If you've got it, flaunt it. If you haven't, flout it.

Look - I know what you want. And while I'd really like to provide you with lists of my favorites in many categories, I simply won't allow myself to commit to any log of superlatives. This is because I know how susceptible I am to the recency effect. Which is to say that any such list that I produce would read like a who's who of the High School Musical trilogy.

Y'know - I'm sick and kinda tired of being penciled in. Just once - and actually once would be more than enough but it's really as low as I'll go - I'd like to be penned in.

Got another injection of the man magick today at the doctor's office. I then went to get the testosterone patches that were called in to the apothecary section of my local convenience store, but was told upon arriving that those patches must be special ordered. Probably from Frederick's of Hollywood. And I was so looking forward to having bright and shining dreams tonite from wearing the patch to bed. You see, I've heard tell that nicotine patches do that very thing when they're worn at night. But since testosterone patches are meant to be worn day and night, the psychedelic effects have probably been boiled out.

And speaking of that doctor's office, I sacked out in the examination room twice today while waiting for the doctor to apparate. Ever since the former head surgeon (look for the dirty knees) took a sabbatical and promptly dropped dead that place has been a comedy of errors. Why, it's just a madhouse -- what with patients getting correct diagnoses the first time, nurses missing opportunities to tell normally-sized people that they're overweight based on the BMI chart, doctors seeing patients punctually - sometimes even before the appointed time, and office workers being pleasant to others. A madhouse, I tell ya.

But I did (finally) get another 200 mg injection of testosterone packed in a hot mustard carrier fluid. My island doctor didn't ask me how much she should give me this time, but she did start out by saying that I was to get 100 and then doubled it for an unknown reason. That's likely one of those situations that require questioning. But alas, I just sat quietly in awe.

I swear I could not feel the needle prick in the least. Which is really a shame since I do actually love acute pain. But y'know - I got the shot even before my current level could be assessed. I know this because I got the shot before they even took any blood.

Gosh, I sure hope it was as low as I told the doctor it sorta seemed to be since I'm pretty sure she really shouldn't believe everything I say.

WWTMD? DMT

Iff TM=Terence McKenna. Say what you may about stoned apes and 12/21/12, I maintain that that McKenna guy was crazy. Though this is a rather convincing testament to the existence of those machine elves that purportedly occupy our same space in another dimension. So maybe it's not such an irrational fear that I have of something out there ... watching...waiting...vomiting living toys.

So what are you reading? Yes, but I mean other than a goofy, half-baked blog. I'm digging me some The Doors of Perception. (Not really, but I'm fresh out of segues based in reality.) In fact, since expanding my mind with red wine at lunch today, I can now remember what I had for dinner last night. And I've always had trouble with that. And no, it's not just because I had the leftovers for lunch. Though I did.

Plus, on the I-can-feel-everything-that's-happening-in-the-cosmos front, I sense the relentless tug of a super massive black hole on V'ger, but that's really nothing new. I've had that feeling for years. I've always assumed it was because my consciousness was uploaded to V'ger when I first watched that overlong Star Trek: The Motion Picture film. I know now that I never should've agreed to the private screening in Leonard Nimoy's TheatreLab 3000.


I really didn't intend to make you feel left out or anything. The only reason I'm so well versed in this human potential crap is because, being the devil and all, Aldous Huxley had a rather prominent place in the teachings of my instructors at Esalen.

So I haven't experienced any horrific sleep paralysis in quite some time. I simply abhor that feeling, don't you? What? You've never had it? No, not even once? Lucky stiff.

The only way to describe it without the use of puppets is to say it's as though you've been folded at the waist and forced into a lime green hamper, completely unable to move. The absolute worst thing I've ever had to suffer through, High School Musical 3 included.


Given the above picture, I guess I shouldn't have reminded those little demons that follow me around of the sleep paralysis thing. Yeah, I've had them underfoot ever since my last brush with a haunted Ouija board. But those retards probably can't even read - they certainly can't spell - so I'm betting I'm safe from their pusillanimous mosquito bite imprecations.

As long as I don't start singing this entry back to myself to the tune of "The Final Countdown" like I'm wont to do.

A real receive charge kinda guy

As I was walking in toting my giant laptop manbag a few minutes ago I said to myself, "Gosh, I sure hope no one thinks I just arrived at work." Of course I had just arrived at work, but I did hope that no one thought so. You see, I was working from home today, but thought better of continuing to do so when I saw that I have a call scheduled with my boss a little later (more on that even sooner).

You won't be hearing any complaints from me this fine day. In fact, I've been on cloud nine ever since my wife agreed this past weekend to let me be in charge. The king, as it were. That's right, I am head honcho of the household until such time as she sees fit to take control back. And she says she won't do that unless I really mess something up.

I've been using the Powerball on the delightful trip in to the office. I do five minutes per hand per direction, for a total of 20 minutes:

5 mins (left hand clockwise)

5 mins (right hand counter-clockwise)

5 mins (left hand counter-clockwise)

5 mins (right hand clockwise)

The regimen makes much more sense than it probably seems when you actually perform it. While I wholeheartedly recommend using the ball-o-Power, I should warn you that I can't be certain that that's not just because misery loves company. Sure, my grip is rock-crushing, but there're just so many rock-to-sand-to-glass contests you can win before you become a bit disillusioned with the whole game. And I'm talking the goofy game we call life here.

Yes, it is especially miserable at the top.

I have that call with my boss in like 10 seconds during which he's to walk me through inputting my receipts into the expense tracking system. This oughta be great since he's such a funlover. Be with you soon-ish...


Whaddya know - I didn't have a good time at all. Despite his tendency to laugh at his jokes and his jokes only and his insistence on asking all questions accusatorily, he's just not much fun to be around.

Did you know that, even if you counted one every second for 24 hours a day, it would take 32 years to count a trillion statistics that convey the magnitude of large numbers?

Don't forget what entomologist Harry Mills tried in vain to teach earthworms: "The real message isn't what you say, but what the other earthworm remembers." I say this concept could be quite useful to humans with a bit of pencil-whipping. Heck, even I could have it reworked and ready to be applied to domesticated animals in less than a day.

I know what you're thinking. And you're right - my capacity to find patterns and analogies where others see only absurdity is quite uncanny.

And indeed some entomologists do study earthworms. It would seem that the 1.3 million species of insects just wasn't enough for 'em. Or maybe they finished the bugs and moved on.

Now go to your room. What? Well, if your mother said so, then I guess it's okay for you to play video games instead. I mean, I'd hate to mess something up and force her to rescind the supreme authority she conferred upon me.

Why wouldn't bad luck come in thirteens?

I had a dream last night that no one I know (knew?) could come out and play because everyone was busy examining old cigarette butts to find the very small messages that were written on them in heat activated ink. Weird, yes, but weirder still was the feeling I had upon waking that I'd known about this practice for years. Couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity until I awoke more fully and realized how awake I really wasn't previously.

What's more is my shellfish wife wouldn't give me any of her Sugar Frosted Shrimp this morning. Harumph.

Those Half Asleep Evil Geniouss' are up to their old tricks, I'll tell ya. Only this time it's an entirely new bag of tricks they've broken out: It seems they've recently embraced radical incrementalism and have just succeeded in putting it inexorably in place. Ah, we'll never even notice it, say they. And maybe we won't ... until it finally dawns on us one day that, though the entry paperwork was always ironically voluminous, it didn't used to take an actual act of Congress to get approval to go to the ER.

So it's the centennial of the killing of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. But I swear Robert Redford doesn't look that old.

And it's everyone's favorite super-sized hillbilly Jew's 38th birthday today. No, not Shatner - he's like three times older than Morgan Spurlock.

Blogger says I am not currently following any blogs...

...so I'd like to tell it why: I can't find anything to follow on you, Blogspot. Nothing. I don't even know where to look. You've no commons. No student center. No blogrings. And yes, you have no bananas. In fact, I'm fully prepared to announce that you're the craziest blog site I've ever been a part of. And if Xanga weren't the only other one I'd actually ever tried, I would certainly invoke that superlative. Grammar concerns notwithstanding, I find it nearly impossible to believe that one nuttier than you could exist.

I'm rather enjoying Dvorak's "New World" Symphony now that I've downloaded it in movements rather than as one, giant, pirated opus. I don't know what it is about the big chunk o' symphony, but not only can I not enjoy one, but I've also yet to make it through one in its entirety. Upon getting a smashed to bits symphony, however, I'm completely happy to sit through it. I wonder - does that betray a weak or a strong mind?

Oh, can it. I knew you'd say that. You lot are becoming awfully easy to manipulate.

Let's see ... what to bemoan next? Oh, I know. How about how there's no hard disk iPhone? I mean, I download 16 gigs of stuff every time I sit down at the PC. Absolutely valueless, that flash-driven iPhone.


Or is it 16 megs that I download? No matter - it makes for a case that's like a thousand times stronger if I leave it as gigs, so I won't be changing it anytime soon.

I'm taking some training on Wheedling in the Workplace that's quite edifying but even more disturbing because of it. For I now see there's but one reason why anyone would ostensibly take a genuine interest in my needs. I do hope you didn't guess it, and just in case you didn't, it's to ultimately get what they want.

I just hate looking at things from that perspective. It reduces us to single-minded, opportunistic leeches in my mind and I'd really rather not think about us in that way.

See, I may not know the true meaning of life, but I do know enough to know it's probably not sitting around worrying about who's gonna getcha.

Forgive me, Father, for I have Zenned

So I suddenly have all the formatting buttons in the mighty Blogger editor no matter which PC I decide to blog with. Just when I had become accustomed to not having the same seemingly limitless number of typeface options on the laptop that I enjoy on the desktop they went and doused whatever was on fire in the Blogspot backroom. That's a great example of the kind of "progress" I've had to learn to adapt to throughout this laughable existence of mine.

I really am amazed at the popularity of Facebook. You just can't do much, yet all kinds of former and would-be bloggers are standing in line to not do it. Why, only today I learnt that you can upload pictures, update your current status, get profile information, and post to others' so-called walls from your mobile device. Which is to say that pretty much anything to be done on Facebook can be successfully carried out via the robust interface of a cell phone.

I'm back from the trip I took to Florida. Yeah, I kinda forgot to mention that trip beforehand, didn't I? Unlike most times I go to Florida, I'm actually glad to be back. Maybe it's because I've been in a bad mood ever since I began that trip last Wednesday. Because I'm still not quite out of it, you probably shouldn't tread on me or anything.

It's called the Gadsden Flag and it's just too bad George Washington wasn't able to convince Betsy Ross to run that one through the serger, eh? Just think how much more respect we'd command when burning down foreign villages if we were waving a yellow flag displaying an idle threat that contains a contraction that's missing its apostrophe.

Here's another something I miss from Xanga - Xangazon. It's a little widget-y thing that shows what you're currently doing; be it video gaming, listening to music, reading a book, or watching a movie. Yes, you're completely right that that information should be obvious from the blog entry. And you're also quite right about the omission of blogging from the list of activities as being a pretty egregious oversight on the Xanga braintrust's part.

I say the fact that kids are staying up nights playing guitar peripherals instead of actual guitars is contributing to that future I dreamt of foreseeing. You do remember that one, don't you? You know, the future I saw in the crystal doorknob of the eerie mansion that was haunted by presidential candidates? Oh, come on - the future that was filled with even more electronic music than it was with broken pieces of old packing peanuts. Or maybe I never told you about that dream. Yeah, it was an especially bad one. I woke up in what seemed to be a cold sweat but what turned out to be mime vomit.

I've finally exposed myself to the X-treme degradation of Jackass and will likely never be the same. And while that normally wouldn't be such a bad thing, I was really beginning to come around to my surly disposition of late. Oh, well.