28
Feb
flying map center test
test of flying map center

Note: the beginning of this faux odyssey can be found here. Probably should start there so that these several posts below make any kind of sense.
The obligatory stagger around metro New Orleans looking for an open pizza place, then an open fast-food joint, then, as the horror settles in, an open seven-eleven for emergency Doritos and pie. Settling in at Music for a last beer or two, a last cigarette or two, pie, and a bed for Drew and the 2nd most comfortable chair in the Western Hemisphere for me. A wake-up the next morning, leaving a friendly .txt message on Drew’s computer expressing hope that the coming day doesn’t suck. Then, over the next week or so, the alternate universe merges back with this one and things, for all practical purposes, are back to normal. But not really, because we blew it. Damn microbes! Damn them to hell!

In an equally probable universe, instead of the F and M, if we hadn’t wanted to see so many lesbians, we would’ve gone to Carrollton Station. Legendary ex-home of the Chicken Drop. The problem with Carrollton, though, is that one needs to plan for the aftermath. There is no real food at Carrollton, so if we ended up here, we would starve unless food was already positioned at Music Street.

Our little lesbian bar. A good place to spend the time around midnight, when the drunk get hungry. The food is hot, and the lesbians hardly ever hassle us. Drew’s brother sometimes meets us here, because he likes the lesbians.

More beers, more talk, much sitting outside in the freezing cold. The Balcony is a nice place for a 45 minute sit in the winter. But we’d best have been moving on.

Hardwood and beer. Here we would’ve drunk several more beers and smoked many cigarettes. The sunny day outside would turn to night. Eventually we’d feel the need to move on. Would we want excitement? Shmaybe, shmaybe not. One can never tell how a mission will turn out at the beginning. Usually not. Usually tis better to talk than shout.
[geo_mashup_map]

Here is where we would’ve started out. Music Street, in a house much like this one, only woodier. Perhaps a beer or three, catching up, listening to a song or two on the stereo, planning the mission. The mission’s next stop is always d.b.a., since that’s the next stop.
The Mardi Gras* that should’ve been.
There are various sad reasons that Drew and I live in a world where we didn’t drink beer during Mardi Gras. It’s almost too painful to contemplate. But somewhere, in some alternate reality, we went out tonight and had a hell of a good time. These are the places those two fortunate alternate selves talked in, drank beer in, and, yes, called their far-away friends to shriek drunken salutations into their ears. So fly to the Map and join us on what mayen haven been a great night.
*Technically the Lundi Gras that should’ve been.


My cartoon-gland is just about played out, but I did want to comment on Darby Conley’s use of anatomically-correct symbols for the letters in the word “Hell.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen that in a comic strip before. Tricky, but practically unnecessary for the word. Now, if somebody’d try their hand at “shit” or “fuck,” I will be impressed.
“Beetle, dig this hole.”
“£ü¢≠ you, Sarge.”
Psycho Path voted weirdest street name
Pitiful, just pitiful. When my curmudgeonhood culminates and I finally put my house at the end of Gorilla Shit Industrial Incline, this contest will be in the bag.
The source poll is here.


There’s a lot to say about this strip, but, in the end, I knew the Best Blondie Ever would have Daisy in it.
Is it happening? I have scant trust that my emails are getting through to your new address. Beers during Mardi Gras! Beers during Mardi Gras! BEERS DURING MARDI GRAS!
Oh, and happy birthday!
I remember this commercial. I don’t remember it being so funny. And I guess the weird and irritating use of the word “question” to preface a question has been around longer than I thought.
I tried to find out what happened to Ayds, but I failed. The closest I could come was this NYT article saying that Jeffrey Martin Inc had sold the candy to Dep Corporation, and that Dep was “seeking a new name for its product because publicity about the deadly disease AIDS is hurting sales.”
The CEO of Jeffrey Martin Inc, a guy named Martin Himmel, went on to sell Gold Bond Powder (a product that is somehow linked to BC Powder, bumpkins, and hayseeds in my mind) to some other corporate entity in 1996 (link). Which was quite a feat, as Martin had been dead for five years (link).
I’m sure it all makes sense.

CNN.com – Berlusconi: I’m Christ of politics – Feb 12, 2006
Okay, I’m getting a late start. The “Christ of Politics” is taken now, so I can’t be that. And nobody can be bigger or taller than Christ because of the Beatles. Being just plain “Jesus Christ” is a dubious career move and gets you locked up with all the other Jesus Christs in the Jesus Christ ward of the local asylum. So what’s left?
I can’t be the Jesus Christ of Petroleum or the Jesus Christ of LDS (and by extension I can’t be the Jesus Christ of LSD because that would only confuse people). I wouldn’t consider being Jesus Christ of Mideastern Folklore Fame even if it were available, because I can’t figure out how to casually mention that at parties. The Jesus Christ of Sound is out, as is the Jesus Christ of College Basketball and the Jesus Christ of the Bicycle, of the Activist Movement, of Partying Day, of Stand Up, of Golf, of Train Stations, of the French Revolution, and of Tuna. I can’t be the Jesus Christ of yore, my time, my day, modern times, the millenium or the Cyber Future. Jesus Christs of the tax code, of Superheroes, and of post-autowork skin cleaning products have also been spoken for. I can’t even be the Jesus Christ of Lubbock, Texas; I checked.
That leaves only one thing, of course, and I’m taking it now while the taking is good. I am the Jesus Christ of Whirlpool and Maytag appliance remanufacturing.
There’s been a lot of talk recently about the comics. Burning and killing, too, but mostly talk. Last week it struck me that I hadn’t actually seen the Danish cartoons in question, and therefore didn’t really have an opinion about them. This weekend I finally got round to googling the source documents, in order to educate myself. I found one of the toons somewhere after a few minutes of looking.
I have to say one thing: the cartoon wasn’t funny. Or clever. It was Muhammad with a bomb in his turban. Granted, it sounds funny when I type it out, but it wasn’t. I want to make that clear. It reminded me of editorial cartoons one might find in local newspapers by local artists who may think they know what’s clever or funny, but really haven’t a clue. The Sun Herald has an editorial cartoonist who fits that description, a guy named Lockley, who can’t do funny or clever to save his soul, but, bless him, keeps plugging away at it month after bitter month. I assume he’s a family man.
The cartoon was a failure in the only way it matters. And while I can understand people’s taking umbrage over the subject matter, those who take umbrage to the extent that they burn and kill are clearly sociopathic yahoos. Be that as it may. The fundamental questions that we should ask ourselves, given the last few troubling days, are these: What makes a cartoon funny? and How can unfunny cartoons be made funny?
Looking at the comics page in my local newspaper, I see a total of 23 strips. Out of that total, two are funny and need no improvement: Pooch Cafe and Arlo & Janis. Three are so completely unfunny, whether by design or not, that no amount of editing can possibly help: Rex Morgan, Crankshaft, and the abominable Funky Winkerbean. And of course, one is Classic Peanuts, the lurching zombie of the comics page, which fills me with horror to see it there still in the paper, moldy and stinking of death.
That leaves seventeen strips that, with a little help, could be made funny. Strips like Blondie, and Dilbert (You heard me! Scott Adams has been mailing it in for years now!), Shoe and the Family Circus. Ziggy. Even BC is not beyond help, if Johnny Hart were but to open up his shriveled soul to receive it.
And it wouldn’t take much to help! Just a word here and a word there. For example, this BC is devoid of humor:

whereas, through the magic of editing, it becomes this:

Hilarious.
Similarly, today’s Garfield

can, by massaging the dialogue slightly, be changed into this gem:

But what’s that, you say? Even though the dialogue’s improved, you’re still forced to see the artistically lazy image of Garfield not changing in the slightest way through three panels? Forced to bear the shitty arrogance and unbridled contempt for his audience displayed by Jim Davis, who spends more time drawing little circles over the i’s in his name than drawing the actual strip itself? Here, I fixed that, too, with a few deft touches of shading:

All it takes is a little effort.


CNN.com – Dean: Cheney may have broken law – Feb 13, 2006
Okay, so it’s not about shooting up his crack-ho girlfriend’s pickup truck during a drug transaction gone bad, but I think we can now agree that it’s only a matter of time.
Also, there’s this from the hunting accident report:
“Mr Whittington’s interview collaborated Vice President Cheney’s statement.”
Freudian slip or Yokellian screw-up? I’m leaning towards Yokelism, but really, with these people, you never know.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
Wanted for questioning in connection with a brutal assault. Last seen fleeing the vicinity in a large black limousine with an American flag on one bumper and the Seal of the Vice President of the United States on the other. Believed armed and dangerous, caustic, and extremely nasty. IF SIGHTED, DO NOT APPROACH! Call your nearest law enforcement agency.
CNN.com – Cheney accidentally shoots fellow hunter – Feb 12, 2006
I never wish to be
1. Fused to a couch
2. Surrounded by squalor
3. Surrounded by squalor, fused to a couch
That’s an odd sequence of events that leads to being physically fused to a couch. Ideally, NASA will look into this and recommend a specific brand of heat shield or Tang or something so I can be sure to avoid it.

in other news: some sort of event happened in Detroit, page 11.
SI.com – NFL – Saints will return to Superdome on Sept. 24 – Sunday February 5, 2006 8:42PM
Bad Behavior has blocked 31 access attempts in the last 7 days.