I am a registered independent. I hate both of the major parties equally. I always vote but my choices are not based on who will do the best job. I am forced to choose who will do the least amount of damage to me and my lifestyle.
The rhetoric and lies put forth by both parties now cripples our government and makes it ineffective. I actually love that the government has lost its effectiveness. The citizens of this country are better off, as a whole, when government gets less done.
"No man's life, liberty or property are safe while the Legislature is in session." -Gideon J. Tucker
All that being said, I offer some advice to the Republicans and Democrats out there. The advice is conveniently color coded and unranked.
You must drop the elitist persona you emit. You come off as smarter than the people and your language reveals an attitude that you are superior to the common citizen. Never underestimate how smart the common man is and nobody knows better what is good for him or her than... him or her.
Having morals is crucial in your personal and family's success. Don't denigrate your morals by bringing them into the realm of politics. Keep them in the home where they will yield the results they deserve.
You were once the kinder, gentler party. You've become the bitter and angry party. It was better for you when the elephants looked like the herd on the rampage.
Issues must be simplified in order to be resolved. You tend to oversimplify (which is fine). Stop pretending that the oversimplification is the truth. Never forget it is, in reality, a lot more complicated.
Government is not the savior. Government is not our parent. Everything the government touches turns to shit. Don't look to the government to solve anything. Stop acting like the government can make anything better for anyone.
Government is not the savior. Government is not our parent. Everything the government touches turns to shit. Don't look to the government to solve anything. Stop acting like the government can make anything better for anyone.
Let people live their lives and teach your family how you want them to live theirs. Do not look to government to legislate lifestyles. This only works in the home when it is you doing the legislation.
Stop letting the crazies in your party appear to be speaking for you (i.e. Michael Moore, Howard Dean, Ted Kennedy, etc)
Stop letting the crazies in your party appear to be speaking for you (i.e. Pat Robertson, Ann Coulter, etc) Heterosexual white men are not responsible for all the evils in this country.
Gay black women are not responsible for all the evils in this country.
If you leave people alone and stop trying to help them by making their decisions for them they will be better off. You don't know better than they do.
If you leave people alone and stop trying to raise their families for them they will raise better families. You don't know what is right for them better than they do.
Throwing money at poverty only makes sure that it won't go away. Don't replace or hinder the only solution for poverty; let business flourish and create jobs where hard work has a chance of bringing rewards.
You use to be the fiscally conservative party. How about trying that out again.
Stop trying to build your party by tearing down the other. Your only chance of ever getting control of Washington again depends on you starting to stand for something again. You stand for nothing now. You are the party of pointing a finger and yelling, "THEY ARE EVIL". Start being the party of "We are...."
Bush is not always right nor is he always righteous. He has fucked up before and will fuck up again. Like you and all the presidents before him, he is human.
Bush is not always wrong nor is he evil. He has done some good things before and will do some more good things in the future. Like you and all the presidents before him, he is human.
If two people love each other leave them the fuck alone. Trust people to live their own lives.
If someone earns a dollar stop taking it from them and giving them 50-cents back. Trust people to know how to spend their own money.
Liberals, gays, Hollywood and the Jews don't have a secret society that runs the country.
Exxon, Haliburton and the NRA don't have a secret society that runs the country.
God will decide our fate and you have no clue how God thinks.
"That is pretty cool... I wonder if I could do that."
These are the words that pop into my head every time I end up taking on a new hobby. Ultimately I have one hobby; teaching myself things. I come across something I think is interesting and challenging and embark on a mission to teach myself how to do it.
This started more than twenty years ago when I started really getting into music. I wondered if I could learn to play a guitar. I saved up one summer for a guitar. By the end of the summer I had enough to get a classical 6-string and a beginners book.
Twenty or so years later I now have three guitars and a banjo. Granted, I am no Hendrix or DiFranco but I can play them.
This pattern has repeated itself with sleight-of-hand magic, art and modeling. I love the process of taking on a new challenge and the journey of self-education.
Over ten years ago I started playing poker. After dozens of books and countless hours of play I've become a pretty good player. My winnings have turned into plane tickets and days at the spa for A*. I play in a regular no-limit cash game every Monday night and run my own poker league that plays a few times a month. I am also an avid online player.
Poker is the most challenging of all the things I've tried to teach myself. It combines math and statistics with self control and perception. In many ways poker is more like golf than blackjack. More often than not, it is the player that beats himself, not the other players.
Mr. Boxer and I are going to Vegas in October for a hard-core week of poker.
One downside to my unending drive to learn new things is I've become a jack of all trades and a master of none. The only things I've become better than average at are poker and magic. I was able to support myself for a year doing magic (in college). I am considered one of the top players in all of the regular poker games I play in. I am a winning poker player in Vegas.
I wish I could play the guitar like Mr. Drinker. I wish I could paint like Vettriano. Sometimes I wish I could amaze like Gary Kurtz and make final tables in million dollar tournaments like Ivey. I find comfort in knowing that if I took all of my energies and focused on just one of these endeavors the others would have never been developed. I cannot imagine knowing just one of these skills. All of them enrich my life.
(editors note: Christ what a boring post. Thanks for enduring it!)
Still tinkering the my effing webcam. Looks like it is working right now.
Won an online poker tourney last night.... used the winnings to but A* a ticket down here next month.
The local news people were funny as hell last night during the hurricane. HofSnark says he wants to get a job as a local reporter... (note these are actual questions the anchors asked the reporters last night):
Anchor: Let's go to HofSnark down on the beach in Lauderdale. Can you hear me HofSnark ?
HofSnark : No
Anchor: It looks like there is a problem with the audio
HofSnark : Hey, ass, if I was able to answer the question.... do you think I might of heard you ask it?
Anchor: (pause) It appears to be working now. Hof, are there any people on the beach now?
HofSnark: Um... you can see me on camera and I am on the God Damn beach. Did you think I was in a warehouse somewhere in front of a green screen staging the moon landing?
Anchor: (pause) Has the sand and water had any effect on your cameras or equipment?
HofSnark: Yes. Both blowing sand and buckets of water enhance the performance of electronics. Our cameras now have X-Ray vision. What do you think? *sheesh*
Anchor: Does there appear to be any damage?
HofSnar : Yes. There is major damage to my dreams of being an "All the President's Men"-esque reporter. Did you know I went journalism school? Four effing years and I here I am answering your innane queries because you have better teeth and hair me.
Anchor: It looks pretty windy out there....
HofSnark: Ya think? It is a friggin hurricane! It's blowing through here like your wife in the copy room at the Christmas party last year. Oh, Bob...
Hof's in the middle of this so he asked me to guest post. FYI: His WebCam post was his 200th post!!! WOO HOO!!! Show your love people, show your love.
Speaking of which, Katrina (nasty-whiny bitch) is the reason Hof won't be posting for the next few days. Obviously, it goes without saying the WebCam will not be on either. Aw, how remiss we will all be not being able to see him eating a sandwich (he burned himself w/ that by the way).
Yes, these are the exciting lives we lead. How we don't have a reality show truly mystifies me.
Thanks to the crap Hofzinser has been posting about, you should have a better idea why I can't stand him.
He's finally revealed that he is a card-carrying, pocket-protecting, taped-glasses, comic-reading, doll-painting dork. Whenever he lets "...and not to pull your halo down" turn into your typical self-absorbed drivel (much like the crap you post on your blog) I always swing in from the rafters to give you a post that is actually worth reading. This will be a nice break from the crap he's been posting as of late. "I'm not a geek, I just play one on TV"... die, Hof, die.
By the way, he mentioned that he has geeky hobbies but stated that his ability to get laid in school exempts him from actually being a dork. What he failed to mention was the quality of tail he got in school. Good lord. I know. I was there. Trust me, it only proves that you don't have to be that high to ride his ride. When he was doing very bad things to those nasties I WAS HIGH just to survive the experience.
To quote my fellow snarker, Dan... "I was in the corner, holding myself, rocking back and forth saying 'skittles, skittles, skittles'."
How he managed to land a hot piece of Latin ass like A*, is beyond me. One of these days he will leave me alone with her and I will show her what a Man can do. I will punish her for things she didn't do. I'll have her giving back things she never stole. She will be speaking in languages that have been dead for centuries.
Speaking of A*, not too long ago I snuck in Hof's bag on a trip to NYC to visit her. I did the usual stuff like hide in the bathroom so I can watch her shower, go through her underwear, etc. I also got to meet her lovely current roommate again. All I can say is....
The bitch is going to wrinkle-up like a prune and die lonely.
When she does, I will come visit her in the old-folks home and put cayenne pepper in her Preparation H.
You cannot believe this wank. Which brings me to this:
Top 5 Reasons A*'s Roommate will die lonley (and deserves it)
5. She refuses to acknowledge that she shares the space we call earth with other people. When Hof, I or A* walked into (or through) the apartment she acted as if we were that brat kid in Sixth Sense. I felt like Patrick Swayze in "Ghost". You could get right in her face and wave your hand in front of her eyes. She would walk right through your ethereal body without, in any way, making it appear she saw you. Listen, cunt, I am here and you will RECOGNIZE!
4. She cooks in a cast iron skillet. She does not clean said skillet. She then cooks in it again, uncleaned, several days later. Ole Darwin is going to catch up to her on this one. Not so smart. Cooking your food in a nice puree of old moldy leftovers from four days ago... not so much. Maybe she will get a tapeworm so instead of eating fat-free pork rinds, she will lose weight by parasite.
3. She uses tupperware like there is a contest. She puts everything in tupperware. She puts her tupperware.... in tupperware. She has meals prepped in tupperware. She dumps the tasteless food on a plate and drops the soiled tupperware in the sink. Like the skillet... it is not rinsed or cleaned. The tupperware, with its bits of foodyness, is left in the sink as a kind of seventh-grade science project. Currently she has patented three new strains of penicillin. It is not clear if she ever intends on cleaning the plastic dishes of moldy delight as she lets it stack until...
2. Both A* and Hof washed their dishes on a daily basis. In an attempt to appear gallant and try to get an extra romp in the sack with A*, Hof also proceeded to wash the roommates leaning tower of Gladware. Did the forever-single Jersey slunt ever thank Hof? No. Did she ever acknowledge that the dishes were washed by someone other than a Beaner Dishwashing Fairy? No. When A* takes out the garbage or cleans the kitchen in a small attempt at preventing county workers from showing up in HazMat suits, does Princess JerseyJunkAss thank A*? No.
For kicks and giggles I Googled my actual birth day (6/7/1972). Here is what I found out (you are so dying to learn this, no?)
Pink Floyd recorded the song "Money" on the day I was born.
Karl Urban was born the same day as I (Eomer from the LOR:Return of the King movie)
"Grease" opened at Broadhurst Theater New York City for 3,388 performances
Here was the Top 10 songs on that day:
1 THE CANDY MAN by Sammy Davis Jr. (MGM 14320) 2 OH GIRL by Chi-Lites 3 SYLVIA’S MOTHER by Dr. Hook & Medicine Show 4 NICE TO BE WITH YOU by Gallery 5 LITTLE BITTY PRETTY ONE by Jackson 5 6 I’LL TAKE YOU THERE by Staple Singers 7 WALKIN’ IN THE RAIN WITH THE ONE I LOVE by Love Unlimited 8 SONG SUNG BLUE by Neil Diamond 9 (Last Night) I DIDN’T GET TO SLEEP AT ALL by 5th Dimension 10 TUMBLING DICE by Rolling Stones
Recently, I revealed one of my geeky obsessions/hobbies. Here are some of the models I've painted. Keep in mind they are about as tall as your thumb. Believe it or not, these little Warhammer 40k models are a bitch to paint.
This is a converted Grey Knights terminator for my Black Templar army
This is a rhino troop carrier for my Templar army
This is one of my Tyranid Warriors
On the left is a kroot warrior from my Tau army. On the right is the commander of my Dark Eldar army. Note the torn-off face he is using as a mask.
This is a sergeant and guardsman from my Desert Scorpions Imperial Guard army.
Mr. Boxer and I just booked a poker weekend in Vegas (baby!). Just he and I and poker. We fly in Sunday October 23rd and leave on the red-eye the following Thursday night. Four days and four nights of poker.
I love the town and REALLY love going for strict vacation (vs. for work). I wouldn't mind catching a drink with my Vegas readers one night. As the date approaches we can arrange a night out.
We got a great deal. Airfare from Ft. Lauderdale and hotel (4 nights - Tropicana) for the two of us... $835. Not too shabby. A* will be coming out there with me in December when I have to teach some seminars.
Eat, shit, poker... and maybe sleep. We shall see.
I am a vocationally successful reasonably good looking guy in his early thirties who... well... has MEGA GEEK hobbies.
I am not sure how (or why), but I've always been social, interactive and never the pocket-protector geek YET the people that share the same hobbies as me... well... they are card-carrying dorks (unlike me, of course!)
In high school I read Sci-Fi, played Dungeon and Dragons and read too many comic books. I managed to get laid... even had girlfriends. My leisure time was spent with acne-sporting virgins who liked to argue whether a +2 Demon Sword is enough to take down a level 45 frost giant if you had the right potions.
So now I am an adult. I make a salary with a healthy number of zeros at the end. I go out, have drinks with the guys, play poker, run and yada yada. I still have geeked hobbies.
City of Heroes
This is a MMG (massive multi player) game where you create a superhero. You design the look and pick your powers and you are dropped into a world where every other hero is a real person. At any given time, thousands of other custom heroes are fighting crime in the same city. You fight crime, investigate clues, join supergroups and team with others.
As you arrest more and more wrong-doers you gain more powers. The game is horribly addictive. You meet other people and immerse yourself in a fully interactive comic book. I spend around 5 hours a week saving the world.
Being true to my geek I made a comic cover for one of my heroes... Johnny Ace!
This is a hobby and a game in the truest sense. You buy models of small futuristic armies. You build them (alla model airplanes or cars) and paint them. The challenge is their size (the average model is only two inches tall) and taking the time in building and painting to express your creativity and make your army unique. Everyone playing buys their models from the same company. You want your army to get the "wow" from your opponent when it hits the table.
Each model has a certain point value attached to it. There are several "races" or different armies and you build your army up to a certain point value. This allows two players with very unique armies to hit the battlefield with evenly matched strength.
The game is fought on a homemade battlefield (think train set like terrain). I have a 4ft by 8ft battlefield I made in my basement complete with modeling grass, trees and a river made of resin (it looks like water). The board is custom designed and made by moi.
A game can take upwards of four hours and is VERY strategic. This hobby taps both my left and right brains. The creative makes the army, the logic brings them to victory.
Yep... as geeky as it gets.
BTW, if you play COH, look me up on Infinity server. My global chat handle is, you guessed it, hofzinser.
Seems so silly but did you ever just "know" something deep down while having nothing to back it up or explain it?
I just feel that moving from here (South Florida) and back to NC is going to be the greatest thing I've done in awhile. I am planning on doing that in April.
Sometime in the summer, A* is planning on moving to NC too. Somehow I feel like she will find a great job there and our life will be wonderful. Somehow I think, despite what some of her friends say, she will love North Carolina. Somehow I think she will work on her masters at my school (UNC).
Have you noticed that all of the 24hr news networks have reduced themselves to repeating this pattern:
Give a short cursory explanation of the topic/controversy
Introduce two "experts" to present the two sides of the issue (including "swoop sound", a fancy graphic then a split screen featuring the talking heads)
Let each "expert" rant their extreme view with no regard for each other
End segment with no resolution, deeper analysis or anything beyond two raving extremists who called each other a cow and an idiot
If any of you work for one of these networks, please confirm this is the list of requirements before you can appear as an "expert"
You must have a bad haircut
You must hate someone or something. I mean HATE. If you just disagree it is not enough.
If you are male you must be smug, written a book that nobody's read, and wear a bad tie
If you are female you must qualify as "bitchy" and have either a bad eye or nose job
You are not to listen or consider what was said by the other "expert". If it appears that you are actually on the program to discuss the topic you will not be invited back
If you are a reasonable person please note our "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Do not ever appear reasonable while on camera.
If the other "expert" you appear with is of the opposite sex, please appear extra dismissive and refer to their rant as "what you would expect from a (man/woman)". All other opinions presented that do not match the one you are to represent are to be discounted BY YOU because the opinion came from (pick one) a woman, a man, a conservative, a liberal or a "sympathizer who is bad for our country"
You do not have to respond to the question asked by the moderator/anchor. They will ask you a question but your response, in no way, needs to match up with the question. Talk about whatever you want and feel free to answer a question nobody asked.
Remember when you were a kid and they said if you died in your dream you will die in real life? I had my heart broken in a dream last night and woke up with a broken heart.
I've talked about what a vivid dreamer I am before. Last night I woke up around 4am crushed. I dreamt that I was over at A*'s parents' place. She came in the front door with a new "friend". As expected, he was younger and much better looking than I (doesn't take much, truth be told).
"Who is that?"
"We need to talk."
We stepped outside. She looked up into my eyes and placed the palm of her hand on my chest.
"I've met someone. I realize now that I need things you can't give me. I'm sorry."
I walked to my truck in a daze and drove off. My cell phone rings. It is her father.
"Dinner's ready, Hof."
"I can't come back. I hope you understand."
"Ask your daughter. I am no longer a part of her life."
I then woke up with the worst feeling. It felt like congealed tree sap was pumping through my veins. It took me about thirty seconds before I realized it was only a dream. It scared the ever-living shit out of me.
It would be karma justice for her to drop me cold. I've only been dumped twice in my life. I am always the one who does the dropping. Before my head cleared and I sorted reality from dream, the feeling that I had it coming consumed me. I kept thinking, "Nice. That was it. That was your one chance. You met the one who was going to make you happy. You effed it up."
After all is said and done, I'll take a sex dream next time. Please.
This is the sixteenth installment in the "Why do Men...?" series inspired from comments onthis post.
The horse-hung MooCowasked: Why do men's fancy pants come with multiple buttons? I mean my jeans only need one button. So why when I'm wearing fancy pants do I need two or sometimes three buttons around the waist? Is it only because fat dudes wear nice pants?
When a man is putting on fancy pants he is preparing to do one of the following:
go to work (look at who is Mr. Important with a grown-up job)
go to interview for work (tell them you know me, it can't hurt)
go on a hot fancy-pants worthy date (look who is dropping dough so he can increase his chances of getting into someone else's fancy pants)
going to church/temple (who are you trying to fool? God? He knows all about you. Your token visit to his house only fools you into thinking that He wasn't watching when you spent last Tuesday night watching reruns of Blossom with your not-so-fancy-pants around your ankles)
get married (look who is buying the cow, now)
go to court (she looked like she was 18)
Think of the multiple button puzzle on fancy pants as a pop quiz... a right of passage. You are getting ready for something very important. Are you worthy? Are you smart enough and good enough (and, darn it, do people like you)?
The makers of fancy pants are so tricky. There is the button at the top where all pant buttons are. There is the second button next to it which seems redundant then the mystery button that falls somewhere near the jewels and just behind the zipper. Once you get yourself strapped in, all button locked and your fly set you are ready to go. Your mind is focused, the Rubik Cube is solved. Lock and load, rock and roll you are ready to take on the task.
They also provide a nice fail-safe. If one of the main buttons fail because you use to fit in that suit when you bought last year yet somehow the air in the closet has been shrinking all of your clothes, you have back ups. Kind of like the second key needed to the big scary red button in the steel suitcase the president carries around in the movies. If you are wearing fancy pants, the last thing you want is for buttons to be a'popping and pants to be a'dropping (unless, of course, you are finished with your fancy pants dinner and she invited you back to her place for coffee).
Don't forget, your tie is tied the right length when the only fancy pants button is covered by the bottom of the tie. Bottom line... be happy you have to wear fancy pants. In most cases, it means you're are going somewhere... lookin' fancy.
On Friday I had the pleasure of finally meeting Jules and Allison. I've been an avid reader of their work for as long as I've blogged and have a terrible confession to make. When I come across women who are this talented (their writing is so captivating and HIL-A-R-EOUS) I expect them to be not-so-good looking. Why? I don't know but I do. I guess I imagine ladies who led a tortured life as outcasts that found solace through honing their writing skills.
I could not be more wrong.
Spencer (Jules' other half, whom I also met) has himself a stunning gal. Allison is proof that NYC is a city of fools. How does a city let someone so talented and so attractive stay single for long?
They are officially tied for third in the Prettiest of NYC contest (A* and Dan will always be the prettiest).
It was a great night of long-lost friends finally meeting for the first time. I had a smashing time.
I finished Catcher in the Rye yesterday. I'd never read it before (yet the paper I wrote on it in high school scored an "A"). What a book. Written in 1945, it was so ahead of its time. Salinger's writing style is so unique. You feel like you are in Holden's head. You understand him and his crazy. Great effing book.
Yesterday was such a great day. A* and I always seem to over-book our visits. We find ourselves running around meeting friends and making engagements. For my visit this time, we set aside yesterday as No Plans Saturday. We did a whole lotta nothing (and a little something). Just being lazy and whimsical with her allowed me to decompress for the first time in awhile. I am so relaxed and cannot imagine being away from her again.
I'm here until Wednesday morning then off to DC for some speaking engagements. I am sitting in the Hoboken Starbucks stealing internet from someone's wireless connection upstairs. The four-wheel army has arrived and clogged the place up again.
This edition of "Quotefest" features the author P.J. O'Rourke.
If you've never read Parliament of Whores or Eat the Rich... go NOW and read 'em. He is a true thinker and funny as hell. He is often labled "conservative" by many. You can be assured anyone trying to throw him into that camp has never read his work.
Here are some of my favorite P.J. quotes:
A hat should be taken off when you greet a lady and left off for the rest of your life. Nothing looks more stupid than a hat.
Always read something that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.
Anyway, no drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we're looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn't test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.
Even very young children need to be informed about dying. Explain the concept of death very carefully to your child. This will make threatening him with it much more effective.
Everybody knows how to raise children, except the people who have them.
Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.
Humans are the only animals that have children on purpose with the exception of guppies, who like to eat theirs.
If you are young and you drink a great deal it will spoil your health, slow your mind, make you fat - in other words, turn you into an adult.
Making fun of born-again Christians is like hunting dairy cows with a high powered rifle and scope.
Marijuana is self-punishing. It makes you acutely sensitive, and in this world, what worse punishment could there be?
Seriousness is stupidity sent to college.
Social Security is a government program with a constituency made up of the old, the near old and those who hope or fear to grow old. After 215 years of trying, we have finally discovered a special interest that includes 100 percent of the population. Now we can vote ourselves rich.
Staying married may have long-term benefits. You can elicit much more sympathy from friends over a bad marriage than you ever can from a good divorce.
The Democrats are the party that says government will make you smarter, taller, richer, and remove the crabgrass on your lawn. The Republicans are the party that says government doesn't work and then they get elected and prove it.
The mystery of government is not how Washington works but how to make it stop.
There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences.
Whatever it is that the government does, sensible Americans would prefer that the government does it to somebody else. This is the idea behind foreign policy.
With Epcot Center the Disney corporation has accomplished something I didn't think possible in today's world. They have created a land of make-believe that's worse than regular life.
And me personal favorite....
When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first things to be bought and sold are legislators.
I was cleaning out the "junk" drawer in my kitchen last night and found (next to the rubberbands, paperclips and expired coupons) the meaning of life.
"So that's where that damn thing went".
I really want to reveal it... and my blog is a perfect forum. The problem is I am getting on a plane this afternoon (NYC bloggers HERE I COME!) and must get a pile of stuff done before I go. I just don't have the time!
I'll set it right over... shit... where did I put it?
He was a stoner. A real first-thing-in-the-morning and last-thing-before-bed type stoner. We shared an apartment in college.
I came home one night after a long grind of bartending and the smell of it wafted from his room... it filled the apartment. Somewhat annoyed, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went into my room to do some reading.
I heard him get up around 4am (yep, I was still a-readin'). Looking at my empty beer bottle, I knew a refill was in order. As I walked past the dinette set, I saw Stoner sitting there with his head buried in his hands, elbows planted on the table. I threw him a quick "hey" and continued my quest for the prize in the fridge.
After grabbing a bottle and getting it open, I leaned on the counter, looked at him and took a swig. That is when I noticed his pants around his ankles.
"What?", he mumbled.
"What the hell are you doing?"
As if it weighed 100 pounds, he lifted his head from his hands. Giving me a look (like I was the asshole) he frankly responded, "Taking a shit". His tone made it clear I was the dumbass in the room.
"Um, dude, you are in the kitchen"
"You are IN the KITCHEN!"
He sat up and slapped his hands on the table. He looked around baffled, like God had just picked him up by his shirt neck and dropped him there at just that moment.
"Huh... the kitchen." He stood up and lifted his pants. Not bothering to zip or snap them shut, he shuffled to the bathroom. A quick inspection of our unadvertised second bathroom revealed I broke his spell just in time.
I've heard the argument that nobody's ever died smoking pot. I've heard it is a harmless drug when compared to alcohol and speed disguised as medication. That may well be the case. The best anti-weed ad ever was the one showing the guy in his room with his buddy. He was toking and tells his friend, "Man, they kept tellin' us that smoking grass would ruin our lives. Hell, I'm almost 40 and my life hasn't changed a bit". You then hear his mother yell from downstairs that she can smell something burning. Yep... he still lived at home. '
Weed may not make you beat your wife or make you see spiders crawling all over your skin. It does do is make you content and complacent. I love the uber-conspiracy theory that the government allowed pot to spread through the populous because a complacent populace just does not give a damn. Weed may not kill you... but it will smoke out any desire and drive you may have.
Of course, without it, half of my CD collection would of never been made; many of my favorite books would of never been written. If you play guitar or write... Smoke it UP!
If you read the last post you learned of Seanacai's and my lack of mental stimulation in high school. There are thousands of stories about our mischief... here is but one more.
He and I created a game. We called it "The Killer". It was played during school hours and the rules were very simple:
Each player receives a card with another player's name on it. This is their target.
Each player receives a page of dot stickers (small colored circle stickers)
Each player is to "assassinate" their target.
If you are successful in "assassinating" your target, you take your victim's target card. That is your new target.
The game is over when one person has all the cards (the last one standing).
If you make any overt action that reveals you are playing "Killer" to anyone outside of the game, you are dead and you turn your cards into the comptroller (man we came up with wicked cool names!). Nobody is to ever know the game is being played unless they are in the game.
You have successfully "assassinated" your target if you can arrange to get your dot sticker on their person without the target being aware they are being "stuck".
You can touch your target as long as they do not know you are placing a sticker.
You can leave the sticker on a chair, wall, etc for the target to "impale" themselves.
You CANNOT have any other person involved in the assassination. It must be your work.
If your target is aware of the sticker being placed, another attempt cannot be made within 24 hours.
If successfully get the sticker in place, inform your target they are dead (show them your card with their name) and request their cards (including their active target). Their target becomes your next target.
Needless to say this created exactly the amount of chaos we were hoping for. Because everything had to be covert you were always on high alert. Only we had the list of players. The players never knew who, exactly, was playing. Every time someone bumped you in the hall you frantically checked for a sticker. You were always keeping one eye on everything around you. We made a large group of pizza faced teenagers even more paranoid than normal.
The first time we ran the game there were only our 7 dorkiest friends playing. By game 3 the list of players was well above 25. By game 5 the number of players was well into three digits. When we graduated we bequeathed the game to an underclassman and, we've been told, the game was played for years after we left.
So I can die now knowing I left something greater than I to this world. This is a better place because of me.
Take care; I have to go and read a Spider-man comic or something... I shall wallow in my dorkitude like a pig in mud.
I got an email this morning from an OLD friend from high school. I have not talked to him since we graduated 15 years ago. Great guy.
He reminded me of a sport that Seanachai and I invented in high school - hunting rednecks.
I moved to a small resort town in North Carolina half-way through my sophomore year in high school. By my junior year I met Seanachai and we've been best friends since (you must check out his audio blog, BTW. His traffic is over 100k per month).
Two teenagers who are too smart for their own good living in a small resort town planted smack in the middle of hick county USA is a recipe for no good. We were bored out of our skulls.
It all started when we realized at night you could plug a boat searchlight into the car cigarette lighter, shine it on street lights and they would turn off (their light sensors would think it is daylight out).
We would go to desolate roads or strip mall parking lots (no shortage of them in rural NC) and hunt street lights (yep.... we were that bored). One would drive, the other would shoot. Speeding down the road or in the lot, we would see who could shoot off the most lights in one pass. This was very innocent (if not sad) entertainment. Mischief was bound to arise.
One night we went out to hunt lights and came across a K-Mart parking lot that, at first, appeared to be a pick-up truck used car lot. Upon closer inspection we realized that local redneck teens did not have as sophisticated tastes in late-night entertainment as we. They parked their cars in the empty parking lot, turned on one of the 1,732 local country stations and, well, stood around and talked.
As we passed the parking lot you could hear the whisper of the Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom voice over guy clearly on our car radio:
Shhh, this part of the southern outback is famous for one species - Homorednecus Erectus. Native to this region, they sustain themselves on a regular diet of discarded pork products (fried pork rinds and pickled pigs' feet.) They are carnivorous but often display cattle or moth-like tendencies in the nocturnal hours by herding near light sources in approximation to their apparel source.
Our great white hunters have been tracking this herd for hours and just noticed them. They make several passes by the herd and ready their weapon. The thrill of the hunt pulses through their veins as they prepare to take down this stupid and unpredictable breed. Let's watch.
At first we drove by and decided to find an abandoned parking lot for our true contest of skill. After a few passes in the movie theatre parking lot a light suddenly appeared not from the boat light but above our heads. What if we upped the ante by taking out street lights right above the rednecks?
Where and when genius appears can never be explained. It just happens sometimes.
Locked and loaded we sped to the K-Mart for some real sport. Our first pass took them by surprise. They are chillin', leaning on their trucks while their girls lean on them and, without notice, BLA-BAM a 12k candle lumens light appears from a Nissan hatchback and in less than three seconds they are in complete darkness.
We did a secondary pass a few moments later to see them scuttling like worker ants after the hill was stomped on. "That was fun but what if we..."
I started nailing them in the faces with the lights. Needless to say, a boat search light is blinding to say the least. We went to the local Howard Johnson's and had some coffee. With all intentions of heading home we somehow found ourselves driving back again by the lot. BLA-BAM and BLIND, I shot them and the lights again. Our faces hurt from laughing so hard. We went home after the second successful hunt with adrenaline still pumping from our hearts.
The next night we found ourselves with nothing to do... again. You know what we decided to do....
Our first pass this next night went just like the first. We had the initiative and they were in darkness and blind before they knew what hit them. Back we went to the HoJos for more java. Just like the night before, we went back for one more hunt. Even rednecks learn, this time things went a tad differently.
We drove by (BA-BLAM) but, unbeknownst to us, they had boys hidden on the outskirts of the lot in their dark, but idling, trucks. We shot, their headlights cranked on and the peeled out of the lot. If we thought hunting them was fun, it was nothing compared to being chased by five or six trucks and, one-by-one losing them in our own version of reverse Dukes of Hazzard.
It was exciting, challenging and... well... pretty sad. It made for great stories and we took many a friend on the hunts. Once we let someone other than Nissan-Ninja Seanachai drive... the first time he used his turn signal during a chase we knew we were in trouble. This post is already too long so I will spare you the many close calls we experienced at red lights, cul-de-sacs and the gas needle being well south of [E].