About Me

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I'm an artist, an educator, Pastafarian and I write. I also will gamble on just about anything. And I like unusual juxtaposition, but I love my wife...and beer. This blog is observations from a funny old man who gets pissed off every once in a while. Oh, and I mispell alot.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

TUESDAY #2228



Read an interesting article about what can and can not be made fun of. It made me think.
I think this is its first edition after the attack...
I wish I knew how to order one online.

Changing subjects - Movie suggestion: Get Low.



Who called it "H2O Discovery" on other planets instead of "Water Proof"?


Buffoonery worth reposting...

We've all had days like this, haven't we...

I think the hardest words I could ever say are "Your majesty".



The rover's wheels are becoming dangerously worn...
 The problem, of course, is that there had to be compromises between strength and weight. They may have missed the mark this time.
By the way, "strength" is the longest word in the English language with only one vowel.

Agree or disagree with their message, but you have to agree they are very creative in getting their message across...

What I imagine being a grandfather will be like...
 Just kidding.

Apollo 11 tracksuit...
 How delightful. You would never have to wash them since no one could tell when they are dirty.

"Highly Specialized," indeed.

Whole towns' worth of people on North Korea's remote southwest coast are complicit in the long running, open enslavement of mentally and physically disabled workers who are kidnapped from the streets of big cities and beaten into lives of forced labor. Despite years and years of routine exposes in the press and government promises to clean things up, nothing has changed. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to type SOUTH KOREA!


This is Kim, visually disabled and described in court documents as having the social awareness of a 12-year-old. He was “sold” to a company whose owner regularly beat him. 

"Let's take the train in Canada to see the scenery."
"It will be fun," they said.

I am an artist, which means I work on the same problems as Matisse, Picasso, and Pollock...
I often think about that. People who worked in studios just like mine will be famous forever. To repeat, now think of other jobs. How many famous plumbers, or accountants, or shop owners to you know? Just saying.
I often hear people ridicule Jackson Pollock for his dribbled painting...
 But those weren't Pollock's....
 Those were parts of these paintings...
 Sadly, most people can only "understand" art that makes them think of something else...
But art can be only about art. Thinking otherwise is like thinking that "real" poetry has to rhyme, or all real music has to have words that the average listener can understand.
Now contemplate this...

This, I think, is a classic piece of art about art. I actually don't like this and would not like to look at it every day, but that's not the point. Who says art has to be about something you like?
I can imagine, but don't know, that that piece says something about the state of today's art...which is legitimate as any other reason to make art.

I normally don't like long reads, but this I found very interesting...
"The three principal Manhattan Project sites were "secret cities" where 125,000 people worked and lived and were not on any maps during World War II.  These sites were established in remote areas across the country, nestled in the wooded hillls along the Clinch River in eastern Tennessee, on the high desert beside the Columbia River in eastern Washington State, and on an isolated mesa above the Rio Grande in northern New Mexico...

Secrecy was paramount and the sites were referred to only by their code names, "X," "Y," and "Z."  Employees were issued badges, and driver's licenses had numbers without any names.  The five thousand residents at Los Alamos shared the same address: P.O. Box 1663 in Santa Fe, making Sears and Roebuck sales clerks extremely curious when they received orders for more than a dozen baby bassinets to be delivered to the same address..."

"[the Coca-Cola machine] was a style of machine that dropped a paper cup, which was then filled with carbonated water and Coca-Cola syrup.  The man who came to service the machine at our lunch time forgot to bring his hose for filling the syrup reservoir.  He walked into the neighboring laboratory where wet chemistry was being performed and borrowed a rubber hose from an aspirator, filled the reservoir with the syrup, returned the hose and left.  Some time after lunch a technician was carrying an alpha counter and noticed that the meter went off the scale as he passed the Coke machine.  By the next day, the Coke machine was replaced with one that dispensed bottles rather than liquids.  We never did know how many, if any, employees drank the radioactive Coca-Cola."
 
On Of My Very Own...

This guy ordered "One pepperoni pizza."


At some point, every man named Ralph was a baby and was introduced by his parents as “This is my baby, Ralph.” How fucked up is that shit?




 Or as I call it, another day in Fuckthatshitistan....
 Seriously, 1500 feet is as tall as a 150 story building.
And since that post time I found this...


I just realized that ‘dyslexic’ is spelled the same backwards.



Yeah, but dogs and deer don't walk on the fucking moon!

My wife has decided to stop eating junk food...
This is her emergency Cheeto.

Damn, South Carolina...

I have developed a thing for sheep...
That image doesn't show how stupid they are, but rather by following the leader, the trail is already blazed by the stupid motherfucker who went first.

Shit you don't see everyday...
It's called obsession, son, look it up.

I post this without even understanding what its message is...


What should we call this one?

Humpback whale.

How about this one?
Sperm whale.
(who are these people…I want names)




 It also came in this deluxe model...
Now let's consider what modern "cures" will be considered ridiculous in the future...think, diet pills and penis enlargers.


Oh, I see what you did there, Fireworks Guy...

Where the Namibian Desert meets the sea...

Born in Zanzibar, his birth name was Farrokh Bulsara.

His passport read: Frederick Mercury.


QUESTIONABLE FUN "FACTS"
That reminds me of people who never say they are a "Jew", they always say they are "Jewish," but nobody ever says they are "Christianish," like they kind of believe.


Looks bad...real bad...
But it's just hydraulic fluid from the Zamboni.
But why are the refs cleaning it up?

My Final Word...

Just something else to think about.


3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Thought you might find this interesting, if you haven't already seen it.

http://talkingpointsmemo.com/livewire/princeton-experts-say-us-no-longer-democracy

PM

Spider Borland said...

http://www.boredpanda.com/glowing-murals-by-bogi-fabian/

Anonymous said...

the longest one-vowel word is actually strengths. plural.

Can't believe you missed that.

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