pay all my bills. I had to fight for my G.I. Bill by writing my Senator a couple of times. No, it gave me just enough money to buy books this semester.”
The cameraman then asked what their feelings were about Hannity hosting a protester on his show, only to call her “un-American.”
“You know, that’s pretty funny,” the first man responded. “When they have these protests, violent protests overseas, we call ‘em democratic. The people are trying to get theirs. But as soon as we start doing ‘em here, they call us unpatriotic. So that’s, uh, very ironic that he would say something like that.”
“Is there anything that you would specifically tell him if he was here standing in front of you?” the cameraman asked.
“I’d tell him to fuck off,” the veteran replied. “That’s what I would tell him.”
The other man added: “I think that’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. Everyone here loves this country and wants to see it grow and wants to see it better. They love the people, they love their community, their neighbors. There hasn’t been racism here or bigotry. We get along as one big family, and that’s what we want for the rest of the country. All the people who are suffering in debt, who can’t speak for themselves, who are too afraid to voice their opinion, we’re here fighting for their rights.”
The Marines’ sentiments toward Hannity aren’t so uncommon among the “Occupy” protesters. Fox News host Geraldo Rivera was basically booed out of the protest camp earlier in the week by throngs of activists chanting “Fox News lies,” effectively shutting down his attempt at coverage.
The video below was published to YouTube on Oct. 10, 2011.
*****
This is precisely the kind of shit we need to pay attention to. I've always heard people say you can judge a society by how it treats its elderly.
Clearly the U.S. fucking hates our grandparents. Why else would you pare down their medical care so you can keep your box seats, buy a new convertible every year and switch Aspen ski homes each month.
Because you're greedy, hateful people of the lowest order.
I prefer to judge my society by how we treat those we send to war.
Suffice to say, I'd rather be an octogenarian than a veteran any day. No group gets fucked over worse, more often or with more dismissive waves of the hand than the members of the U.S. Armed Forces.
It's a disgrace.
The USMC vet on the right paid his own way through school and still can't make ends meet. Paris Hilton drives a McLaren.
Lots of veterans enlisted so that they could take advantage of whichever incarnation of the GI Bill exists, only to come home and find their benefits and BAH slashed. Kim Kardashian is set to clear $18 mil for having a fat ass and getting married on tv.
We know who the enemies are.
A few words from one of my very favorite characters, Herman Blume:
Take dead aim on the rich kids. Get them in the cross hairs. And take them down.
West Philly Teens Build Ground-Breaking "Badass Hybrid" Car
The Huffington PostCarolyn Gregoire First Posted: 10/11/11 07:55 AM ETUpdated: 10/11/11 10:04 AM ET
Who says teenagers can't change the world? In their free time after school, 15 teens from a low-income high school in Philadelphia built a car. And not just any car: their 160 mpg Factory Five GTM biodiesel hybrid kit car has outperformed other fuel-efficient cars built by professional engineers and graduate students from Ivy League universities.
Yesterday, this group of teenagers -- the West Philly Hybrid X Team, a motley crew of 15 high school mechanics from West Philadelphia High School -- were honored with the "Next Generation Award" at the Popular Mechanics Breakthrough Awards, which recognizes visionaries whose innovation in the fields of technology, medicine, space exploration, automotive design, and environmental engineering is changing the world we live in. Other winners include Steven Squyres and his Spirit & Opportunity team, who created robotic surrogates for humans on Mars, as well as director James Cameron, who was honored with the "Leadership Award" for innovations in filmmaking technology used for the film Avatar.
Under the guidance of faculty advisor Simon Hauger -- a former electrical engineer who now teaches math and science -- the West Philly team entered two vehicles into last year's Progressive Insurance Automotive X Prize, a $10 million prize for which 111 teams signed up. Out of the 111, West Philly was the only high school team. Their entries were a Factory Five GTM biodiesel hybrid kit car that achieved the equivalent of 160 mpg over 100 miles, and a converted Ford Focus gasoline plug-in hybrid. The team blew everyone's expectations out of the water when they made it to the semifinals, beating out over 80 teams. Equally astounding is the fact that at a school where 85 percent of students are economically disadvantaged and in a region with a drop-out rate of over 50 percent, every single member of the X Prize team graduated.
The program at West Philly started in 1998 with an electric go-cart which won the science fair. And, as Hauger adds, "Kids from West Philly aren't supposed to win the science fair." Over the next few years the team developed a full-sized vehicle that got 180 mpg equivalent, and went on to beat MIT and 40 other teams in 2002 at the prestigious Tour de Sol competition.
"[In 2002], urban high school students realized that these cars were the future," said Hauger. "But they felt like something was lacking -- if hybrids were going to catch on, something needed to change. I challenged them to solve that problem and they came up with the idea of making a badass hybrid. Why can't a hybrid be a sports car that's fast and fuel-efficient?"
In addition to winning the Breakthrough Award, their "badass hybrid" earned the team recognition from President Obama. In his announcement of the creation of a new initiative to increase resources for STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) education, Obama said:
"These students, under the direction of some terrific teachers, entered a global competition against serious corporate and college challengers to build a production-ready car that runs on very little fuel. So as part of an after-school program, they worked to get their vehicles ready... At first, the adults didn't really think their team had a chance -- admit it. But then something strange happened. Where older and more seasoned teams failed, they succeeded..."
The success of their project has drawn national attention to the importance of hands-on education in helping students with different learning styles thrive academically.
"People seem to believe... that if you can't learn at a desk in a row, and if you can't take a test, that you're not smart. But some people learn better when they're able to go to the shop and see it in action," said Azeem Hill, who represented the team at a meeting at the White House. After starting the program as a freshman in high school, he is now in his first year of college.
The "Next Generation Award" is just the beginning for this ambitious team. They're already knee-deep in their next project, building an electric version of Edison2 founder and Automotive X Prize champion Oliver Kuttner's Very Light Car (VLC), which, when finished, would become the world's most efficient electric car. The team is also looking to start a nonprofit after-school program which will employ students to create the vehicle. These students will use their hands and their heads to build real-life technology that will contribute to a greener, more sustainable world. It doesn't sound too bad for an after-school job.
"We have a fundamental belief that teenagers have valuable insights on solvable real-world problems right now," said Hauger. "When they're entrusted with that, not only can they build amazing cars, but they develop amazing business plans."
The Huffington Post Carolyn Gregoire First Posted: 10/11/11 07:55 AM ET Updated: 10/11/11 10:04 AM ET