February 13, 2002

Damn. Tonka Toys in Compromising positions. I want a jumpsuit like that.

February 12, 2002

The House Project saga continues. As recounted by the Good Doctor F.

This episode is being brought to you by dancehall guru Tiger Ranks.

So.
After we drop $2500 at Standard TV and Appliance last weekend, they deliver the wrong steel fridge and then just try to get me to just accept it instead. I track down the shitheel who sold it to us (after the receptionist tries to put me off several times by explaining that "he is with a customer" like that is some delicate surgery or medatiative type endeavor that cannot be disturbed when in reality he is trying to talk up the features on a shitty white $119 microwave to some slack-jawed dullards) and according to him the fridge we wanted and had discussed for thirty minutes with him is apparently unavailable. He had a week to call and tell us this but insted tried to pull the old bait and switch.

This after yours truly had taken the doors off the smoke stained old lady fridge that came with our house and packed the food in coolers in the yard, waiting all morning for the delivery people to rub their two remaining brain cells together in a feeble attempt to spark an impluse that will shift their attention from the McDonald's feedbag and find our house on a M-A-P. As the delivery guy is proudly unveiling the wrong appliance on the taligate of the truck, my dog is busily shredding a cookie bag and I am shivering on the neighbors porch in my pajamas, learning from my Eugene Levy look-alike neighbor that he can park in front of our house and the pavement in front is not in fact "your yard."

I refuse to accept the fridge and then later return the other shit (a dishwasher and garbage disposal) in my own truck right through the front door, loudly proclaiming that they are "either shady or uninformed or some combination of the two." They try to keep me away from the other customers as I increase in volume and wave receipts and the store manager has to be summoned to expedite the refund transaction. His tan turns from golden brown to white as he sees my unshowered, dirty pants and dirty boots giant bearded yelling self right in the front and center of the store where they take their first bite out of you as you some in the door. He straightens his shitty tie on his pink (!) dress shirt and hems and haws that my girlfriend said on the phone he had until Monday to make it right. I tell him "bullshit on that." These are our last words to each other. Bastards. Never go for the bait and switch and never get out of the fucking boat.

February 10, 2002

I went to my old friend Tomo's wedding this weekend and struggled voraciously with my low-impact digital camera to take some pictures. The Kodak DC280 Zoom was operating on it's own digi-rhythms, belching and merciless, succumbing to the thumbs of a hand that knows no other digits. It's favorite thing to do was to wait about 1.7 seconds after I framed what was no doubt a perfect glimps into the heart of ceremony -- the birth of new hope and unwavering vows, and to take that image and pause...pause until the flower of love moved out of frame, which, when you have participants promenading, gathering, posing and disbanding, becomes quite tedious and hurtful.

But it wasn't a complete bust. Far from it. On solid ground we drank wine and learned that Jesus was down with that funky shit from the get go. If you thought J.C. was some kinda party pooper you guessed wrong. Special thanks to Grandma Ruthie for all the gambling tips, Las Vegas lessons and for reminding me of the secret to writing a successful saga. May you continue to rob that town of all it's riches. Next time I hit the tables at the Golden Nugget, I'll raise my glass to you and follow your Blackjack instructions to the letter. Your strength has taught us well!

And so forth...am I the only one that thinks the Snow boarding half pipe event just makes for bad Olympic Television? It must be a blast to experience "the pipe" from the ground level of Salt Lake City, but all the fancy camera angles in the Olympic World can not bring a modicum of suspense to this sport. The life and death action of the luge and the ski jump are missing, the suspense of any sort of racing against another person or a clock is painfully absent and the Sum 41 soundtrack just isn't doing it for me. Who bribed the Olympic Committee into allowing this sport to cross over? And please, when are the curling finals on T.V.?


While trying to improve my own Olympic experience at home, I've come up with my Top Ten records to play while watching the Olympics with the sound off:

1. Tony Bennett "Love Story"
2. Nigeria 70 The Definitiive Story of 1970's Funky Lagos
3. Gary Bartz "Singerella: A Ghetto Fairy Tale"
4. Herbie Hancock "Rockit"
5. Paul Jackson "Black Octopus"
6. Quincy Jones and His Band "Big Band Bossa Nova"
7. Lee "Scratch" Perry "Blackboard Jungle"
8. Tone-Loc "Loc-ed After Dark"
9. Peace Orchestra "s/t"
10. Henry Mancini "Touch of Evil Soundtrack"


This record has helped me to stop smoking. If your trying to quit and would like a copy of it, please get in touch...

February 08, 2002

Angered by Snubbing, Libya, China, Syria Form Axis of Just as Evil. Form your own club.

February 07, 2002

My friend Arjan gave me a Zen Garden for Christmas. It's inconspicuous. Takes up very little room in my apartment. I don't know jack about Zen or gardening for that matter but the happiness that I get just gently raking my one foot square plot (with one of 4 rakes provided), makes my cynicism for such things mystical get caught in my throat. Combing intricate Mesopotamian crosshatch patters in the fine ancient sand, I like to think that the makers of the Zen Garden at least use authentic Japanese fine grained number 2 white sand - I'll be damned if they can just manufacture such beauty in some sand plant in Jersey, and the harmonic arrangements of prehistoric black opal agates atop the sandy fertile crescent, provide an intense context for total control. The stock market maybe crashing - and I can't do anything about it. The line at the post office is third world country long - and I can't do anything about that. But at least I have a say where the tinny black rocks go and whether today the lines in the sand will go east-west or perhaps a more random 'connect the rocks' approach would be employed for a Thursday evening when I can't control the fact that everything sucks on the 106 channels of cable that I have.

Someday I think I would like to visit some real Zen Gardens.

I think the true act of Zen that I am still waiting to perform with the Zen Garden, will be achieved when I take my Stanley hammer and smash it into teeny tinny bits. Or maybe I'll just chuck the whole thing off my patio and watch it disintegrate on the pavement. It's all natural so no feelings of guilt would follow by returning the Zen Garden back to the larger "Garden".

Again, I don't know anything about Zen, but I would hope the natural entropy in the final destruction of the garden would be close to a paramount Zen state. But if not, it will still be fun. In either case, I'll post photos of the final result.

There must be a ton of sites out there with photos or video of people smashing things. Please if you know of any pass them my way.

In heavy rotation: the Diabolical Biz Markie. Cause he never sleeps and neither should you.

February 06, 2002

Crushed and confused that I had missed yet another modernist typography exhibit at the MIA, I wondered aimlessly through tight, micro Japanese tea rooms and studied the lines of old Remington and Ibm typewriters before falling upon the Danny Lyons photography exhibit. Not knowing any of his work I paid special attention. His photos of outlaw bikers on huge bikes doing outlaw biker type things in the 60's are incredible and would have made for a great insert into HST's Hells Angels. Serendipity took one step further when I was paging through the Jan '02 issue of Doubletake at my parents house and came across some new Polaroid's Lyons had developed in his bathtub at a reservation near his home. Damn.

Check the latest issue of DoubleTake for the Car Project. Raceway shots and broken cars.

Speaking of raceways and all things motorized. I was reacquainted yesterday with one of the greatest records ever made and one of the only records ever made by Evel Knievel. If you crate diggers come across this vinyl masterpiece. pay whatever they are asking. The spoken word from The Evel one is worth the price alone. His advice to children -- priceless. Thanks b-rizzy for the memories.

February 04, 2002

The new House Project working index (indexed by special guest columnist The Good Doctor F):

Number of tool belts currently being worn by me: 1

Number of tools in tool belt (including pencil and utility knife but not including drill bits): 11

Number of installations or mountings completed this afternoon: 4

Number of times I have departed from Home Depot with a purchase total under $50.00: 0

Number of times I have purchased a power tool for a single use project: 1

Number of times I have mentally priced air compressors and air powered nail guns: 3

Factor by which home improvement spending is decreasing the odds of a month long vacation in Costa Rica this summer: 4.67

Factor by which new home purchase and related home improvement spending is increasing the odds of a summer of working for the carpenter who did work for us on the new house: 2.33

Percentage of free time spent fantasizing about rare, esoteric imported music: -61%

Percentage of free time spent fantasizing about the stone wall I am going to build in my front yard with shovels, picks, and my truck: +61%

Number of times I have called a part, tool, or home improvement related object "YOU FUCK!": 68

Number of times I have encouraged a part, tool, or home improvement related object to "KEEP FUCKING DOING THAT!! WHY NOT KEEP ON DOING THAT YOU FUCKING FUCK!!"

Number of Carhartt articles worn to school today as part of regular clothing: 3

Number of holes punched in the freshly painted ceiling in the kitchen during setup of liquor cabinet shelf : 1

Number of times I have almost burned or destroyed something serious in the course of home repair: 2

Number of times I have been told not to scratch the newly refinished wood floors or leave things on the newly refinsihed fireplace mantle: 207

Number of complimentary alcohol boxes used during the move: +50

Number of articles of furniture given away to Carlos, one of the movers: 4

Number of...