I made the suggestion to Mike over at Gaijin in Japan that he should look into TalkShoe for creating a call-in talkcast, and he immediately set it up to go down this Wednesday June 6 at 11am Japan time (that’s Tuesday night at 9pm central DST).
I’ve been appointed to bring the beer, which is fine with me ‘cos that means I get to drink it all, too.
Focus was always a guilty pleasure of mine, especially when they went out on the freakout limb like the live performance of Hocus Pocus seen above. This shit is crazy fast.
There’s a good amount of video on their Official YouTube Channel, too.
I don’t know why he does what he does, and I’m probably the last guy on the Internet to hear about him, but Puchi Bruce is my new hero. And I’ve never even seen any of the Die Hard movies… Just knowing there’s a Japanese guy who looks like a Japanese Bruce Willis and makes Bruce Willis movie send-ups is enough for me.
How about a Bruce Willis and Wesley Willis mashup? Whatchou talkin’ about, Willis?
I nearly shit myself laughing at the first half of this video.
I was screwing around online at work today, as I am wont to do as huge Photoshop butt-wiping operations files are bringing my workstation to a crawl, and I found this image of the Cream Castle’s sign in my hometown of Sikeston, Missouri. The interesting (or maybe kinda frustrating) thing about it is that the guy over and Coffee and Pie doesn’t even mention the Cream Castle. Instead, the story waxes nostalgic about Paul Eakins (pronounced AY-kins, as my dad recently corrected my wayward pronounciation of EE-kins) and his Gay 90s Museum of orchestrions & calliopes, yet doesn’t offer a link to the Eakins website or a photo… Oh, and the Cream Castle photo is on the Springfield, MO page, while the Sikeston text is mixed up with photos of a crumbling Cairo, Illinois. Hrmph.
Anyway, the Cream Castle is a throwback to the car hop hamburger and fries era. Though it has seen it glory days pass, it was still in operation the last time I passed through Sikeston, and hopefully will continue to do so.
As for the Paul Eakins’ Gay 90s Museum, here is a link to the website that sells recordings of the music machines that were the source of his passion.
Annie Sprinkle’s tits on my head, January 21, 1994, Vortex Theater, Austin.
How ya like me now?
In my old duplex in Columbia, Missouri, 1988. Photo by Andre Vospette (Who probably doesn’t remember taking it).
My eyes suck. I can barely focus on small text any longer, and routinely catch myself squinting like a blind bastard when trying to read magazines, newpapers, paperbacks, what have you. This is what 20+ years of sitting staring at computer monitors under brash fluorescent lighting does to you.
So recently, I ventured to the eye doctor to get a prescription for glasses. I decided that I wanted to try contacts as an alternative, so I was sent over to the inhouse optician to be fitted with “trial” lenses. I was told I would need training in how to properly put them in, take them out, spit-shine them, etc., to which I agreed. I was told to wash my hands and have a seat. Ten minutes later, a lady came out and told me that they would have to special order the contacts as I have astigmatism. No problem, I would just come back later.
They called me this past Wednesday to inform me that the lenses were ready, and that I could come in anytime. Now, the person on the other end of the line was the same person who said she would order the lenses, and the same person who knew I needed contact lens “training.” Just to make sure I understood what she was saying , I asked again, “…And I can come anytime for this? (this meaning the contact lens instruction)” She said yes.
Since the eye doctor told me I should try the contacts over the weekend so that I wouldn’t have the demands of work while adjusting to them, I thought coming in on Friday would be a good thing. I even called to make sure they were open over the mid-day lunch period, which they happily informed they were.
So I head over hoping to do my “training” and come back to work with possibly clearer vision and irritated eyes. I was actually excited about this prospect! The same lady who had ordered the lenses and told me I would need instruction before taking my new eyes greeted me and went to get the lenses. Upon return, she looked at my paperwork and said, “Oh wait… You’ve never had contact lenses? We’ll have to make you an appointment for training.” I reminded her she had told me on the phone that I could come in anytime for that, to which she answered, “Oh, you can pick them up anytime, but you’ll need an appointment for training!”
I’m sure the look I gave her, though I remained courteous, let her know what I was thinking.
“Okay,” I said, “Let’s make an appointment then. I guess I misunderstood.”
She replied that maybe she didn’t explain things clearly. Then I told her that I had come on Friday because the doctor said trying the lenses over the weekend would be a good idea. She hemmed and hawed for a moment and said, “Well I guess I could walk you through it. Lets have you wash your hands and have a seat.” I thought to myself for a moment about deja vu, then proceeded to wash my hands.
After a few minutes, she came back with the little yellow and blue boxes containing my contacts. Again she looked at my paperwork and frowned. “Oh, you have astigmatism. That’s different, I can’t show you how to handle these.”
Though I wasn’t meaning to show it, I stared her down with a look that said “Bitch, are you for real?*”
Then she followed with, “Well, the doctor isn’t in today anyway, and he likes to be here to work with you in these situations.”
Well, shit.
“I’m learning all these new things that nobody has bothered to tell me before,” I said, losing the will to be Mr. Nice Guy. “Maybe I should come back for that appointment when there is someone here who can help me. Thank you.”
I left. With very clean hands.
I’m still thinking that I should call them back and tell them to roll those contacts up and shove them in a tight spot.
* Kudos to Dolemite
Here’s the raccoon and shoes concoction I mentioned before. The raccoon had been there over a week; The shoes only a couple of days. How did they get there?
FOUND: Crack pipe, looks to be heavily used, found on Red Cliff Drive in Austin, Texas.
You find the damndest things on the street. Last week I found $26 on the sidewalk, this week a crackpipe. What will it be next week?
Speaking of which, there has been a roadkill raccoon on Kramer Lane stinking up my walk for the past few days. Yesterday I noticed a shoe laying on top of it. Today I realized it’s a pair of running shoes. How odd.
I have been forced by the sheer power of this video to upload a new blog post!
Miss me?
Am I the only one who noticed the image that Boing Boing’s Mark Frauenfelder decided to have accompany his post on the Minnesota State Fair On A Stick movie at YouTube? I’m not really that gutter-minded am I? Or is it just Mark?
I guess I was looking at just the right time to catch this story on Google News…
After lunch at Mandarin House, my coworkers and I stopped off at MT Supermarket to peruse the snack ailse for some Friday afternoon goodies. I picked up some Durian-flavored wafers to spring on my fellow employees, a “favor” I had been promising for some time. A couple of people tried them, but everyone else turned up–or rather, turned away–their noses. Hours later, the guys who tasted the treats are complaining of belching them up. I say the’re just enjoying them a second time.
We left them in the breakroom/kitchenette area, package open so everyone could enjoy the aroma. Then someone got the wise idea of stowing some of the wafers in *****’s office, strategically place under the piles of paper and press proofs littering the room. Later, the culprit figured a Nestea Plunge of sorts was in order, and moved the whole package into *****’s office, placing them under his desk and behind a computer where they will be nice and warm over the three-day weekend.
Oh yeah, and then somehow the door got closed.
Below is a photo of this culinary landmine laying in wait for its victim to arrive on a sure-to-be-hungover-from-a-long-weekend Tuesday.
I’ve created a new Flickr group called My Old Abandoned Home (as in, “The sun shines bright on…”), dedicated to linking old family photos of the subjects’ respective position in present-day photos of the currently uninhabitable fire-trap of a house they were snapped in around forty years ago… Does that make sense?
In other words, “Here’s a photo of my dad with a deer he bagged in 1962. Here’s the same shot of the house today. See the difference? Taste the nostalgia? Feel the slow, strained passage of time sucking your ass into the quicksand of oblivion?”
Take a look, lemme know what you think. If it strikes you as interesting, thanks. If you think I’m just nuts and obsessing over my childhood, your probably right, and, by the way, fuck you, fuck you very much.
So, yeah, no posts for damn near a month. Consistency: That’s what keeps my vast readership growing.
Anyway, I absolutely love Japanese television. It’s probably what kicked off my admiration (obsession?) with Japanese culture, and I keep going back for more. I need an easier way to get my fix, though… Downloading terabytes of stuff from Usenet is time-consuming, though it has been made alot easier to deal with different file formats and whatnot with a growing number of software tools to manhandle and convert offerings to ultimately get them burned to VCD or DVD and viewable on an actual television. It’s still a big pain in the ass, though. Streaming video via the web is cool, but the quality sucks and it’s still not on my TV… I plan to buy a iPod video soon, so that may make it easier to transfer stuff to my living room for couch-potato-not-desk-slave consumption. We’ll see.
I could shell out the bucks and get TV Japan via satellite, but that’s NHK-only, and I don’t think I’d get to see really cool stuff like Trivia No Izumi. I mean, Mythbusters is great, but Trivia No Izumi is the shit.
