Blue Skies Forever

We've Moved!

2007-08-16T12:01:00.000-04:00

This blog is done. Our new home is here:

http://www.damonagnos.com

!!!!!

2007-07-16T13:35:00.001-04:00

Haymaker & Sally Trailer!

2006-12-09T01:00:00.000-05:00

Brace yourself for a double shot of buddy cop!

Toward Cinematic Greatness

2006-11-27T15:45:00.000-05:00

Greetings, (Remaining) Loyal Readers,

We hope that, in the absence of our regular posting, the archives are rewarding your occasional visits with amusement. We post today to notify our Seattle-area readers of a can't-miss, free event tomorrow (Tuesday, November 28th) at the Pink Door in the Pike Place Market:

A Series of Short Films by Jason Reid

Among the night's attractions will be the WORLD PREMIERE of the trailer for the highly-anticipated buddy cop opus, Haymaker & Sally.

Jason Reid on the set of Haymaker & Sally. Photo Credit: Andrew Miller

Whither Pinto? The Cameraman Obscura Returneth

2006-03-04T04:21:00.000-05:00

While reader mail has slowed to a trickle since we took our near-six-month hiatus in 2005, we still have the good fortune of receiving the occasional missive. Lately, several of you have inquired about Pinto. Where has he gone, you ask, now that his great world tour is over? After all he told us of his adventures in Krabi, Chiang Mai, Bangkok, Wellington, Greymouth, Christchurch, Lima, and Miami, he has seen fit to tell us nothing since?!

Well, Dear Readers, our friend Pinto has returned to his roots, both geographically and artistically. He currently resides in the family nest in Bothell (Welcomes you...for a day or a lifetime), Washington.

Moreover, he is enrolled in a graphic design program, which has brought him back to photography, the medium in which he first made a name for himself (with his sublime and simply titled collection, Carts).

Pinto recently produced this insightful illustrated essay on the work of the famous photographer William Eggleston. He gave us permission to post it online and suggested that we link also to Eggleston's official site. Enjoy!

Finally, our good friend Nick (pictured here, here, and here), an impressive photographer in his own right, has re-launched his official site. Enjoy Nick's photographs and his handsome, bearded mug on the contact page.

We're So Vain, We Probably Think This Post Is About Our Beard (It Is!!)

2006-02-22T23:44:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Loyal Readers!

Things have been a bit busy over here, making blog posting difficult. Today, however, our friend A.C. sent us a link that we thought might amuse you. So without further ado:

The World Beard and Moustache Championships

Our hope of entering the 2007 competition has been roundly mocked--especially by our ever-supportive girlfriend, Katie. Further, our ex-girlfriend, the Furminator, derided our beard as "patchy" and "pubescent." Well, readers, we have photographic evidence to the contrary. Below, you will find our application photographs for the categories "Best Full Beard, Natural" and "Best Saturday Night Goatee, Freestyle." Eat your hearts out, ladies!

Best Full Beard, Natural

Best Saturday Night Goatee, Freestyle

**BONUS BEARD LINK**

I'M the handsome one!

Rumor Mill: Haymaker & Sally

2006-02-14T12:20:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day, Readers!

The solipsism here at Blue Skies Forever is reaching new heights/depths. We post today to inform you of a rumor about ourself--and also to confirm it. It is our own little call-and-response; we are our own hollaback girl!

Nature of rumor: Exciting, benign, confirmed.

Substance of rumor: With the help of our one-time nemesis Sujan, we are in the process of developing the story and screenplay for Haymaker & Sally, a movie about two buddy cops who get in over their heads battling the criminal gang, the Beards. The Beards, it turns out, are both more and less than meets the eye--with friends in high and low places.

The players:

Clifton Haymaker: Clifford

Had a starring role in The Reid/Secrest Olympics. (Photograph not taken from a hostage video.)

Carol "Clyde" Sally: Kevin

Director and star of Blue Collar Escape. Also appeared in The Reid/Secrest Olympics.

Leader of the Beards: Ron Dejais

Director and star of The Reid/Secrest Olympics.

Emissary: Sujan

Army Ranger: Andy

Police Lieutenant with Political Aspirations: Brandon

Brandon has yet to give a firm commitment to the role, but we think he'll have a hard time turning it down once he sees the script.

Still Searching for/Demanding a Role: Our girlfriend, Katie

Pictured here with Ani Dollfranco. Thank you, Jess.

Obviously, this is not an exhaustive listing of the cast. We are in negotiations with a number of stars and will announce new signings as they occur. Generally, we will keep you posted on any major progress with the project. Look for Haymaker & Sally to hit screens across America in late summer, 2006.

Finally, for those looking for a love-related post on Valentine's Day, we direct you to our archives, to our friend A.C. and his adventures in romance.

The Boys Done Good!

2006-02-08T10:51:00.000-05:00

You grew up with them, Loyal Readers. Or rather, they grew up with you. You voted on their name (not that they listened...kids!); you printed their poster and put it on your refrigerator (right next to those report cards!); you took them to soccer practice; you chaperoned their concerts.

Well, it looks like the boys of Mooncalf (Hot Atmosphere/Asbestos We Can/Shiri) have finally grown up, and in A BIG WAY!

The other day, we were listening to KEXP--more specifically to the John in the Morning show, which draws so many listeners that it has led a college radio station (albeit one that receives money from Paul Allen) to pay the D.J. a $90,000 annual salary--when, between songs by indie stalwarts Arab Strap and our favorite band, the Clash, there came the familiar strains of the music of our boys! Incredulous, we performed the virtual self-pinch of checking the playlist. Word is, they're being played regularly. And they've set up their own webpage and myspace page for those looking to learn more about the band and listen to some of their songs.

Of course, our boys haven't grown up so much that they no longer need our support, or at least that it doesn't make us feel proud to support them. So, to request their music, e-mail your KEXP DJ. And to buy their album, visit Sonic Boom Records in Seattle (locations in Capitol Hill, Ballard, and West Seattle) or just stay home and order your copy online.

Finally, rumor has it Mooncalf's music may be featured prominently in the buddy cop movie Haymaker & Sally, which is tentatively slated for release in late summer, 2006.

"I just listened to the entire Mooncalf album and I want it desperately!"
Dakota

Officially Awful

2006-02-06T01:16:00.000-05:00

Bill Simmons: Shouldn't the refs just replace the flags with Terrible Towels at this point?

Concluding observations: Pittsburgh is good at trick plays and the Seahawks can't manage the clock. Congrats to the Steelers and their fans, but this Hawks fan shall not go down without crying the bitter lament of the wronged (and linking to the laments of more impartial observers).

Hawks get robbed

Refs were far from super in this one

Throw a flag on these Super Bowl referees

Game's third team upstaged Steelers, Hawks

Stealers: How the referees handed Pittsburgh the Super Bowl

Give The Super Bowl MVP To The Officials

Not so Super officiating

Iffy officiating

Reader Reaction: Super Bowl XL

TV unveils zebras at their worst

Get to Know Your Super Bowl XL

2006-02-04T23:25:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Readers!

Game Day is finally upon us! After two weeks of constant media coverage, you may feel like you know all there is to know about Super Bowl XL and its participants. But we here at Blue Skies Forever have sorted through the hype, puff pieces, and platitudes to give you the real skinny. First, we profile five important members of each team. After that, we present our four keys to the game. Finally, we give our prediction. Enjoy!

FIVE IMPORTANT MEMBERS OF EACH TEAM

Pittsburgh Steelers

Joey Porter

The pain train's comin', bitch!

Porter is believed to suffer from a rare form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was rejected for the role of Terry Tate, Office Linebacker in his 2001 audition and has refused to break character ever since.

Troy Polamalu

Troy Polamalu is actually a girl, a fact she hides by always showering and changing out of the view of her teammates. But don't let your biases fool you into thinking she can't play--she is still one of the fastest and most feared safeties in the NFL!

Bill Cowher

Unlike his successful coaching career, Cowher's stand-up comedy career (his signature line, generally delivered at the conclusion of a story about his authority over his players, was "because I'm the Man...dible!") failed to get off the ground.

Jerome Bettis

A real throwback.

The Terrible Towel

Though not technically a Steeler team "member," the Terrible Towel is known for its super absorbancy and is thus a favorite of custodians everywhere. "I don't know what we would do without it," says Dave Fleury, booth maintenance supervisor at Seattle's Lusty Lady.

Seattle Seahawks

Mack Strong

Seattle's starting fullback is less well-known for his successful film acting career. Among his best are "Some Like it Strong", "The Stronger They Come", "The Strongest Yard", and "All Night Strong".

Jerramy Stevens

While his skills were recently questioned by Joey Porter, Stevens has proven that he can run and he can hit (and not necessarily in that order).

Marcus Trufant

Shown here giving a visual representation of what the Seahawks defense gives its opponents in the red zone.

Lofa Tatupu

Loofah Falafel?

An oft-repeated hypothesis holds that, given infinite time and typewriters, an infinite group of monkeys would eventually produce the works of William Shakespeare. We think it more likely that, given infinite cell-phone minutes and young, pretty producers, an infinite group of Bill O'Reillys would at least once utter "Lofa Tatupu" during an obscene, harassing phone call.

Mike Holmgren

A highly evolved coach, Holmgren has taken the West Coast offense into the 21st Century. Goo goo g'joob.

FOUR KEYS TO THE GAME

The Florida Key

The Latchkey

The Key of B-Flat Major

The Turkey

OUR PREDICTION

Based on insider information, we predict:

Seahawks 31
Steelers 14

Enjoy the game!

Paul Revere Redux

2006-02-01T00:06:00.000-05:00

THE BRITISH ARE COMING!!!!!!!!!!

Thinking Positive

2006-01-28T23:22:00.000-05:00

The other day, we were getting ready to play a game of basketball when we felt a rather painful twinge in our lower back. Now this was nothing new--these twinges have been coming and going for the last six months or so. Accustomed as we've become to the nuisance, we were nevertheless frustrated.

"Damnit!" We said. "We've got a bad back."

Just then, a not-so-little bird landed on our shoulder, sending us sprawling across the gym floor and aggravating the pain immensely. We blacked out.

"Don't we know you somehow?" We asked after coming to.

"Of course," said the bird. "I'm Blitz!"

Blitz, the official mascot of the NFC Champion Seattle Seahawks

"And you need to learn to be more positive. You don't have a BAD BACK, you have a GOOD FRONT!"

Blitz and ourself got to talking--about backs, fronts, life, and the power of positive thinking.

"You know, Damon," he told us, "I didn't expect this. Last March, my friend Biz and I began planning for our Super Bowl party, Biz & Blitz's XL Blitz & Biz."

"But now it turns out I'm headed to Detroit. And I'll tell you this much--that Roethlisberger kid is going down."

You heard it here first, folks:

Seahawks 31
Steelers 14

Recommendations: Movie, Music, and Book

2006-01-17T22:51:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Friends!

Below are our recommendations. Enjoy!

MOVIE: MY BREAKFAST WITH BLASSIE

Andy Kaufman's response to Louis Malle's My Dinner with Andre, My Breakfast with Blassie was filmed without a script at Sambo's, a Hollywood diner. Kaufman and Freddie Blassie, a former wrestler and the self-proclaimed King of Men, discuss many things, such as the importance of washing one's hands, the vagaries of wrestling, and the demands of stardom, as well as Japan, the Shah of Iran, and herpes. An aburdist delight.

Blassie: What are you gonna have?
Kaufman: Well, um...
Blassie: I’m not much one for steak. I hate steak.
Kaufman: uh-huh.
Blassie: Chicken I only like the white meat.
Kaufman: I dunno—I guess I’ll just have eggs or something
Blassie: yeah, that sounds good
Kaufman: Or maybe pancakes, or
Blassie: Pancakes, eh, they’re not too good for you.
Kaufman: Why not?
Blassie: Like eating a bunch of dough.
Kaufman: Really?
Blassie: Really, yeah, nah,
Kaufman: What about French Toast or Waff—?
Blassie: French Toast, same thing. Don’t eat any—too much bread.
Kaufman: Waffles?
Blassie: Waffles, the same thing.
Kaufman: Well, what’s good then?
Blassie: [laughs] Why don’t you have some turkey, then?
Kaufman: Oh yeah, for breakfast, though? This is breakfast.
Blassie: Oh yeah, that’s right.
Kaufman: Yeah
Blassie: Well, see, I mean, in my business, I mean, you eat breakfast any time of the day, whenever you wake up. So I’m accustomed to eating turkey all hours of the time, makes no difference.
Kaufman: Well, you know wha—
Blassie: You gonna have some eggs?
Kaufman: Is it alright with you if I, if I, uh, take off my jacket?
Blassie: Certainly. I mean, we’re friends of long standing. You can do anything you want. You want to get up and dance a jig, you can dance a jig.
Kaufman: OK
Blassie: Do anything.
Kaufman: OK
Blassie: Been a long time since we seen each other. You’re doing real well.

"The reason I don't like to shake hands with nobody is I don't know if they've been to the men's room, been to the toilet, and their finger went right through the tissue...and I'm gonna shake hands with these pencil-neck geeks?! Some guys only use two or three tissues...I use a half a roll if I've got to go...I'll be darn sure my hand don't go through...plus the fact that I scrub underneath my fingernails very good and everything...but what the hell are we talkin' bout that for? We're eating breakfast...But everything's going real well for you. I'm very happy for you."

"Just because I gave you the autograph, then you keep sitting there...I shouldn't have given you the autograph...Why can't you let people have privacy; we're just like you. We're human beings...I didn't start bothering you...I don't really care...I don't need you, OK?...You know they say always be nice to them on the way up because when you come down you'll need them, well I'm not coming down so what would I need you for?"

(Note: If you want My Breakfast with Blassie on DVD, it's only available as the B-side of I'm From Hollywood, a documentary about Andy Kaufman's wrestling exploits in the South.

MUSIC: JANUARY 11 ROADHOUSE, "MARTIN LUTHER KING AND THE SONGS OF FREEDOM--HOW GOSPEL MUSIC INSPIRED A MOVEMENT."

Those of you who are familiar know that every Wednesday from 6 to 9 PM Pacific Time, Greg Vandy's Roadhouse on Seattle's KEXP features a great collection of Americana--blues, soul, gospel, bluegrass, folk, zydeco, etc.

We particularly enjoyed his show on January 11th, entitled "Martin Luther King and the Songs of Freedom--How Gospel Music Inspired a Movement." Songs by The Staple Singers, Nina Simone, Alabama Christian Movement Choirs, and others are interspersed with speeches by King and others, and Vandy also interviews composer, historian, and civil rights movement participant Bernice Johnson Reagon. The archived show will be up for only another week, so get it while you can. However, we always recommend the archived Roadhouse shows. You can find them here, by using the drop down menu under programs to select "Roadhouse". Of course, you can listen to them live at the aforementioned time simply by visiting KEXP and clicking the "listen live" link.

Bernice Johnson Reagon

BOOK: ADVENTURES IN ARABIA

Much has been written over the last several years on the lack of understanding between the United States and pretty much every Middle Eastern country except Israel. Unfortunately, Rick Steves, the person most qualified to give us these societies through the eyes of a tourist, has not seen fit to take his show further East then Turkey.

Go east, young man!

Thus, we rewind almost 80 years to Adventures in Arabia, by William B. Seabrook. Seabrook travelled to Arabia simply for the pleasure of it, and recounts what he saw and heard with a child's skepticism. Here are a couple of excerpts:

On the camel, generally:

He has the combined malice and stupidity of the worst type of "jarhead" Georgia mule. He is as ugly as sin, and he does not belie his appearance. His black heart is filled with a vicious and melancholy hatred. He frequently stinks, or rather his breath does, like ten thousand constipated devils. And one of his favorite tricks is to vomit his vile greenish cud explosively in the face of the man who may be seeking to do him a kindness. He will bite you, not in anger as high-tempered horses sometimes do, but in casual, cold contumacy. If you are lying asleep, he will walk out of his way to step on your face. A dying camel has been known to drag himself for miles to a spring, not to drink there--so the Arabs take oath--but so that his carcass might pollute the water and poison those who come to drink afterward. If there is a ditch or pit, he will seek it out and fall in, breaking his legs if need be, merely to inconvenience his master. He is lazy and treacherous. Nobody loves him--not even Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate.

Recounting a story he heard of the heroics of the Druse Sultan Pasha:

Meantime, the French had sent three tanks to take the prisoner to Damascus...As we continued to ride twoard them, Sultan Pasha's power surged suddenly within him. With a great shout he urged his white mare into a gallop, and then into a run. When he reached the plain, he was riding on, nearly a quarter of a mile ahead, full tilt, against the first tank.

He was fired on, but escaped untouched, though four bullets went through the folds of his abba. The top lid of the tank had been left open because of the heat. Throwing away his gun, Sultan Pasha rode his horse at full speed against the tank, leaped from the saddle on top of it and with his sword slew the captain and lieutenant who were inside. In his battle fury he was not content to kill with a single downward stroke. Twenty sword thrusts were found in the captain's body afterward.

My Bologna Has a Second Name--It's S-T-E-W-A-R-T!

2006-01-11T02:53:00.000-05:00

Let's hear you make a chant out of that one, Gwen! Holla back at us, girl!

Blue Skies 4-eva!

Greetings, Friends!

And welcome to the First Annual Blue Skies Forever Stewart-off! This idea was born when we came across a headline reading "Stewart to Replace Rock as Host of Oscars." Immediately, our mind went into overdrive. Stewart? Stewart? Who could that be?

Strangely, we did not think of Jon. Further, we must admit our disappointment that he was the Stewart selected. After all, we can see him any weeknight. But what about all of the underappreciated Stewarts out there? Surely there is an audience for them, no? Thus, we decided to hold our own selection process to see which Stewart should host the Academy Awards. The results might surprise you.

Without further ado, we present the First Annual Blue Skies Forever Stewart-off:

Number 6: Rod Stewart

A 1970s sex symbol. Dragon above, Dragon below!

Number 5: Tony Stewart

The favorite of Academy moderates, Stewart had the potential to win over that elusive demographic, the NASCAR Dads.

Number 4: Patrick Stewart

He's more than just the guy you picture on the other side of that gloryhole.

Number 3: Martha Stewart

On next week's "Martha Stewart's Living", Gwen Stefani will be paying a visit. Watch as the Harajuku Girls and Martha's yes-people make things out of bananas, while Gwen seranades them with an a capella version of "Don't Speak." Plus, Gwen dresses up the girls in tracking bracelets to match Martha's.

Number 2: Dave Stewart

Actual behind-the-scenes Academy conversation, jotted down by intrepid reporter Pinto:
James Lipton: I would have preferred Jimmy, but Dave won 22 games in 1990. I think he may still have it.
Uma Thurman: (sighs) Well, at least he'll be better than that other Dave.
Carrot Top: (Laughs uproariously)

And the winner of the First Annual Blue Skies Forever Stewart-off is...

French Stewart!

Threeve

Science Man: My Visage Reclamation Project

2006-01-03T04:56:00.000-05:00

We received the following e-mail from Science Man:

Dear Damon,

I hope this message finds you well. I apologize that I have been incommunicado for so long. And incommunicado is the right word, for I am in Latin America!

2006 is upon us; may it bring only the best to you and your readers. Indeed, my hopes are high, for I can look back at 2005 as a year of lessons. I experienced debilitating loneliness while studying in Berlin, survived an assassination attempt, was expelled from equestrian camp, and failed in my pursuit of a certain beauty. I now realize that, despite my talents, the monastic life of the academic is not for me. Nor is the single-minded pursuit of romance. 'Tis pigeon-hearted to be cold-hearted, no doubt, but there are better ways to warm that organ than with the song of the sylph.

Thus, looking forward, I have decided to travel south, to that "other" America, to discuss with some close friends how I might re-apply myself to struggles for the collective good.

Attached you will find two photographs. As you know, in 2005, the face of my doppelganger, John Bolton, was all over the news--so much so that many now think I am him, and associate me with Condoleezza Rice (with whom he is often pictured) and the Bush Administration. To combat these popular misconceptions, as well as to celebrate my renewed commitment to justice and solidarity, I shall be sending photographs regularly. Consider it my visage reclamation project.

Your friend,
Science Man

Congratulating my good friend Evo on his victory

Hugo is like family to me

End of the Year Awards, 2005

2005-12-31T07:07:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Friends!

As you know, much has passed since our last post. Contrary to the predictions of some pundits, 2005 was actually quite eventful. Alas, given the long inactive stretches for Blue Skies Forever (5/24 – 7/07, 7/13 - 12/31), it might also be consider underblogged. Thus we return, in the spirit of tokenism, and give you our End of the Year Awards:

Where Are They Now? Tabron

As was the case last year, our inquiry is sincere. (We’d still love to hear anything on the whereabouts or doings of the resourceful Perley King.) Web searches don't confirm even the one-time existence of 1980s hip-hop duo Tabron, who helped pave the way for the modern era's great, two rapper duos, such as Black Star and Outkast. Tabron might be best known for their video tribute to a certain former NBA player. Blue Skies Forever is currently in negotiations to post the video online. Stay tuned!

You couldn’t have done it without Tabron.

Best New Artist (new to ourself, at least): Blue Scholars

We were introduced to this Seattle-based hip-hop duo by Science Man, who seems to have rediscovered his radical roots. The Blue Scholars combine superb sampling with intelligent and angry politics, as well as many shouts out to the 206, most notably their tribute to the glory days of "the Ave." You can listen to some of their songs here and here.

Best Urban Life Anecdote

This one is taken directly from the Last Days section of Seattle's The Stranger:

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13 In much lighter news: Today brought a world-class Hot Tip from gifted Hot Tipper Ismael, eyewitness to an extraordinarily rich collision of humanity on that celebrated petri dish of human freakishness, Seattle Metro. But as Ismael makes clear, Metro-based lunacy isn't limited to riders, but occasionally strikes drivers as well, with driver-related psychosis typically taking the form of fierce bureaucratic hostility dished out by hair-trigger taskmasters ready to pounce on every perceived slight to their necessary but arbitrary superiority. Case in point: Today's driver of a midday #43 heading from downtown up Capitol Hill, a 40-something man whose slow-burning spite flared to life with a dose of itchy racial tension. "At Sixth and Pike, the bus stopped to let on a gentleman in a wheelchair," writes Ismael. "To prepare for the boarding, the bus driver 'asked' an older lady to move from her seat in the handicap area up front. (I punctuate 'asked,' because all I heard him say was, 'Move.') The older lady, who was African-American, said, 'I'm moving!' and the driver—who was also African-American—said it again, 'Move!' As the older lady obeyed, she asked, 'Why didn't you pick that side?' indicating the handicap seat opposite her own, occupied by a Caucasian woman. 'I'll pick whatever side I want,' the driver said, 'Now move.' 'You don't wanna disturb the white lady,' the older lady said, reportedly sending the driver into a tizzy: 'That's it. Either you get off, or this bus ain't moving.' The older lady replied, 'I ain't gettin' off the bus.' You can guess the rest," writes Ismael. "A trickle of exiting passengers soon became a mass exodus as everybody got off that damned bus—including the driver, who made a show of disconnecting the bus poles from their electric cables. One relocated on a #14 bus, I looked into the near-empty #43 and saw the guy in a wheelchair, who looked despondent. All he wanted was to get up the hill, for Christ's sake. Bonus irony points: The older lady was sitting in one of those seats recently designated In Honor of Rosa Parks."

That's all for now, folks. Stay tuned for occasional news of Science Man, Pinto, MeShow, Jeffrey, Hot Atmosphere, ourself, and the rest of the Blue Skies Forever gang. Happy New Year!

An Enchanting Album

2005-07-13T12:14:00.000-04:00

Greetings, Friends!

Blue Skies Forever is pleased to announce the official release of our friend Tim Seely's album, Funeral Music. Tim performed in the KEXP studio last Saturday; you can hear his performance here. Go to "Listen by time" select Saturday, July 9th for the date, and 6:00 PM for the time. You'll hear the last 15 seconds or so of some song before Tim comes on.

Of course, we have had an advance copy of Funeral Music for some time, its cover featuring personalized artwork by Tim himself. We can vouch for the album's quality and for the quality of the man who, in his own words, keeps "churning out the hits." However, if you'd rather take the word of a more impartial observer, a person of great learning and impeccable taste, in whose shadow we dwell and to whose beaconing light we are drawn (all of us except perhaps Shiri), we give you the opinion of our poet laureate, Science Man:

Science Man's doppelganger, John Bolton

"Your friend Tim's song, Trucker's Lullaby, while sad, is a thing of great beauty--a spark, a glow--and has helped me through the winter."
Science Man, 20 February 2005

Buy Funeral Music!

Over One Month Later, The World Still Spins

2005-07-07T23:26:00.000-04:00

Greetings, Friends!

Indeed, much time has passed since our last post--a blue skies forever record 43 days! To those loyal readers who have remained loyal despite our prolonged dereliction, we offer our heartfelt thanks.

Indeed, we might still be derelict had it not been for the angry complaints of one of our most devout readers, the famous Das Booty vocalist Nick.

While we would like to thank him with a tribute, we feel our skills, a little dull from disuse, are not up to the task. Words having failed ourself, or perhaps ourself having failed words, we turn to their thousandfold friend and sometime competitor, the picture.

Circa 1996: G.I. Nick battles Cobra in an unidentified hotel room. Knowing is half the battle, kids!

And for our Seattle readers (the few who remain):

Mooncalf (a.k.a. Hot Atmosphere, a.k.a. Shiri, a.k.a. Tall Buildings...)
Thursday, July 7th
The Tractor Tavern
10:30 PM
$5.00-$8.00

Ron Dejais, Superfan

2005-05-24T01:25:00.000-04:00

Only four teams remain in the NBA playoffs, and, alas, Ron Dejais' SuperSonics are not one of them. Battling valiantly through injuries and perhaps some poor officiating, the Sonics nevertheless succumbed to the heavily favored San Antonio Spurs in the series' sixth game last Thursday. Don't blame Ron, though. As you will see in the following photo essay, he would stop at nothing--not even destroying his own couch with a meat cleaver and a hammer--to will his team to victory.

Manu is to Ron as Hannibal is to Miggs

Game 3: Doubting his "Ronics"? So early in the series? No, just an ice cream headache.

Ron declares his fidelity: "I am handcuffed by my love for the Sonics." He admits to sleeping in his "vintage" Horace Grant jersey...and nothing else. "It feels so smooth against my skin."

"@#^& you, Joey Crawford!" Ron lets a referee, and the couch, know how he feels about a call.

Game 6: "If I'm going down, I'm taking the couch with me..."

...

...

In his post-postseason despair, a besotted Navy Bean eulogized the fallen:

Navy Bean

REFLECTIONS ON A SEASON LOST

The hatchet glinted as I approached
Ron's and White's red door.

Tonight the couch
would meet its match
stick struck
meat cleaver cleft
hammer claw clobbered
gasoline doused.

At least we would have this to show
For a Sonics season ended
too soon.

Ron Dejais, On the Prowl

2005-05-19T16:53:00.000-04:00

From the "where are they now?" category: many of you may have been wondering whatever happened to Ron Dejais, the impudent, semi-literate, adolescent 26-year-old who challenged the esteemed Science Man to a "poem-off" in February. Well, wonder no longer, Readers! This is the first of two installments on Ron's struggles since his failed challenge of Science Man.

We caught up to Ron in Telluride, CO, as he was returning from a road trip to Vegas, where he shot a video for Seattle-based rapper Lil' Kriz's song "Vegas", and also joined a bachelor party for his friend, The Ace. (Rumor has it that, after spending $4,000+ at the Hard Rock Cafe, Ron and several other revelers tacked on another 'g' or two with their in-room entertainment).

Ron's stash of cash and other goods had dwindled to trace levels, and his credit cards were nearly maxed out. He was cruising the resort town's bars, hoping to get picked up by "some old rich woman, so I'll have a place to sleep. I've been sleeping in my car and I'm starting to get a little tired, not to mention ripe."

Ron, upon entering Telluride

Weren't you on "Designing Women"? Care for a nightcap?

Unfortunately, Ron was not successful ("I asked a group of women where the hot nightlife was, and they told me to keep walking down the street and I'd find it. They wouldn't make eye contact with me; it was strange. I followed their directions until I saw a sign that said 'Thanks for visiting Telluride!'"), and dossed once more in his rental. To make matters worse, his beloved Seattle SuperSonics fell behind the San Antonio Spurs, one game to zero, in their best of seven, conference semifinal series. Adding injury to insult, the Sonics lost sixth man extraordinare Vladimir Radmanovic for the series to a badly sprained right ankle.

Nevertheless, Ron remained defiant. "I may smell," he explained. "I may be broke. I may not be able to get laid by old, rich women in Telluride. But there is no way," here, his voice dropped into a throaty, crazed whisper, "no way that the Sonics will lose this series."

Stay tuned for the next installment, when we visit Ron in his natural habitat of Seattle's Georgetown, where his spirits rise and fall with the fortunes of his Sonics.

Jeffrey Dispatch: VOLCANA PAPAYA, GUATEMALA

2005-05-16T01:07:00.000-04:00

It appears that a dispatch from Central America Bureau Correspondent Jeffrey was previously lost in the ether.

26 April 2005
VOLCÁN PACAYA, Guatemala

A snippet from the Central America Lonely Planet:

"Volcán Pacaya (2552m) attracts the most tourists and the most
bandits. The situation is improving, however, since each group is now
accompanied by a security guard (little comfort when he turns out to
be prepubescent)."

Or, as in my case, when the security guard turns out to be a dog.
Yesterday I ventured to the top of Volcán Pacaya. We started out with
2 armed guards but they only took us to the trail head. The rest of
the way we were accompanied by a dog who knew the volcano better than
any other dog out there. Give this bitch a treat and she might carry
your day pack for you.

I am happy to say that with her expert guidance I made it to the top
without being raped or robbed. I was able to enjoy the spewing lava
with peace of mind. Thanks, little dog.

Welcome Back, Pinto!

2005-05-13T04:53:00.000-04:00

Shorly after sending his first and only South America dispatch, our good friend Pinto informed us that he was back on American soil:

You were asking me before if it was weird to be back
in the U.S. And now, here in Miami, I'd say yeah.
What makes it weirder still is that South Beach is so
familiar. Not because I've ever been there, but
because I've played Vice City. It's identical!
It's tripping me out. I'm Tommy Vercetti.

Once more, Pinto, we salute you. It's good to have you home.

Pinto Dispatch: LIMA, PERU

2005-05-13T04:34:00.000-04:00

10 May 2006

LIMA, Peru

Lima is forever covered in a haze. At night, you may
mistake it for a mist. In the morning, you may think
it's a coastal fog. But the vista from the Hippodromo
de Monterrico on a cloudless afternoon breaks down all
illusions: It's smog, and it's not going anywhere.

Against this lovely backdrop, with the horses in the
foreground parading before the sixth race, I met
George. He asked me what my "gusto" was, and I told
him the ocho on looks alone. Then he told me very
confidentially, rising on his toes, and even saying it
in English so I'd be sure to understand, "Two." "What
kind of hot tip is this?" I thought. Two was the
favorite. And, by George, he, and everyone else, was
right. The two horse won. After the race, he bumped
into me to gloat. "Mucho dinero?" I asked him. But
he didn't acknowledge this.

Before I left him to go look at the horses in the
seventh race, he impressed upon me that it was going
to be the nine this time. I didn't even need to look.
It was going to be the nine. Nine, nine, nine. I
went to the parade ring anyway, but George stuck with
me. The nine didn't look so great to me though. He
was grey and weak. I didn't know how to break it to
George. So I sneaked off to the betting window
without a word. I gave the teller my preference, the
seis. "No," I heard the voice right beside me, "Nine!
Nine!" George again. Finally I asked him, if he was
so big on the nine, where was his hot ticket? "No
tengo," he responded with a shrug. Gambling by proxy
is not a bad gig if you can find the right sucker.
And the nine ran sixth.

A Blast (of Greatness) from the Past

2005-05-05T01:42:00.000-04:00

Greetings, Friends!

Because we have many new readers who have yet to peruse the January archives; because we are nothing if not lazy; because our laziness has led us to a desperate situation, wherein we are attempting to learn the law of our constitution in one week's time; because now is the season of law school exams (upon which law school grades are based), we republish, for your enjoyment, what many consider to be the greatest law-related joke of all time.

(Note to those not familiar with law school: An LLM is an advanced law degree; the term may also be used to apply to one who is working toward that degree. In many cases, LLM students are visiting from other countries.)

What happened to the LLM who got a couple of A's?

She turned into a LLAMA!!!

It's Spring, and Love Is in the Air

2005-05-01T18:03:00.000-04:00

Well, Readers, things have been a little crazy here at blue skies forever! First, Science Man declared his love for Shiri. Then, within two hours of introducing Jeffrey, I had six voicemails on my cell phone. Six! What's even funnier is that they were all from the same person. That person? None other than the dreamy Shiri. Her message? She wanted me to "make it happen" between her and Jeffrey. My response?

"Come aboard--we're expecting you. Love, life's sweetest reward. Let it flow--it floats back to you!"

That goes for you, too, readers. Come aboard!

Jeffrey Dispatch: ANTIGUA, GUATEMALA

2005-04-29T13:46:00.000-04:00

A new dispatch from Jeffrey, hot off the wire. Also check out his pictures:

Jeffrey's pictures

28 April 2005
SAN PEDRO, Guatemala

It was with much jubilation that the Guatemaltecos
welcomed in the new Pope. Everything came to a screeching halt when the news of his selection made its way to Guatemala. My Spanish classes were stopped and we all gathered around the TV to watch this emotional moment. Given the chaos of the ensuing celebration, I was grateful that the armed guard watching over the Pepsi truck did not start firing into the air.

I interviewed several Guatelmaltecos about the quick selection of el
nuevo Papa. Lorenzo, the director of the Spanish school I attended,
said, "We are all very happy for the quick turnaround. It is good to
move on." Addressing the widespread disappointment in Latin America that the young, up-and-coming Honduran Cardinal was passed over for the much more conservative German, Lorenzo added, "Ratzinger is 78. He will be dead soon."

Several days later, still suffering from a post-succession hangover, I traveled to Antigua, which had been Guatemala’s capital until it was destroyed by an earthquake in 1773. Passing the Iglesia y Convento de Nuestra Senora de La Merced, I heard a voice that was so sweet I thought it might be God himself.

God, it was not. But the passed-over, up-and-coming Honduran Cardinal was doing his best impression. Undeterred by his near miss (rumor has it that God had him fitted for a ring the night before), and backed by the hardest working band in Christendom, he entertained the audience of roughly 40 with some of the Holy Ghost’s greatest hits. He even had the grace to send a shout-out to el nuevo Papa.

This one's for Benny...Band, tune your instruments to "Holy C!"

This is going to be our last song. By the way, if any of you sees Jay-Z, could you let him know that God wants him to stop doing that "J-Hova" thing?

Introducing Central America Bureau Correspondent Jeffrey

2005-04-27T03:31:00.000-04:00

Hello, Friends!

Fortunately, while Pinto has been lying low (in LAX or elsewhere), someone else has taken it upon himself to quench your thirst for knowledge of distant lands. Today we introduce our friend Jeffrey, amateur geographer and professional man-about-town. Like Pinto, Jeffrey left behind a lucrative job to explore that sapphire jewel we call Earth. Jeffrey, we salute you!

And thus, without further ado, we give you the inaugural dispatch from blue skies forever NEWS Central America Bureau Correspondent Jeffrey:

26 April 2005
SAN PEDRO, Guatemala

Thinking of you.

Jeffrey

Dog

Has Science Man Found Science Woman?

2005-04-23T17:03:00.000-04:00

Greetings, Readers!

It has been an eventful few months for our poet laureate, Science Man. First, in a fit of melancholy, he left Berlin, renouncing the life of letters. Shortly thereafter, he survived an attempt on his life, and then spent several weeks evading his would-be assasins. Most recently, a spat with a former gigolo led to his expulsion from an elite equestrian academy. But perhaps things have begun to turn around for our friend. He writes below, detailing his newfound hope for happiness (as well as providing an explanation for the curious results to our first poll).

Dear Damon,

I have calmed somewhat since I last wrote you. I did spend several days searching for my would-be assassins, my frustration growing with my lack of success. On the fourth day, however, I had an epiphany. Believe it or not, it was as I was browsing the archives of your blog. I read once more the post about your friend Shiri, and suddenly it struck me: I am in love. (I proceeded to vote for her fourteen times in the Mooncalf poll.) Please, Damon, do me a favor and publish my letter to her.

Your friend,
Science Man

[Play music now]

Dear Shiri,

You may not know me. You may never have encountered my poetry, my scholarship, nor my dog, Raw. But I think you could love me. And I know I love you.

Raw

Please, let down your guard, love. Let me be your guard, love. (Let me guard you with my love.) Let me be your mirror; see your beauty reflected in my love of your beauty, love. Are you getting dizzy? I know I am. I want to touch you.

That's actually John Bolton, not me. But people say we look pretty alike.

Love,
Science Man

I see her face and I can’t let go...

If my friend Hammer told you
(you’re so bold and cold; you
had me sold at hello)
how I feel.

Would you smile? Be surprised?
Would you narrow your eyes?
"All these guys,"
(Here she sighs)
"What’s the deal?"

Oh, my Dear Shiri,
Please, my love, hear me,
Hear Hammer’s sweet query...
I’ve seen her, I said.

Could I be any clearer?
She’s the girl in the mirror,
or the passing car’s window
as traffic stops dead.

She'll be mine, she'll be fly, and it'll last

Let's not mask our feelings, Shiri. This is love.

Hey Cardinal, Is That a Fly on the Wall? Behind the Scenes at the Papal Conclave

2005-04-20T01:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, white smoke rose from the chimney of the Vatican, signaling that the cardinals had chosen a new pope. The winner? Germany's Joseph Ratzinger.

Yet still we wonder: what went on in the papal conclave?

Ratz! Several cardinals expressed disappointment upon realizing that their votes had not, in fact, gone to the actor who portrayed television's Cliff Claven

In this groundbreaking piece of reporting, our friend Nirav takes us behind the scenes:

A Breakdown of the Popefuls

Bedtime Story: Mind Your Manners, or When the Very Important Judge Visited the Very Special Ivory Tower

2005-04-17T20:46:00.000-04:00

The Very Important Judge

Once upon a time, there was a very important judge who went by the initials A.S.; to save a syllable, we’ll call him Ass.

Chief Justice Crow was receiving treatment for karmic cancer and thus was not present for the picture

As a member of the United States Supreme Court, Ass had made a career of coupling what might generously be termed nostalgia for an older social order with extremely clever rhetorical maneuvers. For example, one time a state amended its constitution to bar laws protecting homosexuals from discrimination. Ass became angry when his fellow justices called this law unconstitutional. A master logician, he pointed out that theirs was an error of analogy: homosexuals should be classified under the law not with racial minorities and other traditionally oppressed groups, but rather--and this was purely a legal point and not in any way an indication of his personal views--with murderers and animal abusers. The key is that justices shouldn't insert their personal views on morality into their legal decisions.

One day, a very special Ivory Tower decided to invite Ass over for a visit. More specifically, one of its many oft-read publications desired to honor him for his great contributions to the interpretation of law.

The Hero

The controversy began at the afternoon's question and answer session. It is here that we first encounter our hero, a student named Eric.

Eric, the Hero

Eric asked Ass about a case called Lawrence v. Texas, in which the court struck down a law that criminalized homosexual sex. Ass dissented in the case, and, prompted by Eric's question, was dismissive of the liberty and privacy interests of homosexual couples. In response, Eric decided to act out what law professors like to call a counterfactual. Reversing the roles that Ass had envisioned, he asked, "Do you sodomize your wife?"

Genteel jaws dropped. The ears of the pure burned with shame. Monocles sprung from see-no-evil eyes. A woman fainted. A child renounced Christ.

"Did he just say 'sodomize?'" queried one student, his world of professionalism collapsing before him.

"Has he no respect for the robe?" Wondered several students and administrators.

Lost among the murmuring: one student, suffering from a rare form of color-blindness, mistook the black robe for a white one, and expressed his sincere confusion.

"I am not going to answer that," said Ass, his face reddening.

"Well, it appears from your response that you do value privacy," Eric continued. "So why do you want to send the cops into my bedroom?"

The Goon

Later in the day, Eric joined other agitators to make noise outside of the ceremony honoring Ass. And not just quiet noise, far away from the ceremony, but loud noise, close by!

Luckily, the administration was prepared, and sent in its favorite goon, Vice Dean Clay, or V.D., for short.

V.D.

V.D. approached the rabble-rousers and, through violent gestures and schoolmasterly reprimands, attempted to bully their putative leaders into moving the group to the law school's courtyard.

Let me be very clear with you, young man. This is a public sidewalk. We want you back behind the cordoned-off area in our courtyard immediately. Do you understand me? Where is the professionalism at this school? We had a deal! You winked when you told me you couldn't promise anything!

The wagging finger of the condescending schoolmaster did not work for you? How about the chop?! Did I mention that this is a public sidewalk? In loco parentis! IN LOCO PARENTIS!!! [Ed: note the handsome gentleman in the blue hat]

The protestors ignored his demands. When all was said and done, Ass had received his honors, but not without disruption.

The Very Special Ivory Tower Strikes Back

Many future professionals--their necks still red from violent collar-loosening maneuvers, their sensibilities still offended from having heard the word that was written in the opinion being discussed--expressed their disapproval.

"Utterly classless...I think that a Supreme Court Justice deserves a modicum of respect," wrote one. Another suggested that the heads of all the student groups sign a letter apologizing to Ass--and then get together to mow his lawn.

Perhaps swayed by this outburst of indignation, Dean Ricky, usually a vocal opponent of discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity, weighed in with a curious e-mail.

What would Paul Simon, er, John Sexton do?

He said that Eric's question contained "offensive and insulting language" (no word yet on whether Lawrence will be excised from next year's textbooks) and that his friend Nadine, who was there to honor Ass, said that the protestors were not within their First Amendment rights.

My donors say money=speech!

Like a bridge over troubled water, Ricky clarified that he would be mowing Ass's lawn as soon as the weather warmed enough to require it. V.D., on the other hand, would wait in the car and work on the following: 1) fabricating agreements that he could later accuse students of breaking; 2) writing a letter of apology to U.S. News and World Report; and 3) designing an obstacle course to be completed by progressive groups that seek funding for symposia. Finally, Ricky announced the law school's new motto:

THE END

Note to NYU Law Students:

Join Dean Ricky Revesz, Vice Dean Clayton Gillette, and the Annual Survey of American Law in presenting posthumous honors to the Plessy v. Ferguson court for its contributions to American jurisprudence. The ceremony will be held in Greenberg Lounge.

For those offended by this ceremony, a protest area has been set up in Mercer Pub.

*****************************************************

Keywords: Antonin Scalia, Nino

Reader Mail/Our First Poll

2005-04-13T11:26:00.000-04:00

Greetings, friends!

We have a couple of pieces of reader mail to share with you. First, in response to The Morah's conspiracy theory, a reader sent us the following:

Confirmed dispatch from hell-ay sleeper cell operative:

Pinto wuz here, clad in crisp pink security shirt, with freshly groomed
facial hair and well-tailored, allegedly Indian pants. During his brief
SoCal tenure, many Angeleno tourist destinations were visited, including,
but not limited to, the Magic Castle Hotel and Home of the Academy of
Magical Arts, the famed Hollywood sign at dusk (complete with
pollution-induced scarlet sunset), El Conquistador Restaurante Mexicano
family hangout cum boys' nightspot ('a feast for the eyes as well as the
palate'), and, finally, Madonna's house for a Courvoisier nightcap on the
lanai.

The Morah's visit, however, passed undocumented by local authorities.

Madonna

Next, our good friend Navy Bean, of the band currently known as Mooncalf (but which we often call Hot Atmosphere), wrote us in the hope that you, Dear Readers, would be able to help him and his mates settle on a new name:

I'd really appreciate it if you could poll your friends and maybe blog
readers. It could be like click here if you like Touch Tank, click there
if you prefer Hot Atmosphere, etc. They can also write in if they have
another name in mind. It's pretty safe to say no one likes mooncalf, so
we don't need that as an option.

Navy Bean

P.S. Maybe ask that Shiri girl. She seemed to have good taste. Of course, she'd probably suggest that we name the band Shiri!

It was a good run, cowboy, but we're gonna have to let you go.

Below are the names the band is considering. After each is a brief description provided by Navy Bean himself.

Hot Atmosphere

I think your readers are familiar with this name and its potential.

Touch Tank

When I was a little kid, I loved the touch tank at the aquariam. I even fell in once.

Tall Buildings

Tall buildings were another thing I really liked as a little kid. If we named ourselves tall buildings, we’d be like a skyline, but with more recognition of the unique contribution of each member, or building.

All Kinda

You see, this is a funny name, because it sounds at first like we're islamic militants, which we’re not. The non-committal 'kinda' is just further proof of that.

The Split Ends

What’s great about this name is that it can refer to football OR hair.

Asbestos We Can!

Asbestos gets a bad rap. I mean, it's definitely not the best insulator, but it's a little like a sleeping dog or tiger—if you don't disturb it, it won't mess with you.

We tried to post the poll on the page, but Internet Explorer users were unable to read it. Hence, you'll just have to click on the link below. The poll should allow you to vote only once, so consider the choices carefully. And again, if you would like to suggest another name, feel free to e-mail us.

Vote in the poll

We welcome reader mail. Send to ohgivemeahome(at)gmail(dot)com.

Welcome Back, Ourself!

2005-04-11T00:04:00.000-04:00

Greetings, readers! And welcome back, ourself!

(Applause)

Our hiatus from blogging was an emotional rollercoaster

While we were gone, our friend Nirav resumed battle with his dastardly nemesis, the unbearable lightness of being.

We learned that our friend and classmate Chris has a blog full of amusing links.

And last but not least, we received some more reader mail. It seems our readers are fond of conspiracy theories. First, Chris of Philadelphia suggested that Science Man and John Bolton might have been seperated at birth. Now Portland, Oregon's The Morah writes the following:

...we arrived safely at LAX at 7:30 in the morning. We had to transfer from the international to the domestic terminal, which was something like a four-mile walk. When we finally arrived at our gate, imagine my surprise when I saw Pinto sitting there reading the newspaper! I put my bags down and yelled 'Pinto!!', but Pinto did not respond. I'm telling you, this was not a Pinto lookalike. This was Pinto. Reading the paper. He refused to acknowledge me, so I puzzled for a moment then went to get a bottle of water. When I came out of the travel shop, Pinto was gone. I am now convinced that he is not in Paz. He has not been in Thailand or New Zealand or anywhere else. Pinto has been sitting at LAX for the last 6 months.

We doubt the Morah's theory, as Pinto has sent us a number of postcards postmarked from the locales they depict, and as he may well have stopped in LAX en route to one of his destinations. Nevertheless, we shall leave it to him to respond. Pinto?

Say it ain't so, buddy

It's good to be back, readers. We missed you!

PS--If you don't like Antonin Scalia and you live in New York, check out the protest over NYU's decision to honor Scalia on Tuesday.

We welcome reader mail. Send to ohgivemeahome(at)gmail(dot)com.

OMG! THE POPE DIED!!

2005-04-06T18:40:00.000-04:00

Science Man Strikes Back

2005-04-04T03:16:00.000-04:00

Dear Damon and Readers,

Let me begin by thanking you for your concern; I am exceedingly lucky to have such devoted friends.

Since my last missive, I have exchanged one remote location for another. As the result of my friend George's generosity, I just completed several days of "offshore" recreation. Originally, I was scheduled to stay for a week, but my hosts have asked me to leave. Let me explain:

I came here to attend an elite, all-male equestrian camp. The men who run it insist that its existence, let alone its location, remain a secret.

I should clarify that when I call it elite, I refer only to the quality of instruction; the students are of all skill levels, something pointed out regularly and profanely by our instructors. (They are fond of telling us that we're "trust fund candy asses" and that the camp administrators would accept "any shit-for-brains" who could pay the tuition and keep his mouth shut.) It seems that the majority of the students are exiles or misfits of some type who attend on the dollar of another. Rumor has it that Bobby Fischer "rode" in '94 and insisted on calling his horse Kasparov.

On to my story: It was high noon on the third day at camp, and I, along with my fellow campers, had just settled down to lunch. Despite our soreness, we straddled the tiny wooden stools provided by the camp. (The instructors ate roasted duck and sat in the cushioned booths of the cafeteria, a privilege they told us we had yet to earn). As I bit into my bologna and American cheese sandwich, I caught the unmistakeable whiff of cigarette smoke. I turned to my left and encountered the pinkened, ovoid visage of none other than my fellow student JD, whom you more likely know as Jeff Gannon, the discredited journalist/political hack/male escort.

JD/Jeff Gannon

"I thank you to extinguish your cigarette or move away," I told him. (Had someone else been smoking, I might have moved along myself. But I had had enough of JD.)

He refused, spewing some pablum about individual freedoms.

"Listen, Bulldog," my anger was rising, "My mother acquired lung cancer because of your freedoms. If you don't 'beat it,' I will beat you."

JD responded by blowing smoke in my face.

Every man has his breaking point, and I had reached mine. The days of running and hiding from hired assassins; the knowledge that those hired assassins hid my true adversary, an anonymous coward; the frustration resulting from my inability to confront him; the inconvenience, the isolation, the terror...it all culminated in this moment.

I reached for my riding gloves, which sat in the dirt below me. With cat-like quickness, I whipped them around in a forceful forehand, catching JD across his left cheek, knocking the cigarette from his mouth and his backside from the stool. (I would like to think I knocked the stool from his backside, but I suppose that’s too much to ask of a glove slap, however well executed.)

riding gloves

I was quickly restrained by my fellow students, and by 1:00, the administrators had asked me to leave.

Some may think I was out of line, as had been General Patton before me. But I think JD finally got what he deserved. Let this serve as a warning to the asses who chase me, to the person(s) who hired them, to JD and his reactionary benefactors:

The tables have turned. I'm coming for you.

Science Man

Pinto Dispatch: NEW ZEALAND IN PICTURES

2005-04-01T16:28:00.000-05:00

From former New Zealand Bureau Correspondent and Current South America Bureau Correspondent Pinto:

31 March 2005
CHRISTCHURCH, New Zealand

Today is my last day in New Zealand. I'll fly out of
Christchurch at 6:30p. This therefore will be my last
dispatch as NZ correspondent. It's not really a
dispatch at all. It's "New Zealand in Pictures":

St. Yusef's kebab stand, Christchurch

Dead fish, Akaroa

Sailing the seas of green, Hokitika

He sent one more picture, but that juggernaut of a graphics program, Microsoft Paint, refused to open it, so we couldn't reduce its size to put it on the page. However, it is an excellent picture, and you can view it here:

Colorful nightlife, Greymouth

Reader Mail: A Joke

2005-03-30T12:29:00.000-05:00

Devoted reader and burgeoning indie rock god Matt M. (the leftmost of the Three Amigos in the Hot Atmosphere poster) writes us with the following joke about Matt "The Dove" S. (the center amigo, whose love for his father's navy bean soup has earned him the nickname "Navy Bean"):

Q : Why does Irish Pirate Navy Bean soup only have 239 beans in it?
A: Aaaarrrgghhh. If it had any more, it would be 240.

(pronounce the answer as an Irish pirate would)

Thank you, Matt M., for the mirth. And to all of our readers, we would like to apologize for the sporadicalness of our recent postings; we are currently enjoying the good fortune of a visit by Navy Bean himself.

We would like to reassure those of you who have expressed concern about the fate of Science Man; he is alive and well and promises to send an update soon.

Finally, we apologize for the technical glitch that prevented Internet Explorer users from viewing the movie in the cinema post below. It has been fixed, and we encourage users of all browsers to watch Kevin's masterpiece, Blue Collar Escape.

The Fearsome Mick, Navy Bean

We welcome reader mail. Send to ohgivemeahome(at)gmail(dot)com.

CINEMA: Blue Collar Escape

2005-03-28T01:19:00.000-05:00

blue skies forever is proud to introduce its new CINEMA section. In our first installation, we present Blue Collar Escape, a short film written, directed by, and starring our friend Kevin. Gritty, and beautifully shot in industrial Seattle, this tale of class warfare and a foreman's comeuppance will make you both laugh and cheer.

(It may take a while to load for those of you on dial-up; you can go here to find something interesting in the meantime.)

Download Quicktime if you can't see the video

Pinto Dispatch: GREYMOUTH, NEW ZEALAND

2005-03-24T08:48:00.000-05:00

Today's wire brings us a pensive dispatch from Pinto...

23 March 2005
GREYMOUTH, New Zealand

Straddling the mouth of the Grey River, Greymouth, at
14,000 strong, has the distinction of being the
biggest town on the South Island's west coast. I
arrived here on Tuesday, around 5 p.m. Upon wandering
the streets in search of New Zealand's national dish,
fish and chips, I noticed that there were no people
here. Everything was closed. It wasn't even six yet.
I resorted to buying something frozen from the
grocery store, where I also treated myself to a
six-pack of Tui (NZ$10).

One portion of chicken tikka masala with rice, and two
Tuis down, I hit the streets again just after dusk.
Near my hostel was Victoria Park Raceway. There was
no racing that night, but the gates were open and I
let myself in. The only sign of life was a small
trailer with a light inside so dim that it was almost
inperceivable through the thin curtains. Careful not
to make trouble for the caretaker, I made my way to
rail to get a better look at the track. Even on a
moonless night I could see how shabby the place was.
I found it all too eerie and quickly left.

My next stop was a bench by the river, with my
remaining Tuis in tow. There, I listened to classical
music on my little radio, undisturbed for one-and-a-
half beer's time. A stout, older fellow then
approached me and asked me something in a peculiar
and spastic way. He spoke English, but it took about
a dozen tries before I made out that he was asking if
I wanted to smoke some pot with him. I declined, but
invited him to sit down and smoke at his leisure. His
name was William and he was in Greymouth doing
insulation work. As to why the town was dead, he
explained, "Nobody gets their paycheck until Thursday.
Then Friday and Saturday--PLAAUUUGH!," (This was
accompanied by a bursting gesture of his hands and
arms.) "So the rest of the week, people gotta keep
to themselves." Soon thereafter, William left me "to
my contemplation," as he put it. And contemplate I
did, on the two Tuis left.

Taking the scenic route back to my hostel, I detected
some motion in my periphery. In a harshly-lit
shelter, near the prerequisite clock tower, was a
spider weaving its web. I watched it complete its
work. Then it crawled into a corner and began its
long wait.

Diff'rent Storks!

2005-03-22T00:23:00.000-05:00

Whatchu talkin' bout, Willis?!

Mr. Drummond: Okay, kids, time for family fun time!
Arnold: Family fun time? What channel that on?

Pinto Dispatch: WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND

2005-03-18T13:25:00.000-05:00

Hot off the wire at the blue skies forever NEWS headquarters...

17 March 2005
WELLINGTON, New Zealand

Naturally, sex is universal, but what about
pornography? Before I left the U.S., a friend--"Nick,"
for the purposes of this dispatch--asked that I send
him samples of such publications from each country I
visited. Being a good friend, as well as a supporter
of my associates in the press, I assured him that I
would. Although what fills the role of pornography
is different in each country, I've been mostly
successful in fulfilling my promise.

And now I'm in New Zealand, at Eff-Jay's adult store
in Wellington, to be precise. The man at the counter
is white and middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed salt
and pepper beard. Perhaps it is F.J. himself.
Because I'm seeking distinctly New Zealand product, I
ask him for magazines featuring Maoris, New Zealand's
native people. He tells me his entire stock is
imported. I am not surprised. U.S. readers should be
proud to know that we are not only the world's biggest
arms dealers, but the biggest porn dealers as well.
But F.J. believes in customer service and he
continues: "I've heard rumors that there's a video,
maybe a DVD now...of Maoris...er...well, it
features...I'll just say it...ass fucking!...done
with taste and vision...in a Maori way!"

"Sure, I understand," I say--I don't really. He goes
on to tell me that he's going to the "expo...sex-po,
rather" in North Palmerston next weekend and will keep
his eyes open, because he really wants to see that
video. A real connoisseur, F.J. is.

Job S(in)ecurity for Tony...March Madness for Ourself

2005-03-16T17:10:00.000-05:00

Our friend Tony, a defense industry software engineer who is more likely to be found in the cafeteria than in front of a computer (and, to answer the questions that many of you have asked us: yes, he does exist, and yes, he did hand in the diagrams pictured in his interview), just sent us this news:

Dear Damon,

You will be happy to know that I just received a $3,000 raise. I'm going to celebrate by sitting in the sun and listening to some MP3s, so just leave a voicemail* if I'm not at my desk.

Sincerely,
Tony

Indeed, while other economic sectors and government programs struggle, the defense industry, like Old Man River, just keeps rolling along. Congratulations, Tony!

In other news, our alma mater, the University of Washington, received a "controversial" #1 seed for the NCAA Tournament. Casual fans across the country, most of whom have not seen the Huskies play, are spewing venomous and ill-founded hatred. Beware, ignorant masses: the undersized Dawgs--a scrappy, overachieving bunch, like the Bad News Bears--have come to play!

Opposing fans may liken him to Gary Coleman, but 5'8" Nate Robinson isn't going to let the Gooch, or anyone, push him around.

*Despite having held his job for nearly three years, Tony has yet to set up his voicemail.

Science Man: Color Me Marooned, but Not Afeared

2005-03-14T18:57:00.000-05:00

Dear Damon & Readers,

I hope this note finds you well. I am well as I write it, though I realize now more than ever that we live by the moment. After my escape on the beaches of Puget Sound, I believe I am free of those mercenaries who are after my head. (Worry not, Readers; as Damon will tell you, my missives shall be passed through an elaborate and ever changing chain of trustworthy couriers (a tactic I learned in my days as the invisible "Chicago Ninth," when my colleagues convinced me, the young and brash academic—and the author of the Pigasus concept, to stay underground and carry on their work).

At the time, I am stuck in a rather remote location, though I shall soon depart. I have no intention of banishing myself to the woods. I am determined that I shall have left my isolation in Berlin.

My Dear Salman, I finally understand how you felt! As though you were an island entire! Of course, as a poet, I invoke my forebear, Donne, who reminds us that any such talk is foolish. Just look at the hundreds who jeopardize themselves that my isolation might be safe, might someday end!

But I do more than turn to the verse of others; indeed, I write my own. Here's a little sing-songy ditty, a sort of schoolyard taunt for these fools who would bully me and worse if only they could catch me:

A Note to My Would-Be Assassins

You wade through the masses; you replace your glasses; you peer and you poke and cajole and say "damn!"
You’re slow as molasses, you half-witted asses; you’re time zones behind an old man on the lam!
Each one a clown; you stomp and you frown--How could you believe that you'd fill me with fear?
No matter the town, each street you walk down, my tag will await in a penmanship clear:

Keep looking, you slime.
Right place, wrong time.
Too late...
Science Man was here.

Send my best to Pinto in New Zealand.

Science Man

Now you see him, now you don't: Science Man enjoys a stroll through New York's Chinatown.

*************************************************************

Editor's Note: Matt M. of Hot Atmosphere wrote to explain further the nickname "Navy Bean." It appears that the artist formerly known as the Dove has a propensity for flakiness. Either that or his father's navy bean soup is that good. We've posted the explanatory e-mail in its entirety in the Navy Bean post's comments section.

Reader Mail: An Update from Hot Atmosphere

2005-03-12T04:50:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Friends!

From the reader mail file, from the Northwest Quarter, we receive news of that polynymic quartet of indie rock luminaries, Hot Atmosphere (whose decision to drop the name "Mooncalf" may have been inspired by one of Science Man's most inspiring poems). Hard at work on their upcoming debut album, they haven’t been too busy to engage in yet another round of re-naming. We received the following e-mail from a band member who shares a Christian name with the man of whom he writes:

"The Dove"

While his sobriquet has been well dispersed throughout the world, and
popularized by the cult-classic docu-drama "The Reid/Secrest
Olympics", we have another suggestion: "Navy Bean"

He shall now, officially, also be known as, "Navy Bean"...

-one hot atmosphere

Ron Dejais' nemesis, Navy Bean

There you have it, Readers; we cannot explain the new moniker, but we present it to fulfill our duty as chronicler of this fine band.

More importantly, we managed, through covert measures, to get a copy of the cover of their new album. It strikes an odd tone of finality for a debut; perhaps they are offering a commentary on the dangersome, hardscrabble nature of the "indie rock game." Indeed, the hotter one gets, the greater one’s risk of burning out. Many have flown "too close to the sun," but Hot Atmosphere does so defiantly, with seemingly fireproof wings. Thus, against an apocalyptic landscape, to the tune of an impossibly catchy deguello, their guns waving and blazing, they announce their arrival by refusing to depart. Dear Readers, behold:

Click the picture to open an 8 x 11 version (easy to print and post on a telephone poll or cubicle wall).

Finally, don’t miss Hot Atmosphere as they perform Wednesday, March 16th, at Seattle’s Tractor Tavern.

We welcome reader mail. Send to ohgivemeahome(at)gmail(dot)com.

From the Infirmary, Once Again

2005-03-10T17:19:00.000-05:00

First, Mt. St. Helens erupts:

And then we do:

Food poisoning, you are a worthy adversary.

Finally, after a disastrous focus group session, the photo essay entitled "Baby Food or Our Poo?" has been cancelled.

Reader Mail: A Conspiracy Theory Nipped in the Bud

2005-03-08T22:15:00.000-05:00

We received this e-mail yesterday:

Dear Damon,

Watching the news for the last couple of days, I couldn't help but notice the resemblance between new U.N. Ambassador John Bolton and Science Man. Is it possible that they were separated at birth? From my understanding, not much is known of Science Man's early years. Also, please send him my best wishes. There are a lot of people pulling for him here in Philly.

Chris
Philadelphia, PA

Hey Brother? Science Man says no.

Dear Chris,

Thank you for your mail. Indeed, the resemblance between the two is striking. However, Science Man assures us that he is an only child. And he thanks you for your support.

Warm Regards,
Damon

We welcome reader mail. Send to ohgivemeahome(at)gmail(dot)com.

************************************************************

Editor's note: we have retroactively inserted below.a picture introducing Sujan's new blog.

Two Quick Announcements

2005-03-07T16:25:00.000-05:00

Hello, Readers. A couple of quick (and late) announcements:

To our Seattle readers, we recommend tonight's lineup at the Sunset Tavern; both Hot Atmosphere and Tim Seely will be playing. Proceeds will help cover the medical expenses of one Beth MacDaniels, who, we are guessing from the show's title (Fallapalooza), had a bad spill.

Finally, our friend Sujan has rejected our offer of employment in favor of this. All well and good, Sujan--and clever, indeed--but it won't buy you liquor like we would. Did we see "delirium tremens" on today's NY Times crossword?

Microsoft Paint is Awesome!

Breaking NEWS: Science Man in Trouble

2005-03-05T03:35:00.000-05:00

We received the following e-mail from Science Man:

Dear Damon (and readers),

Well, it appears that the cat is out of the bag regarding my whereabouts last week. I suppose it doesn't matter--the men who are chasing me are uncomfortably ahead of that.

I have good reason to believe that someone has hired persons in the Vietnamese organized crime demimer (the term given to the aggregate of illegal fish trade cartels) to "knock me off," as it were. I must assume it is a contract, the animus originating from someone other than the mobsters, because I have always been so well received in Vietnamese-American fishing communities (as a result of my vigorous public support of Vietnamese-American Shrimpers in their late 1970s/early 1980s clashes with white supremacists in Louisiana and Texas). Regardless, I have been forced once more to confront my mortality.

The story: Shortly after leaving Berlin, I spoke with Pinto on the telephone. We discussed many things, but eventually we came to the subject of work. He explained that he had friends in the shipping industry and could get me a position on a freighter. (While this may sound lonely to some, and thus not the sort of thing I should be looking for, given my recent difficulties, Pinto assured me that camaraderie within crews is strong, and that the times at port are often great adventures.) I accepted his offer and was on my way to Japan in the large freighter pictured below when I was informed by a reliable source that I was a wanted man. With the help of my generous crewmates--I shall never forget you, brothers!--I was able to depart on a rubber raft, carrying nothing but my lucky walking stick, a backpack containing a change of clothes, and the 32 dollars they gave me. (Your anonymous reader must have photographed me just after I reached shore).

Obviously, I can tell you little of my current whereabouts--or my future plans. Please thank Jlou, Sujan et. al. for their sage advice. It seems that for now I shall be living hand-to-mouth, one day at a time, each breath made more anxious and yet more sweet by the knowledge that it could be my last. But, I ask, does that make me any different from the rest of you? I remain

Your Humble Friend,
Science Man

The fugitive continues his escape after reaching shore.

There you have it, Readers. Our friend Science Man is in trouble. If you think you can help in any way, please e-mail us at ohgivemeahome(at)gmail(dot)com.

A final note: We will be away for the weekend. Posting should resume Monday or Tuesday.

blue skies forever NEWS paparazzi: Like a Drifter, I Was Born to Walk Alone

2005-03-03T06:58:00.000-05:00

An alert, anonymous reader spotted the unmistakeable figure of Science Man walking the beaches of Puget Sound this weekend, a curious thing given the famous thinker's stated desire to join Pinto in Thailand (and, one would presume, New Zealand).

Stay strong, Science Man. And stay clean.

Pinto Dispatch: BANGKOK, THAILAND

2005-03-01T02:16:00.000-05:00

This just in at blue skies forever NEWS headquarters...

28 February 2005
BANGKOK, Thailand

Bangkok news in brief. . . Interested in buying a
house on five acres near Mt. Hood, OR? An American
temporarily residing in Bangkok is selling. During
the last four years that 50-year-old "Ken" has spent
motorcycling around SE Asia, he has acquired a Burmese
wife and a Burmese baby. The baby, however, is
neither his nor his wife's nor did it come with any
sort of papers. After exhausting his options with
both the US Embassy and the UN to make the child legal
and importable, he is now trying to raise funds. What
for, you may wonder? A boat--he's decided to smuggle
the baby into the US. Looking at the floor, he said,
"I don't know what else to do". . . From the world of
architecture comes this: There's a building in Bangkok
that resembles a huge robot. It has "eyes" and
"legs." Those interested in this modern marvel can
catch a peek from the skytrain platform at Chong Nonsi
station. . . Bangkok dope fiends have a new best
friend and her name is "Yahnnat." As I was eating
noodle soup one afternoon, the Chinese proprietor of
the soup stall sat at my table. After he noticed that
I was sniffling (Hot soup does that to me.), he
proceeded to withdraw a vial from his pocket and put a
small amount of brown powder in his palm. Then he
offered me some. He gave me the thumbs up and said,
"It's good." After a moment of apprehension, I stuck
my palm out and he administered a dose. Through
gestures he told me to snort it. If an old,
semi-successful soup stall owner does it, why
shouldn't I? So I did. Then I cursed the guy, ran
out on my 20 baht soup bill, and bought a case of the
stuff. Watch out, kids.

*********************************************************

Editor's Note: This was Pinto's last dispatch as blue skies forever NEWS Southeast Asia Bureau Correspondent; he has since reassigned himself to the New Zealand Bureau. Thanks for the great work, Pinto. We've enjoyed the ride and look forward to hearing about your adventures in the Land of the Kiwi.

One Reader's Recommendation (and a Recommendation of Our Own)

2005-02-27T19:57:00.000-05:00

The following is from an e-mail our friend Lillian (who co-wrote with Coqui the Das Booty hit "Fuck the World") sent us the other day:

I know you try to stay away from holiday publicity on your web site, and I wouldn't tell you how to run your show, but this is black history month, and I am reading a book by a really good black author and I thought maybe you would want to check him out and put some of his stuff on your page. His name is Edward Wilmott Blyden and his book is Christianity, Islam and the Negro Race. It was written over a hundred years ago and his style is similar to the style I have seen lawyers use.* The book is really good especially since it makes predictions about the future of Islam and Africa, and they don't come true. Hee hee.

We haven't had time to check it out and post excerpts, but the recommendation is up there for all. Note to readers: you can read it in March, too.

Our Black History Month recommendation: Michael Thelwell's novelization of the movie "The Harder They Come", for its vivid portrayal of the lives of Jamaica's poor--both rural and urban--in the 1960s and '70s, and for the compelling, shoot-em-up story of the folk hero Rhygin.

It's a pretty good soundtrack too.

* Note to fellow law students: what does this say about our future profession? That it's stuck in the past? Mired in the muck of silly conservatism? We suspect that Mr. Blyden's book is well written, so maybe the comparison isn't justified. But anyone who has spent some time in law school is doubtless familiar with the metastasization of the judicial opinion, and with the common law's reactionary adherence to the jargon and rules of centuries past. We think that three years of law school should get us a degree in Pleonastic Obscurantism rather than a Juris Doctor. Or, to justify the inclusion of 'Pleonastic' in the title, a degree in Pleonastic Obfuscating Obscurantism. Indeed, we look forward to the day when our name will be followed by an imposing POO.

Brother Dean is Coming to New York!!!

2005-02-25T16:45:00.000-05:00

Today is a happy day at blue skies forever. Brother Dean is taking the train up from Philadelphia for a visit.

Artist's rendering of Donald Trump's proposed Deansome Tower. (Microsoft Paint)

Open Letter to Science Man

2005-02-24T03:20:00.000-05:00

Dear Science Man,

We know that you have been struggling lately, even questioning your commitment to the life of a scholar. Reading your letter, we finally realized how lonely it must have been for you all these years. After all, you hadn't a companion. You hadn't a Gödel.

In your solitary struggle, you gave and gave: groundbreaking tractates; pithy, beautiful poems. We feel that now, when you are feeling confused and alone, the least we could do is to provide some words of encouragement and advice. We have solicited the wisdom of some of our sagest friends. We hope it helps.

Pinto:

I know he's been lonely and wants to meet Science Woman,
but I think he should become a monk. He can leave his
wants behind. Some facts about monks: They get out quite
a bit, traveling from temple to temple, I guess. They
can't touch women in any sort of way. When paying bus fare
to a female conductor they put the money in some neutral
space; the conductor responds in kind with any change.
There is a parade when a monk reaches monkhood. Supposedly
these are quite wild affairs. Family, friends, everyone's
drunk but the monk. It's a happy thing like a wedding
reception. They're also pretty nice guys. I met a couple
on the bus ride here.

Sujan:

do not sit lonely, rubbing those sticks
consider unzipping, and rubbing your dick.

JLou:

Are you a Science Man or a Science Mouse? Be bold. See the world. Find Science Woman. But remember--only when you stop looking will she appear. And until that happens, I happen to know a charming law student in New York who wouldn't mind buying you a drink...(we could produce patent lawyers!)

Oh, and by the way, get an agent. Your poems are wasted here. Nobody reads this rag.

jsanjana:
Your hyper-rationality reminds me of my father. You must learn to accept that you cannot control or comprehend everything in this world.

A.C.:

If you want to get Science Woman, listen to my man Gary.

Gary:

So you’re not ever gonna get into these little brouhahas about ‘Well, what do you want to do? Well where would you like to go?’ Ever. Cuz a prick is in charge of his own world and a prick makes the decisions. And a prick is the guy, remember, who gets all the sex. So you never stoop down to that level of ‘Oh, where do you want to go? What do you want to do? What do you think?’ Can’t do it. Don’t ever do it. Ever. Don’t let me catch you doing it. I will show up at your house.
[audio clip of Gary's advice here]

Sylvester:

A while back, I heard a story that will affect you: The average person lives out 75 years. Now, if you multiply 75 years times 52 weeks, you come up with 3,900 weeks of life. That’s it. That’s all the average person has. Then I thought, hell, I’m 58. Which means I have roughly 884 weekends left. Eight hundred and eighty four weeks? Damn! Talk about a wake up call.

...it seems it’s all over in the blink of an eye. So let’s be more selfish with who, or where, we spend our precious time. With 884 weekends left, I now only do things that make my heart and soul feel satisfied. I take that trip, buy that car, call that friend, tell that special someone I love them when they least expect it.

Pay attention to the really important things in life. Be the guy who tells the joke, not the recipient of the punch line. Be the predator, not the food source. Gorge yourself at that banquet of life until the only thing left on the table are crumbs. In other words, you’re an army of one. So, it’s up to you to either lead the charge with conquest on your mind... or sound the trumpets of retreat.
[Read more in the premier issue of Sly Magazine.]

Well, that's it, Science Man. Know that we think of you often and fondly.

As you would say, stay strong. And stay clean.

Damon

An Unworthy Challenger

2005-02-22T02:20:00.001-05:00

Well, Dear Readers, this isn't the first time. One stakes out a swath of cyberspace, makes a home on the range of it, and the freeloaders appear. We just received an e-mail from a friend of ours declaring his intention to challenge Science Man to a "poem-off" for the title of Poet Laureate of blue skies forever. (Nevermind that this is an honor bestowed upon Science Man for his lifetime of achievement in poesy; not a cheap party favor to be given willy-nilly to every young punk who beats his chest after he can't quite get the gig at Hallmark.) Mr. "Ron Dejais" claimed not to know that Science Man, in low spirits, had left Berlin to meet Pinto in Thailand. A disloyal reader, or a disingenous challenger?

Now normally, we would not publish such gibberish, especially when the author insists on using a nomme de plume. However, because the challenger is our friend; because he is the only person we know who has been upperdecked; because we are fairly certain that one of our classmates micturated in a pair of his mother's Keds when we were in high school; because he still carries the baggage of having been second chair tenor saxophone in the Blanchet High School Jazz Band, while his rival, Matt S. (of Hot Atmosphere and Das Booty fame), was first; because we may have participated in a ruse to convince his parents that he owed hundreds of dollars in lap dance fees at a local strip club (resulting in his father showing up at the club and declaring his intention to pay off the young derelict's debts); because we are nothing if not generous, we shall publish his challenge. Take note, "Ron Dejais"--this does not mean your challenge has in any way been sanctioned. It has merely been published.

Finally, Science Man, do not fret. Follow your heart and know that your place of honor at blue skies forever is forever secure.

Dear Readers, we are sorry for what we are about to do. Hence, we shall give you a few links with which to amuse yourselves. We suggest you visit them rather than read the challenger's execrable poem.

Recent father O-Dub is once more posting at his juggernaut of an audioblog, Soul Sides. Recommended: Sam Cooke's cover of Smoke Rings, posted yesterday.

Let it never be said that Saddam stopped loving his people.

A.C. credits these CD's for his catastrophic success with the ladies.

One's time would be better spent doing this than reading the challenger's poem.

The challenge:

The Sun Shines upon Thee

Across near and far...
I walk this earth...
Looking for a poem...
A Story...A Verse...

In the Forest...
The Trees...
The Bees...
And the Seas...
Hover above...forming an umbrella…
That completely surrounds me...

I see in the distance...
A big orange glow...
What is that...I ask...
As I look far below...
No…look up above...
See the Light of Love...

Toward the clouds I did rise...
Up into the sky...
Forever shall it shine...
Upon you and I...

And if it does not...
And our flame becomes dark...
The world will crumble...
Away it will wash...

Out to sea…we shall be...
Forever you see...
We’ll search for the light...
Although now day is night...
And we’ll fight for the right...
To have the sun shine bright.

Ron Dejais

A Man of Science...and Sadness

2005-02-20T01:25:00.000-05:00

Moon over Berlin. Photo credit: Egbert Borutta

Sterile, starless city sky. Moon like a lit nickle on a black marble countertop, a dot against the dark. Somewhere, someone, some loved one, some someday-to-be loved one, stares at the same moon. Right, Science Man? Science Man?...

Dear Damon,

The long Berlin winter chills me. I sit in my study, the first draft of Finger, Butter, Verboten* before me. I should feel the warmth of accomplishment, but I do not.

The life of the mind is a noble one--rubbing one's sticks until one produces a spark, a glow for one's fellow humans. Many a great man and woman has so rubbed in obscurity. I, on the other hand, have had the good fortune to be recognized in my lifetime for my contribution. Nevertheless, rubbing those sticks is hard, my friend. It wears a man down, leaves him wan, wistful, alone.

Hence, though I have completed only 2/3 of my intended trilogy, I shall take a sabbatical. I know--my time here in Berlin was supposed to be my sabbatical. Yet though the winter and my work are nearly done, I must away.

Tell Pinto I am coming to meet him; I want to join him in his travels, to see the world through the eyes not of a scientist, nor a poet, but merely a man--a man enjoying, for once, the spark and glow of others.

Who knows? Perhaps I will meet Science Woman somewhere along the way.

Stay strong, my friend. And stay clean.

Science Man

PS--Your friend Tim's song, Trucker's Lullaby, while sad, is a thing of great beauty--a spark, a glow--and has helped me through the winter.

PPS--Thank you again for taking care of Raw while I am away.

* The second tractate of his trilogy on the adult entertainment industries of the former major axis powers.

Science Man Seeking Science Woman?

2005-02-18T17:28:00.000-05:00

Is our poet laureate, the esteemed Science Man, looking for love? Did the passing of Valentine's Day--in a foreign land, no less--lead that great mind to ponder, more broadly, the passing of time--and in that, his role as a solitary beacon of learning? Mightn't the beacons burn brighter together? An attentive reader sends us the following post from Craig's List Berlin:

Seeking Science Woman
Reply to: anon-********@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-02-16, 5:36PM CET

Accomplished scientist and poet seeks science woman for companionship.

About me: I am a man of the arts and sciences; as an undergraduate, I received high honors from the College of Arts and Sciences, and I have subsequently received numerous awards in both fields.

About you: You understand Einstein's Theory of Special Relativity, vector analysis, and Sergeant Pluck's Atomic Theory. You appreciate the arts. You practice good personal hygiene.

About us: Frolic with me--in the dewy fields, in the Dewey stacks. By Saks or thrift, I shall purchase for you the finest silks. Short shrift, be gone! Wan? no longer. Want? No longer. I am content

with you

my queen.

Final note: You must be willing to accept my dog, Raw.

Raw

blue skies forever NEWS paparazzi: Hey Brother!

2005-02-16T00:54:00.000-05:00

"I can't believe Will's in the owner's box!" Frequently mistaken for brothers, Buster and Dean share a laugh in the teal room at DJ Jazzy Jeff's Super Bowl party in Philadelphia, PA, the City of Brotherly Love. Also pictured: Beth "Left Eye" Falkof.

The Godfather

2005-02-14T18:34:00.000-05:00

A.C. says, "Valentine's Day? When you're a ladykiller like I am, every day is a massacre."

Pinto (Sports) Dispatch: CHIANG MAI, THAILAND

2005-02-12T17:28:00.000-05:00

Hot off the wire at blue skies forever NEWS headquarters...

12 February 2005
CHIANG MAI, Thailand

The fix was in at Kawila Boxing Stadium on Friday
night. Fight six featured a Swiss boxer, U Ran,
representing the Chay Yai Gym, against home-bred Payak
Dum, representing Sit Sor Jor Sanae. To give the
reader some idea of the fighters, imagine Rocky IV. U
Ran is Drago, the chiseled, robot-like Russian. Dum
is Rocky, but flabbier. To absolutely nobody's
surprise, U Ran had his opponent against the ropes for
most of the fight. Amazingly, Dum withstood five
rounds of brutality without falling on his face. It
was fortunate for him that five rounds is all you get
at Kawila. So the decision rested with the judges.
Boos and cheers alike erupted from the half-foreign,
half-Thai audience when Dum was declared the winner.

In other action from the night, the best knock-out
came in round four of fight four, after Chao Pee took
multiple knees to the head from his opponent, Payak
Kao. (All limbs are viable weapons in Thai boxing,
therefore so is holding, resulting in many knees to
the gut and kicks to the kidney.) Coming out of an
eight count, Pee, shunning any common sense he had
left, continued fighting. He took the next punch to
the face and was finished.

In more sports news, visitors to the Kawila Officer's
Club, a horse racing track somehow associated with the
military, received free cups of ice cream with
admission on Saturday. The winners for races 1
through 6 were 6, 5, 9, 2, 1, and 4, in that order. (No further
details are available as the racing program is
completely in Thai.)

END

Fisticuffs! Ourself and a Muhammad Ali look-alike outside and inside Seattle's Blue Star Bistro, respectively.
(Photo credit: Nick Haney)

From the Infirmary

2005-02-11T00:05:00.000-05:00

As our creative faculties have been subdued by this confounded influenza virus, we shall leave the job of entertaining you to our father, who entertained us with the following e-mail:

Hi Damon,

Mom told me that you have the flu. I'm sorry. I feel bad for you. Hope that you get better soon. I heard on the radio that baseball spring training begins next week. Where does the time go? Can you believe that it was last year that Janet Jackson bared her boob at the SuperBowl? It seems like just yesterday.

Love,
Dad

Our father

Exclusive: From Inside the Bowels of the Military-Industrial Complex

2005-02-09T03:11:00.000-05:00

Blue skies forever NEWS has obtained an exclusive interview with "Tony," an engineer at one of America's largest defense contractors. Tony is the head of several important projects; he likes to say that he has his "sticks in a lot of fires." Of course, you know your fires burn hot when Air Force generals fly cross-country to view a PowerPoint summary of your latest opus. Or did you say that the summary was your opus? We're confused...

In fact, Tony's output is so prodigious that his supervisors seem not to mind when he puts in a 20-25 hour work week--every week. Nor when he takes his favorite beach towel out to the corporate lawn to catch a few mid-afternoon Z's. So what is it that makes Tony--and our nation's military--tick? It's more than just your tax dollars, Dear Readers. Buckle your seat belts, because a blue skies forever NEWS Exclusive is about to begin.

Tony

AO=Anchorman Ourself

AO: We think the first question on everyone's mind is, "what makes Tony tick?"
Tony: To be honest, it's the duckets. That and keeping America safe. But get this: I recently acquired a library card. I'm planning a trip that takes me to each branch of the library in one day allowing only one bus route between consecutive branch visits. Its an optimization problem of great proportions--and not without public benefit.

AO: Indeed. And what are you doing to keep America safe?
Tony: My best work has been behind a thin layer of latex. I use a condom every time.

AO: We're feeling safer already. Tell us a little about the documents you brought us.
Tony: Well, these diagrams are from my biggest project, The R----- Network, which was recently praised--internally, of course--by Air Force General ______. But they may have been removed from the PowerPoint presentation he viewed.

Tony's diagrams

AO: What do they depict exactly?
Tony: I thought you said I wasn't going to have to answer any stupid questions. [Here Tony attempts to leave, though we manage lure him back with some skin magazines that Science Man left in the Green Room]

AO: Why might the diagrams have been removed from the presentation? The R----- Network was your project, no?
Tony: When I submitted the initial document, I received a number of angry e-mails from from the St. Louis office. They were displeased with the diagrams. We had a debate as to the meaning of the word "model." My supervisors suggested that I take a class entitled "Mastering Personal Effectiveness."

AO: Did you take the class?
Tony: I didn't feel I needed it.

AO: Your earlier comments suggest that you were not present when General _______ viewed the PowerPoint.
Tony: I was in the cafeteria.

AO: Nerves?
Tony: No, hot chocolate.

AO: Obviously, you deal with science every day. Science Man was named Scientist of the Year for 2004 by blue skies forever, among others. Are you familiar with his work?
Tony: I am familiar.

AO: What's next for Tony?
Tony: The persistently good weather poses some difficult questions. I have devised activities for the cold, rainy weather (hot chocolate in the cafeteria) and activities for the warm, sunny weather (beach towels and shut-eye) but I am not sure what to do with the cold, sunny weather of late. I believe tomorrow we're screening episodes of The Office in our lab.

There you have it, Readers. There you have it, Taxpayers. In a democratic society, it is imperative that the citizenry be informed. Enter blue skies forever NEWS.

We'd like to thank Tony for his time and his willingness to share classified documents. This has been a blue skies forever NEWS Exclusive.

Kids Say the Darndest Things...And Moms Do, Too!

2005-02-07T03:00:00.000-05:00

We are currently at work on an exclusive story for blue skies forever NEWS. However, our work is no excuse for us to ignore you, our Cherished Readers. Hence, we provide you with the following links.

If you have the time, we recommend browsing through the blogs of Mr Thielmann's Planning 10 students at D.P. Todd Secondary School in Prince George, British Columbia. (Among them is the previously linked Rico.) MeShow's beskirted bards may have met their match in Mr. Thielmann's students, who heckle their Croatian classmate Richard with comments like "learn how to type serb" and "no serb knows how to make a chopper. you are not very smart you serb", and who fantasize about a war between Irish and Asian mobs. Perhaps Mr. Thielmann should do a unit on ethnic conflict in Europe--or just show them this chart.

Finally, we would like to introduce Moons in Leo, a witty woman and the mother of two lovely, grown children, our friends Kaitlin and Andrew. In complaining about the cold weather in New Jersey, Ms. Leo produced one of the better one-liners we've encountered recently: "This is the Garden State, not the Iceberg Lettuce State." Check her out.

Pinto Dispatch: KRABI, THAILAND

2005-02-05T04:22:00.000-05:00

Hot off the wire at the blue skies forever news room: the first dispatch from Southeast Asia Bureau Correspondent Pinto...

4 February 2005
KRABI, Thailand--

11 am: I switch lodgings from an expensive, impersonal
hotel in the middle of town to a cheap, friendly
guesthouse by the river.

2 pm: I buy a little radio. Later tonight I will
drink some nasty rice liquor and listen to hard rock
Thai-style. I am extremely pleased with the purchase.

3 pm: After drinking a Singha by the river, I spot an
old man collecting plastic bottles along the water's
edge. He approaches me with greetings and a toothless
smile. I offer him my empty beer can, but he refuses.
He wears a full-brimmed cap with "MONKEY BUSINESS"
written at crazy angles all over it. I tell him I
like his hat. He points towards the river and makes a
swimming gesture. I express confusion. He points to
a portly lady behind me who is also picking up garbage
and he gives me the thumbs up. I can do nothing but
agree with him. He leaves.

5 pm: It's hot and humid here. I take a shower, lie
down, and wait for dusk.

7 pm: Three city blocks are blocked off. They are
full of blue, white, and red plastic chairs, giant
projection screens and speakers. More people stand
along the periphery than sit in the chairs that have
been so neatly arranged in rows facing a huge stage.
Though I can't understand the language booming from
the speakers, I quickly comprehend what is playing on
the huge screens: It is a political ad. I buy some
tiny pig-in-a-blanket looking things from a street
vendor, walk towards the stage, and sit down. Two
huge banners behind the stage display the candidates
for seat, or district, or something number 9. I see
two microphones on stage and think that maybe there
will be a debate. I realize that I can't understand
Thai, but I also realize that I have nothing better to
do.

7:30 pm: Somebody starts speaking. A woman sits in
front of me and offers me a fried banana. I take one
although it is very hot. Bananas seem to lose their
flavor when cooked.

fried banana

8 pm: The third speaker is at it now. I get bored,
say goodbye to the fried banana woman, and leave. I
buy the aforementioned rice liquor and head back to my
room and new radio.

Over and out,
P

blue skies forever NEWS

2005-02-03T01:00:00.000-05:00

Hot off the wire at the blue skies forever newsroom...

NEWS ABOUT OURSELF: Despite its PG content, blue skies forever recently received visitors who were given its address from web searches for "booty pictures" and "pig farts." To those new visitors, we give a hearty welcome; as many of you know, we are not unfamiliar with the Internet's seamier side.

NEWS ABOUT OTHERS: Scientists say the blogosphere is getting hotter as a result of the recent returns of stalwarts The Birds and Rico, and the introduction of upstart iconoclast Dan.

"Testing 1-2. Testing 1-2." Southeast Asia Bureau Correspondent Pinto and Anchorman Ourself test the blue skies forever newsroom equipment.

A Thumbnail of a Cassanova, and Some Musings on Love

2005-02-01T01:44:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend, we received the following e-mail from our friend A.C., a noted "ladykiller" and man about town. Those looking for tips on how to improve their wooing skills could do far worse than to consult A.C. However, we must all always remember that Cupid rhymes with stupid, and that, as The Persuaders so sweetly sang, it's a thin line between love and hate...

Damon, I figured you'd appreciate another tale from A.C.'s world of dating.....

I was supposed to go out to lunch with ------- today (30 year old girl). I left a message on her phone last night saying I'd made reservations at Jake's (really $$$ seafood joint) and that she should dress cocktail/business casual. I thought I sounded sarcastic enough that she would know I was kidding. Apparently not. She sent me an email this morning to confirm we were indeed going to Jake's. After I responded to her saying we weren't, she emailed me back to say she was no longer interested in going out. I think she actually dressed up and got really pissed after I came clean about the plan. Now she won't call me back. It's 1pm pacific time and I've yet to hear from her. I'm assuming she's genuinely pissed off. I'll call her tonight to apologize, but that's it. If I get the answering machine, I'll leave a message and wipe my hands of the situation. It will be on her if she wants to continue seeing me.

Well, there you have it, folks. Love is sometimes treacherous--but it has its rewards. And while we are on the subject, let us take this opportunity to tell you that when that cherubic archer pulled another arrow from his treasured quiver; when, sitting atop his fluffy perch, he released it from his trusty bow; when we felt its sweet, deep, golden-headed pierce, it was you that we thought of. In other words, Dear Readers, we love you.

Idiotarod 2005: The Passion of the Pig

2005-01-30T11:00:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we participated in the 2nd annual Idiotarod, the race in which each team of five runs a shopping cart from Fulton Ferry Pier in Brooklyn to--after a few mandatory pit-stops at watering holes--Tompkins Square Park in the East Village. Our hastily assembled team, Porky's Resurrection, was humble in appearance, with our cart sporting only our mascot, The Blow-up Pig; nevertheless, the afternoon was one of great Passion. Behold the pictures:

The Pig before Her Trial

The Stations of the Cart: Their carts on their backs, the teams climb the stairs to the bridge, as spectators hurl ice and insults from above. The Pig is hit by a block of ice and loses a Leg. She quickly deflates.

The Holy See blesses team and Fallen Pig

Fear not, believers; the appearance of the Easter Bunny augurs well. Our Pig shall rise again!

A Brief and Enjoyable Conversation

2005-01-27T11:19:00.000-05:00

Hello, Readers!

We are writing you from our constitutional law class, where an overeager student has derailed an otherwise pleasant lecture (and how rare those are!) into an exchange of pop-psych platitudes. We feel, if only momentarily, as though we were watching the philosophy class episode of The Fresh Prince (Anyone remember that one? Anyone?). Nevertheless, it occurred to us that the detour may be a blessing in disguise, as it provides us with the precious opportunity to converse--however briefly--with you, our Dear Friends. Let us commence!

So how are you? It’s awfully cold here in New York!

(This picture was taken about a week ago, but you get the idea)

Have you heard of the Idiotarod, the Brooklyn-to-East-Village shopping-cart race? Our friend Jon brought it to our attention, and we are considering assembling a team named after and honoring our friend Pinto.

Did you hear that a Senator from Oklahoma wants to save cock-fighting by having the roosters wear boxing gloves and electronic, protective/score-keeping vests? Should this be considered a centrist animal rights position?

Our friend Mike recently returned to the blogosphere with a flurry of excellent posts--the best of which, in our humble opinion, are "Fida 1619" and "Some things I wanted to say to you". You should check them out.

If you like photographs, we direct your attention once again to our friend Shane. Click on the orange van.

Alas, that great octopus, the Commerce Clause, calls. We must away!

We Believe the Children Are Our Future, or The Bad News Catholic Schoolgirls

2005-01-25T19:31:00.000-05:00

Having been educated, in part, by the Catholic Church, we have taken the liberty of the occasional cheap joke at its expense. It has not been the best of times for The Holy See & co.--and they took yet another hit this year when our friend MeShow was hired as a temporary teacher at one of their all-girls schools. Her class of sixth graders has prayed for a broken air conditioner, and was beaten out by fifth-graders, among others, for the final spots in the school spelling bee.

Today, we got this e-mail from her:

The assignment: Write an original paragraph using the following words:
captivate, attain, splendor, campaign, pedestal. After each word, give the
part of speech in parentheses.

The paragraph, as realized by one of my 6th graders:

Once there was a man who captivated (verb) his audience with his amazing
farts. But, in all their splendor (noun), the farts were smelly. The man,
who's [sic] name was Stinkle, decided he would attain (verb) one of his
farts and put it in a jar for all to see. (And not smell.) So, Stinkle
went on a campaign (noun) to collect money so he could buy the right
equipment to catch his farts. Eventually, he raised enough money and caught
one of his farts. You can still see his fart today, standing on a pedestal (noun)
in the Museum of Natural Fartstory.

End.

Bravo, Girls! Let us Join J.P. in offering you a week at abstinence camp, a lifetime supply of overpopulation, and second-class status in the Body of Christ!

Brace Thyselves, Dear Readers

2005-01-23T18:55:00.000-05:00

One of our favorite songs from the excellent soundtrack to Spike Lee's Crooklyn is the Chambers Brothers' "Time Has Come Today." However, we were always a little baffled by the lyric:

And my soul's been psychedelicized.

A catchy line, no doubt--but what exactly does it mean? A musing on musical styles, or, as our friend Nirav would say, the answer to a basic ontological question? Perhaps both? Sit down and brace thyselves, Dear Readers, because we finally found out.

Introducing Two Persons of Great Genius

2005-01-22T14:24:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Friends! We are pleased to introduce two persons of great genius who, we hope, will become regular contributors to the "blogosphere" (and what a wonderful word that is!).

First, debuting with a lovely poem on feminine hygiene, is MeShow. When not penning paeans to "plastic nozzle," "fleshy sleeve," and "woeful, wet, and piscine smell," she teaches a class of well-behaved Catholic schoolgirls, and directs them to pray for their broken radiator. She is a woman of unmatched genius; a college professor once proclaimed her smarter than God.

Finally, the much awaited

nirav vs. the unbearable lightness of being
nirav wins! being becomes bearable!

has arrived. Nirav is a friend of ours, and we feel confident that his online musings will change your lives in ways that you could never have imagined.

* Update: MeShow just added her own bluegrass song.

Narcissus Meets Ophelia, or The Time We Went Fishing with Our Friend Shiri

2005-01-21T01:30:00.000-05:00

Recently, a friend of ours, upon realizing that blue skies forever is both the talk and toast of the town, asked that she have the honor of gracing its pages. Clever and charming though she may be, we generally don't let others dictate the content of our blog; indeed, what would happen if we let every Tom, Dick, and Harriett tell us what to publish? This may be a blog for the people, but it is not a blog by the people. Rather, it is a blog by ourself.

Nevertheless, we told her we would consider her request. She sent us a picture of herself as encouragement. We shall not disclose her identity.

On to another tale:

Recently, our friend Shiri and ourself went fishing. After several hours of delightful conversation, we noted that, unfortunately, the fish were not biting. "Perhaps we need better bait," said she. "No," we replied, "we think the bait is good." So she peeked over the boat's edge to assess the situation. Then she said, "hey, look at my reflection," and fell in.*

Go ahead and look, Shiri; you know you want to

*Of course, we can't blame her--for a lovely reflection it is.

A Passing, a Failure, and a Poem for the Weary

2005-01-19T18:41:00.000-05:00

Blue skies forever is sad to report the passing of our comrade, "do you know how it is being on law review? because i do." In those fine pages, Jared, writing under the pseudonym, Robert S_____, produced such gems as "it's con law time and i'm PUMPED!" and "i am the team captain of team terrible." His warmth and wit will be missed.

We tip our drinks to your memory, "law review"

Of course, that fine blog's passing serves also as an opportunity for us to forget our ignominious failure to achieve admittance to even the lowliest of the law journals. How could we, founder of blue skies forever, have foundered so?

There are many theories. While we believe our rejection was likely due to an unfinished sentence in a footnote, our lovely girlfriend thinks we were damned from the opening paragraph of our submission to the journal competition:

Who was that masked man, anyway? On television, he was a crime-fighting hero of the Wild West, firing silver bullets and riding with his friend Tonto to the tune of the William Tell Overture. In Springfield, if the Stonecutters had had their druthers, he would have been a convicted child molester, protesting the next potential iteration of hysteria-inducing community notification laws. The Stonecutters, however, did not have their druthers...

Was it the two uses of druthers? Was it the Lone Ranger? We are left with nothing but questions. And when we have nothing but questions, when we are despondent and forlorn, when it seems as though the entire world is conspiring against us, we turn to the man with the answers.

Ladies and Gentleman, your favorite and ours, Science Man!

[applause]

On the Eve of the Summer of Our Discontent, We See Shades of Autumn
By Science Man

Ice is cold, while heat is hot.
Some will win, while some will not.
Despondent, double-crossed, and reeling,
Beleaguered by not-so-fresh feeling.
Take a walk along the beach;
Lost not--"Once more into the breach"
Bag in hand, follow direction:
Stench, here comes thy insurrection!

A Man with Big Calves, and Sujan

2005-01-17T23:51:00.000-05:00

We spoke with our friend Jason on the phone today, and he commented on how much he likes this picture.

Also, Sujan came up with what we think is a great twist on the old Batman model--an intra-Wayne Manor, each party is both Roadrunnner and Coyote scenario. Television and movie producers take note: there is gold to be found in these pages.

On Ulysses and Marky Mark, Among Others

2005-01-15T11:43:00.000-05:00

After our last couple of postings and the comments we received, we are unsure whether we have a butler, a sidekick, a nemesis, or some combination of the three. Perhaps this is not the best place for us to inform you, Sujan, that we are your father? (Or was it 'daddy'? Damn those kids and their confounded slang!)

Our lovely girlfriend and ourself are about to leave the Gotham Batcave for a couple of days in Connecticut, where we will celebrate her uncle's birthday. Hence, we shall leave you, Dear Friends, with a few links with which to amuse and edify yourselves.)

The graphic novel has become a popular form, the result of a generation of comic book readers growing into artistic maturity. It was only a matter of time before this form was applied to a few of the pre-graphic classics--much as truly prescient critics, upon encountering The Sugarhill Gang and Grandmaster Flash, could see hints of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch reworking Lou Reed's classic "Walk on the Wild Side." (However, not even the most visionary and apocalyptic critic could have predicted Lou's audience numbing, filibustering use of "The Raven" as a live performance piece.

Thus, we have come to our featured link. It may not be new to you--as the site says, it was featured on ABC's World News Tonight in 1998. But, in the spirit of The Seven Year Itch, we re-introduce it to you, just days after Pinto (famous documentarian of shopping carts) introduced it to us. Here, Dear Readers, is

The Graphic Ulysses

The knee pads are a nice touch, Marky

Will You Be Our Butler, Sujan?

2005-01-13T13:05:00.000-05:00

Earlier today, our friend Sujan suggested that we could not claim to have bested the Caped Crusader until we had "a damn butler" and a "pimped lexus." We think that our decision to roost in Gotham rather than Wayne Manor gives us the edge; however, we would rather our triumph be decisive. Therefore, we invite you, Sujan

(Sujan)

to be our butler. We shall pay you in alcohol--and we know how much that means to you.

Think of all of the greats who have battled Batman, have been oh-so-close to defeating him, but have failed. Greats like

The Joker

The Penguin

Catwoman

Please, Sujan, make it happen--for them, for ourself, for yourself. We think you will be an excellent butler. Your first assignment is to procure, by whatever means necessary, a pimped Lexus.

And those of you readers who believe in the democratic power of the Internet, please take the comments section below as a surrogate petition. Let Sujan know that you, too, would like to see him be our butler.

Finally, it should be noted that, upon the release of the 1987 Batman movie, seven-year-old Handsome Brother Dean wore his Batman t-shirt for eight consecutive days.

Our Batcave is IN Gotham City!

2005-01-11T17:17:00.000-05:00

No, sir--no Wayne Manor for us! Our Batcave is in the city, not the suburbs--because the city is cooler!

Yesterday, we returned (from our West Coast sojourn) to our Batcave, smack-dab in the middle of fair, bustling Gotham. A little photographic review:

Batman:

Ourself:

Batman in his Batcave (which is in WAYNE MANOR, NOT GOTHAM CITY):

Ourself in our Batcave (IN GOTHAM CITY!!):

Chew on that, Caped Crusader

A Joke for the Law Crowd

2005-01-10T01:00:00.000-05:00

What happened to the LLM who got a couple of A's?

She turned into a LLAMA!!!

Brother Dean: From Cute to Handsome...and Witty!!

2005-01-08T14:21:00.000-05:00

One of the pleasures of being home in Seattle the last few weeks has been spending time with Handsome Brother Dean. Here is a brief photo retrospective:

From Cute

To Handsome

(He's so handsome, they've started calling it Deansome!!)

And he's not all looks. That handsome head packs some wit...

With conversation starters such as:
"I like rubbing salt in wounds; do you?", and
"OMG, aren't you familiar?"

And Instant Messenger away messages like:
"Americans are fat. Canadians are phat."

Oh, Brother!

Pinto's Shopping Carts

2005-01-07T04:53:00.000-05:00

Our friend Pinto, the man who once napped in a shopping cart, is also rather adept at photographing them. Below is a link to a page containing many of those photographs. The page is on the server of his former employer; we don't know how long they'll keep his account after his departure, so get while the gettin's good.

Pinto's Photographs of Shopping Carts

There aren't any thumbnails, so you'll just have to be pleasantly surprised. Here are links to a couple of our favorites, along with our interpretations (which, of course, do not necessarily represent those of the artist):

This picture reminds us of the Grandaddy song "The Saddest Vacant Lot in All the World".

The hint of a halo lends poignancy--and hope--to this scene.

Settling for the Kids

2005-01-05T14:41:00.000-05:00

The California Diocese proved that it knows how to put the "ass action" in "class action."*

* We know that sexual assault is no laughing matter, but we just couldn't resist the pun. We think you're great, readers!

Matt S. Responds to Das Booty Obit

2005-01-05T05:03:00.000-05:00

We received the following message from Matt S. (of Hot Atmosphere fame):

Thanks for the booty memories. One little known fact: the first das booty show was actually in Bellingham at a Hawaiian themed party and featured Nick Haney on drums and Dwight Seferos on keyboard, along with the two Matt's. One highlight was a cover of "land down under". Another long lost favorite was a little ditty (original) entitled "cancer's a bitch".

Can anybody confirm whether these things are true?

Also, a word to those of you in Seattle--Hot Atmosphere will be playing at the Crocodile tonight ($6.00 cover).

More good news: Andrew Niemand, Lincoln Playa, and the rest of the Express News 66 crew are back

Finally, when clicking the "next blog" button today, we encountered this blog, which contains many interesting photographs.

Das Booty (2000 - 2005)

2005-01-02T20:30:00.000-05:00

Last night, at Seattle's Tractor Tavern, we said goodbye to Das Booty. Incestuous, yet all-inclusive, Das Booty had been entertaining Seattle audiences with their special blend of semi-competence, chaos, and enthusiasm for almost five years.

They were formed on a whim, when the late Willis (later the late Actual Tigers) were booked to do a show at the EMP and were told they could have whomever they wanted as their opening act. They told their friends to form a band, and thus Das Booty was born. From the beginning, it was an anarchic venture--everyone was welcome to join, write songs, perform, or contribute however they saw fit. And everyone shared the rewards. At the first show, Booty members raided the green room and doled out the stolen "booty" at a party at which all were welcome.

As the band's following grew, so did its cut of the night's earnings, so that the parties became increasingly ostentatious--multiple kegs, expensive liquor, large quantities of sticky, hot tubs, and mariachi bands. Such decadence is the stuff of great rise-and-fall stories, but Das Booty did not so much fall as dissolve; their decline was the result of entropy, not hubris.

We will miss Das Booty. We will miss seeing Nick, host of many Das Booty parties, have to pull a sheet of paper out of his pocket because he forgot the lyrics to his rap. We will miss Yianni's Das Booty bling and jerseys. We will miss the band performing "Feed the World" every Christmas. We will miss the band performing "Fuck the World" with Lillian and Coqui leading. We will miss seeing Das Booty rise to every occasion, from the inaugural show, to the Reid/Secrest Olympics premiere, to last fall's fundraiser, "Booty vs. Bush: Four More Beers." Most of all, we will miss the love.

Sometimes Nick had difficulty remembering lyrics.

What would you do if I sang out of tune?

Approximating musical competence (and attempting to eat a cello?)

Playing in bubbles can be exhausting (note the Das Booty bling).

Matt and Matt (of Hot Atmosphere fame) with a cardboard elephant.

Awash in tinsel, fake snow, smoke, lights, and love--and joined by, among others, a robot holding a 40--Das Booty brings it "all the way live" for the last time.

Click here to listen to Das Booty's signature song, "Yo ho ho"

End of the Year Awards

2004-12-31T05:49:00.000-05:00

Since the year is ending, and since Grandma always said that the only thing that people like more than lists is awards, and since she also said you can't have too much of a good thing (or of two good things combined, right Grandma?)...

Best Name: Dick Pound

The chairman of the World Anti-Doping Agency, Mr. Pound had a strong 2004. And even though 2005 is unlikely to provide him with as many chances to shine, we believe he will be a top candidate in this category for years to come.

Most Overrated Movie: Napoleon Dynamite

Almost everyone we know who saw this movie loved it. We thought it was a Saved by the Bell episode drawn out to 90 minutes and yearning to be a clever indie flick; a heartless imitation of the works of Todd Solondz and Wes Anderson; a paint-by-numbers appeal to wanna-be hipsters, with its moon boots and A-Team theme montage. The movie tosses itself comedic softballs in the form of one-dimensional, self-absorbed nerds; it clowns them like a bully would--and asks its audience to laugh along. After about 75 minutes of this, it expects its audience to cheer for those nerds--and against the popular kids who laughed at them for the same reason the audience did--for the last 15.

Fantasy Baseball Team of the Year: The Douche Bags

We feel we deserve an e-pat on the back for the job we did managing our fantasy baseball team. Our lovely girlfriend has insisted that, as a result of our rather focused and determined behavior this summer, we will not be allowed to have a fantasy baseball team next year. As she is not the boss of us, we generally do not let her tell us what to do, but perhaps she is onto something with this one. Nevertheless, have a look at our lineup:

C: Javy Lopez
1B: Travis Hafner
2B: Michael Young
SS: Carlos Guillen
3B: Eric Chavez
OF: Vladimir Guerrero
OF: Manny Ramirez
OF: Carlos Beltran

SP: Johan Santana
SP: Oliver Perez
SP: Carlos Zambrano
SP: Freddy Garcia
SP: Mark Buerhle
RP: Francisco Cordero
RP: Brad Lidge

Can you believe we assembled this team in a league of ten players! Move over, Billy Beane!

Scientist of the Year: Science Man

Where Are They Now?: Perley King

Usually "Where are they now?" pieces are titled rhetorically, rather than earnestly, as pleas for information. Also, it is rare that such pieces--or any typical feature stories--are given out as awards. Nevertheless, this may be the exception that proves the rule, or just the exception that rules! But you don't have to take our word for it.

One Saturday morning in the year 2000, eight-year-old Perley King woke up to find that there were no Cheerios in the cupboard. As Cheerios were his favorite cereal, he did what any bold and resourceful eight-year-old would do: he got the family dog, stole the keys to his sister's car, and attempted to drive to the grocery store, alternately pressing the gas and lifting himself to see over the dashboard. The highlight for us, however, was the picture of Perley that ran in the papers:

People may have found the story cute, but as you can see from the picture, Perley wasn't fucking around. Today he should be about 12 years old. If anyone knows what he's up to, we'd love to hear it.

Well, that's all for this year, folks. Have fun tonight, and don't drive drunk.

Affordable Health Care

2004-12-30T03:33:00.000-05:00

The Superhighway to Self-Gratification

2004-12-29T02:30:00.000-05:00

On The Revolution is Not a Dinner Party, our friend jsanjana writes:

"as a side note, I think wikipedia is the best thing to happen to the internet in a long time....I'm old enough to remember Lynx and Gopher and when the Net was an information source rather than a porn machine...I been blogging for 3 weeks now and can safely say that blogging is closer to masturbation than journalism"

We agree that wikipedia is wonderful, but is the proliferation of free, easily accessible adult entertainment really something to bemoan? We are old enough to remember having to pay for our adult entertainment--having to pay a premium, in fact, for second-hand, second-rate magazines from our fellow, underage classmates; having to find places to hide those magazines; and having come home, at the age of 25, to find that our parents, in preparing for their move, had unearthed our stash and placed it in the pile of belongings through which we were being asked to sort...

Do we really want to subject another generation to these humiliations? Should they not be allowed to explore--furtively, in the pale glow of a computer screen in an otherwise unlit bedroom, as they listen for the faintest hint of footsteps in the hallway (and why won't Mom respect the "Please Knock" sign?)--the rewarding world of human sexuality? And who better to act as their sherpa then The Hun? (Don't click that one at work, silly!)

Surfers, bloggers, here's to ourselves.

An Interesting Business

2004-12-27T02:29:00.000-05:00

"Manufacturing Quality Industrial Vibrators & Vibratory Equipment since 1923"

Christmas Limerick

2004-12-25T22:55:00.000-05:00

Jesus was born in the spring,
But the Church said, see, here's the thing,
The pagans have solstice,
But our god is mostest!
So December is when we will sing.

Special Interactive Feature

2004-12-23T06:19:00.000-05:00

Our Friend Chaka wants you to tell her something good.

If you have something good to tell her, you may do so by clicking on the "comments" link below. Chaka thinks you're all great and promises to read every post!

Also, Rufus says hi.

Hot Atmosphere!

2004-12-22T04:55:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Friends!

After a long day of travel, we have returned to the family headquarters, where we were received warmly by our parents and age-defying family dog. This evening, handsome brother Dean will arrive.

We know that we recently promised to revive the campaign to change Mooncalf's name to Hot Atmosphere. We shall keep our word--sort of. That is, the campaign shall be revived, but by someone other than ourself. Have no worries, for he is more than worthy.

You may know him by his two initials, S and M. He is the poet laureate of these pages, the bard of blue skies forever. From Berlin, where he is on leg two of his three-legged study of the adult film industries of former axis powers (the forthcoming tractate is tentatively entitled "Finger, Butter, Verboten"), here he is--your favorite, and mine--Science Man.

[Applause]

Thank you, readers, assembled and dispersed. It is factual that, generally, I speak publicly and write verse only on matters of science. But an issue has arisen that tickles my conscience. It tickles my conscience in the way a feather might tickle human skin. [Scientific explanation here removed] Mooncalf is a fine band. Their website may contain a few misspellings and dead links, but their music is rather fine. Fine in the sense of being superlative. Their name, too, is fine. But their name is fine in the sense of being just satisfactory. I believe they can do better. Ergo I have penned the following bit of verse in honor of their new name, Hot Atmosphere.

Damn, I nearly,
Almost, clearly
(As merely happens yearly (every year);
Oh, despair, fatigue, malaise, short days, and fear),
Did almost give up hope, Hot Atmosphere!

Oh, but truly,
Warm and bluely,
Sunny skies that shined so bright and clear;
Almost newly, most uncruelly, duly, did your hot self reappear.
Duly did it so, Hot Atmosphere!

Yet still, some doubt;
Enclosed, they pout,
Lonely in their cubicles of fear...
Would they come out, in joy they'd shout
(Loud enough to reach each comrade's ear),
"There is no hot quite like HOT ATMOSPHERE!
Truly, it's the hottest, far or near!"

The founders of the band formerly known as Mooncalf (from left): Matt M., Matt S., Patrick W. (Not pictured are new, full-time member Diarmuid C., and sometime member Yianni M.).

If you would like to see them become Hot Atmosphere, please e-mail them at info@mooncalfmusic.com.

Our Bluegrass Song

2004-12-18T23:57:00.000-05:00

Below is the bluegrass song we wrote

[banjos and guitars]

Moonlight on the train tracks
Vomit on my shoes
Midnight Wild Turkey
couldn't chase away my blues.

Gobble gobble Turkey
Gobble gobble goo
My girl just up and left me
Now you done left me too

(repeat)

One Reader's Response to a Fruitful Discussion

2004-12-18T02:12:00.000-05:00

We received an e-mail from our friend Colin in response to Wednesday's fruitful discussion. We think it unfortunate that 27-year-old Colin was not around to present such arguments when we were seven, as they might have helped us to accept our parents' insistence that the brick simply exists. Here is what he wrote:

damon, i checked out your blog, and i couldn't get over your philosophical
musing about the supposedly lifeless brick. How do you know the brick does
not see or feel or think? Just because it can not (or does not) communicate
with you, doesn't mean it isn't aware on some level. It might be sitting
there the whole time asking the coffee table (in language imperceptible to
human ears - not unlike a dog whistle) why that goddamn kid keeps asking for
proof of it's existence.

Hey asshole, if you see me, my existance is as veritable as yours! Try
running through this wall and then ask yourself if we bricks exist!

Furthermore, why is existence predicated upon sensory perception and/or
thought? Can't an unfeeling unthinking object simply be? Just look at me
when I'm high. I'm thinking less, I'm feeling less, but I'm still there.
Just not as present as when I'm sober.

Colin

* Coming soon: We revive the campaign to convince Mooncalf to change its name to HOT ATMOSPHERE.

1960s Literati

2004-12-17T01:48:00.000-05:00

From the jacket notes of Norman Mailer's St. George and the Godfather:

NORMAN MAILER--

has always been close to the pulse beat of America and a distinctly American phenomenon in his own right. He appears in newspapers and magazines more than any other writer, gets into reverberating discussions wherever he goes, even runs for Mayor of New York City, and has the nerve to confront, head on, the subject of Women's Liberation. And it's all in a day's living. He has his finger on the American artery as no other writer has.

Now, Norman Mailer presents himself once more as a witness of our times--inside the conventions, 1972, he eyes the candidates with skyrocket brilliance, smells their aura, feels around their crowds, and sniffs the general ambiance. Through potent description, philosophic genius, humor and compassion, great reporting becomes an art as Norman Mailer, with exquisite cunning and precision, exposes the forces that energize and characterize the American political arena.

Can you believe we purchased this book for a mere two dollars?!

At the age of eighteen, we were particularly taken by the works of Ken Kesey. Our father, knowing of our interest, set up a meeting for us with a man named Dr. Dean Brooks, whose wife--a charming woman whose name we have forgotten--was a patient of our father in his dentist store. Dr. Brooks played Dr. John Spivey in the movie "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest". At the time, Dr. Brooks was the superintendent of the Oregon hospital at which the movie was shot. He had spent considerable time with both Kesey and Norman Mailer, among others, and he told us a number of stories about each.

A quick Kesey anecdote: he was originally slated to write the screenplay for Cuckoo's nest. His opening, however, featured Nurse Ratched (as viewed through the eyes of Chief Bromden) as a robot wearing a vulcerian helmet. The producers felt this would not work and hired others to adapt the novel. While we enjoyed the movie, we wish the producers would have given Kesey's script the old college try.

And one more: On a red-eye, return flight from a Disnelyand vacation, Kesey scared the passengers and flight attendants by glowing when the lights were turned off; he had broken open a glow stick and smothered himself with its contents during the day.

Back to Mailer: Dr. Brooks said that Mailer was quite a gentleman. We were baffled. A distinctly American phenomenon, perhaps, but a gentleman? Didn't he stab his wife "with a dirty, three-inch penknife"? A gentleman, insisted Dr. Brooks. He told us that Mailer had devoted an entire room of his Manhattan apartment to the construction of a Lego city.

So ends the 1960s literati gossip column. We hope you have enjoyed.

norman mailer

ken kesey

dr. brooks

penknife

A Fruitful Discussion

2004-12-15T23:53:00.000-05:00

William Safire, the former Nixon speechwriter who occasionally converses with his purgatory-interred* ex-boss via cellphone, recently announced his impending retirement. Naturally, this made us think of the Squad Squad, the "elite group of tautology spotters" upon whom he relied to be "hunters of prolix tautologies." How will they police without Safire's column? Will they be lost without a leader? Or are they like Al-Qaeda or a hydra, able to survive a decapitation?

Further, of what do Squad Squad meetings consist (assuming they occur)? Do they spot tautologies, or just revel in them? (It appears we have a sufficient quorum! [laughter, applause] Either this meeting is adjourned...or it is not! [here! here!]).

We find that thinking about this reminds us of when we were young and we used to construct hypotheticals about russian doll television shows or movies (what if there were a show about a show about a show...?). Was this inspired by our parents' bathroom, 3 walls of which were mirrored, creating infinite reflections?

In those younger years, we liked to ponder several other seeming imponderables. (In explaining the frustration that the triangle offense caused opposing defenses, Shaquille O'Neal said, "Our offense is like the pythagorean theorem: there is no answer."). Curiously, we somehow inferred the Cartesian mantra and then reversed it, resulting in the following question, to which no one, not even our parents, provided a satisfactory answer: Since we cannot imagine what it would be like to be the brick, because the brick does not see or feel or think; since no one then can be--or is--the brick, how can the brick exist? (One may apply this formula to other inanimate objects, but we generally liked to focus on the bricks behind the wood stove, next to the television).

Perhaps we asked these questions because they were easier and less painful than others, such as "why are they laughing at us?" or "why does Dad always call us "goddamnit"? (here, Bill Cosby was helpful, at least in providing validation). Or, to ponder something Donald Rumsfeld would term an "unknown unknown" (Squad Squad: discuss), "why won't we get laid until our 20s?"

Indeed, this has been a fruitful discussion.

* According to Safire, Nixon is in purgatory, expiating for having delinked the dollar from the gold standard.

We Salute Pinto

2004-12-15T02:25:00.000-05:00

At a time when many we know (including ourself) spend their days encamped in libraries and classrooms, dronishly preparing for exams; when still others are engaged in the forty-or-more hour work week (many of you for noble causes--you have our respect), we shall take a moment to salute a bold, globetrotting spirit: our friend, Pinto.

Pinto is a fine photographer, critic, gambler, and friend. Formerly, he worked in information technologies for Western Washington University in Bellingham, WA. During that time, he was known for, among other things, his propensity to nap during his lunch break, including once in a shopping cart--no small feat for a man who stands nearly 6'3".

Upon retiring at the age of 26, Pinto embarked on a world tour, first traveling with his mother, then alone, and now with his friend Scott. Currently, he is somewhere in India. An excerpt from his most recent e-mail:

Oryx is a delicious animal popular in Southern Africa.
They look cool too. I hope to open an oryx ranch
when I get back home.

oryx

pinto

Godspeed, Pinto!

THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING PORN

2004-12-14T16:51:00.000-05:00

Today's News: The Presidential Medal of Freedom devalues...but at least Justice remains blind

2004-12-14T16:33:00.000-05:00

Presidential Medal (RNC Party Favor)

Justice

Greetings, Friends!

2004-12-13T14:53:00.000-05:00

The holiday season is upon us, so we thought it time to introduce ourself and our blog, blue skies forever. Since this is our inaugural post, and since inaugurations usually feature poems by poets laureate, we have invited our poet laureate, Science Man, to deliver a poem he wrote specifically for this occasion. So, without further ado, here is Science Man:

[applause]

Hair Traps Odors
by Science Man

Who? What? When? Where?
Dirty water, dirty air.
Acts of sodom, stinky bottom.
Grab a razor; shave it bare.