Was explaining our stop at Fry’s last weekend to 老婆, and her response: that’s because they were made in China. (The Sony’s, which I successfully swapped them out for, don’t fit flush against my head as intended and has always been the case, insert with the speakers facing forward. Yanking on the extra-long cord brings up the same old concern, too.) Alas, the Zippy keyboard which has served me so well these past few years, comes to us from Taiwan; the flexible Tripp-Lite it replaced, which didn’t fare as well—what do you know, let gravity have at the wires inside and they fail—most likely from the mainland. But let’s hope that manufacturing, regardless of where it’s done, sticks to standards commensurate to premium products such as Deck’s.
The deep keystrokes remind me of my old Selectric II, but it’s as if the thick and hence less portable case is making the extra room for your fingers. Thankfully the FN commands to dim and disable the lighting work over USB to the 360 and PS2, because I’d be blinded by the LED’s at their highest setting. Or made to feel guilty by their gratuitous use of energy. There is, however, a niche concept behind it (even if it harks back to case modders from ten years ago), the braided cord, diamond plate bottom, that’s just as hardcore and uncompromising as Apple’s. At twice the price.
Then again, the headliner inside my Japanese truck designed and built in the US has come unglued and is sagging.
Japanese sexual proclivities aren’t anything new, so is it really worth arguing over yet another exposé of them? People get their freak on all over the world, I’m sure, but the author just doesn’t help his case by closing with “[t]he fact is, I know a handful of Japanese guys (successful ones I might add) that simply don’t like real women and claim to prefer their 2D equivalents.” And when he says successful, is he referring to their income, misogyny or consummation of such a trans-dimensional relationship?
Why, only the “Greatest Human Being Who Has Ever Lived“. Michael Jackson may have gotten Filipino prisoners to dance for YouTube, but he helped put food on their plates. (Or on their wardens’, so there’s enough to leave the gruel for them.)
Prick throws in that the president “still” won’t sit down with Fox News after the story about him being on Letterman. Of course not, you shithead of a corporate shill; your network has less in serious journalistic credibility than The Simpsons has funny anymore, and you proved it. I only stayed tune because they offered to keep the House going with some highlights from a premier party—which I should’ve skipped, as let down as I was by the show itself. They just had to get him outta there and back to the same old formula in a week’s time. Why not the whole season (of “Nut House”), with him having to perform his procedurals through layers of mental illness, and make his transformation a meaningful one?
I’ve been trolling this project for over a year now, and it looks like a winner, unlike Stargate Worlds. I’ve applied for the Trek Online beta, even without a PC to run it—much less time enough to play—and FFXIV is a given (like how that painting reminds me of one of Renoir’s), but you know there’ll always be a place in my heart for Grand Theft Auto. Even if Martin’s IV, lent to me, hasn’t been touched.
That was the name of a giant department store in whatever fancy part of town we were. (I guess it makes some sense, although “caesura” really was mining my vocabulary.) I met back up with 老婆 after walking off on my own to another and we walked together towards this one on the hill. There were two sharp-dressed Orange-haired Black women, twins, smoking in front of us and she told them it was disgusting. They replied with some remark about Confucius and went on their merry way. I tried to get back at them with a similar historical figure, but Nelson Mandela was all I could think of. We boarded a moving sidewalk, the kind in Vegas, taking us up at a sharp angle then leveling off at with an even sharper one and a sign warning me to watch the low overhead. When we entered there were quite a few people with us, so I had little time to look around, noticing only a deep pit with a giant Garfield-like decoration at the bottom. No means of descending was visible to me, but 老婆 grabbed a shopping cart and pushed it down, seemingly on an invisible stairway. All the others proceeded like her. I could not. Then a fellow passed me and with each step he took, blue cushions folded forward, so I carefully followed him.
Has it been ten years since Chris got me the Phillips-made Nike-branded headphones that restarted my need for running music? That first pair seemed to have lasted the longest, the stethoscope-like fit the most comfortable and capable, while the lifespan of its subsequent replacements has shortened geometrically: yesterday the latest, which I had hoped for better in the newer Black color, conked out after only a month of sporadic use (my Mountain Dew ratio is approaching 60K). Always in one ear, always in the first mile. We’ll see how long my remaining inventory, courtesy of my purchase-return cycle at Fry’s, lasts before I switch to Sony’s.
I’ve never actually watched a full episode, but that doesn’t stop my subconscious from imagining what it’s like. Been a couple of days since this dream, so my recollection’s deteriorated substantially: it was night-time, and like the scene in Quatermass and The Pit, it wasn’t safe to be different. One of my companions was prepared: he produced a fake arm cast and hid from a mob with similar handicaps, who noticed my lack thereof and pursued me (as best they could, I presume). I escaped them into another dangerous zone of African-Americans. They backed me into a corner—but what luck! It was a senior’s home, where my graying hair allowed me to fit in… well, occasionally there’s little need for interpretation.
IIRC they used clips from this movie during the opening for Channel 56’s Creature Double Feature (which, along with Kung Fu Theater in Houston and Night Flight got me used to staying in on Saturdays), but I don’t think I ever appreciated the rest of it, after being turned off by the overpowered protagonist toying with his opposition.
It is seminal fantasy, the kind that’s alas too wild to be attempted nowadays, and easy to see the influence on later epics—even videogames, which is what that bizarre ninja door trap reminded me of. But if this is “pure”, Chris, and that, too, then what’s left for us?
Very un-Larry David of me not to continue my fight against a ticket I got in Laguna Beach because, after all, driving down there for the hearing, much less parking, would’ve cost me almost the same amount of money as paying the fucking fine. No wonder he owns a Prius. And has nothing better to do.
This guy also reminds me of that CYE episode with the ass photo.
