So, I forgot -
The other day in the small town me and my mom went on a daytrip to, we saw that the mainstreet movie theater was playing the new Indiana Jones movie, so we went to go see what time it was showing, only the ticket booth had the blinds down and there was no showtimes listed on the marquee or on a paper in the window or anything like that.
Later, at a restaurant in the town, we asked the high school girl who took our order, and she and her mom looked it up in the paper, and they said the movie's always at 7:30pm - the place has just one showtime. They said they usually have that on a board out front, but they must have forgot to put out the board.
The restaurant, too, sold behind the counter crocheted scruchies that one of the waitresses makes, as well as bumperstickers like "Fear the Government that Fears Your Guns" and "Life is Like a Roll of Toilet Paper - It Goes Quicker towards the End".
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
DEET.
So, when I was in an army surplus store today, I got a civilian version of the army pants soldiers wore in 'Nam, which are in deep green and a lightweight cotton good for hot weather, and with multiple pockets good for sticking shit in. I liked the store, especially the Jane Fonda urinal stickers they sold, and a bumpersticker that said
"VETS AREN'T FONDA JANE".
The woman also sold me some federal-issue DEET mosquito repellent, only she said apply it with the back of your hands, since if it gets on plastic, it melts it. She said once she forgot to do that, and next thing she knew, the keys of the cash register in the store were tacky and stayed that way for a long time, and once another time she had a bottle in the back of the desk drawer which spilled, which she only realized when she pulled the drawer all the way out and found out that her tape dispenser was a light blue puddle.
"VETS AREN'T FONDA JANE".
The woman also sold me some federal-issue DEET mosquito repellent, only she said apply it with the back of your hands, since if it gets on plastic, it melts it. She said once she forgot to do that, and next thing she knew, the keys of the cash register in the store were tacky and stayed that way for a long time, and once another time she had a bottle in the back of the desk drawer which spilled, which she only realized when she pulled the drawer all the way out and found out that her tape dispenser was a light blue puddle.
"Life Between Life".
So, I've been reading Joel Whitton, M.D. Ph.d.,'s "Life Between Life", this book about past lives that ripped off the title of Raymond A. Moody, Jr., M.D.,'s immensely popular "Life After Life" (which made "near death experience" a household phrase) and claims to follow in its footsteps.
Anyhow, I'm impressed with how many people died really fucked up deaths in their past lives. For example, one woman was forced into prostitution in the Wild West, but a married frontier doctor fell in love with her and started keeping her for himself, but when she got his child and gave birth, the town minister found out and came and took it away, and while he was standing their with the child in her arms she got out a rifle, which accidentally went off and killed her baby and hurt him and his arms, so he crawled downstairs to the saloon, said she had gone crazy and attacked him, and a bunch of drunk cowboys came and got her and dragged her out to a local slaughterhouse where they gang-raped her and then bullwhipped her till her skin came off in pieces, and then when she wasn't dead, they skinned her with their knives and threw her body on top of a pile of rotting steer carcasses in the corner of the slaughterhouse, which she saw floating from above as she hovered above her dead body.
And, this is why she has a rash now, and her dad was one of the cowboys who gang-raped her.
(She had a bad relationship with her dad.)
Incidentally, the criteria for discerning whether a recovered memory of a past life is true or not is how true it feels; if you're absolutely certain, it's true, Joel Whitton says in the book.
Anyhow, I'm impressed with how many people died really fucked up deaths in their past lives. For example, one woman was forced into prostitution in the Wild West, but a married frontier doctor fell in love with her and started keeping her for himself, but when she got his child and gave birth, the town minister found out and came and took it away, and while he was standing their with the child in her arms she got out a rifle, which accidentally went off and killed her baby and hurt him and his arms, so he crawled downstairs to the saloon, said she had gone crazy and attacked him, and a bunch of drunk cowboys came and got her and dragged her out to a local slaughterhouse where they gang-raped her and then bullwhipped her till her skin came off in pieces, and then when she wasn't dead, they skinned her with their knives and threw her body on top of a pile of rotting steer carcasses in the corner of the slaughterhouse, which she saw floating from above as she hovered above her dead body.
And, this is why she has a rash now, and her dad was one of the cowboys who gang-raped her.
(She had a bad relationship with her dad.)
Incidentally, the criteria for discerning whether a recovered memory of a past life is true or not is how true it feels; if you're absolutely certain, it's true, Joel Whitton says in the book.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Disturbing lyrics.
I had turned on the top 40 station in my town this morning and listened to a few songs before realizing it had changed formats into a Soft Rock station, but I kept listening anyways, up through the Police's "Every Breath You Take", which disturbed me with its lyrics:
Every move you make
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
Is that song supposed to be romantic, or disturbing? I'm just not sure. It's almost like a stalker.
On another note, I love Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie".
Every move you make
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
Is that song supposed to be romantic, or disturbing? I'm just not sure. It's almost like a stalker.
On another note, I love Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie".
Parish festival.
So, my dad and I went to this parish festival when we were downstate visiting relatives. A few years ago when we were downstate the same one was going on and we were able to hit the Sunday morning polka mass -- all the music from the mass is polka, and the instrumentalists walk down the aisles with the priests holding their clarinets and accordions and whatever, and they're all wearing gaudy silver vestments, including the priests -- but, since we were leaving town Saturday, we were only able to hit the first night of it. We kept buying 50-50 tickets, and I got a huge Polish plate, and my dad kept looking around for people he might know, when he finally ran into some guy he knew who was there with his family.
"How you doing?", he was like, and then I met the guy's wife and his one son, who was in his 40s.
"Hi, I'm Carol," the guy's wife was like, and then she added, "I've always had a crush on [my uncle]."
Later, I asked how they knew my dad, and they said it was through my uncle, who the guy knew growing up, and my uncle was best man at their wedding.
"Look at your dad," the wife said at one point, "He's just like [my uncle] -- his sense of humor, the way he looks, the way he moves his hands."
(Later, when we talked about everyone, my dad was like, "What the piss was up with that woman? ")
Anyhow, after that, we went and sat down and had some beer and listened to the oldies cover band, only like five songs in, we realized it wasn't a cover band, but an actual band 'The Reflections', who had had the 1964 #1 hit song "Just Like Romeo and Juliet", and now going around doing covers and playing local festivals or Oldies Nights at community auditoriums.
Every once in a while, my dad would go take a piss in the portajohns out outside the beer tent, and when coming back, he would do a sweep of the crowd to see if he knew anyone else, only he didn't.
Towards the end of the concert, the 50-50 woman came by again to sell tickets -- they had a 50-50 raffle every hour, and this over-tanned woman in her late 30s with a halter top and a baseball cap over her bleached hair that had the roots showing through and big clunky wooden jewelry was going around selling them -- and me and my dad bought some from her, and so did this gruff young cop who filled them out really intensely and really didn't pay any attention to her. After he filled out the tickets, he got up and left, and the woman was like in her smoky bar voice, "Maybe he was anxious about something, didn't he seem anxious to you?"
"Yeah, he was probably anxious about money," my dad was like, "but he should be anxious about you. I mean, look at your nice earrings, and that shirt you got on, and your hair got a little wet in the rain, but it's still looking mighty nice," and she laughed and was like, "Thanks hon," and squeezed his upper arm before she left.
"You get along really well with tough women, don't you?", I asked my dad after she left.
"She ain't tough," my dad said, picking his teeth. "That's just the look."
"How you doing?", he was like, and then I met the guy's wife and his one son, who was in his 40s.
"Hi, I'm Carol," the guy's wife was like, and then she added, "I've always had a crush on [my uncle]."
Later, I asked how they knew my dad, and they said it was through my uncle, who the guy knew growing up, and my uncle was best man at their wedding.
"Look at your dad," the wife said at one point, "He's just like [my uncle] -- his sense of humor, the way he looks, the way he moves his hands."
(Later, when we talked about everyone, my dad was like, "What the piss was up with that woman? ")
Anyhow, after that, we went and sat down and had some beer and listened to the oldies cover band, only like five songs in, we realized it wasn't a cover band, but an actual band 'The Reflections', who had had the 1964 #1 hit song "Just Like Romeo and Juliet", and now going around doing covers and playing local festivals or Oldies Nights at community auditoriums.
Every once in a while, my dad would go take a piss in the portajohns out outside the beer tent, and when coming back, he would do a sweep of the crowd to see if he knew anyone else, only he didn't.
Towards the end of the concert, the 50-50 woman came by again to sell tickets -- they had a 50-50 raffle every hour, and this over-tanned woman in her late 30s with a halter top and a baseball cap over her bleached hair that had the roots showing through and big clunky wooden jewelry was going around selling them -- and me and my dad bought some from her, and so did this gruff young cop who filled them out really intensely and really didn't pay any attention to her. After he filled out the tickets, he got up and left, and the woman was like in her smoky bar voice, "Maybe he was anxious about something, didn't he seem anxious to you?"
"Yeah, he was probably anxious about money," my dad was like, "but he should be anxious about you. I mean, look at your nice earrings, and that shirt you got on, and your hair got a little wet in the rain, but it's still looking mighty nice," and she laughed and was like, "Thanks hon," and squeezed his upper arm before she left.
"You get along really well with tough women, don't you?", I asked my dad after she left.
"She ain't tough," my dad said, picking his teeth. "That's just the look."
Monday, June 16, 2008
Lousiana Governor Bobby Jindal's exorcisms.
So it turns out that Lousiana governor Bobby Jindal has participated in exorcisms...
I found this excerpt from Jindal's description of his experience interesting:
Whenever I concentrated long enough to begin prayer, I felt some type of physical force distracting me. It was as if something was pushing down on my chest, making it very hard for me to breathe. . . Though I could find no cause for my chest pains, I was very scared of what was happening to me and Susan. I began to think that the demon would only attack me if I tried to pray or fight back; thus, I resigned myself to leaving it alone in an attempt to find peace for myself.
Like the former chief exorcist of Rome says, there's nothing stupider than to not participate in exorcisms out of a conviction that demons will leave you alone; like he says, that makes no sense at all, since they're already doing all that's in their power to harm you.
Anyhow, I wonder, does this basic flaw in reasoning make Jindal unfit for office?
I found this excerpt from Jindal's description of his experience interesting:
Whenever I concentrated long enough to begin prayer, I felt some type of physical force distracting me. It was as if something was pushing down on my chest, making it very hard for me to breathe. . . Though I could find no cause for my chest pains, I was very scared of what was happening to me and Susan. I began to think that the demon would only attack me if I tried to pray or fight back; thus, I resigned myself to leaving it alone in an attempt to find peace for myself.
Like the former chief exorcist of Rome says, there's nothing stupider than to not participate in exorcisms out of a conviction that demons will leave you alone; like he says, that makes no sense at all, since they're already doing all that's in their power to harm you.
Anyhow, I wonder, does this basic flaw in reasoning make Jindal unfit for office?
A couple stories: Toenail, forms.
Down at my uncle's the other day, I was clipping my toenails, and my dad said something and I wasn't looking, and I cut into my right big toenail and it started bleeding like a son of a bitch, and there was this mangled piece of nail sprouting up from the side of the toenail.
Anyhow, later in the day, we visited my parents' one yuppie friend who just bought a schnoodle named Annabelle, and when we entered, the dog ran up to my sandals to start tugging at the straps like it always does, only, when I sat down, it started licking the dried blood off my toenail.
On another note, my other uncle was filling out ten pages of medical forms for each of my paternal grandparents since they're changing dental plans though they're in the 90s. He was getting really pissed off at the bureaucracy, and threw the forms down and was like, "Look at this!: 'Are you in good health?' What the piss does that even mean, they're in their 90s, for Christ's sake!"
He also laughed at the "Are you pregnant?" question, too.
Anyhow, later in the day, we visited my parents' one yuppie friend who just bought a schnoodle named Annabelle, and when we entered, the dog ran up to my sandals to start tugging at the straps like it always does, only, when I sat down, it started licking the dried blood off my toenail.
On another note, my other uncle was filling out ten pages of medical forms for each of my paternal grandparents since they're changing dental plans though they're in the 90s. He was getting really pissed off at the bureaucracy, and threw the forms down and was like, "Look at this!: 'Are you in good health?' What the piss does that even mean, they're in their 90s, for Christ's sake!"
He also laughed at the "Are you pregnant?" question, too.
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