Thursday, April 28, 2005

The Thrill of Dictatorship

Lo, it is said that absolute power corrupts absolutely... and this is assuredly true with online radio.

Not too long ago, I happened across something known as Launchcast (via SBC Yahoo DSL, and no, sadly, I'm not getting any kickback here). It may not be the only customizable radio type thingy online, or even the best, but I am having BOATloads of fun with it.

"How does this miracle of technology/musical tyranny work?" you may be asking yourself. Well, it not only plays songs, but it allows you to give separate ratings to an artist, a song, or even an album. Ratings begin with "Can't get enough," going progressively down to "love it," "like it," "it's ok," and my personal overwhelming favorite, "Never Play Again!"

With this lowest rating, I can guarantee that I will never sit through Marilyn Manson's tired, rehashed tripe, Michael Jackson's wackadoo woohoos, or Kenny G's shittical saxophonical stylings.

And, there's even the selective banishment option, such as, I like Deep Purple, but not "Woman from Tokyo." NEVER PLAY "WOMAN FROM TOKYO AGAIN!!! DO YOU HEAR ME, BARD LAUNCHCAST?!?! I'LL HAVE YOUR CIRCUITS FED TO PIGEONS IF YOU DARE TO CROSS MY DELICATE EAR CANALS WITH ITS LIKE AGAIN!!! NOW BRING ON "SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY*" INSTEAD!!! (Tip: Dictatorial enjoyment is enhanced by regal ranting.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to banish Bryan Adams' "Heaven" into exile, along with Bryan himself. Bwa ha ha!!

Get your own control:

* by Big and Rich, see below... ;)

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

I Said No

In my semi-revered professional life, I get the dubious privilege of telling people what to do. A lot. It's the sort of thing that, even if one didn't desire it in the first place, becomes rather addicting, or at the least, customary.

This is why pushy salesgirls pimping clothing store credit cards with 23% interest over and over after I've thrice refused and made it abundantly clear that I don't want the motherfucking 30% off my purchase today, goddammit, irritate me.

It annoys me for several reasons, but perhaps the best and most important is that

Friday, April 15, 2005

Only in a Texas Liquor Store

Agape at the selection of vodkas at the Centennial package store in a rather seedy part of town, I stood wavering between Grey Goose and Boru, when up sauntered a 6'5" Sam Elliot lookalike in a black fringed leather cowboy jacket, black boots and a grey Stetson.

"Buy the cheap stuff, darlin'," he drawled. "It all works the same." And with that, he grabbed a bottle of Stoli off the middling shelf, paid, and for all I know, saddled up and rode away.

Thursday, April 14, 2005


This one goes out to the ones I've fucked.

This one goes out to the sex I've left behind.

A simple cock... to "occupy" my "time,"

This one goes out to the ones I've fucked.

(based on a true story)

Say, readership, got any other change-em-up lyrics?

Saturday, April 09, 2005


Last night at dusk, I was out for a walk in my bike shorts and t-shirt (I know, wearing bike shorts is a privilege, not a right, but they were all I had clean and it was getting dark.)
Now, I didn't think these garments, nor my jiggling T and A beneath them, would be gauged as sexy by a passing hick rumbling past in a big ol' blue duallie, but by God, he screamed, "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" out the window, and I'm taking it as a compliment.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Pug-nked Again!

I'm starting to think that Pippin Peregrine Took (alias Pugpin) is secretly aware that his naughty behaviour is making him famous on the Interweb, because today, once again, he committed a heinous act.
I decided to install some rocklike (i.e. plastic) borders around my front flower bed today. While I was doing that, I foolishly figured that the pup might like to get some sun. Because he can't be trusted to stay close in the front yard, I took him out and hitched him by his leash AND HARNESS to a bench I have out front, giving him the freedom to roam a bit, near me, but still safely secure. Or so I thought.

While I was planting petunias, he was seemingly just kind of "playing" amongst the Japanese boxwoods, hibiscus and overgrown weeds. The next thing I know, the little Houdini has slipped his bonds and is trotting along the back fence towards the main road.

On he goes, past all my neighbors' backyards, enjoying the sun, galloping along, and having a grand time. I'm careful not to chase him but continue walking calmly while praying that his Puggy Guardian Angel will keep him safe from the dozens of people driving along that corner. After a minute or so of this, I stop, squat and call his name. He turns and trots towards me, even speeding up as if to actually obey my command... but at the last second, evil wins out, and he turns right, into the road, stopping minivans, SUVs and even kids on bicycles. Does he stop there? Why, of course not. He starts a new trek into the neighborhood across the way.

Fortunately for him, his Guardian Angel did appear, in the form of a teenager who screeched to a stop in a black pickup. "That your dog?" he asked me. I stayed at a distance and admitted that yes, the little nut was mine, and within seconds the dog that wouldn't come to own momma was in the arms of a strange teenage boy.

A moment later, the helpful lad had handed over the pup, accepted my thanks and jumped back into his truck to speed off into the afternoon, Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" blaring out the windows. You know, I hope Ronnie Van Zandt is watching over that kid from up above tonight, and I hope something good happens in his life for keepin' a little fool of a Took safe.
:: fade out to strains of "Sweet Home Alabama" ::

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Friday, April 01, 2005

More PugVentures (tm)

It recently came to my awareness that the evil deeds of the resident representative of puggery extend far deeper than I previously knew (how was that for a cumbersome hell of a sentence??).

You see, my house is small, and the kitchen and living room adjoin in such a way that you could watch TV, over the bar, while washing dishes. Because of this, I have a couch beneath the bar, in the living room. Atop the bar is my rock collection ('cause I wasn't enough of a dork without also being a geology enthusiast). For some unknown reason, the Puppin enjoys hurtling himself against the back of the couch repeatedly until he can kidnap some rocks to hurry off somewhere with and chew. Ours is not to reason why, but merely to defend the igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic from the advances of a slobbery mammalian.

So, I hear tell from my roommate that the other day, he had chastised the Puppin Mineral Menace against self-hurtling, and then dozed off a little while watching TV. Well, after a few minutes, the puggin-beast jumped onto his lap, climbing up and putting his paws on my roommate's chest to make sure he was asleep. Satisfied that he would not be caught, he went right back to the couch, attempting again to steal rocks without being corrected this time.

Of course, my roommate wasn't asleep after all and shocked him out of his thievery seconds later, but it just goes to show what untold deviousness lies between those two velvety triangle ears of his.

Add to Technorati Favorites