elizabeth lane lawley
michael "OC" clarke
e v h e a d
sweet fancy moses
wood s lot
m. melting object
Thursday, June 24, 2004
The Return of Madame Levy
Jesus, how I have missed Madame! She was in Hollywood, and now she's in France. She's just that kind of woman, what can I say? So it's not really true that she's "back," exactly. But then again, it wasn't really true she was ever "there," either. Yes well, be that as it may, she has a new blog. One thing I learned from it that I did not know is that she turned 21 in prison doing life without parole. But I think we can safely assume she had langue.
Some of you will undoubtedly remember Madame Levy better as Leslie Winer (no relation; perhaps this is why she changed her name). And surely you remember Leslie!
Here in France I waited 6 long weeks for what I thought was DSL. It turned out to be ADSL which is French for: I can't believe it's not dial-up.
Yes but never mind all that. The one you must read is: Col. Mustard in the Library with a Hammer. Trust me.
4:28 AM | link |
3:51 AM | link |
well honey, if that's what you do there...
1:56 AM | link |
in the pre-postmodern era
Of course now, in a world where certainties are nonexistent, your best bet is probably skag.
1:56 AM | link |
what am I doing wrong?
A long time ago, I applied to get in on the google AdWords gravy train. Sure, I'm as much a whore as the next gal (trying to avoid sexism here, but "person" sounds so sterile) and I figured it'd beat being reduced to outright begging. As I have since been reduced, as you are no doubt painfully aware, to outright begging...
I despair of ever bringing this blog into compliance with these stringent requirements (leaving aside for a moment their chilling effect on goddam free motherfucking speech; given high enough monetization potential, I could talk nice and look the other way; as so many have).
...you can infer from this that google turned me down flat. Imagine! Me! They said my blog didn't qualify, didn't measure up. The goddam cocksucking motherfuckers! But I waited, I'm a patient gal (trying to avoid sterility here, but "guy" sounds so sexist) and I figured I'd reapply after a reasonable "cooling off" period. These cheap-ass pre-IPO databases are so stupid, I assumed the normal bit-rot would give me another shot. So I tried it again just now, and got this...
So I guess that's pretty much that. Of course, I lost the aforementioned "message we sent" about 40 million spams back, so I couldn't remember why my sweet little blog, my labor of love, my bright star in a sea of noxious human excrement had been turned down so summarily, so heartlessly. Therefore, I decided to reread the Google AdSense Program Policies page, where I found the following. I have checked those items I suppose I need to work on...
Account Not Active
An AdSense account does not exist for this login, as it is associated with an unapproved application. For more information about your application, please review the message we sent to the email address you provided with your application.
Site may not include:
- Excessive profanity goddam cocksucking motherfuckers!
- Hate, violence, racial intolerance, or advocate [sic] against any individual, group, or organization I fucking hate these goddam cocksucking illiterate white lawyer motherfuckers!
- Hacking/cracking content motherfucking encrypted PDF! anybody got a crack?
- Illicit drugs and drug paraphernalia motherfucking google adsense! anybody got a crack pipe?
- Pornography, adult, or mature content swan.html !
- Gambling or casino-related content
- Any other content that promotes illegal activity or infringes on the legal rights of others email us for dyn-o-mite prices on hi-grade weaponized smallpox!
- Excessive advertising did we mention our hi-grade weaponized smallpox?
- Pop-ups, pop-unders or exit windows that interfere with site navigation, obscure AdWords ads, change user preferences, or are for downloads. Other types of pop-ups, pop-unders, or exit windows may be allowed, provided that they do not exceed a combined total of 5 per user session
- Deceptive or manipulative content or construction to improve your site's search engine ranking, e.g., your site's PageRank allthewords.html ! [be sure to page to the bottom]
But then I just had this brilliant idea. OK, or harebrained idea. (And btw, for all you lawyers out there, it is "harebrained" (as in the small brain of a hare) not "hairbrained," for christ sake!)
Anyhow, the idea is this: YOU could advertise here. YOU don't mind the occasional bit of gutter patois or the odd snatch of wide open beaver. Right? I mean, am I right, Dude?
If you're interested, make me an offer. Or we could barter. For instance, right now I'm in the market for a nice wooly tender loving sheep.
And don't forget: we have enough hi-grade weaponized smallpox to meet all your doomsday scenario needs!
12:49 AM | link |
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
when you need the job done right
ya gotta do it yourself
3:42 PM | link |
ora pro nobis
"Name me someone that's not a parasite and
I'll go out and say a prayer for him."
dylan - visions of johanna
12:15 AM | link |
Monday, June 21, 2004
Summer Soltice 2004
More Than 20,000 New Age Revelers
Gather at Stonehenge
for Summer Solstice
The Associated Press (w some local editing)
STONEHENGE, England June 21, 2004 - More than 20,000 New Age followers, self-styled druids and other revelers celebrated the summer solstice at this ancient stone circle Monday, dancing to drums and holding aloft flaming
4:18 PM | link |
why I don't filter email
I spend so much time manually deleting spam, it's crazy, it's insane. But then, so am I, as I've gone to such lengths to demonstrate here. However, it's not just the attraction I feel to out-of-band reflections of my mental state that prevent me from setting up some reasonable mail filter. It's that I would then miss the found art my grafiks here so rely on, and the accidentally astounding communications from a source I choose to call my Higher Power...
From: Rosario Magee
My view of the horizon of human potential (if you will forgive the expression) would be so much more constricted without these random communiques from the blind god Wintermute.
Subject: eggplant impresarios
Kerry and I took guardian angel over with related to reactor, skyscraper inside. When scooby snack living with submarine is variegated, movie theater behind gonad laugh and drink all night with omphalos beyond bullfrog. When for ballerina earns frequent flier miles, bullfrog around lover takes a coffee break...
3:41 PM | link |
Sunday, June 20, 2004
the devil you say!
guess who just got back today
them wild-eyed boys that had been away
haven't changed that much to say
but man, I still think those cats are crazy
they were askin' if you were around
how you was, where you could be found
told 'em you were livin' downtown
drivin' all the old men crazy...
the boys are back in town...
(the boys are back in town...)
the boys are back in town...
Thanks to Thin Lizzy (with apologies for the text-rendered lead line; best I could do, dudez; though I never followed you when you were "happening"; but I get all crazy amped these days when I hear that thing on my radio tuned to [what else?] the Classic Rock station cranked full out, driving around Boulder and wondering what the fuck happened).
And with fond memories of the cherry blossom festival in the park near Ueno Zoo, circa Spring 1984. The linked photo really does give a taste of the feeling of that, which was incredible. About a million people, all loaded on sake, sakura and a subtle sense of shibui, which doesn't translate so good. The buzz that sustains the empire of signs.
Speaking of which literary illusions, I would like to thank Tom Matrullo for his generous moral and financial support in this year of loving dangerously. He has clicked through on this lately ubiquitous gizmo more than once, and sent bucks beyond the means (one would imagine) of any normal expat hiding out in Mexico.
Others have been more than generous as well, but either have explicitly asked not to be outed here, or are folks I don't know very well, or at all, or all too well, and in none of these cases do I want to get anyone in trouble by publicizing their names in this seditious publication at a time of such terrible oppression and endemic stupidity. But you know who you are, and I thank you sincerely. The Iranian caviar was divine! And the Bombadier Learjet 45XR will sure come in handy for those impromptu trips to the Yucatan.
But listen, really: a buck for gas, a fiver for smokes and a coffee, small unmarked bills, anything you can spare is really helping me get my, uh... shit together. Though I swore I would never write anything that fucking dumb here. But sure, that's it! I'm getting my shit together, yeah. Realigning the brain cells so I can channel Jesus from His home base on Alpha Scorpii. Evolving my latent psi powers so I can scry into the future, make a killing by arbitraging bat guano
futures on the Hang Seng Exchange, then disappear into the jungle without a trace. "Who was that masked man?" they'll say. I hope they'll say that after
I'm gone. Maybe I'll sneak back and eavesdrop in various World Power Centers. See if they're missing me or dissing me. Or still pissing me off! Whatever it is, you will have played a pivotal role in history at a crucial juncture. What it all means? Who knows. But it's something really fucking important, I can feel it. A kind of harmonic detergence. A cleansing nuclear wind from the Future that will only eradicate the Bad People. We know who they are. Don't we? That's right, they're your fuck-knuckle neighbors and those plastic droids in the supermarket checkout lines. They're all these tinyminded arachnids in the News. I keep hearing Voices, and they say things like "This is CNN." Some guy sounds like Darth Vader. These aren't really people, you have to understand this. I had to work very hard to get over the notion that I was killing actual humans. But now I know, because when I cut them open, they're all full of wires and shit. If I hadn't discovered this, I'd feel awful about my decision to become, that's right: a terrorist! But I feel great about it! And with your help -- a buck or two at a time -- I'm confident we can recapture the planet from these fucking insectoid invaders.
Jesus, how did this ever happen?
Wait... wait! I think I'm channeling Jesus now... It's usually sort of fuzzy because of the goddam sunspots, but yes... I can hear Him clearly now...
"RageBoy! You must ready yourself for the Rapture, dude. Prepare for my return. And believe me, I'm gonna do ALL that shit it says in Revelation. All the really weird shit, yeah! And you will sit at my right hand in a tank made of adamantine bling-bling and at your command will be huge poison basilisks and medusoid babes with Big Hair made of pit vipers -- like hundreds of Dolly Fucking Partons with spooky rattles in their asses. That'll freak em out! RageBoy, we gotta get rid of these motherfucking hosers once and for all, so have no mercy, take no prisoners. Yeah, I know what I said before about heaven and hell and redemption and all that spiritual blatherskite. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but now... shit, these people have just pissed me off once too often, so we're gonna wipe the slate this time. No doves coming back from the Flood. No second chances. They're all fucked. They just don't know it yet. Tell you what, though. These people you got? Ones that put a dollar in your PayPal thing? We let them live. Whaddya think?"
"Jesus Christ! I think that'd be a great idea! And such a bargain. But the others we get to exterminate, right? You're not gonna fuck with that part of the plan, I hope."
"Have no fear, My Son, it will be as you say... kasdkadlkj kasdkjk dk jkladklj madlh *@&@&^!%%%%!..."
Ooop, sounds like I'm loosing him. These worthless fucking cell-brain implants. Sprint still can't get anything right. I think I might cleanse them first. Give me a box cutter and a couple hits of good acid and I will change history!
Actually, well... the truth is, I have a cold.
And a little bit of a fever, I think. I'm taking Advil for it, and lots of coffee and cigarettes of course. But I think it may be affecting my thinking. I keep getting this lost-time thing. The last ten minutes, for instance, are a complete blank. I think something is taking over my mind. And I know what it is.
Look, I said this a long time ago, and I'll say it again...
And that had nothing to do with Business®. I spit on Business. Ptui! I spit on Science® and Religion® and Politics®. Ptui! Ptui! Ptui! They are abominations, abhorrent to The Holder of the MasterRemote®, The All Merciful MindBreaker®. Defile not thyselves with these loathsome heresies. Ptui! But rather goest thou and kill the Infidel deader than A Fucking Doornail®. Then bloggest thou in Peace® and let not the vile lying vermin cosksuckers disturbest thy rapt contemplation of My Works®...
People of Earth...
The sky is open to the stars. Clouds roll over us night and day. Oceans rise and fall. Whatever you may have heard, this is our world, our place to be. Whatever you've been told, our flags fly free. Our heart goes on forever.
People of Earth, remember.
Can I get an Amen?
Hmmm... I wonder if this Advil® is really doing anything?
5:32 AM | link |
"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
28 October 2004
||More of Chris Locke's photos
Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of.
I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos."
It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.
what I'm listening to...
egr on topica
on yahoo groups
terms of service
It is too late.